Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 111

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Stop Overreacting Kitten

Stop Overreacting Kitten

~Lyra

“I didn’t take a test yet because I was too scared to see the result,” I confessed, breathless, broken. “Because if it’s negative, then maybe I’m just losing it. And if it’s positive–if it’s really positive–then that means it’s real, and that means I’m actually pregnant with your pup, and I don’t even know what that looks like or what it means for me or for you or for school or for everything, and-”

I choked on a sob and buried my face in his chest again like it could hide me from the avalanche of words that wouldn’t stop pouring out of my mouth.

“And I know I’m just eighteen,” I mumbled into his shirt, the fabric soaking up my tears like it had done this before. “I know I’m young and dumb and I probably don’t understand half of what’s happening in my own

body.

My voice got quieter, but not calmer.

And definitely not sane.

“I don’t know how to be someone’s mother,” I whispered, but the words still came fast, all tangled.

“I don’t even know how to survive school without melting down in the bathroom twice a week. I don’t even like milk, Damon. Pregnant people drink milk, don’t they? Or is that a myth? What if I can’t give you what you want? What if the pup doesn’t even look like you? What if I’m too small to carry it–what if–what if I-”

“Shhh,” he murmured suddenly, and his hand moved up to cover my mouth, gently but firmly, palm flat across my lips. “Enough, kitten”

He lifted his hand gently, fingers brushing my jaw like he didn’t want to hurt me, just silence me, just touch me, and then he pressed his palm over my mouth.

His thumb rested just against the edge of my cheek, and his other hand slid firmly around my waist, gripping me like he was anchoring me to the earth while my mind spun out of control.

My breathing hitched.

My chest was still rising and falling too fast, and tears were still clinging to my lashes, but I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. His hand was there, but even if it hadn’t been, I think I still would’ve gone quiet, because his voice

had changed.

“Come here, kitten,” he said softly, and he moved his hand from my mouth just as his other one tugged me

flush against him, like I belonged there, like my body was made to fit into the shape of his, and suddenly wasn’t just standing anymore–I was held.

His palm gripped my waist tighter, dragging me even closer, until my chest was pressed aga

mouth was trembling just inches from his.

And then he kissed me.

his and my

It was the kind of kiss that swallowed every thought thad and replaced it with fire. My knees buckled. My head spun,

I moaned into his mouth without meaning to, and the sound made his grip on me tighten again like he

< Stop Overreacting Kitten

wanted more of it, like he wanted to own every little noise I made.

My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, clinging for balance, for breath, for him, because I was already falling again and only he knew how to catch me.

His hand slid down my back.

Lower.

Lower.

And then.

His hand grabbed my ass.

Like he’d been thinking about it all day. Like he wanted to remind me it was his.

Before I could even react, I felt the sting.

His palm smacked my ass with just enough force to make me gasp, my head jerking back, my lips parting as

this helpless, shocked moan spilled out.

My whole body froze for a second, like even my nervous system didn’t know how to process that much

sensation at once.

My chest was rising and falling so fast I thought I might actually pass out.

“Damon,” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper because I couldn’t get air in fast enough. “You just–oh my God,

you spanked me.”

“Yes,” he said, low and unbothered, his fingers still gripping my ass like it was his favorite thing in the world.”

And you liked it.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

I couldn’t say anything, because the truth was I was wet. Soaking. Throbbing. My thighs were squeezing

together and my stomach was fluttering and my brain was doing that thing where all it could think about was

his voice and his hands and his d**k and how badly I wanted to feel him inside me again, even if I was

already losing my mind.

I tried to say something. I really did. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain, to go back to the panic and the

test and the hormones and all the serious, terrifying things I’d come here to talk about.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Not with his hands on me.

Not with my body betraying me like this.

Not with my n*****s hardening and my cunt clenching and my thoughts running in circles ar

that I was probably pregnant and still ready to beg him to bend me over the nearest table an

again.

d the fact

.eed me

Damon smirked.

It was small. Just a tiny shift of his lips. But it was there. That dark, cocky, mine kind of smirk that made my heart stutter and my lower belly squeeze with filthy heat.

“Much better,” he murmured, brushing his mouth against my cheek like I was still his crying kitten instead of

Stop Overreacting Kitten

his needy Omega. “You breathe better when you’re in Daddy’s hands. You think better when your ass to red and your thighs are shaking. Isn’t that right?

Then he kept going.

Of course he kept going.

Because Damon doesn’t know how to stop when I’m already on the edge. He just pushes harder, speaks lower, touches deeper, and it makes me unravel faster every single time.

“You’re softer when you cry for me,” he said, his voice curling around my ear like it belonged inside me. You’re louder in bed, but your brain gets quieter. You stop panicking. You stop pretending you can handle things alone. You give me everything–your breath, your tears, your cunt–and you stop overthinking and just feel. That’s what you need, isn’t it? You need Daddy to take control again.”

My breath hitched.

I hated how true it felt.

I hated how quickly my body reacted to those words, how I clenched around nothing and whimpered softly against his chest like a pathetic little thing, all while my heart kept pounding like a warning bell.

I wanted to melt into him again.

I wanted him to say more.

But then it hit me again–hard and fast and terrifying.

The reason I came here.

The truth I hadn’t even processed yet.

I pushed against his chest just enough to make space between us, my hands shaking, my stomach twisting, my mind screaming at me not to say it–but it was already rising in my throat, choking me with its weight.

“I think I’m pregnant,” I whispered again, louder this time, like I needed him to really hear it.

I didn’t know what reaction I expected.

Shock.

Denial.

Panic.

But all I got was calm. The same terrifying calm he always used when he was completely, totally in control of the situation–and everyone else just hadn’t caught up yet.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t blink.

He didn’t even loosen his grip on my ass.

He just said, “Then it’s fine, kitten.”

I blinked up at him, stunned.

Fine?

Fine?

Stop Overreacting Kitten

Was he being serious right now?

Did he understand what I had just said?

“-what?” I stammered, because my brain was still buffering like a bad Wi–Fi signal. “What do you mean fine

He looked down at me like I was adorable. Like I was dumb. Like I was his.

“Didn’t you expect it?” he asked, his voice low and maddeningly casual. “You really thought it wasn’t going to happen? Knowing we never–not once–used a condom? Or what, you didn’t pay attention in biology class,

kitten?”

My mouth dropped open.

The slap I gave his chest was instant, fueled by panic and embarrassment and the fact that my whole body was still throbbing from that damn spanking he gave me.

“Stop joking around, Damon!” I snapped, even though my voice cracked halfway through because my

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