Breed me Raw, Alpha

But I’d be a damn liar if I said I hadn’t fantasized about it.

It started as a sick little whisper in the back of my mind the first time Chloe dragged me home freshman year of college. I was eighteen, untouched, raised in a strict beta household that pretended Omega verse dynamics were something that happened to other people. Chloe’s house was different. It reeked of money, power, and something darker, something primal that made my thighs clench the second I stepped over the threshold.

And then there was him.

Alpha Damian Voss.

Six-foot-six of pure sin, broad shoulders that blocked out the sun, black hair threaded with silver at the temples, and eyes the color of winter storms. He didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to.

One look from those eyes and every omega instinct I’d spent years suppressing screamed kneel.

He’d nodded at me that first day, voice like gravel dragged over silk. “Selena.”

That was it. Just my name.

But the way he said it, slow, deliberate, tasting every syllable, had me soaked through my cotton panties before I even made it upstairs.

I told myself it was a stupid crush. He was Chloe’s dad. Widowed. Thirty years older than me. Forbidden on every level.

I buried the fantasies deep, dated nice beta boys who kissed like they were afraid of breaking me, and pretended I didn’t wake up some nights humping my pillow to the memory of Alpha Voss’s scent, dark, spiced cedar and smoke, wrapping around my throat like a collar.

Then Chloe begged me to spend the summer after graduation at the estate before we both started grad school.

“Just us girls,” she said. “Dad’s barely home anyway. He’s always at the pack compound.”

I should have said no.

Instead I packed sundresses that were far too short and lied to myself that I was coming for the pool, the beach, the freedom.

I came for him.

The first week was torture. He was home more than Chloe promised. I’d turn a corner and there he’d be, shirtless in the gym, sweat carving rivers down carved abs, the thick outline of his cock straining against grey sweatpants. I’d freeze like prey. He’d inhale, slow and deep, nostrils flaring, and I swear his eyes went black watching the way my nipples pebbled under thin cotton.

He never touched me.

Not yet.

But he started finding reasons to be near me.

Brushing past me in the hallway, his hand ghosting over the small of my back.

Leaning over me at the kitchen island to reach something, chest pressed to my back, the ridge of his half-hard cock nudging the cleft of my ass for one burning second before he moved away like nothing happened.

I was losing my mind.

I started wearing less. Tiny sleep shorts that barely covered my ass. Tank tops with no bra. I told myself it was the heat.

Lie.

I wanted him to snap.

And on the eighth night, he did.

Chloe had passed out early after too many margaritas by the pool. I couldn’t sleep. My skin felt too tight, my body aching with a need I didn’t understand until I admitted the truth: I was sliding into heat. My very first real one. Suppressants had kept them mild before, but being this close to a prime alpha for days had shattered every chemical barrier I’d built.

I padded downstairs for water, barefoot, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that smelled faintly of him, I’d stolen it from the laundry two days ago and hadn’t washed it.

The kitchen was dark except for the moonlight spilling through the windows.

And he was there.

Leaning against the counter, shirtless, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, a tumbler of whiskey dangling from his fingers. His eyes locked on me the second I stepped into the room.

The air thickened, turned heavy, sweet with my slick and his answering growl.

“Little girl,” he rumbled, voice so low I felt it between my legs. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

I should have run.

Instead I whispered, “I think I’m in heat.”

The glass shattered in his hand.

One second he was across the room, the next his hand was fisted in my hair, yanking my head back so hard my scalp burned. His mouth crashed down on mine, brutal, punishing, teeth splitting my lip until I tasted blood. I whimpered into him, clung to his shoulders, tried to climb his body right there.

He spun me, slammed me belly-first onto the cold marble island, kicked my legs apart.

“You’ve been dripping for me all week,” he snarled against my ear, grinding his cock against my ass. “Parading this sweet little omega cunt around my house like you don’t know what it does to an alpha.”

“I didn’t...” I started, but he shoved three thick fingers into my mouth, gagging me.

“Don’t lie to me, Selena. You want this. You’ve been begging for it with every breath.”

He ripped my panties down my thighs, the fabric tearing like paper. Cool air hit my soaked folds and I cried out around his fingers as he spread me open with his thumbs.

“Fuck. Look at you. Virgin little hole clenching around nothing, dripping down your thighs for your best friend’s daddy.”

Shame burned through me, hot and vicious, but it only made me wetter.

He dragged the fat head of his cock through my slick, coating himself, teasing my entrance until I was sobbing, trying to push back, to take him inside.

“Beg,” he growled.

“Please,” I choked out the second he pulled his fingers from my mouth. “Please, Alpha, I need...”

“Need what?”

“Your cock. Need you to fuck me, breed me, please, I can’t...”

He thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

I screamed. The stretch burned, white-hot, perfect. He was too big, splitting me open, but my body took him like I was made for it. He didn’t give me time to adjust, just pulled back and slammed in again, over and over, the island creaking beneath us.

“Mine,” he snarled, teeth scraping the back of my neck, right where a claiming bite would go. “This cunt is mine. Your heat is mine. Every drop of slick, every scream, every fucking orgasm belongs to me now.”

I came with a wail, clenching around him so hard my vision went black at the edges. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, harder, deeper, until I was limp and trembling and still begging for more.

His knot started to swell.

I felt it catch on every thrust, growing thicker, locking us together. Panic and ecstasy twisted inside me.

“Damian...” I gasped.

“Alpha,” he corrected, voice feral. “Say it.”

“Alpha, please....”

“Please what, baby?”

“Breed me,” I sobbed. “Please breed me, Alpha, I need your knot, need your cum...”

He roared, hips snapping forward one last time, and his knot locked us together as he started to come. Pulse after pulse of heat flooded me, so deep I swore I felt it in my womb. His teeth sank into the back of my neck, not a full claim, not yet, but enough to mark, enough to scar.

I came again, harder than the first time, tears streaming down my face, body shaking as he held me pinned and filled me until I overflowed, his cum and my slick running down my thighs in filthy rivulets.

When it was over he didn’t pull out. He stayed buried inside me, arms banded around my waist, lips brushing the bite mark he’d left.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured against my skin, “you’re going to sit at my breakfast table with my cum still leaking out of you and smile at my daughter like nothing happened.”

I whimpered.

He chuckled, dark and possessive.

“And every night after that, little girl, you’ll crawl into Daddy’s bed and spread these legs until I’ve put my baby in you.”

I should have been horrified.

Instead I clenched around his knot and moaned.

THIS IS NOT A STORY.

THIS IS A WARNING.

YOU’RE ABOUT TO ENTER A WORLD WHERE GIRLS GET ON THEIR KNEES AND BEG TO BE USED LIKE FILTHY, DESPERATE SLUTS.

IF YOU DON’T WANT TO CUM, PUT THIS BOOK DOWN, BECAUSE BY THE TIME DAMIAN’S DONE WITH ME… YOU’LL BE SOAKED TOO.