Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 40

Still Full Of Him

Still Full Of Him

~Lyra~

Okay.

Okay, walk normal.

Just walk f*****g normal, Lyra.

One foot in front of the other. That’s all it is. You’ve been doing this since, like, birth. Just… move.

Don’t limp.

Don’t clutch the wall like you just got wrecked in a closet by your best friend’s dad.

Even though that’s exactly what the f**k just happened.

f**k.

I could still feel it.

His knot had finally popped free but oh my god, my p***y was still so stretched. So sore. So used. I felt

ruined.

Like he’d turned my cunt into a sleeve that only fit his c**k now. Like I couldn’t close my legs properly. Like my

body hadn’t realized the s*x was over.

I was leaking.

Leaking.

I could feel his c*m sliding down the inside of my thigh with every. single. step.

It was hot.

Wet.

Sticky.

f*****g endless.

Like his c**k hadn’t just knotted me, but claimed my womb and decided to stay.

wasn’t wearing panties. I couldn’t. I tried to put them back on after he told me to clean up and leave first,

but they stuck. Literally got stuck to my slit. Because there was so much of him inside me I couldn’t even

close.

And yeah, I grabbed his shirt.

So now I was barefoot, walking down the hallway in Damon f*****g Thornvale’s black button–down, no bra,

t**s aching, thighs trembling, and his c*m dripping down my legs like a slutty trail marking every step I took

I looked like I’d been f****d raw.

Which I had.

Oh my god.

He knotted me.

< Still Full Of Him

+6 Ports >

Like actually knotted me. Like some possessive, feral, psycho Alpha Daddy -wait. That’s exactly what he is.

That’s literally what just happened. I got knotted by my best friend’s dad like some fucktoy in heat and now

I’m waddling down the hallway like I gave birth to a bear.

What the f**k is wrong with me.

Why do I feel so full?

My p***y was aching. My clit was throbbing. My entire lower body felt like it had been put in a blender set to ‘ orgasm‘ and left on overnight.

And my brain?

Yeah.

Gone.

Dead.

Fried.

All I could think about was the way he’d looked at me while I was falling apart around his c**k. That lazy, cruel smirk on his face. The way he whispered “you’re mine now” while his knot locked in place and I

screamed into his chest.

f**k.

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

My thighs were literally sticking together.

I felt like a s*x crime walking.

Like if someone saw me right now, they’d call the police.

Hell, maybe they should.

Because I had just let my best friend’s dad shove me in a closet, strip me naked, make me come on his tongue, finger me until I forgot my name, then slam into my virgin p***y until I screamed so loud we almost got caught.

And then he knotted me.

He bred me.

I mean.

WHAT THE ACTUAL f**k.

Who does that? Who lives through that and just walks to their room like they’re normal?

Me, apparently.

I snuck past the living room. Didn’t even look to see if Tasha was there. If she saw me now? I’d die. No, like, actually collapse and shrivel into a horny little corpse and die.

Because how the f**k do you look your best friend in the face when you know her dad’s c*m is still dripping out of you?

You don’t.

O

< Still Full Of Him

You walk faster.

+6 Points >

You clench every muscle in your body and hope to the Moon Goddess that no more c*m slides out before you

reach your door.

And when you finally reach your room, you slam the door, lock it, press your back to it, and just–breathe.

Or try to.

I was panting.

Like I’d run a f*****g marathon.

Or survived a war.

Or got ruined in a closet and walked out still throbbing.

Which, again, I did.

I got f****d in a closet by my best friend’s dad.

And I f*****g liked it.

No.

Worse.

I f*****g loved it.

I was almost there.

Just a few more steps and I’d be in my room. I’d crawl into bed, press my face into a pillow, scream silently, maybe cry, maybe masturbate to the memory of his c**k stretching me open like I was made for it–no,

definitely not. Maybe.

Shut up, brain.

I just needed to get to the door without dripping another fat glob of his c*m on the floor like some untrained

b***h in heat.

Because that’s what I felt like.

A dripping, ruined, slutty little..

“b***h, where the f**k were you?”

I froze.

Literally.

Stopped breathing.

My heart punched straight through my chest and faceplanted on the floor.

No.

No no no.

That didn’t just happen.

Tell me that didn’t just..

O

< Still Full Of Him

I turned my head.

Slow.

Trembling.

And there she was.

Tasha.

+8 PORTS *

Standing at the end of the hall, hair in a messy ponytail, holding a cup of cereal in one hand and glaring at

me like I’d just returned from robbing a bank.

“Hello?” she waved the cereal spoon. “I’ve been calling you. Where the f**k did you disappear to?”

My mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

My p***y pulsed.

I was still leaking.

My thighs were glued together.

His shirt was hanging off my shoulders like a confession. Oversized. Black. Probably still smelled like his

sweat.

Oh my f*****g God.

I opened my mouth again, hoping a miracle would fall out, but my brain was doing that static thing. The one where it just screamed f**k f**k f**k in all caps on repeat like a broken slut radio.

“Were you with someone?” she narrowed her eyes suddenly, stepping forward like a predator sniffing out a secret. “Why are you–wait, is that my dad’s shirt?”

Boom.

That was it.

Heart officially stopped.

Game over.

Lyra.exe has crashed.

I tried to smile.

It came out like a seizure.

“Oh, I–I spilled something on my top I croaked. “So he..uh..he gave me this to wear. It’s just a shirt, nothing weird, I was in the laundry room, swear..”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

My hand instinctively gripped the door handle behind me.

Her eyes dropped to my thighs/

Oh f**k.

Ch f**k.

O

< Still Full Of Him

Was there c*m? Was it on my leg? Could she see it?

Was there a shiny trail down my f*****g leg right now?

+8 Points >

I squeezed my thighs together like that would hide anything, but the second I did, a warm, wet slide slipped

lower and I knew. I knew.

Her eyes squinted.

“Why are you walking like that?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. “You’re limping.”

“I’m not limping!”

“Lyra, are you sick or something?”

b***h I’m full of your dad’s c**k.

I shook my head.

Too fast.

“Nope! I’m fine! Just period cramps! You know–feminine pain and agony and all that horror! Definitely not

closet s*x with your father, ha–ha!”

I didn’t say that last part out loud.

At least I hope I didn’t.

She blinked.

I yanked the door open.

“Gotta go!” I blurted. “Gonna cry into my hot water bottle and bleed to death like a responsible adult woman!”

And I slammed the door shut behind me.

Dead silence.

Then.

“f*****g weirdo,” I heard her mutter through the door.

My knees buckled.

I collapsed against the inside of the door, heart pounding like it was trying to jump out of my chest and

the crime scene.

escape

Holy.

f*****g.

S**t.

I almost died.

I almost died.

She looked at my legs.

She saw the shirt.

She smelled the air, probably. Knew something was off. And I was standing there with a raw, leaking cunt full

Still Full Of Him

of her dad’s c*m like some twisted porn version of “meet the family.”

Oh my God.

I was not going to survive this.

There was no way.

+ Pouts

My best friend almost saw the proof of what her dad did to me dripping down my thighs, and I still had his

shirt on, still had his c*m inside me, still couldn’t f*****g think straight.

I dropped to my knees on the floor.

Pressed my forehead to the carpet.

Tried to scream into it.

Nothing came out but a choked gasp and a strangled whimper.

Because I wasn’t just ruined – I was wrecked.

Mentally. Emotionally. Vaginally. Spiritually. Every -ly you could think of.

And I had just managed to crawl toward my bed like a war victim when-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No.

No no no.

froze.

Again.

This time on all fours.

And then I heard her voice.

“Lyra? Hey, have you seen my dad?”

My soul left my f*****g body.

She was right outside my door again.