Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 74

What The Hell?

~Lyra

I buried my face in the sheets, panting so hard my chest was heaving. Sweat was sticking to the fur on my stomach, my legs were still shaking, and I could feel his knot still slowly, painfully sliding out of me with a wet, embarrassing pop that made me whimper against the mattress.

There was slick everywhere.

All over my thighs. All over his sheets. Dripping in strings from between my legs like my cunt didn’t get the memo that this was a bad f*****g time to be in afterglow mode.

Tasha’s voice was still echoing up the stairs.

She was yelling for her dad to come downstairs And me?

I was tied to her dad thirty seconds ago.

And the second that knot came out and the air hit my ruined, swollen cunt, I panicked.

I looked back at Damon, my eyes wide, my heart slamming inside my chest like it was trying to escape through my ribs, and I said the dumbest f*****g thing I’ve ever said in my life.

“You know what?” I breathed. “Let’s just both go downstairs.”

He blinked at me.

“What?”

I was already shifting back. My fur melted back into skin, my hands landed flat on the bed, and the second my human body returned I regretted everything.

I was naked. Still dripping. Still so stretched open I couldn’t feel anything but slick sliding out of me in slow, humiliating pulses. My legs were trembling like I had the flu. My thighs were still twitching from how violently

I came.

And my brain?

My brain was holding onto reality with duct tape and prayer.

“We should go,” I said again, pulling the sheet under me and trying to wrap it around myself even though I was still panting and shaking like I’d just been f****d into next week. “It’ll look suspicious if you don’t go. Just go first. I’ll come behind you.”

Damon looked at me like I was insane. Which, to be fair, I was.

“You can’t walk,” he said, and his voice was soft now, still ruined from everything ..e’d just done. “You’re leaking.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I whispered. “Just go. Please. I’ll be right behind you.”

He sighed.

Ran a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. Walked over and bent down–still naked–and kissed me on the forehead.

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What The Hell?

And it wrecked me.

Because I was still ruined. Still full. Still his.

And he kissed me like I was something precious.

Then he turned, grabbed a shirt and sweatpants and left.

Just like that.

And I–like the complete, unhinged, freshly–bred disaster of a girl I was–stood up on shaky legs and immediately whimpered.

Oh f**k.

Oh f**k.

Oh f**k.

Oh f**k.

That was the first thing I said the second I tried to take a step and realized my legs didn’t work. Like, at all. They were numb, like jelly. Like someone had unplugged all the bones in my body and replaced them with wet noodles and shame. I was still holding the sheet around my body, trying to cover my t**s and my thighs even though it didn’t matter–because the real problem wasn’t what I looked like.

It was what I felt like.

My p***y was throbbing.

Not softly. Not sweetly.

It was pulsing like it was still hungry, even after he’d knotted me and filled me with so much c*m I was still leaking. I could feel it sliding out of me in slow, sticky drips, slipping down the inside of my thighs with every step I took. It was warm. Wet. Unforgivable.

“Oh f**k,” I whispered again, dragging my hand down my face. “I can’t walk properly. I can’t even breathe properly. What the hell did he do to me? Why am I still open? Why is there still c*m inside me? Why is my body acting like I didn’t just get turned into a literal Omega f**k toy ten minutes ago?”

My heart was thudding. Not from the orgasm. From the reality. From the danger of what I was about to walk

into.

Because downstairs wasn’t empty.

Downstairs was Tasha.

And her voice was still echoing up the stairs, cheerful, f*****g oblivious.

“Come on, Dad! You’re taking forever!”

I limped toward the stairs, clutching the banister with one hand, the sheet with the other, and every inch of me was sore. My back ached from the way he bent me over. My hips ached from how wide he stretched me. My inner thighs were raw from how fast I’d run and how hard he’d f****d me. I was still clenching. Still fluttering. Still so goddamn full I felt like I needed to lie down and cry into a pillow for twenty–five hours.

Instead, I took another step.

And another.

< What The Hell?

Each one slow. Careful. Like if I moved too fast, his c*m would actually hit the floor behind me.

I followed him.

Slowly.

Painfully.

One step at a time, limping like I’d just gotten back from a demon exorcism and my v****a didn’t survive it.

Then I heard her voice again.

“Look who’s here, Dad!”

I peeked around the wall, barely able to hold the sheet over my chest. My heart was still pounding. My brain was still fried. I was already thinking of ways to sneak into the bathroom and clean up before anyone noticed the way my legs were literally glistening.

But then I saw her.

Tasha.

Grinning like an i***t.

And next to her was a woman i have never seen before.

And the next thing she said pierced my heart. And then-

“Mum! Mum is back!!. Look at her”

That was what she said.

That was the word that dropped into the room like a goddamn bomb.

And I froze.

My whole body went cold.

My breath caught.

And I felt everything stop.

Mum?

My eyes widened.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t breathe.

My hand was still gripping the banister like it was the only thing keeping me from collapsing and rolling down the stairs in a broken pile of bruises, slick, and humiliation.

My legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand. My vision was blurry. My heart was beating in my ears like war drums. And I was just standing there. Silent. Paralyzed. Numb. Trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at.

Because it didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make any f*****g sense.

She was here. A woman. Tall. Blonde. Pretty in that scary, glossy, ex–model kind of way. She looked like

<What The Hell?

* Points >

money. She looked like a storm. She looked like she’d walked out of a magazine spread about women who

ruin lives with a smile.

And Tasha had just called her–mum.

Her mum.

Which meant-

I turned my head slowly, like my neck was made of stone, like my brain was trying to protect me from what it

already knew.

And there he was.

Damon.

Standing completely still, dressed now, thank God, in a black T–shirt that clung to his chest and sweatpants that were low on his hips. But none of that mattered. None of that registered. Because I wasn’t looking at his

body anymore.

I was looking at his face.

His expression.

His guilt.

His silence.

And that’s when my stomach dropped.

Because I remembered.

I remembered what he told me.

I remembered the words exactly. Like they were tattooed on the inside of my skull.

“She’s dead.”

That’s what he said.

That’s what he looked me in the eyes and told me when I saw her picture and asked about her in the penthouse.

“She’s dead.”

Dead.

Dead.

But she wasn’t dead.

She was standing right there.

Smiling. Breathing. Wearing lip gloss.

What the hell was happening?

What the actual, mind–f*****g hell was I looking at?

Was I dreaming? Hallucinating? Had I lost my mind somewhere between getting knotted and leaking all over the stairs?

What The Hell?

Because this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t possible.

I couldn’t stop thinking. My brain was spiraling so fast it felt like the thoughts were crashing into each other and falling apart as they hit.

He told me she was dead. He told me she was gone. He kissed me like a man who lost something. He f****d me like he had nothing left. He marked me like he was claiming the only thing that was still his.

And now she’s standing here?