Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 82

Lyra

My orgasm ripped through me so hard I collapsed onto the bed, shaking, sobbing, screaming his name while my pussy clamped around his cock and squeezed like it was trying to milk every drop of cum from his balls.

And then.

He knotted me.

I felt it swell.

I felt it lock.

I felt it stretch me open so wide I screamed again.

And then he came.

It flooded me.

It filled me.

It spilled out around his knot and ran down my legs and soaked the sheets. I was sobbing. I was breathless. I was shaking so hard my body wouldn’t stop clenching.

His cock was still twitching. Still pulsing. Still pumping load after load of thick, hot, claiming cum into my already overstretched pussy.

I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

I was dripping.

Destroyed.

Knotted.

And fucking proud of it.

I was still on my hands and knees, still spread, still trembling with his cock knotted deep inside me like a plug, like a claim, like a brand. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.

My body was still dripping from the orgasm he ripped out of me and my mind was spinning in circles because I couldn’t process anything except the way his cum was still pouring into me like he was trying to breed me right here, right now, like my body was just a leaking container for everything he had inside him.

And then.

The knock.

No. The slam.

Against my fucking door.

"Lyra!"

The voice shrieked my name like a curse and my heart jumped straight into my throat.

Oh no.

No. No. No.

That wasn’t just any voice.

That was Tasha.

I froze.

Like actually froze.

My pussy clenched instinctively around Damon’s cock, which was still rock-hard and knotted and buried so deep inside me I could barely breathe. I whimpered because I was too full to think and too wrecked to move and too scared to even look at the door.

Then she screamed again.

"Bitch!"

My stomach dropped.

"You fucking asshole!"

Her words cracked through the air like thunder and I swear I felt them hit my spine. I was still naked. Still knotted. Still face-down in her father’s sheets while her father held my hips like he was still deciding whether to fuck me again or shut her up first.

"You’re getting fucked too?!"

Oh my God. No. No. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t see me like this.

"And you were looking at me like a saint when you found out I fucked six men?!"

Her voice was shrill, furious, shaking. And mine? Mine was fucking gone. I couldn’t speak. My mouth was open. My face was flushed. My brain was screaming run but my pussy was still throbbing with the memory of how hard Damon had just come inside me.

"You—your moans are disturbing me!" she shouted. "I can’t even cry in peace without hearing you getting railed through the fucking wall like a bitch in heat!"

I buried my face in the sheets and sobbed.

Not from pain.

From shame.

Because I was a bitch in heat. I was still clenching. I was still leaking. I was still twitching around Damon’s knot and thinking about how it had felt when he slammed in deep and told me I was his. And the worst part? I liked that she could hear it. I liked that she knew.

Because I wanted her to know what it sounded like when her father made me come so hard I forgot who I was.

"Keep fucking quiet," she snapped again, pounding the door one more time. "Because if I hear one more moan come out of your mouth, I swear to God I’m kicking this door open and dragging your naked, cum-drenched ass down the hallway."

I was shaking.

Literally shaking.

Not from fear. From need.

Because hearing her yell like that only made it worse. Only made my pussy throb harder around Damon’s knot. Only made the mess between my thighs thicker and hotter and wetter.

I was dripping again. Actually dripping. I could feel it. His cum sliding down the backs of my legs and sticking to my skin like I had been claimed in the dirtiest, most humiliating way possible.

And then Damon leaned down.

He was still inside me.

Still locked.

Still hard.

He leaned over my back, his chest heavy and hot against my spine, his mouth so close to my ear I felt the vibration of every word he said next.

"Moan louder."

My heart stopped.

"What?" I breathed, too stunned to speak.

"Let her hear you," he whispered.

My stomach twisted.

"Let her know exactly who owns you."

I whimpered again, but it wasn’t fear.

It was arousal.

My brain was screaming this is wrong but my body was soaked and needy and trembling like it wanted to be heard. Like I wanted her to know how fucking good her father had just ruined me.

"You want to be a slut?" he growled. "Then be one. Be loud. Be proud. Show her what it sounds like when Daddy makes you come.

Fuck.

I froze for maybe a second. Maybe half.

Then I moaned.

Loud.

Like embarrassingly loud.

Like the kind of moan that makes your toes curl and your face go hot because it doesn’t even sound like it’s coming from your throat — it sounds like it’s clawing out of your pussy.

"Oh God," I whimpered, my whole body clenching. "Oh my God, Daddy, I can still feel it. Your cock’s so deep I can feel it in my fucking stomach."

I didn’t even care if she heard anymore.

No, that was a lie.

I wanted her to hear.

I wanted her to hear what it sounded like when her father knotted me.