Breed Me, Daddy Alph Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Chapter 110

Lyra

I lifted my arms automatically, breath shaking, nipples already so hard they brushed against the fabric and sent shivers down my spine. He peeled it off inch by inch until it was over my head and on the floor, and then his hands moved down again—this ti to the waistband of my skirt.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

All I could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, praying he didn’t see how wet I already was.

He did.

Of course he fucking did.

He grinned, low and dangerous, as his fingers slipped between the band and my skin.

"You were made for this," he said, dragging the skirt down over my hips like he was watching a performance tailored just for him. "You were made to be stripped like this. Undressed slow. Worshipped. Fucked. Ruined."

I whimpered.

Actually whimpered.

Because the way he looked at

in that mont—like I was his personal addiction, like he’d been starving and I was the only thing in the world that could feed him—it made

forget every reason I ever tried to stay away.

My skirt hit the floor.

He looked down at —now just in my ruined, soaked panties and my bra—and smiled like he’d won sothing.

And fuck, maybe he had.

He didn’t wait.

The second my skirt hit the floor, his hands were back on ..rougher now, more urgent, more possessive.

His fingers slid under the curve of my ass and lifted

off the ground like I weighed nothing, like my body belonged to him and his alone.

My arms flew around his shoulders, my legs locked around his waist, and my entire body pressed against his like we were two halves of sothing violent and dirty and inevitable.

His cock was already rock hard between us, pressing up against my soaked panties and I swear I almost ca from the pressure alone.

"You think I haven’t thought about this every fucking night since I left?" he growled against my mouth, voice hot and thick with hunger. "You think I didn’t jerk off to the mory of this fat little cunt riding my cock until I was cursing your na into my fist?"

I whimpered before I could stop myself, legs tightening around his waist, grinding down on him like my pussy had taken control of my body.

"You think I didn’t stare at the wall in so empty fucking hotel room and imagine you like this? Wrapped around , begging

to ruin you again?"

He slamd

back against the wall so hard the impact knocked the air from my lungs. My back hit the smooth surface, my head tilted back, and then he kissed —hard. ssy. Tongue and teeth and breath and filth.

His mouth devoured mine, like he was trying to drink every second he’d missed, and I let him because I wanted it just as bad. My fingers clawed at his hair, my thighs gripped him like a vice, and I kissed him back like if I did it right, maybe the pain in my chest would stop.

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to mine, both of us panting, both of us trembling from how fucking close we were to losing control.

"I missed you, too," he said low, barely audible. "I missed this fucking body. I missed the way you moan when I fuck you deep.

I missed the way you cry when you co so hard you forget your own na. I missed the taste of your cunt. The sound of your voice. The way you look at

like I’m God and the devil and your daddy all at once."

I moaned so loud it echoed.

And then he shifted his hips.

I felt the pressure of his cock through his slacks, grinding into my core like he already knew exactly where I was aching.

"I should punish you," he growled, mouth dragging down my jaw to my throat. "I should make you beg for every inch. I should tie you up and make you scream."

He bit —just under my ear, sharp enough to make

cry out—and then his fingers yanked my ruined panties to the side.

"But not tonight."

He reached between us and unzipped himself, and I felt it—the heat, the weight, the sheer size of him pressing against my entrance like he was born to be there.

"Tonight," he said, positioning himself against my soaked pussy, "I’m going to fuck you just like this."

He pushed in—deep.

One hard, smooth, perfect thrust that slamd every inch of him inside

while I scread into his neck.

My back arched.

My legs locked.

My nails dug into his shoulders as the burn spread through , wild and beautiful and raw.

"Fuck," I sobbed, head falling back against the wall.

"You missed this cock?" he hissed in my ear, slamming in again so hard the picture fra beside us tilted.

I nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, daddy, I missed it so fucking much..."

He grinned against my throat, his hands gripping my ass as he started to move, slow at first, then faster, deeper, rougher.

"Good," he growled. "Because you’re going to take every fucking inch until I say stop."

And then he really started fucking .

Hard.

Savage.

Right there against the wall with my legs shaking around his waist, my cunt fluttering with every thrust, my voice breaking apart into gasps and moans and cries of "Daddy, daddy, please...."

And Damon?

He just kept going.

Like he was never going to stop.