Ch. 181..185: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 181-185

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 181~Damon~

When I received the call from my neighbor informing me that Camilla had a gun to her head, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t freeze.

I didn’t even stop thrusting. There was no panic in my blood, no spike in adrenaline, no sudden jolt of concern racing up my spine. Nothing. Not even a fucking heartbeat out of rhythm.

All I felt was annoyance.

A deep, simmering, venom-laced kind of irritation that spread through my chest like acid. Not fear. Not worry. Not even curiosity. Just a cold, bitter fury that she would dare interrupt me while I was still buried balls-deep inside Lyra.

I was still coming down from the high of my orgasm, my cock still twitching from the aftershocks, the veins still swollen, the base still thick and hot and pulsing.

And Camilla?

She wanted to kill herself?

What the actual fuck did that have to do with me?

I didn’t even reach for the phone out of care. I didn’t answer it because I gave a damn about her life. I picked it up because the buzzing in my coat pocket kept vibrating against my hip with the kind of persistence that killed my rhythm.

It was annoying. Distracting. I was trying to enjoy the sound of Lyra’s soft, whimpering cries as her overstimulated cunt kept spasming around my cock, and the goddamn phone wouldn’t stop.

So I answered it.

“Damon,” the voice on the line finally said, rushed and breathless. “It’s your neighbor. Camilla’s outside your house. She’s holding a gun to her head.”

I smiled. Not out of joy. Not out of concern. But because of the sheer absurdity of it.

The moment those words hit my ears, I slammed into Lyra. Hard. Brutal. Deep enough to make the table creak and groan beneath us. Her gasp ripped through the air like she hadn’t been ready for it. Her legs buckled slightly, and I didn’t let her fall.

Her entire body was still fluttering. Still drenched. Still riding the waves of the orgasm I had already wrung out of her minutes ago, and all I could think about was how fucking incredible it felt to still be inside her.

Not the call. Not the drama. Not the suicidal woman screaming in my driveway. Just Lyra’s heat. Her tightness. Her wetness. The obscene slick sounds of my cock moving inside her.

“She’s screaming,” the man continued, clearly shaken. “She said if you don’t come to her, she’s going to blow her brains out. Right here. In the driveway.”

I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny. But because it was so predictable. So like Camilla. So entirely on brand for the emotionally manipulative, attention-starved bitch who had never once been able to take a damn ‘no’ like a fucking adult.

“She said it’s your fault,” the guy added, his voice trembling like that was supposed to do something to me. “She said she wants you to see it.”

See it? What the fuck does that even mean.

“Damon,” he tried again, panicked now. “You need to come now. She’s “

I cut him off. Not with words. With movement.

I slammed into Lyra again. Harder. Deeper. Her mouth fell open, and a sound escaped her throat that wasn’t even a moan anymore. It was something feral. Something unholy. Something completely owned.

“I don’t give a single fuck if she pulls the trigger,” I said finally, my voice low and lethal, grinding my hips into Lyra with such slow, cruel pressure that her back arched and she whimpered.

“Let her do it. Let her blow her miserable fucking brains out and paint my driveway with the filth I never wanted in the first place. I am not leaving my Luna. I am not saving her. And I sure as hell am not stepping out until I’ve made my Luna come again.”

Lyra whimpered beneath me. Not because she was scared. Not because she was shocked. But because the sound of me saying that the raw, vicious truth of me choosing her while I was still deep inside her-sent her over the edge again. Her cunt clenched around me. Tight. Hot. Grateful. Mine.

“I’m still inside her,” I told the man on the phone, my voice shaking with pleasure. “I’m still fucking hard. She’s still dripping. And I’m going to fuck her again before I even think about Camilla.”

I didn’t wait for a reply.

I dropped the phone. Let it fall to the floor. Then I kicked it under the table with my boot like it was trash. I didn’t give a shit if the line was still open. I didn’t care if the man was still screaming on the other end. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was Lyra.

Bent over in front of me. Shivering. Moaning. Still dripping my cum.

She looked back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wild, her lips parted in disbelief. Her hair was stuck to her face with sweat and sex, and her whole body looked like it had been loved too rough and too real.

“Are you serious?” she whispered. “She’s outside right now with a gun, and you’re still—”

“Yes,” I answered instantly, cutting her off. I bent forward, letting my chest press against her spine while my cock stayed buried deep inside her. “She’s outside. I’m inside you. That’s how serious I am.”

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 182

I kissed her shoulder. Bit her neck. Dragged my tongue across the shell of her ear while her breath hitched again.

“You are what I want, kitten,” I whispered. “Not her. Never her. She was a contract. A fucking human leash they shoved into my bed just because I didn’t have a mate. But you—”

I paused. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to claw its way out. My cock throbbed inside her. I leaned closer. Pressed my lips against her ear.

“But you,” I murmured, “you are my fate”

“But Damon,” she breathed, and fuck, the way she said my name-like it hurt her to even speak it-made my cock twitch inside her. “Please.”

I didn’t move.

I stayed bent over her, letting her feel the full heat of me against her back, letting my palm slide down her belly like I was reminding her exactly who she belonged to. But I didn’t answer. I waited. I made her say more.

“Please just…” Her voice cracked, and her brows furrowed, like she hated herself for even thinking it. “Just let’s go back to the house. Make sure she’s not actually going to—”

“To what?” I cut her off, my voice dark and steady. “Make sure she’s not going to kill herself?”

Lyra swallowed hard.

“I know she’s a bitch,” she said quickly, her voice rushing out in a messy stream, like she was trying to speak before I punished her for it.

“I know she’s manipulative and crazy and I fucking hate her, I swear I do. But if she’s really going to do it, Damon—if she really pulls the trigger-I don’t want you to blame yourself later. I don’t want that to live in your head.”

I stared at her.

Hard.

Unmoving.

I watched her eyes. Her lips. Her trembling thighs.

“I’m not going to blame myself,” I said calmly, like I was telling her the weather. “Because I don’t give a fuck.” Lyra gasped.

“I don’t care if she’s outside choking on her own blood right now. I don’t care if her brains are already sliding down the pavement. You want me to pull out of this perfect, soaking, cum-dripping cunt and go see Camilla. Over my fucking dead body.

She didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

Because her eyes had gone wide again, her breath catching in her throat as I started to fuck her slowly again.

“She can die out there for all I care,” I hissed, my teeth brushing her ear. “Let the grass soak it up. Let the crows pick her apart. Let her name rot in the fucking soil. But you, Lyra—you stay right fucking here.”

“But Damon,” she whispered again, tears burning her voice now. “What if she’s really hurt? What if she’s not faking this time? What if you open the door tomorrow and find her body there, just-just lying there?”

“Then I’ll walk over it,” I snapped. “I’ll step over her corpse with your scent still all over me, and I’ll carry you to breakfast like nothing happened.”

She whimpered.

Her whole body curled around the truth of it.

Because she knew I meant it.

Because she knew I wasn’t bluffing.

Because she knew I would choose her over the entire fucking world.

But she still couldn’t help it. Her heart was too soft. Her voice too trembling. Her hands fisted the table like maybe just maybe there was still some mercy in her.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please just make sure she doesn’t die.”

I grabbed her hair again. Pulled her head back until her throat was stretched and vulnerable, her mouth parted, her eyes fluttering like she was caught between guilt and lust.

“You want me to stop fucking you to go check up on a woman, who would rather see you dead?”

“I want you to stop pretending you’re not human,” she said, eyes glistening now, voice shaking. “Because you are. You feel. And no matter how much you hate her-deep, down, somewhere you know you’ll never forgive yourself if you find her corpse tomorrow.”

“Okay. Fine, kitten. You won” I said, my voice low and sharp as a blade. “Let’s go.”

I pulled out of her, slow and heavy, watching the way her body reacted-her back arching, her breath catching, her thighs trembling as the thick mess of my cum spilled out of her and slid down her legs like a goddamn signature.

I stood upright, adjusted my pants with steady hands, then ran a palm down my face and let out a breath through my nose. “Let me be clear about something,” I said suddenly, my voice low, heavy with steel. “If I pull up to that house and find her standing and breathing then I swear to every god I’ve never bowed to, I will take you back home, bend you over the war table, and fuck the apology out of your throat.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then her voice came through.

Soft. Breathless. Almost trembling with heat.

“Yes, Daddy.”

I ran my tongue across my teeth, stared at her for a second longer, then exhaled through my nose.

“Come here, kitten,” I said, low and commanding. “Let me clean you up. Then we leave.”

To be fucking continued.

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 183

~Lyra~

Alright, let’s get something straight because I know some of y’all are out there absolutely foaming at the mouth, ready to drag me by my hair through the comments like, “Lyra, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

And you know what? That’s fair.

Because yes. Yes, I did it.

I told Damon-while his cock was still buried inside me, while my legs were trembling and my pussy was still spasming from the kind of orgasm that rewires your brainstem-I told that man, let’s go check on Camilla.

I know. I deserve jail. Maybe a slap. Maybe a whole trial by fire. But before you light your pitchforks and scream betrayal, let me explain.

First of all, I hate Camilla. Not a little. Not in a “she’s annoying” kind of way. I hate her like my soul recognizes her as its personal enemy.

She’s fake. She’s evil. She’s every terrible female villain trope combined and shoved into a painfully skinny body with a designer bag and zero morals.

So do I want her dead?

Yeno.

That’s my new word for the situation. A hybrid. Yes and no. Yeno. Because deep in the lowest, darkest, filthiest part of me? Yes. I want her to vanish. To crumble. To feel every ounce of humiliation she’s ever thrown at me. But another part of me-the smaller part, the human part, the annoyingly soft part-didn’t want her to die. Not like that. Not yet.

And that’s why I said it.

That’s why I looked up at my mate, my Alpha, the man who had just filled me with enough cum to breed an entire generation, and said, “Let’s go see if she’s okay.”

Now fast forward, we’re in the car. And Damon hasn’t spoken a single word.

Not one.

He’s not yelling. He’s not grunting. He’s not breathing loudly. He’s just driving-calmly, silently, with his jaw locked so tight it looks like it might snap.

His hands are gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him. His knuckles are pale, his veins are raised, and there’s a line between his brows that could cut glass.

And me? I’m sitting there like a damn idiot with his cum still dripping out of me, my thighs sticking together, and the echo of his last thrust still pulsing in my core.

The car still smells like sex. The windows are fogged at the edges. I can feel the slick mess between my legs every time I shift. My body is sore in all the best ways. And the tension between us? It’s a live wire pressed against my throat.

I glanced at him. I knew that look. That quiet rage. That internal fury. It wasn’t about Camilla. It wasn’t even about the interruption.

It was about me choosing that moment-the moment where he had been completely inside me, claiming me, owning every inch of my body-and tearing it away.

I shifted again, pressing my thighs together and swallowing the whimper that threatened to slip out.

His jaw flexed.

His hand twitched on the wheel.

“Damon,” I said softly, my voice low, careful, trying to reach him through the anger behind his eyes.

He didn’t look at me. Didn’t even flicker.

“Not now, kitten.”

His voice was sharp. Cold. The kind of cold that burns. It wasn’t raised, but it was heavy. It carried weight. Authority. Punishment. And something in me tightened.

I nodded. Quietly. But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I never could. I was a mess. I spoke without thinking, and I felt everything all at once.

“I didn’t mean to ruin it,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. “I just thought… what if she really do it? You’ll hate yourself for life.

He didn’t respond.

“I know she’s manipulative. I know she’s cruel. I know she’d burn me alive if she could. But if she actually do it—if she kills herself I don’t want you to blame yourself for not stopping it.”

Still nothing.

His eyes were locked on the road. His body unmoving. But I saw it. The way his throat moved when he swallowed. The way his grip on the steering wheel got even tighter.

“She’s not going to,” he said finally, his voice barely above a growl. “She’s a performer. She’s always been a performer.”

I bit my lip. I stared at my lap.

“You’re mad at me,” I said softly

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then he slowly exhaled through his nose.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m calculating what I’m going to do to you when we get home. I’m deciding whether to fuck the apology out of you slowly… or tear it from your throat while you’re choking on my cock.”

My breath hitched. My legs squeezed shut so fast I could feel the mess between them spread further. It was like every nerve in my body stood at attention, panting, desperate, waiting for more. And of course, because I’m me-eighteen, stupidly brave, and recklessly in love with my possessive, vengeful, Daddy Alpha mate-I smiled.

Not a soft smile.

A dirty one.

The kind that said you wouldn’t dare-but I fucking want you to.

I turned to face him fully, legs crossed in my seat, and dragged my gaze over his profile like I was tracing each edge of his fury.

He looked like a man on the verge of destruction. Of someone else’s destruction. Or mine. Or both. His lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones, his lips were pressed into a sharp line, and his scent-gods, his scent-was thick and angry and aroused all at once.

My voice came out a little breathless, a little amused, and way too bold for someone who was still wearing his cum like perfume.

“So… choking then?” I said, pretending to look thoughtful, but really watching the vein in his neck pulse.

His jaw flexed so hard I swore I heard his teeth grind.

“I can take it,” I added, voice lower now, more sinful. “You know I can.”

His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel.

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 184

His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel.

“And maybe after you’re done punishing my throat,” I went on, pretending to be innocent as I traced a finger up my thigh,” you can bend me over that table again and remind me why you never like being interrupted.”

I saw it.

The flicker.

That wild, dangerous glint that lit up in his eyes like someone just poured gasoline on already-burning rage.

He didn’t speak.

But he did reach down, unbuckle his seatbelt with one sharp movement, then ran his tongue slowly across his teeth like he was picturing the things he’d do to me the second we got back.

“Keep talking, kitten,” he said, voice a growl now. “Say one more thing that makes my cock hard in this car, and I’ll make you ride it all the way back with the windows down, dripping, crying, and gagging for mercy I won’t give.”

I blinked. I swallowed. I clenched again.

But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

“Oh no, Daddy,” I said softly, licking my bottom lip on purpose, making sure he saw it in the corner of his vision. “You said I’d pay for making you stop. I’m just trying to help you figure out how you wanna collect the debt.”

He finally looked at me.

Turned his head with that slow, calculated control that made my skin break into shivers. His gaze dropped to my thighs-still clenched together, still slick, still trembling-then lifted back up to my face.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he said, voice like smoke and thunder. “I’m going to drag you back home, strip you naked, tie you to the damn war table, and fuck the word ‘sorry’ out of your body until it’s engraved in your bones.”

My mouth fell open just a little. I didn’t mean to. It just happened. That voice. That promise. That fury. It cracked something in me. Melted something else. I could feel my pulse between my legs, feel the heat soaking through my ruined underwear, feel every inch of his possession crawling over my skin like chains I never wanted to escape.

He looked at me like he knew. Like he could smell it.

And of course he could.

He leaned closer, one hand still on the wheel, the other shifting to his thigh, his voice dipping even lower.

“And if you so much as pout when I make you beg,” he whispered, “I’ll flip you over, spread your legs wider, and fuck you until the apology becomes a scream.”

I whimpered.

Actually whimpered. In the car. With the windows fogged and the scent of sex thick in the air and my entire body coiled tight like a string ready to snap.

“I’m still leaking,” I whispered back, my voice all breath and sin. “You never gave me a chance to clean it.”

He stared.

“I can feel it, Damon. Your cum. It’s still dripping down my thighs. It’s sticky. It’s hot. It’s messy. And I’m still sitting in it.

For you.”

The growl that ripped from his chest didn’t sound human.

“Say that again,” he snapped, gripping the wheel tighter. “Say it again and I’ll pull this car over right fucking now.”

I leaned over, bringing my lips to his ear, my voice soft and wicked.

“I’m still full of you,” I whispered. “Still warm inside from your cum. Still aching. Still open. Still yours.”

He slammed his foot on the brakes.

The car jerked to a halt.

We were in the driveway now.

“Out.”

My heart jumped.

I didn’t argue. Didn’t blink. I just reached for the handle with fingers that still trembled from the heat between us. My legs ached as I stepped out of the car. The air hit my thighs, and I swore I could feel his cum clinging to my skin, like it was defying gravity to stay in me.

Damon came around the car fast. Not rushed. Just controlled and furious. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. He grabbed my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but tight enough to let me know this wasn’t over. And then we were walking-no, marching- toward the house like a storm was guiding us.

The moment the door opened and slammed behind us, I felt it-the shift in Damon. The Alpha. The wrath. The man who was done.

“Camilla!” he roared, his voice shaking the walls. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“I swear to every fucking god I’ve ever disrespected,” Damon growled, stomping further into the hallway, “I am not playing your stupid-ass games”

He shoved the door to the living room open so hard it hit the wall.

“Camilla!”

I followed him slowly, my chest rising and falling, legs still a little unsteady. I was about to call out-tell him I think I saw her on the pouch but I didn’t get the chance.

Because the second I turned the corner-

Someone grabbed me from behind.

A thick piece of cloth looped fast around my neck and yanked back, cutting off my scream before it even reached my lips. “Fuck-!”

 

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 185

~Lyra~

Fuck.

I swear to every celestial body up there, I thought that was it.

The end.

The dramatic, gasping, slow-motion fall of Lyra, aged eighteen, freshly mated, still sore from getting ruined by the only man who’s ever made me forget my name-and about to be strangled to death on her own damn floor by a mascara-smeared banshee with abandonment issues.

Honestly? I thought I was going to die.

Not later. Not metaphorically. Not “oh my god, I’m dying” like when Damon’s tongue is inside me and my soul is slipping out through my moans—I mean real death. No more orgasms. No more eye-rolls. No more “yes, Daddy” whispered into darkened rooms. Just… gone. A cautionary tale told in hushed whispers around pack fires.

She was hot. She was stubborn. She got choked out by a crazy ex.

That was almost me.

I swear I even started hearing that stupid, soft piano music they play in sad Omega films. I could feel my body giving in. My lungs were already on fire. My throat felt like it was closing from the inside out.

My vision was closing in like the edges of the world were being erased. There was nothing but that cloth, my heartbeat pounding in my head like war drums, and her voice behind me screaming like a woman possessed.

“Die, you fucking bitch!”

That’s what she said.

Like it was her battle cry. Like she was proud of it. Like choking me out on my own fucking territory was going to win her something. Newsflash, Camilla-it’s giving desperate, not deadly.

But I’ll give it to her, she had me for a second. My knees buckled. My body spasmed. My mouth was open, gasping, gagging, but nothing came in. No air. No sound. Just panic. Just rage. Just that feeling of helplessness slithering up my spine like venom.

But you know what else kicked in?

Instinct.

Not the scared kind. The survival kind. The Omega fire they warned people about but no one really believed existed. The kind that says not today, bitch. I might be young. I might be half-broken. But I was not going to die on the floor with cum still leaking out of me and no damn closure.

So I fought.

Hard.

I let my body drop, fast and heavy, deadweight straight to the ground. My back hit her legs. She stumbled slightly but didn’t let go. I clawed at the cloth, dug my nails into whatever I could reach, and twisted my neck like I was trying to break out of a noose. The world kept spinning. My lungs screamed. But I kept going.

My fingers found skin-hers-and I didn’t hesitate. I scratched. I tore into her with everything I had. I didn’t care if I was breaking nails or peeling flesh. I wanted her to feel me fighting.

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked behind me, the words spat through gritted teeth like venom.

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy surviving. Too busy elbowing her stomach and kicking at the floor and silently screaming every curse word I’ve ever heard in my life.

And just when I thought I couldn’t fight anymore.

Just when I felt my body start to slump-

Just when the darkness started blooming at the edge of my vision like black flowers-

I heard him.

Damon.

His voice wasn’t human. It was thunder. It was the sound of a thousand mountains cracking. It was the deep growl of an Alpha whose mate had been touched, whose mate had been hurt, whose mate was gasping for air while someone else dared to exist in the same room.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Three words.

That’s all it took.

Her hands didn’t even tighten. They froze. Her breath hitched. I could feel her body hesitate, the way her muscles trembled like she had just realized she fucked up.

And that was my chance.

I dropped even lower, slammed my elbow back with everything I had left-every ounce of rage, pain, terror, and primal hate- and nailed her in the stomach. Hard. I felt the wind leave her lungs. She made this sick, ugly little wheezing sound, and the cloth finally slipped.

Air rushed in.

I inhaled so hard it hurt. My chest expanded. My ribs screamed. My throat felt like it had been shredded with broken glass. My eyes watered instantly, tears spilling down my cheeks without permission. But I was breathing.

I was alive.

I collapsed forward, coughing, clutching my neck, my vision swimming. I could taste blood. My pulse was hammering in my ears. My whole body trembled from the inside out.

But I looked up anyway.

My vision was still hazy. My throat was raw. My lungs were dragging in air like I had been drowning and just barely clawed back to the surface. Every breath hurt. Every inch of my body was shaking. I was on the floor-on my knees, my hands braced against the wood, my body coated in sweat and fear and leftover arousal.

And Damon-

Oh my fucking God.

Damon wasn’t just moving.

He was unleashing.

The sound he made wasn’t human. It wasn’t even Alpha. It was dark.

His boots cracked against the floor as he crossed the room, every step carrying the kind of fury that made the air itself recoil. His hands were clenched into fists, his back broad and rippling with tension, and when his eyes locked on Camilla, the world around him changed.

He moved like lightning-fast, brutal, unstoppable.

One second she was backing up, hands trembling, her mouth opening like she was going to say something.

And the next?

His hand was around her neck.

Not gently. Not with warning. Gripped. Possessive. Dominant. Wrathful.

He slammed her into the wall with a crack so loud I jumped. The plaster shattered behind her head. Her legs left the ground. Her back arched. She gasped as his fingers tightened.

“Damon-” she croaked, barely able to get the word out, her nails digging into his wrist, trying to pull him off.