Semua Bab Breed Me. Daddy Alpha: Bab 91 - Bab 100

~Lyra~ Because he looked so satisfied. So smug. So calm. Like this was all part of his evil little masterplan. Like he was already planning what desk to bend me over when I started online classes. “You’re smiling,” I hissed, my whole body trembling from where I was still stretched around his cock. “Why are you smiling? This is not a smiling situation. “This is a ‘call the police’ situation. This is a ‘burn the house down and flee to Cuba’ situation. This is not the time for that sexy, arrogant mafia smirk thing you do when you know you’ve won..oh my God you think you’ve won.” His hand slid across my ass, slow, heavy, possessive. “I have won,” he said calmly. “You’re not leaving.” My breath caught. I shook my head so hard it made the pillow shift. “No. No no no. I still have options. I can run. I can get a job. I can join a convent. Or pretend to be possessed. Or fake a coma. Or jump out the window and let Jesus take the wheel. I’m not staying here.” He did

~Lyra~ I didn’t even sit up. Didn’t bother wiping the cum off my thighs or pulling the sheets over my wrecked, twitchy, utterly defiled body. I just held the phone to my ear with one hand, stared at the ceiling like I was God’s favorite disappointment, and let a smile slowly curl across my face. “Oh my God,” I whispered sweetly into the receiver. “Marcus. What a surprise. Did your dick finally get signal?” He stuttered. Actually stuttered. Typical. “I—uh—I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing.” “How I’m doing?” I purred, voice sticky with fake innocence. “That’s so sweet of you. Really. Because the last time we spoke, you called me useless. Remember that? Because I wouldn’t let you stick your pinkie-dick in me in the backseat of your mum’s Corolla after youth service?” Silence. Oh, I was just getting started. “Well, guess what, baby,” I cooed, flipping onto my back with a wince because my poor pussy was still screaming in multiple languages. “I

~Lyra~ She straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye, still giggling like she’d just pulled the world’s most expensive prank. Her laugh had that high-pitched, wheezy chaos to it — the kind of sound that came from the gut, like she was unhinged and delighted and fully prepared to emotionally destroy me before breakfast. “You should’ve seen your face,” she choked out between gasps. “You looked like you were about to shit yourself and cry at the same time. Like a constipated Disney princess mid-breakdown. I thought you were about to pass out, bitch. Like faint, fall, and land in your own sin.” I blinked again. Jaw dropped. Soul missing. Pride on life support. “Haha,” I said stiffly. “Yeah. Right. So funny. Such a good joke. Bestie things. Love that for me. This was a very expensive joke, emotionally, mentally, spiritually… but sure. Let’s laugh about it. Let’s all just ha-ha our way through the gaping hole in my soul. Let’s sprinkle some trauma seasoning on it while we’re at i

~Lyra~ “You have got to be kidding me!” I shot up so fast the stool screamed against the tile, nearly toppling over as I pointed one trembling, accusatory finger straight at her forehead like I was about to cast a bitchy curse. “You invited Marcus? Like Marcus Marcus? My Marcus? The Marcus who ruined my life and then had the audacity to ask for a selfie after emotionally annihilating me?” Tasha just blinked at me, chewing her toast like she hadn’t just detonated a trauma bomb in the middle of my kitchen. Her face was way too casual for someone who had just dragged my dignity out into the street and run it over with a party invitation. I was already spiraling. “Tasha! Don’t you remember what that boy did to me? Don’t you remember how he insulted me because I didn’t give him my virginity? Are you fucking insane? Because I remember everything! I remember the way he looked at me like I was some defective product. “I remember the voice note where he said I was pretty but c

~~Lyra~~ The moment Marcus walked in through that front door like he owned oxygen, I swear the entire house shifted. I mean it. The music dipped, the lights felt hotter, even the freaking air got weird and heavy like the universe itself was preparing for my breakdown. And me? I stood there like a stunned little loser in heels too high for my soul, gripping my red cup like it contained holy water instead of watered-down vodka punch, and staring at him like I’d just seen a demon crawl out of my past wearing expensive cologne and a smug little smirk. Oh my God. It was him. Marcus-fucking-Adesina. My ex. The boy who ruined my life. The one who made me question every single thing about myself — from my thighs to my values to whether or not I was lovable. The same boy who slut-shamed me for not having sex with him, then had the audacity to flirt with my lab partner the next week like I was just a warm-up exercise. The same boy who said I was “pretty but boring” because