Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 89

Lyra

Because he looked so satisfied.

So smug.

So calm.

Like this was all part of his evil little masterplan.

Like he was already planning what desk to bend me over when I started online classes.

"You’re smiling," I hissed, my whole body trembling from where I was still stretched around his cock. "Why are you smiling? This is not a smiling situation.

"This is a ’call the police’ situation. This is a ’burn the house down and flee to Cuba’ situation. This is not the time for that sexy, arrogant mafia smirk thing you do when you know you’ve won..oh my God you think you’ve won."

His hand slid across my ass, slow, heavy, possessive.

"I have won," he said calmly. "You’re not leaving."

My breath caught.

I shook my head so hard it made the pillow shift.

"No. No no no. I still have options. I can run. I can get a job. I can join a convent. Or pretend to be possessed. Or fake a coma. Or jump out the window and let Jesus take the wheel. I’m not staying here."

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Because his hips rolled forward..slow, deep, fucking deliberate..and his knot dragged inside me like he was proving I couldn’t even finish a sentence without moaning anymore.

"I hate you," I whimpered, gripping the sheets like they could save me.

"No you don’t," he murmured.

"I hate how you feel," I cried. "I hate how full I am. I hate that you didn’t even ask. I hate that my mum thinks you’re respectable."

His lips brushed my neck.

"I love that she does."

I gasped.

"Oh my God, you’re evil," I hissed, my voice cracked and trembling and way too high-pitched to sound intimidating.

"You’re not just evil. You’re like evil with a capital E. Like if Lucifer had a cock and a mansion and a fucking six-pack and ruined girls for fun while their mums were on speakerphone thinking he was a God-sent father figure..that’s you.

"That’s who you are. You’re the reason I’m going to hell. You’re the reason I’m going to wake up tomorrow with a cross carved into my thighs and no hymen and a permanent tremor in my legs."

He just smirked behind me like he was proud.

"I mean seriously," I kept going, because apparently I had no self-control and also no brain cells left, "who does that? Who ruins a girl this hard while her mother is still on the line? Who knots a virgin and fucks her stupid until she moans into the pillow and then goes ’I’ll take care of your daughter’ like he’s applying for a babysitting job?"

He didn’t say a word.

Just slowly, deeply, rolled his hips forward again like my entire speech was an invitation to stretch me wider.

I gasped.

Full-body tremble.

My toes curled so hard I think I caught a cramp but I didn’t care. My pussy pulsed so tightly around his knot I nearly sobbed.

"You think this is funny," I whimpered. "You think this is so fucking funny. I’m stuck in this house with you. You. The man who calls himself Daddy when he’s wrecking me and makes me beg and says things like good girl in that voice that makes my brain leak out of my ears. You literally fingered me while I was on the phone with my mother and now she wants me to stay. Here. With you. Forever."

His mouth brushed my shoulder again, that calm, smug monster of a man still buried inside me like he was never planning to leave.

"She called you stable," I cried, writhing under him like my body couldn’t decide if it wanted to cry or climax. "My mother called you a stable male influence. Do you know what that means? That means she thinks you’re a safe adult. A trustworthy guardian.

"A mentor. She thinks you’re the kind of man who gives speeches about boundaries and consent and safety. When really you’re the kind of man who makes girls cry while calling them his personal cumslut—oh my God, I am your personal cumslut."

He groaned low at that.

I slapped my hand over my mouth.

"Oh my God. I said that out loud. I actually said that. I admitted it. This is it. This is how I die. My soul is going to detach from my body and float to purgatory and the angels are going to gag when they pull up my file and see what’s currently stuffed inside me. I’m going to have to fight for entrance into heaven while walking bowlegged from your cock."

I buried my face in the sheets, screaming into them.

"I used to be normal," I mumbled into the fabric. "I used to be a virgin who drank iced coffee and watched rom-coms and cried about failing Chemistry. And now I’m just... your little sex doll with no brain and too much cum in her uterus."

He finally spoke.

"You love it," Damon growled.

And my pussy clenched.

Because I did.

God help me. I did.

"Lies! I do not love it," I snapped.

And then immediately gasped. Because my pussy betrayed me again. It clenched around his knot like it was clapping. Like it was proud. Like it wanted to scream yes she fucking does in Morse code through my cervix.

"Okay fine," I hissed, burying my face deeper into the sheets. "Maybe I like it a little. Like a very small microscopic amount. Like the size of a grain of rice. Or a flea. Or a dust particle that got lost in a hurricane and accidentally landed in my frontal lobe and made me say that.