Todos los capítulos de Breed Me. Daddy Alpha: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

~Lyra~ As soon as I stepped into the penthouse and my eyes landed on Damon, everything stopped. Like literally everything. My lungs forgot how to work, my heart fucking imploded, and every single thought in my brain melted into one single, overwhelming, unbearable need.. I just wanted him to fuck me. Fuck me senseless. Fuck me stupid. Fuck me until my voice cracked and my body forgot how to work. Fuck the living hell out of me. Oh my fucking God, I’d missed him. I’d missed the way he stood like he owned the world. The way his slacks hung off his hips like they were tailored by sin itself. The way his chest rose and fell slow, controlled, like his whole body was made of violence and patience wrapped in ink and rage. He had a glass in one hand, a half-burnt cigar resting in the ashtray beside him, and that look on his face..that cold, cocky, lethal fucking smirk that said he knew exactly what I looked like crying, moaning, gagging on his cock, and begging for more. My

~~Lyra~~ I couldn’t stop moaning. “Daddy,” I moaned, breathless and desperate and shaking, “oh my God, daddy, fuck, please, please don’t stop..” My head slammed lightly against the wall when he rammed into me again, so hard and so deep that my thighs actually trembled around his hips. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. All I cared about was how full I felt, how good he made me feel, how badly I wanted him to keep going until I couldn’t walk for a week. “You feel that?” I gasped, voice cracking as my nails dragged down his back. “You feel how wet I am? I’ve been like this for days. I couldn’t even fucking think without getting soaked. Every time I saw a picture of you in my phone I almost started humping my fucking pillow like a pathetic little girl, but I didn’t, I swear I didn’t, I waited for you like a good girl, like your good little fucktoy, like your personal little cumdumpster..” He growled when I said that word. His fingers dug into my ass harder.

Lyra~ I held the photo tighter. Tighter than I meant to. My fingers were actually trembling, and not from the sex. Not from the ache in my thighs or the cum still dripping down my leg or the fucking bruises on my hips. This was different. This was rage. This was realization. This was the sick, stupid silence that came with remembering something you should’ve remembered but were too busy getting ruined to think about. I let out a laugh. Dry. Sharp. “Wow,” I muttered, still staring at the photo. “I actually forgot you had a wife.” He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. My head snapped up. “No, really, Damon. I forgot. That’s how far gone I’ve been. That’s how deep in your cock I’ve been. That’s how dumb you’ve made me. I mean—God—I’m here fucking you like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, like I don’t have a single brain cell left, and all this time you’ve got her—” I held up the frame like it was evidence in court “—sitting right here in a frame beside the goddamn mail. Not

~Lyra~ I didn’t even get the chance to breathe. Because the second those words left his mouth, he grabbed me. His hands slammed down on my hips like he was done pretending, done letting me run wild, done letting me act like I had any control over this. And then he dragged me forward, yanked my soaked little cunt right over his cock, and slammed me down so fucking deep I swear I blacked out for a second. My whole body convulsed. My mouth opened. And the sound that came out of me didn’t even sound human. “Oh my fucking God—Damon..fuck..Daddy..shit..I wasn’t ready..why the fuck does it feel even bigger now..I swear to God I can feel you in my ribs..” He didn’t answer. Didn’t give me a second to process. He just thrust up again, brutal and slow, grinding deep into my core like he was trying to carve out every thought I’d ever had. And I couldn’t stop the words pouring out of my mouth because I was overstimulated and ruined and shaking all over again. “You can’t just

~Damon~ Fuck. Fuck. What the hell have I done? Why did I lie to her? I kept pacing the bathroom like a fucking maniac, trying to get my breath back, trying to ground myself in something that wasn’t the memory of her cunt squeezing me like it was sculpted to break men apart. The air in the room was thick with steam and the smell of sweat and sex. My skin was still burning from the way her nails raked down my chest, from the way her mouth trembled when she asked me the question I never wanted to hear—why did you keep her photo? And I lied. Not because I’m a coward. Not because I’m cold. But because I didn’t want what we have to end. That was the fucking truth. That’s the part I didn’t say. I didn’t tell her my wife was still alive that Camilla lost her mind because of her drinking and drug habit. I didn’t tell Lyra that I sent Camilla to rehab not because I loved her, but because she was a menace and nearly killed our daughter because of her addiction. But m