Breed Me, Daddy Alph Chapter 146

Chapter 146: Chapter 146

Lyra

My clit throbbed so violently it hurt. My head dropped back, and I moaned through the cloth, loud and choked and wrecked.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

I couldn’t even see.

But Damon wasn’t done.

His grip on my thighs tightened like he felt it too—like the gush of slick across his tongue made him insane—and I heard his voice growl against my cunt like he was trying to breathe through it.

"Don’t cum yet," he snarled, low and vicious and soaked in my taste. "Fucking hold it."

And then he moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

He flipped .

Just like that.

One second I was on top of him with my pussy pressed to his mouth, squirting like I had no control over my body, and the next—his hands were on my thighs, his strength was lifting

like I was nothing, and his mouth never even left .

He stood.

With .

Still eating .

Still licking.

Still sucking like he didn’t need air.

And he pushed

back.

Against the fucking wall.

My spine hit the cold surface and I scread through the gag, because his mouth was still on , his tongue still fucking

like he hadn’t just made

explode, like I didn’t just flood his mouth like a fire hydrant.

And then he moaned.

Right into .

The vibration hit my clit so hard my whole soul spasd.

My hands slapped the wall behind .

My back arched.

My mouth dropped open under the cloth and I scread again because it was too much, it was too much, and I couldn’t hold it—I couldn’t fucking hold it.

He was gripping the backs of my thighs now, spreading

wider, slamming

into the wall like he was pinning

in place for his own pleasure.

My legs were shaking so badly I thought I was going to collapse. Not just trembling. Not just weak. Violently shaking, like they were trying to shut down on , like my body couldn’t even hold itself up anymore because he was licking

like he wanted to end . Like his mouth was made for this. Like he’d waited his whole fucking life to pin

to a wall, bury his tongue inside , and drink every orgasm I had to give him.

And I couldn’t fight it.

I didn’t want to.

I was soaked. Drenched. Completely gone.

I wanted him to eat

until I forgot my na.

And he did.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t give

a second to breathe, to calm down, to find my balance. He just groaned deeper into my pussy and shoved his tongue harder into my entrance while his teeth dragged over my clit, and I scread.

Even through the gag.

Even through the tears pouring down my cheeks.

I scread because it was too much.

Too good.

Too hot.

Too intense.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I reached up with both hands, my fingers shaking, my chest heaving, and I tore the gag off my mouth like it was choking , like if I didn’t scream for real, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

"Damon..Damon..Daddy, please..I can’t..fuck..I can’t.."

My voice ca out cracked and ruined and soaked in spit and need and heat and I didn’t stop saying his na. I couldn’t. It was the only thing I could fucking rember.

"I need your cock..please..I need it inside —now!"

His head lifted.

Slowly.

His lips were wet. His jaw was covered in my slick. His pupils were blown so wide they were black. And the way he looked at ?

Like a demon who’d just found his heaven.

"You ready to ride it, kitten?" he asked, voice shredded and low, his mouth still open like he was waiting for another drop of

to fall into it.

I nodded so fast I felt dizzy.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for him.

"Say it," he growled, stepping back from the wall and carrying

with him like I was weightless, like he owned my body. "Tell Daddy exactly what you want."

I gripped his hair with one hand, clawed at his chest with the other, and moaned like a bitch in heat.

"I want your cock," I cried. "I want it now. I want you to bend

over and fuck

until I can’t walk. I want you to make it hurt. I want you to ruin

again. I want to feel it all night. I want you to cum so deep inside

it leaks out for days."

He threw

on the bed.

Hard.

And I gasped, legs wide, slick dripping, still twitching from the aftershocks of his tongue.

And the last thing I saw before he pulled his pants down was his cock..thick, heavy, twitching—slapping up against his stomach like it was ready to split

open all over again.

Yeah folks, call

petty. Go ahead. Call

immature, dramatic, a loudmouth little howrecker..I’ll monogram that shit on a tote bag and keep riding his face like a throne.

Because while his stupid-ass, washed-up wife was downstairs probably fantasizing about getting a hug, I was upstairs getting my back arched and my pussy worshipped like it paid rent. Yeah. Let that sink in.

While she was out there breathing like she still had a chance, I was leaking all over his mouth, moaning into a gag, and squirting in his beard like I owned the fucking deed to his face.

Petty? Babe, I’m platinum-tier petty. And honestly I hope she hears . I hope her hand’s between her legs, crying into a pillow while I’m dripping down her husband’s throat like I’m made of liquid gold. Because let’s be honest..if you were getting head like this, you’d be cocky too.