Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 41

< Her Panties

Her Panties

~Damon~

The second the door clicked behind her, I stayed seated.

Still naked.

Still soaked in the scent of her.

Still staring at the faint trail of slick she left behind on the floor like her body was trying to mark every step, like it hadn’t figured out how to stop leaking all the filth I’d shoved into it.

f**k.

I leaned back, chest heaving, the aftershock still buzzing in my veins. My c**k was half–hard again, twitching against my stomach, gleaming with the same mix of her arousal and my c*m that had been f*****g dripping

out of her for what felt like hours.

My hand went to my jaw. Dragged down slowly. I was trying to breathe. Trying to calm the beast in me.

But then I looked down.

And saw them.

Her panties.

Damp as f**k.

They were bunched in the corner like they didn’t know what the hell had just happened. Twisted, soft, and

soaked through with everything we’d just done.

And I froze.

Because f**k me.

She left them behind.

I reached for them slowly. Reverently. Like they were holy. Like they were some sacred trophy carved from sin

itself. My fingers curled around the delicate fabric, still warm, still wet, still sticky with the mix of her

innocence and the wreckage I’d turned her into.

I brought them to my face.

And I f*****g inhaled.

Hard.

God.

Her scent was all over them. Sweet. Musky. Tangy. That addictive omega perfume that only came out when

her body was wrecked and wide open and f****d full of knot and c*m and ruin.

“f**k, Lyra,” I groaned, eyes fluttering shut as I held them there. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.

“Look at you,” I whispered, lifting the soft lace between my fingers. “What am I gonna do with you, huh? You sweet little thing. You filthy little piece of her.”

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< Her Panties

The second I brought them to my face, I was gone.

I groaned–deep…as I inhaled her scent.

**PORTS

Sweet. Tangy. Innocent and wrecked at the same time. The kind of smell that shouldn’t belong to someone her age, shouldn’t exist at all, shouldn’t be coating her panties like that if the universe had a shred of decency

left.

But it did.

Because she wore these while she moaned for me.

While she bled for me.

While she came around my c**k and told me I ruined her.

And now?

Now they were mine.

“f**k,” I growled, dragging them across my nose again. “This is what you smell like when you’re mine. This is what your cunt smells like after I knot you..after I fill you up and stretch you until you’re crying and begging

and still asking for more.”

I inhaled again.

Harder.

Eyes closing as I let that sticky, musky perfume flood my lungs like it could fix every broken part of me. My c**k twitched again. Still wet. Still f*****g needy.

“This little strip of lace has more soul in it than half the women I’ve ever f****d,” I murmured, tongue flicking out to taste the edge. “Goddamn, Lyra. You smell like sin. Like sweet f*****g sin wrapped in baby pink and

breathless moans.”

I looked down at the panties in my hand.

“Were you wearing these when you came in here? When you gave me that look?” I smirked. “You weren’t ready. You had no f*****g clue what I’d do to you. But your p***y did. Your p***y was soaking these before I

even touched you, wasn’t it?”

I laughed softly.

Darkly.

“I could frame these,” I said, voice low and reverent, like I was talking to a f*****g relic. “Glass case. Bulletproof. Hang them in the study right over the fireplace. Let every bastard that steps foot in this house

know who owns you now.”

Another pause.

Another slow sniff.

Another groan.

“They still smell like me,” I whispered. “Still smell like my c*m. Still damp with everything I poured into that tight little cunt of yours.”

I turned toward the mirror on the door.

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< Her Panties

My reflection stared back at me..hair mussed, chest scratched, eyes wild. I looked like a man who’d just

ruined something sacred and liked it. No shirt. No guilt. Just raw, feral satisfaction.

40 Points>

“You’re a grown–ass man, Damon,” I muttered to myself, half–laughing. “Sniffing panties. Talking to lace like it’s alive. What the f**k is wrong with you?”

“You run an empire. You’ve buried men in rivers, paid off governments, built your fortune with blood and

backbone…”

I raised them back to my nose, breathed deep.

“And now look at you. Losing your f*****g mind over a girl’s underwear.”

My laugh was low.

Bitter.

But not ashamed.

“I should be locked up,” I murmured, shaking my head slowly. “I should be f*****g institutionalized. Because this? This ain’t normal. This ain’t healthy. This ain’t what men like me are supposed to do.”

I turned and leaned against the closet door, holding the panties to my mouth like I needed to whisper my sins

into them.

“She’s eighteen,” I breathed. “Eighteen and ruined. Eighteen and knotted. Eighteen and dripping my f*****g c*m down her legs while my daughter’s down the goddamn hallway asking where we’ve been.”

I groaned and closed my eyes again, pressing the fabric tighter against my lips.

“And I’d do it all over again.”

Silence.

For a second.

Just the sound of my pulse thumping against my skull, the scent of her still coating the air, the warm press of her last moan echoing in my ears like it hadn’t really ended.

Then I spoke again.

“She doesn’t even know what she’s done to me,” I whispered. “She has no f*****g clue. That sweet, messy little cunt has more power over me than any deal I’ve ever signed. I’ve killed for less than what she gave me

– tonight.”

I opened my eyes.

Looked down at the soaked fabric again.

And f**k.

The sight of that dark, sticky stain/in the middle made my throat tighten.

“You begged me with this, didn’t you?” I asked, holding the panties like they could answer. “Your p***y soaked this before I even touched you.

“You were already mine. Already aching. Already waiting to be claimed. You didn’t say it with your mouth but this little f*****g thing right here?” I dragged my thumb across the center, rubbing the slick spot slow. This

was your consent.”

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< Her Panties

Another breath. Shaky.

Another groan. Deeper now.

+ Porn X-

“You think I’m ever gonna forget this?” I asked the drawer, like it was some dark confessional. “You think I’m

ever gonna let another man breathe near you without remembering what you smelled like when you came for

me in this closet?”

I licked the inside of my cheek. My jaw clenched again.

“You don’t even understand yet. You think this was s*x?” I laughed quietly. “You think this was just some secret quickie while your best friend was in the hallway? No. This was the beginning. This was the first time your body admitted it was mine.”

I tapped the panties against my palm.

Soft. Wet.

Still warm.

“Every time you put something between your legs now, you’ll remember this moment. Every time you try to

wear new ones, you’ll feel the difference.

“You’ll remember how these were torn off you. How you moaned when they came off. How your slick coated

them while you begged me not to stop.”

Another inhale.

Then I kissed them.

Dead center.

Pressed my lips to that warm, stained spot like I was worshiping the memory of her p***y.

And whispered against the lace-

“This is mine now.”

Then I walked back to the drawer, opened it like I was handling a f*****g relic, and laid the panties flat on the

velvet lining like I’d just placed the crown jewels.

I closed it.

Locked it.

Then stood there for a long minute with my hand on the wood, my chest rising and falling, my c**k twitching

with every breath.

“I’m a grown–ass man,” I said one last time, shaking my head and laughing again. “And I just fell in love with a

f*****g pair of panties.”

I dragged my hand down my face again.

Smirked at the mirror.

And muttered.

“God help me. Because I’m not stopping.”

I stood there for another breathless second, palm still pressed to the drawer like it had taken something from

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Het Panties

1. me. Maybe it had. Maybe it was safer that way.

+0 Points

Safer if I didn’t look at those panties again tonight. Safer if I didn’t open that drawer again in the next ten minutes and take them back out just to smell her all over again.

Because I would.

I f*****g would.

And I needed to get a grip.

I turned back to the room, dragging a hand down my face and eyeing the bed.

The sheets were ruined.

Completely.

There was a wet, dark spot in the center where her virgin blood had soaked through, ringed in the mess of my c*m and sweat and everything else I’d left behind inside her.

Her scent was thick in the air. The headboard was still crooked from where I’d slammed her against it before dragging her into the closet like a starving animal.

I clicked my jaw, exhaled hard through my nose, and moved to strip the bed.