Breed Me, Daddy Alph Chapter 196

Chapter 196: Chapter 196

Lyra

Should I officially say I ca here a virgin and an innocent girl this sumr, but now I’m not that girl anymore?

Yes. I should. I absolutely should.

Because the girl who ca here with soft pink lip gloss and daydreams about spending sumr. She died sowhere between the first growl he gave

and the night I scread into a pillow with his knot stretching

open while he whispered, Good girl, take it all, you’re mine now.

And the new girl?

The one standing here right now with her thighs glued together, her nipples tingling every ti she rembers how he tasted, and her entire body still aching like it’s waiting for Daddy’s next command?

Yeah. That’s

now.

I’m not the sweet little sumr guest anymore. I’m not the cute best friend who just ca to relax and maybe tan and maybe flirt with soone close to my age.

No.

I’m the girl who moaned for her best friend’s father. Who let him breed her while she cried and begged. Who called him Daddy while she drooled all over his cock and thanked him for not pulling out.

And I liked it.

God, I loved it.

So here we are. Let’s do a quick recap, shall we?

I ca to visit for the sumr. I expected pool days and girly sleepovers and TikToks under the sun. Instead, I got knotted so hard I blacked out. I got bent over desks, thrown onto counters, and whispered filthy things that made my clit twitch every ti I rembered them. I got claid.

Two days later after the fight with Camilla and Tasha. I went back to school.

Literally.

No one ca near

because of Damon.

The crowd parted around

like I was fire. Boys avoided eye contact. Girls whispered. Professors looked nervous. No one sat next to

in class.

They could sll him on .

That scent? That deep, dominant Alpha scent? It hadn’t faded. Not even a little. It was in my skin. My throat. My fucking soul. He made sure of that.

And did I like it?

Yeah.

Of course I did.

Not like I enjoy people’s company anyway. I’m not the type who thrives in a crowd. I hate fake smiles and loud voices and pointless small talk. I’d rather be alone, pressed up against the mory of his hand around my throat, than surrounded by people.

The girls in the back of class looked at . The way they looked at

like I was radioactive. I ignored them. I always ignore them.

But then I got up to use the restroom after lunch, and I passed this one guy—he didn’t say anything. He didn’t touch . But he froze. His head snapped toward

like instinct. His nose flared. His eyes went wide. And then he backed up.

Like I was dangerous. Well duh I am.

I walked into the bathroom and locked myself in a stall, and my heart was pounding for no reason. My hands were shaking. I pulled down my pants and sat there for a second, staring at my underwear.

And then I realized.

There was nothing.

No spotting. No stain.

No period. Wait a minute when last did I have my period

And that’s when the buzzing started in my head. That high, tight, panicked kind of buzzing that makes your stomach twist and your palms sweat and your lungs forget how to do their job.

Because I couldn’t rember the last ti I bled.

Like actually bled.

I pulled out my phone and opened my period tracking app. I hadn’t even looked at it since I got back. Everything had been too chaotic. I had been too distracted. Too full of slick and bruises and mories.

And there it was.

Missed.

My last period had been over a month ago.

Over five weeks.

And nothing since.

I stared at the screen, then at the white cotton of my underwear, then back at the screen again. My mouth went dry. My knees started bouncing without my permission. I suddenly felt hot. My throat was closing. My hands were sweating.

No. No. No. No no no—fuck. Please no—this can’t be—oh my God."

I was talking to myself, out loud, in the bathroom stall like a full-blown crazy person and I didn’t even care. My phone was still in my hand, the period tracker app wide open, flashing that stupid red calendar in my face with the words missed and late and day 39 blinking like sirens. And I just kept staring at it like the numbers would change if I blinked hard enough. Like if I shook the phone or refreshed the app or restarted my entire fucking life, it would sohow show a little pink dot that said, "Don’t worry, babe, you’re fine."

But there was no dot.

There was no spotting.

There was no nothing.

And now I was standing in the bathroom with my underwear still around my thighs, one hand braced on the stall wall, the other holding my phone, and my heart pounding so fast I thought I was going to throw up.

"This can’t be happening. No. No. No. I an—okay—yes, he knotted . Like, a lot. Like... a lot a lot. Like... oh my God, how many tis was it?"

I started pacing in the stall, which was extrely difficult because it was tiny and my pants were still halfway down and my thighs were trembling and the floor felt like it was tilting, but I couldn’t stop. My mind was running full-speed, every filthy mory I’d buried in my clit shooting straight to the front of my brain like it had sothing to say now that I was having a full-body ltdown.