Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 27.

"You think I haven’t noticed?" she said, stepping closer. "The way you walk around here like a wet dream with no clue how many people want to fuck you stupid? Please."

Her voice dropped.

"You’ve got virgin tits, Lyra. Perfect. Perky. Soft as hell. The kind men pray for. You’ve got this whole sweet-innocent-face but ’ruin me’ body thing going on. And I swear to God, if you don’t let me show you off tonight, I’m disowning you."

I stared at her.

Still frozen.

Still aching.

She gave me a look that was half threat, half worship.

"Take. The. Shirt. Off."

My hands moved before my brain caught up.

I lifted it slow.

Over my head.

And when it dropped to the floor, I felt her eyes drag over every inch of skin I’d just exposed.

"Holy. Shit."

Her voice was breathless.

Like she’d just seen something sacred.

She stepped closer.

Her fingers hovered near my chest but didn’t touch. Just circled.

"Your nipples are so fucking hard," she whispered. "Jesus, Lyra. Look at your tits. They’re unreal."

I looked down.

They were flushed.

High.

Pink tips stiff and aching.

My skin was still warm from Damon’s touch.

My chest rose and fell with every breath I couldn’t fully catch.

"You have the kind of tits people write porn about," she said, eyes wide. "Like..fuck, they’re heavy, but not saggy. Perfect handfuls. Your nipples look edible. Are you kidding me?"

I covered them out of instinct.

She slapped my hands away. "Don’t you dare."

Then she spun me toward the mirror.

"Look at yourself."

I did.

And gasped.

My reflection was filthy.

My cheeks were flushed. My lips pink and slightly parted. My chest was flushed. My thighs were wet. Shiny with leftover slick that hadn’t dried from the bathroom floor.

I couldn’t even look at my own eyes.

They looked fucked.

Hungry.

Destroyed.

Tasha grabbed the mesh dress from the bed and stepped up behind me.

"Arms up."

I obeyed.

She slipped it over my head. Pulled it down my body inch by inch, smoothing it over my curves.

The mesh clung like it was painted on.

Every curve.

Every nipple.

Every twitch of my hips.

The velvet straps cupped my tits without covering them. The material dragged along my waist, pulled tight across my hips, and stopped just barely over the swell of my cunt.

I didn’t even feel dressed.

I felt marked.

Tasha stood back.

"Jesus," she whispered. "You look like a virgin sacrifice."

I couldn’t speak.

She grabbed the heels. Silver. Shiny. High as hell.

"Step in."

I did.

She crouched and strapped them around my ankles, her fingers brushing my calves like she was handling a porcelain doll.

Then she stood and grabbed a gloss tube.

It was a pink, we all t and glittering gloss.

She twisted it open and leaned in, dragging the wand across my bottom lip.

"Lick your lips."

I did.

She stared at me in the mirror.

"You’re a fucking wet dream."

I looked.

And she was right.

The dress showed everything.

My nipples. My belly. My thighs. The faint streak of arousal still clinging to my skin.

My legs trembled.

My chest ached.

I looked like I’d been touched, teased, left on edge, and then dressed up in it.

Tasha grinned.

"You’re going to make him break."

I turned toward her. "Who?"

She smirked. "Whoever’s dumb enough to think they can have you."

I blinked.

Swallowed.

Didn’t answer.

Because I already knew.

There was only one man I wanted to break for me.

And he already had.

"Let’s go," Tasha said, tugging my wrist. "We’re gonna be late. You know Angel’s already snapping pictures."

I could barely walk.

My legs weren’t working. My thighs were wet. But she was already yanking me down the hallway, heels clacking against the floor as she practically skipped.

I followed like I wasn’t real.

Like I was floating.

Like I didn’t still taste his cock on my lips.

We turned the corner into the living room and I stopped breathing.

"Daddy!" she called out. "Daddy!"

My stomach flipped.

My knees buckled.

He was standing near the bar. Shirtless.

Glass of whiskey in one hand. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. Chest broad. Abs sharp as fuck. Tattoos licking up one arm and disappearing across his collarbone.

He turned slowly.

Looked over his shoulder at the sound of her voice.

And the moment I saw his face..his mouth, his jaw, his fucking eyes..

I couldn’t fucking handle it.

Fuck.

Fuuuck.

"How do we look?" Tasha asked sweetly, dragging me forward like I was a doll on display.

Damon didn’t answer.

His eyes dropped.

His gaze devoured me.

Started at my ankles.

Crawled up the silver heels.

Paused at my thighs.

The mesh was glued to my skin with arousal.

No panties. No mystery. Just wet, swollen, pink.

He saw it.

I know he saw it.

His eyes dragged higher.

Over my hips.

My waist.

My tits..bare under the sheer mesh, nipples hard and high and begging to be bitten.

Then finally, finally, he looked at my face.

And I swear to the fucking Moon Goddess..

I came.

Right there.

One look.

My pussy clenched around nothing.

Heat flushed up my spine.

My vision blurred.

I swayed on my heels and had to lock my knees to keep from falling.

And he knew.

He knew.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Not a smile.

Not even close.

"This dress is too short," he said.