Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 45.

~Lyra ~

I pretended to be shocked.

Played dumb.

Because I wanted him to snap.

I wanted him to lose it.

I wanted to push him to that line and make him cross it.

So I leaned back.

Let my spine press harder into the tree trunk.

Tilted my head like I didn’t know what he meant.

"Do what," I whispered, voice all sweet and breathy like I was the most innocent little thing on the planet.

He stepped closer.

So fucking close.

I could feel his heat now.

Feel his chest almost brushing mine.

Feel the air shift between us with tension and lust and things no girl my age should be thinking about this hard.

His breath hitched.

I saw his jaw clench.

I saw his eyes flick down again.

Straight to my tits.

Which I was absolutely still squeezing together because fuck it I wanted him to look.

I wanted to drown him in it.

I wanted to watch him struggle.

His hand twitched at his side like it wanted to move.

Like it wanted to grab.

His nostrils flared.

His tongue swept over his bottom lip like he could already taste me.

And then he whispered it.

This soft little growl that made my knees buckle.

"Your tits, Lyra."

God help me.

I almost came just hearing him say it.

"I can see them through your dress," he said, and his voice was tight now, strained, like he was holding back something vicious. "And you know that. You fucking know that."

I gasped.

Actually gasped.

Because it wasn’t just the words.

It was the way his voice cracked at the edges.

Like he wanted to yell.

Or moan.

Or drop to his knees and suck them just to shut me up.

"You’re not wearing a bra," he added, like he needed to say it out loud, like it was driving him insane.

My eyes fluttered.

I let out the tiniest moan.

And that was it.

His control started to slip.

He took another step.

His chest brushed mine.

His hand rose.

Almost touched me.

Almost cupped my breast right through the wet fabric.

But he stopped.

He pulled back.

Shook his head.

Like he was trying to remember who he was.

Like he was seconds away from fucking me under this tree and he knew it.

"Lyra," he said again, rough this time, almost pleading, "don’t play with me."

My thighs clenched.

I could feel my g-string soaking now.

I could feel slick leaking down the inside of my leg.

I was a mess.

And he hadn’t even touched me yet.

"What if I’m not playing," I whispered.

I don’t know why I said it.

I don’t know where it came from.

But once it was out there I couldn’t take it back.

And his eyes.

God.

His eyes changed.

Everything in his face darkened.

His hand slammed into the tree beside my head, fingers digging into the bark.

His body pinned me in place.

His cock—hard, thick, angry—pressed against my stomach through his sweatpants and oh my fucking God I felt it I felt everything.

"You’re not old enough to be talking like that," he growled, his face so close I could feel his breath on my lips.

"Then maybe you shouldn’t be looking at me like that," I whispered.

It was a war now.

A slow, filthy, breathless war.

His knuckles brushed my cheek.

His other hand hovered just beneath my breast.

I held still.

Waiting.

Daring.

Begging without saying a word.

Then I whimpered.

Quiet.

Pathetic.

Accidental.

And he groaned.

Like the sound broke him.

"I should walk away," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"Then why haven’t you," I whispered.

His head dropped.

His forehead pressed to mine.

Our breaths tangled.

Everything went quiet.

Except the rain.

The wind.

The throb between my legs.

And his voice.

One more time.

Soft.

Broken.

Hungry.

"Because you’re fucking killing me," he growled, voice all wrecked and ragged like he’d just fought a war with himself and lost.

And I swear to God my pussy clenched so hard I almost whimpered.

Because he meant it.

He wasn’t bluffing.

He wasn’t teasing. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He was starving.

And I was the only thing on the menu.

I could feel it in the way his jaw flexed.

I could feel it in the way his chest heaved against mine.

I could feel it in the way his eyes dropped to my mouth like he was about to lose every bit of his control and fuck me right there against the tree until I cried his name.

So I smiled.

Real slow.

Real cruel.

The kind of smile that said I know exactly what I’m doing to you and I want to watch you break from it.

"Then maybe I want to kill you," I whispered, voice soft and sugar-sweet but dripping with something filthier, darker, wetter.

His nostrils flared.

His whole body jerked forward like he didn’t even mean to.

The hand braced beside my head curled into a fist, and the other one—oh God—the other one lifted halfway, hovering just beneath my tits like he didn’t trust himself to touch me without ruining me.

I leaned in closer.

Close enough for my breath to ghost over his lips.

Close enough for my soaked tits to brush his chest and make his eyes go wide.

"Do you want to know what I was thinking about under that tree?" I whispered, so quiet, so dirty it didn’t even sound like it came from me.

He didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.