Chapter 222: Chapter 222
Lyra
I spiraled.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Why am I horny?" I cried, staring down at myself like my body had betrayed
in the most offensive, sluttiest way possible.
"What is happening to ?! This can’t be normal! I’m crying and pregnant and scared and probably going to die and my vagina is like, ’Hey queen, now would be a really great ti to get railed again.’ What the hell is wrong with ?!"
The doctor looked like she wanted to disappear. Damon looked like he wanted to take
up on it.
"No. Nope. Do not look at
like that," I hissed at him, pointing a shaky finger at his face. "Don’t you dare do the growly Alpha thing. Not now. Not when I’m emotionally compromised and clinically insane. You think this is sexy? You think
ugly crying and threatening to na our babies Eenie, enie, Miney, and Fuck-It is hot?"
He smirked.
He actually smirked.
I gasped like I’d just been slapped with a dildo.
"I knew it," I shrieked. "You’re not normal either! This whole thing is cursed. I’m over here crying about stretch marks and baby carriages and you’re looking at
like you want to bend
over the examination table while the doctor holds a fucking stethoscope to my belly!"
"Lyra," Damon said, his voice low and rough, which was not helping, by the way, "your scent just changed."
I blinked. "What scent?"
"Your scent baby," he growled.
"Oh my God," I scread, and I tried to cross my legs but it was too late, I could feel it, my stupid pussy was soaked and my thighs were warm and I knew exactly what he ant. I was leaking. I was leaking like so Oga fountain of filth and pregnancy hormones.
"I’m disgusting!" I cried, flailing my arms dramatically. "This is wrong! I should be throwing up or fainting or making a baby registry! Not dripping slick all over your lap while we talk about quadruplets!"
"You’re not disgusting," he murmured, his thumb stroking my lower belly like he was calming a wild animal.
"I feel disgusting! I feel like one of those girls in heat porn who moan while the doctor fingers them during a check-up! I feel like I should be in a video titled ’Pregnant and Desperate—Oga Needs Alpha Knot After Ultrasound ltdown!’"
The doctor cleared her throat and awkwardly took a step away from us.
I turned to her with wide, pleading eyes.
"Is this normal?" I demanded. "Am I broken? Is this so weird Oga hormone overload thing? Do I need pills? Therapy? A religious intervention?"
She looked slightly horrified but tried to keep it together.
"Pregnancy can heighten sensitivity," she said, her voice as calm as possible considering I had just yelled about porn. "Especially in bonded Ogas. The increase in estrogen, oxytocin, and endorphins during early gestation can cause elevated arousal and emotional instability. It’s not unusual."
I blinked. "So I’m not crazy?"
"No," she said, clearly trying not to make eye contact with Damon. "Not at all."
"Great," I muttered. "So I’m just a sobbing, horny teenage Oga carrying four Alpha babies and leaking slick on your examination bed like so unhinged fertility goddess."
"Basically," Damon said under his breath, and I elbowed him in the ribs.
"I swear to God," I hissed at him. "If you pull your cock out right now, I will ride it."
And then I blinked.
I froze.
My hands slapped over my mouth like I could shove the words back inside
before they stained the air forever, but they were already out there, floating, echoing in the room like the world’s dirtiest confession.
Damon arched a brow. That fucking brow. The one he raises when he knows I’ve lost control. The one that says, Oh? Say that again, princess.
"Wait..no, no, no," I stamred, throwing my hands up and pointing frantically at him like that would erase what I just said.
"Don’t look at
like that! I didn’t an to say that out loud. That was my horny brain talking. That was the Oga in , okay? That was the sex demon version of
that shows up when you get too close and breathe through your nose like that and my slick starts leaking and I forget how to human."
He didn’t say anything. His eyes just darkened.
"Oh my God, don’t smirk!" I gasped. "Seriously, you’re making it worse. Because now I can’t stop imagining it. You, standing right here in front of the doctor like so Alpha god with your cock out, hard, thick, veins pulsing, and
just climbing into your lap like a sex-starved housewife with zero sha and too much milk swelling in her tits."
The doctor made a choked sound behind , but I was too far gone.
"I’m not okay," I whispered dramatically. "Like genuinely, ntally, spiritually, sexually..not okay. Do you know what I’m picturing right now? You pushing
back on this exam bed, lifting my legs, pulling my soaked panties to the side and just sliding in while I scream your na so loud the nurses outside faint."
Damon stepped closer.
I took a shaky breath and slapped my hand over my forehead.
"I want it," I confessed, full-blown unraveling. "I want you to ruin
again. Right here. With the doctor standing three feet away and my body all puffed up and fertile and leaking.
"I want you to fuck
so deep I forget how to say the alphabet. I want to feel it, Damon. I want to feel your knot swell and stretch
open and lock
down so I don’t even rember what it was like to walk around without your cum inside ."
I was panting now. Fully sweating. My legs were crossed and squirming. My thighs were wet. I didn’t know how to sit still.
"I can feel my pussy clenching," I moaned, like the whore I truly am. "It’s like it’s begging for you. I can’t help it. My womb heard the word ’four babies’ and now she’s in full Oga heat mode like, yes Daddy, let’s double down on the destruction."
"Lyra," the doctor said behind , and her voice cracked a little. "I... I haven’t completed the scan."
I spun toward her dramatically, arms flailing. "Then complete it! Before I start begging this man to bend
over and breed
again like I’m a porn star in labor!"
She looked like she wanted to crawl under the bed and cry.
I turned back to Damon, eyes wild, voice breathy. "You have to help . Or hurt . Or fuck
until I pass out. I don’t care. Do sothing. Because my clit is throbbing. Like I can feel every heartbeat in it. I swear I can hear my own pussy breathing. She’s literally going ’Damon... Damon... Damon...’ like she’s summoning you with a mating chant."
I fanned myself with both hands. "I’m broken. I’m fucking broken. I’ve reached a level of horny I didn’t even know existed. And I still have tears on my face! Like, what is this? So twisted Alpha-Oga kink where crying and creaming happen at the sa ti?!"
Damon stepped closer. His scent washed over
like sex and hunger and a hundred mories of what he did to
the last ti I begged.
And suddenly, I didn’t care that we weren’t alone. I didn’t care that I was on a dical bed. I didn’t care that I was carrying four babies and had just scread at a licensed professional.
All I cared about was the fact that I needed him.
Right here.
Right now.
"Please," I whimpered. "Do sothing. Touch . Push . Pin . I don’t care if I give birth right here on this table. Just fuck
first."
And that was when the doctor dropped her stethoscope.
I turned to the doctor, panting, eyes wild. "I am begging you," I gasped, and it was not cute. I was full-blown feral.
"Please finish the scan. Please. Because if you don’t, and he touches , I will not be able to stop him. He could put
in a chokehold, throw
on the floor, and fuck
into labor, and I’d thank him for it. I need closure before I let this man rearrange my guts again."
The doctor looked like she was deciding whether to scan
or call the fucking police.
She picked up the stethoscope like it was a holy relic, cleared her throat with the exhaustion of a woman who had not signed up for this level of chaos, and said in the driest voice imaginable, "Please lie back, Miss Lyra. I’m just going to run the wand over your abdon."
I flopped back like a corpse in heat.
"Great. Amazing. Yes. Check the babies. All four. See if they’re twerking or planning their next life. Just do it fast before I hump this man’s leg and completely ruin your licensure."
Damon’s hand moved to my ankle, just a brush, just a tiny touch, but I gasped like I’d been electrocuted.
"Don’t do that!" I shrieked. "That’s how it starts! First it’s your hand on my ankle, then it’s your hand on my thigh, and before we know it I’m bent over this dical tray begging you to shove your knot in
while the doctor screams for security."
He didn’t say a word. But his fingers flexed.
I whimpered.
"You like it," I said, my voice breathy, scandalized, almost a moan. "You fucking like this. You love
like this. Crying and leaking and terrified and still asking to get split open like a breeding doll. Admit it."
He didn’t answer.
His eyes said everything.
Yes. He loved it. Fucking asshole.
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