Breed Me, Daddy Alph Chapter 333

Chapter 333: Chapter 333

Damon

We made it to our room with that quiet kind of victory you only earn after surviving a battlefield of four toddlers.

The door clicked shut behind us, and for the first ti all day, the house felt like it belonged to us again. No crying, no howling, no shirt-stealing rebellions.

Lyra leaned against the dresser, hair spilling over her shoulders, a mischievous tilt to her lips like she knew exactly what was coming. She tapped one finger on the wood, eyes trailing

like I was prey. "So," she said, voice soft and dangerous, "how exactly is Daddy going to help

dress up?"

I pulled my jacket off and tossed it onto the chair, moving toward her like the room had shrunk down to the space between us. "First," I said, letting my voice drop, "Daddy is going to pick out what you wear. Because if I leave you alone, you’ll co out in sothing that makes every man in that restaurant forget his wife’s na, and then I’ll have to start breaking bones before dessert."

She gasped dramatically, hand flying to her chest. "What a sha. I was going to wear the red one."

I cursed under my breath because the red dress lived in my nightmares and my fantasies. "Exactly my point. That one doesn’t leave this house. Ever."

She laughed, and stepped closer, tilting her head just enough that her lips brushed my jaw when she spoke. "And what if I want to wear it for you?"

I grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against , my hand sliding to the back of her neck like it belonged there. She let out that tiny gasp again, the one that drives

insane, and I pressed my forehead to hers. "Then you put it on right now and I tear it off before we even make it out the door. Don’t test , kitten."

Her smile was wicked, eyes shining with that reckless fire she’s carried since the day I claid her. "Maybe that’s exactly the test I want."

I cock my head like a man who is about to confess a sin and, for once, give her exactly what she asked for. "Wear it. Let

see"

Lyra’s grin is the kind of thing that makes

forget how to be reasonable. She hooks a finger into the corner of the wardrobe and slides the garnt out like it’s a secret weapon, the fabric catching the light and making the whole room tilt toward her.

When she steps into it I almost choke on air. The dress clings to her in all the wrong and perfect ways, shaping the little witch that ruined my life into sothing breathtaking.

It is not cheap showy; A red that tastes like danger and confession and a sort of sin.

She turns like she’s testing it against the light and then fixes

with that look that used to get

killed and now gets

whipped.

I grinned because she always knew exactly which nerve to hit. "Fuck, kitten," I said, letting the heat in my voice do the work I ought to be too dignified to show in public, "the red looks so fucking good on you."

"I’m fucking hard," I admitted, no sha in it, no disguise, just the raw truth clawing its way out of . My cock was straining against the fabric like it wanted freedom more than I wanted breath, and the sight of her standing there in that red dress only made the ache sharper.

Inside, my thoughts were a ss, torn between worship and destruction. I wanted to be the kind of man who could play it cool, who could walk out of here with a straight back and a clean conscience. But she ruins . Every ti. The way her body curves, the way her mouth tilts like she already knows she’s won, the way she dares

to give in even when I swore I wouldn’t.

I thought about how many tis I’d promised myself I’d slow down, be gentle, give her space to breathe. But the second her lips brushed my jaw, every careful vow collapsed into dust.

All I could think about was tearing the dress off, pressing her into the mattress, and proving to her all over again that no matter how much ti passes, no matter how many kids are sleeping down the hall, I will never stop wanting her with a violence that scares .

I held her face in my hand, thumb brushing her cheekbone, and forced myself to breathe. "You see what you do to , kitten?" I whispered, voice shaking with the weight of it. "One look. One damn dress. And I’m ready to burn the whole world down just to keep you here with ."

She tipped her head just enough to let her hair spill over her shoulder, lips curling like sin itself. "What do you want

to do, Daddy?" she asked, voice soft, knowing, daring.

My blood spiked hot. I didn’t even try to filter it, didn’t bother with restraint. I leaned down, let my mouth brush her ear, and growled, "I want you on your knees, kitten. In that dress. Looking up at

like you were made to obey . You hear ?"