All Chapters of Breed me Raw, Alpha : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I woke to Damian’s hand spread warm and heavy over my stomach, possessive even in sleep. His breath brushed my shoulder, slow and steady, as if nothing in the world could tear him from me. For a moment, I let myself believe that. I let myself lie still, listening to the low hum of the house, the distant city noise beyond the windows, the quiet that only came when Chloe was gone. Then reality crept back in. My body ached, not in pain, but in that deep, tender way that came from being wanted too much, touched too often, consumed without mercy. Damian did that to me. He unraveled me until there was nothing left but need, until I forgot who I was supposed to be and remembered only what I wanted. Him. I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened immediately, fingers flexing as if even unconscious he sensed the idea of me leaving. “Don’t,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “I wasn’t going anywhere,” I whispered. His eyes opened slowly, dark and intent even in the early light. He looked at m

The sun had barely touched the skyline when I woke, wrapped in Damian’s heavy, heated embrace. His arms were around me, one hand brushing over the swell of my stomach, thumb circling lazily over the soft skin. I breathed him in, the scent of him, wood, leather, and something impossibly masculine, making my chest tighten. I had never felt so wanted, so claimed, and yet it terrified me. Every time I looked at him, every time I felt his hands on me, my body betrayed my mind, responding instinctively to him, like I’d been made for this exact closeness. I shifted slightly, feeling the subtle pressure of his growing hardness against my thigh. A small, uncontrollable moan slipped past my lips. Damian’s eyes opened instantly, dark and smoldering, and a slow, predatory smile curved on his lips. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, voice rough with desire. “Even in your sleep, you can’t help thinking about me, can you?” I bit my lip, cheeks flushing. “Maybe I can’t help it,” I admit

The morning light spilled through the tall windows of the penthouse, brushing over the smooth, dark wood of the floors and the plush furniture scattered across the room. But the brightness of the day had no effect on the heat that hung between us, thick and suffocating, almost tangible. Damian lay on the couch, half-awake, arm draped over my waist, pulling me closer so that my body fit perfectly against his. The twins’ absence was still a hollow ache in my chest, a raw wound that no amount of Damian’s closeness could fully heal, but the ache mingled with something else: the burning, relentless desire I always felt when I was near him. I shifted slightly, pressing my fingers over the curve of his broad chest, tracing the scars and muscles that marked him as both predator and protector. He stirred, eyes opening slowly, dark and piercing, fixing on me with that same raw intensity that always made my pulse skip. “Good morning,” he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep, but laced with t

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, streaking across the polished floors of Damian’s penthouse. Normally, light should have felt comforting, but it did nothing to ease the tension thick in the air. Chloe had been simmering all morning, barely speaking, her green eyes flicking toward me whenever Damian’s attention strayed. Her jealousy was almost tangible, sharp and suffocating, and I could feel her plotting, scheming. Damian, oblivious to everything but me, lounged in the living room, shirt unbuttoned, chest bare, muscles glinting in the sunlight. I leaned against the doorway, watching him, heart pounding as desire pooled deep in my stomach. He caught my gaze, dark eyes smoldering, a small, knowing smirk curling his lips. “You’ve been staring all morning,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “Do you want me?” Heat rushed through me at the question, pulse hammering in my ears. “Always,” I whispered, stepping closer, hips brushing the edge of the hallway. He rose with

The morning light slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, brushing across the penthouse in streaks of gold, but nothing could soften the tension thick in the air. I sat on the edge of the chaise lounge, legs crossed, heart hammering as Damian moved around the kitchen, methodical, calm, yet every motion radiating a raw, feral ownership that made me ache all over. He glanced at me over his shoulder, dark eyes sweeping my body as if marking every inch, every curve, every shiver that betrayed my need for him. “You’re trembling,” he said softly, almost teasingly, though the depth of possessiveness in his tone made my stomach knot tighter. “Don’t fight it. It’s mine. You’re mine.” “I’m… not fighting,” I admitted, voice breathless. “I… I need you.” Damian’s lips curved into that sharp, dangerous smirk I could never resist. He crossed the room in two long strides, each one purposeful, predatory, and pressed me against the counter, hands gripping my hips so tightly I felt my knees weaken