Breed Me, Daddy Alph Chapter 207

Chapter 207: Chapter 207

Lyra

And I was trying. I was trying so hard to stay firm, to keep my hands planted against his chest instead of letting them slide up into his hair and yank his face down to my tits where I really wanted it. But he kept going.

"You want my tongue, don’t you?" he whispered, his hand finally, finally sliding into my dress to cup the full weight of one aching, swollen breast.

"You want

to drag it over your nipple. You want

to suck until you cry. Until your milk cos in. Until this tight little body starts leaking for ."

My knees buckled.

I whimpered—like actually whimpered—mouth open, throat tight, and every inch of my body screaming at

to give in.

But I didn’t.

Not completely.

I shook my head, weakly. I clutched his wrist like I was going to push him away. I opened my mouth to say sothing bratty and an, sothing like you wish or earn it, but all that ca out was this soft, wrecked moan as his thumb flicked my nipple through the fabric.

He leaned in closer.

Mouth at my ear again.

"You can’t fight , kitten," he whispered, and my eyes fluttered shut. "Not when you’re this wet. Not when your tits are this ready. Not when your little Oga cunt is already pulsing like it knows I’m about to knot you again."

I gasped.

Loud.

Desperate.

Soaked.

I couldn’t move.

I wanted to resist. I wanted to say no again, just to be bratty, just to feel like I still had control over my body and this terrifying situation and the chaos in my chest. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was frozen in place, my thighs shaking, my breasts heavy in his hands, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted his mouth on .

I wanted his mouth on .

Not in a vague, dreamy way. Not in a passing thought or a maybe-later kind of ache. No. I wanted it with every nerve ending in my body. I wanted it with my whole chest, with my soaking panties, with the heat crawling up my spine and the hunger twisting my stomach so hard it hurt. My breasts felt full. Aching. Like they were begging for his tongue. My nipples were so hard it was painful, and the only thing I could think about was how it would feel to finally have him on

again—his mouth, his hands, his breath.

I couldn’t fight it anymore.

I couldn’t pretend.

My fingers shook as I clutched the front of his shirt, dragged him closer, and finally said it.

"Take off my clothes, Damon," I whispered, and even though my voice was trembling, I ant every word. "Take them off. Please. I want you to suck them."

His eyes locked on mine, and the second I saw the look there—dark, hungry, feral—I knew I’d just started sothing I wasn’t ready to finish.

But I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

My voice was already spilling again, frantic and ssy and too loud, but I didn’t care anymore. I wanted him. I needed him.

"Suck them," I said, breath hitching as I pressed my chest against his hands like I was offering myself on a silver fucking platter. "Make it stop hurting. They feel so tight. So sore. I want your mouth. I want you to use your tongue. I want you to bite down and leave marks and make

cry. Please, Damon. Please."

My thighs were shaking now. My dress felt too tight, too hot, like it was choking . I didn’t want to be covered. I wanted to be bare. Open. I wanted to be used.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, my body arching up into him. "Please, Daddy. I can’t take it anymore. My tits need you. I need your mouth on them or I’m going to lose it."

His breath punched out of him in a low, rough groan that made my walls flutter.

He moved quickly then, gripping my cloth strap, sliding it down my shoulder like he’d been waiting for this mont since the second he saw . My nipple brushed the air and I gasped—the sensation so sharp and raw I almost cried from how good it already felt.

"Oh look at my babies"

His head dipped.

His mouth opened.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, already feeling that first wet pull of his tongue in my imagination.

But before his lips could touch —

"Damon!"

The door burst open.

I flinched.

His hand froze on my dress.

My breath died in my throat.

I didn’t even have to look. I already knew. I recognized the voice like a trauma response.

I didn’t turn around imdiately.

I couldn’t.

I was still shaking. Still leaking. Still wide open and so close to coming undone in his hands, and now this bitch had the audacity to walk in uninvited.

My hands clenched.

My body tensed.

My jaw locked.

And I didn’t even think.

I just said what I was already feeling.

"This bitch," I muttered under my breath, eyes still locked on Damon’s, chest heaving, my cloth half-off,