Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 11

Daddy’s Craving Mer

Daddy’s Craving Her

-Damon-

I slammed the door shut and stood there like a f*****g animal.

Breathing hard.

Fists clenched.

c**k still hard enough to cut stone.

She didn’t even know what she did to me.

That little f*****g whimper..God, that sound..had sunk under my skin like a drug and now I was high off her. Drunk off the scent of her slick, her sweat, the f*****g desperation she wore like perfume.

And I hadn’t even touched her.

I should’ve.

I wanted to.

Every part of me f*****g ached for it.

I could still see her in front of me, gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. That loose silk robe sticking to the sweat between her t**s, the back barely covering her ass. Her thighs trembling. Her p***y dripping. She was soaked. Ruined. Ready.

And I walked away.

Like a f*****g saint.

I should be crucified for it.

I stalked across the room and gripped the dresser. My knuckles cracked from how hard I clenched. My veins

pulsed. I looked down.

f**k.

My c**k was leaking again. The tip angry red. Slick dripping down the shaft, pulsing with every heartbeat like it was begging to be buried in something tight.

In her.

Only her.

I growled, low and raw, dragging a hand down my face. My body was on fire. My mind? Shot. The only thing playing in my skull on loop was the way her voice broke when she whispered yes. The way she whimpered

when I told her I wouldn’t touch her. The way her knees buckled.

She was so close to falling.

One more word. One more inch./I could’ve had her on her knees, crying for it, begging to be fil

claimed.

o be

But I didn’t.

|||

1/7

< Daddy’s Craving Her

Because I’m not a good man.

And I want to do f*****g bad things to her.

I want to split her open and watch her cry. I want to shove my c**k so deep into her throat she forgets her own f*****g name. I want to hear her sob while I knot her and whisper filth in her ear until her whole body trembles with shame and need.

I want her to hate me.

Because I hate myself for wanting her this much.

I cross the room and press my palm to the wall beside the bed. The hidden panel slides open with a quiet

hiss.

And there she is.

On the screen.

In the kitchen.

Still on the floor.

Knees curled to her chest. Face hidden in her arms. Shaking like she’s trying to hold herself together and

failing miserably.

I zoom in.

Her thighs are still wet. The trail of slick gleams in the soft light. Her robe’s clinging to her t**s. She’s crying.

Good.

f*****g good.

I wanted her to cry.

I wanted her to suffer.

Because if I touched her tonight, I would’ve wrecked her.

She’s not ready for that yet.

Not ready for my c**k. Not ready for the way I f**k. Not ready for the truth..that I’ve already made her mine in my head a thousand different ways.

I step back and strip off my shirt, muscles tense, body soaked in sweat. My c**k is rock hard, veins bulging, precum sliding down the head in slow, obscene drops.

I grab it.

Grip tight.

But I don’t stroke.

I just hold it. Squeeze it until the ache turns sharp. My teeth grit. My chest heaves.

Because this isn’t enough.

My hand isn’t enough.

Not anymore.

Daddy’s Craving Her

Not when I know what her cunt sounds like when it pulses. Not when I’ve seen her eyes roll back just from words. Not when I can smell her even now, hours later, like her scent owns me.

I step back from the screen and slam the panel closed.

No.

I’m not going to c*m.

But f**k. f**k. f**k.

I slammed my fist against the wall, teeth grinding so hard I tasted blood. My c**k didn’t even twitch at the pain. It just throbbed harder, like it liked the punishment.

Like it knew what I was really angry at.

I shouldn’t want her.

I can’t f*****g want her.

She’s eighteen.

Eighteen. My daughters best friend

I was there when they brought her home from the hospital. I f*****g held her. Rocked her when she wouldn’t sleep. I kissed her forehead when she cried over scraped knees and told her stories about wolves and stars and how one day she’d find a boy who deserved her.

And now?

Now I’m the monster standing in my bedroom with a c**k so hard it hurts just thinking about burying it in her sweet, tight, virgin p***y.

Moon Goddesses, what the f**k is wrong with me?

Her face. That trembling mouth. That robe slipping off her shoulder like temptation itself. The way her body moved when I spoke. The way her thighs stayed spread, slick with need like she was born to be f****d.

By me.

No. No, f**k.

She’s Lyra.

She’s a f*****g baby.

She’s the girl who used to sneak into my study to steal candy. The one who drew me pictures and called me her “protector.” The one who looked at me like I was safe.

And now?

Now she looks at me like I’m the devil she wants to kneel for.

And worse?

I want her to.

I want to take her by the throat and tell her it’s okay to be ruined. That it’s okay if she bleeds. If she cries. If she screams Daddy with my c**k shoved so deep she forgets what breathing feels like.

I want to mark her.

< Daddy’s Craving Her

I want to knot her.

I want to f**k her until she’s mine in every sense of the word.

I drop into the chair and bury my face in my hands, chest heaving.

“This is sick,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m f*****g sick.”

I cursed and turned away from the wall–length mirror. My reflection looked back at me like a goddamn monster. Veins bulging. Eyes bloodshot. Chest rising fast, every breath worse than the last.

“You can’t do this,” I growled. “You have to stop. You have to stop.”

“f**k,” I breathed, head tipping back. “f**k, f**k, fuck.”

I couldn’t f*****g take it anymore. I didn’t even try to pretend.

My chest was heaving. My c**k was throbbing. There was no blood in my brain anymore–it was all between my legs, feeding the ache, feeding the monster I’d been holding back all goddamn night.

And it wasn’t just hard.

It was savage.

Twenty full inches of veined, pulsing, unforgivable need..curving up from my groin like it wanted to destroy something. The head was fat, flushed red, already wet. Precum spilled from the slit in thick, milky ropes, coating the tip like it was drooling for her.

My pants were open before I even realized I’d moved. My c**k sprung free with a heavy slap against my abs. The weight of it thudded down like a weapon. It curved to the side, long and thick and covered in veins that pulsed with every ragged breath I took.

“God f*****g,” I growled, wrapping one big hand around the base and still barely covering half of it. The shaft was thick as my forearm. I squeezed..hard..my grip barely fitting, my skin slicking instantly with the precum already leaking down.

I dragged my fist up.

My c**k twitched, jerking in my grip like it had a mind of its own. My balls were tight. Heavy. Already aching. I hadn’t touched myself in days..not since that night I caught her in a towel, t**s bouncing, eyes wide like she’d

seen the devil.

And she had.

I was her devil.

And right now?

I wanted to f**k her like one.

I leaned back against the wall, spreading my legs, stroking slowly. My breath stuttered. My hips rocked

forward like my body needed it, begged for more. Every slide of my hand pulled another string of precum from the tip, slicking my fist, soaking my c**k like her p***y should’ve

I growled.

Deep.

Low.

47

Daddy’s Craving Her

Like a beast.

“Little f*****g slut,” I hissed, gripping the head tight, dragging my thumb around the edge until it pulsed violently in my palm. “You wanted me to see you, didn’t you? Standing there in that tight little robe, dripping like a b***h in heat.”

I jerked my hand faster.

The wet slap of skin echoed in the silence.

Slick.

Hard.

Obscene.

I spat in my hand and kept going. Fisting my c**k with both hands now. One at the base. The other working the shaft. The thick length of it gleamed in the dim light, flushed and angry, the head dark purple and spitting precum down my abs in sticky trails.

I tipped my head back.

Groaned.

Then pictured her.

On her knees.

Mouth open.

Tears running down her cheeks as she tried to fit the head between her lips and couldn’t.

“f*****g gag on it,” I growled. “You’d cry the second I made you lick it. You’d choke. Your throat would stretch,

and I still wouldn’t stop.”

I gripped tighter. Stroked harder. My hips bucked into my fists like I was already buried in her mouth.

“Take it, baby,” I snarled, imagining my voice in her ear. “You want to be a big girl? Open that throat. Cry for it.”

I was f*****g gone.

Jerking this twenty–inch c**k like it needed vengeance. Like it was punishing me for not f*****g her when I had the chance. My balls slapped against my thighs with every thrust of my hips, my hands working up and

down the thick shaft like I needed to milk it.

I grunted.

Panted.

Sweat dripped from my chest. My abs flexed. My whole body tensed.

Because I was close.

So f*****g close.

And she was all I could see.

Lyra. Bent over my bed. Ass spread. p***y twitching. Begging me to stop and still begging for more. Her cunt leaking. Her belly swelling. Her lips bruised from being f****d too long.

“Beg for it,” I groaned. “Beg me to fill you. To knot you. To ruin you.”

|||

O

5/7