Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 22

< Mess Of Desires

+ Points

Mess Of Desire 19

I couldn’t walk straight.

Not because I was drunk. Not because I was high. But because I could still feel him on me.

Still feel the heat of his mouth against my ear. Still feel his voice curling down my spine like smoke.

Tasha was somewhere outside. I didn’t even know if she was still f*****g those guys, if she was looking for

me, if she saw what happened.

Didn’t matter.

All I could focus on was the ache between my thighs.

My panties were ruined. Wet. Completely soaked through. Clinging to me like shame. I could feel how messy! was every time I moved. I could smell it..faint, but there.

Omega heat was a myth. That’s what I used to think. That maybe it wasn’t for me.

Until tonight. f**k.

I stumbled down the hall, every step making it worse.

I wasn’t okay. I was not okay. My skin was buzzing, my n*****s hurt from how hard they were, and my cunt-

God, my cunt–felt like it was on fire. My thighs were wet.

So wet I knew it wasn’t sweat. I didn’t even want to check my panties. I could already feel how ruined they were. Sticking to my folds. Clinging like a second skin soaked in shame.

I needed to leave.

I needed to get the f**k out of this house.

I needed to find Tasha and run before that stranger circled back and finished what he started..because I

knew I wouldn’t stop him.

My breath came short and sharp as I moved faster, slipping past bodies, flashing lights, music thumping like my heartbeat.

Where is she…

I spun around, frantic.

People. Faces. Drunken laughs. None of them her.

“f**k,” I whispered to myself. I rubbed my arms like it would somehow help ground me.

But it didn’t.

Because he was still in my head.

That f*****g stranger.

His voice. His heat, His scent.

“You’re a mess, baby girl. Soaked. Desperate. Mine if I want you”

I clenched my jaw. No.

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< Mess Of Desires

I didn’t want him.

I didn’t want some cocky, nameless Alpha with filthy words and a jaw that could cut glass.

I wanted Damon.

The man I’d been fantasizing about for years.

The one I thought about every time I came with my own fingers inside me. The one I dreamed of bending me over his desk, gripping my neck, whispering how f*****g tight I was while he filled me with every inch of his

C**k.

Not this stranger.

Not some unknown face from a party.

I pressed a hand between my legs as I slipped into an empty hallway off the main room.

Just a few doors and a low light over the wall.

I grabbed the first door handle. Locked.

Second.

Unlocked.

I shoved it open and stepped inside, heart racing.

Bathroom.

I slammed the door.

Locked it.

Turned and pressed my back against it like I was trying to seal the world out..or keep myself in.

The second the latch clicked, my breath broke.

I panted like I’d just run a marathon. My skin was flushed. My whole body tingled. My hands were shaking and my f*****g p***y was leaking down my thighs like I’d already been f****d.

But I hadn’t.

No one touched me.

He didn’t even lay a hand on my cunt.

Just words.

Just words and heat and breath on my neck.

And I was soaked.

I grabbed the edge of the sink like it could ground me, but the second I caught sight of my reflection, I knew I was f****d.

I looked like I’d been ruined.

My lips were red, parted, kiss–swollen. My cheeks were flushed like I’d just come. My dress clung to me, my n*****s standing out in stiff peaks under the sheer fabric.

My eyes–God, my eyes–wide and wet, pupils dilated, like I was strung out on the need I refused to admit.

< Mess Of Desires

I let my head drop.

My chest rose and fell too fast. My throat was dry. My legs were trembling.

I need to find Tasha, I told myself.

I needed to get the f**k out of this house.

I needed to get away from this mirror, this hallway, this party, this entire f*****g night.

But I didn’t move.

Because there was only one person I needed right now.

Not the stranger. Not his filthy voice or the c**k pressed against my belly. Not his arrogant smile or the way he called me a mess like he owned it.

Damon.

My heart cracked open.

My thighs clenched.

I moaned. Right there. Moaned his name like it burned coming out of me.

“Damon…”

My knees buckled.

I let go of the sink and turned.

Like I wasn’t falling apart inside.

I reached for the hem of my dress. My fingers slid under the fabric and yanked it up.

No hesitation.

No shame.

Just need.

And what I saw?

God.

My panties were ruined.

The pale fabric was soaked, darkened where my wetness had bled through, clinging to my folds so tight I could see the perfect shape of my cunt/

My clit was swollen. My lips parted. Wetness glistened down the insides of my thighs like tears.

I touched it.

Just the edge.

Just two fingers grazing the heat through the fabric.

And I almost collapsed.

“f**k…”

Istepped out of them.

< Mess Of Desired

Let them drop to the floor like they didn’t matter.

I climbed onto the counter, legs spread wide, cunt exposed to the mirror.

And for a second, I just stared.

I watched myself.

My thighs trembling.

My p***y glistening.

My hands shaking with the need to touch.

Then I did.

My fingers slid between the folds, parting them gently, slowly, making myself feel every ridge, every pulse, every wet, messy throb.

I moaned.

Louder this time.

No holding back.

“Damon…” I breathed again, and this time, my whole body answered. My clit twitched. My walls fluttered. My cunt dripped.

I circled it. Slow at first.

Then harder.

Faster.

I leaned back on one hand, other fingers working that swollen little nub like I’d been starving for release all night.

And I had.

Not from the stranger.

From him.

From Damon.

His name pulsed through my head with every stroke. His voice. His face. His f*****g body. The way he looked

at me sometimes..like he was two seconds from grabbing me by the throat and bending me over the nearest surface.

My hips rocked.

My legs fell wider.

I was panting now, breath fogging the mirror behind me.

“Please…” I whispered.

I didn’t know what I was begging for. More? Harder? Him?

All of it.

slid two fingers inside.

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< Mess Of Desire

My p***y welcomed them.

Tight. Hot. Flooded.

I f****d myself slow at first.

Then faster.

Twisting. Curling. Hitting that spot.

And I imagined his fingers doing it. Long. Strong. Veined. Brutal.

I imagined his voice in my ear, rough and low.

(“Look at this messy little cunt. You’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?“)

I imagined him gripping my thighs, holding them open while he watched me break.

(“You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me, baby girl? The way you squeeze your thighs shut

around nothing like a needy little b***h in heat?“)

“Damon…”

I breathed it again, softer, like prayer.

My back arched off the counter, thighs trembling, cunt clenching with every teasing swirl of my fingers.

+ Points >

The mirror was fogged behind me from how heavy I was panting, how much heat was pouring off my skin. I

looked wrecked.

My n*****s were hard and I picked them and played with them.

I rubbed my clit faster, my palm grinding it hard enough to make my legs quake.

I moaned again.

Louder.

“Ahhhh…Damon…f–f**k…yes-…”

My cunt clenched hard around my fingers. I pushed them deeper.

So deep I whimpered.

So deep my thighs shook, slick dripping in thick streams over my hand, down the count, to the floor.

“Please,” I gasped, voice cracking. “Please, I need you. I need–f**k–I need it harder…”

I thrust my fingers harder, curling them just right, hitting that place inside me that made my whole body lock.

1. up.

“Oh my God…Damon…Daddy..ahhh–f**k, f**k-”

My hips rocked, my eyes rolled, my moans spilled louder, more desperate.

I was panting his name like it was a curse, a blessing, a drug I couldn’t live without.

“Damon. Damon. Damon–fuuuck me–please–I want you so bad–I c–can’t–I can’t stop..”

I added a third finger.

My p***y stretched around it, sucking it in greedily.

5/8

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<

Mess Of Desired

My head fell back against the mirror with a dull thud as I cried out, my whole body tensing

“S**t–ngghh–Damon–yesyesyes–ahh..”

+ Parts 7

My thighs slapped against the counter as I f****d myself harder, my palm slamming against my clit in frantic, filthy circles.

The pressure built.

Higher.

Tighter.

I could barely breathe. Barely think.

Just his name in my head. His scent. His voice.

(“You like this? Like showing that little cunt off to me? Look at yourself, baby. Look at the mess you made just for Daddy.“)

I wailed.

A real, raw, gasping moan that tore from my throat like I was being touched by fire.

“Aaaah…ohmyfuck… Damon…yesyesyes, I’m–f–f**k, I’m gonna-”