Ch. 56..60: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 56-60

Favorite Sin 56

40 Poetto

Tainted Trust

~Lyra

“Spare me the shaky voice and the tears, Tasha. I’m not ready to be comforted by the same hands that held him while I was crying about him to you. I’m not ready to hear your sad little redemption story about how it was a mistake and you’ve hated yourself ever since. You hated yourself in silence. Privately. While I hated myself out loud. While I drowned in it. While I doubted everything about me.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Do you even know what it did to me?” I demanded, standing slowly like my legs were powered by rage and heartbreak and Red Bull. “Do you even f*****g know what it felt like? Sitting in my room, sobbing over a boy who broke me, while you sat next to me – nodding like you cared, acting like my pain was safe with you – and you were the reason I was in pain the whole time?”

She tried to speak. I cut her off with a raised hand.

“No. No, you don’t get to talk yet. I need to say this. I need to get this out or I’m going to explode, and I swear to God if I die right now it will be because my heart literally set fire to my bloodstream.”

She nodded silently, biting her lip.

I started pacing. My words came fast. Too fast. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe unless I said it all.

“You were supposed to be my safe space. You were supposed to be my emergency contact, my back–up plan, my platonic soulmate. You weren’t just my best friend, Tasha – you were my person. My one constant. The person I saw in every future. I pictured you at my wedding. At my baby shower. Holding my hand when I got my first book published. We planned to name our cats after Harry Potter characters. We talked about matching tattoos.”

I stopped pacing and looked her dead in the eyes,

“And you threw it away. For him. For Marcus Adesina, of all people. The boy who made me feel like a broken toy because I didn’t want to ride him like a porn star at seventeen. The boy who shamed me for keeping my virginity like it was something disgusting. You knew what he did to me. You saw what he did to me. And you

still f****d him.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered again, voice cracking. “I was drunk. I was stupid. It wasn’t planned..”

“And yet you planned to hide it,” I snapped, stepping closer. “You planned to sit next to me day after day while I fell apart. You planned to lie. You planned to let me carry the pain alone while you protected him. You planned to gaslight me into thinking was dramatic. You said ‘he’s not worth your tears‘ after swallowing his kids, Tasha. Are you hearing yourself?”

She covered her face and sobbed into her hands.

And for a second, I just stood there.

Watching her fall apart.

And even in all of it, even with the way my chest ached and my stomach turned and my soul felt like it had been ripped out through my mouth – I still loved her. That was the worst part. That even now, watching her

cry over the grave of our friendship, part of me still wanted to reach out. To hold her.

111

O

Tainted Trual

But I couldn’t.

“You know what hurts the most?” I whispered, voice shaking but steady. “It’s not even that you slept with him. It’s not even that you lied. It’s that you knew. You knew how broken I was. You knew how deeply I loved you.

And you still chose you.”

She looked up at me, eyes red, cheeks stained, mouth trembling.

“I was scared,” she said. “I thought if I told you… I’d lose you.”

She said it so softly, like it was supposed to explain everything, like fear was a good enough excuse for betrayal. But then her voice broke again, and she didn’t stop. She kept talking, kept sobbing through the words like the truth was clawing its way out of her.

“I thought if I told you, you’d never look at me the same. That you’d hate me. That I’d ruin everything. And I didn’t want to ruin everything, Lyra. I didn’t want to lose us. You were the only thing in my life that ever made sense. You were always there for me. Always. Even when I didn’t deserve it. And I was stupid, I was selfish, and I didn’t stop it when I should’ve, and it happened so fast, and I thought if I just pretended it didn’t, it would go away. I thought maybe I could forget it, maybe I could carry it for the both of us. But it didn’t go away. It’s been eating me alive.”

She was crying so hard now I could barely understand her, but I heard every word.

“And I watched you cry, and I wanted to confess a million times,” she kept going, hands over her face, voice wrecked. “I wanted to fall on my knees and beg you to forgive me, but every time I tried, I’d see your face, and I’d remember how much you trusted me. How much you loved me. And I couldn’t do it. Because I knew the moment I said it… you’d never hug me again. You’d never laugh with me again. You’d never call me your soulmate again. And I–I couldn’t live with that. So I lied. And that makes me a terrible person. I know that. I f*****g know that.”

And God… it hurt.

It hurt because I knew she meant it. Because it wasn’t just guilt on her face – it was grief. She wasn’t just sad because she got caught. She was mourning me. Mourning us. Mourning the version of herself that I loved before she turned into someone I couldn’t recognize.

But I couldn’t let that stop me from saying what I needed to say.

I shook my head slowly, voice low but firm. “No. You wouldn’t have lost me.”

She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted.

“Yes, I would’ve been pissed. Yes, I would’ve screamed. I probably would’ve blocked you, cursed you out, ignored your texts, ripped up our photos, maybe even burned that stupid matching journal we made – but t would’ve forgiven you eventually.”

Her lips quivered.

“Because I loved you more than I hated what you did,” I said, breath shaking. “And the difference is, if you had told me if you had trusted me we could’ve crawled through it together. I would’ve gotten over it. I really,

–

truly believe I would’ve. Because our friendship was that deep. That real.”

I sniffed, the lump in my throat growing again.

“But now? I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you again. And do you know the craziest part?

อ

2/5

Tainted Trust

The most insane part of all this?”

She blinked at me, face soaked with tears.

“I’m going to have to see your nasty face all year.”

She froze. “What?”

I took a deep, bitter breath.

“Yeah. Surprise. My mum made a last–minute decision over the summer. She and my dad think I need a change. A better environment. Less distractions. And since I only have one more year left before graduation and you’ve always been the perfect little good–girl bestie, they figured, hey, why not transfer me to your school. You know – to be close to my ‘responsible friend‘ with the rich dad and the stable home.”

Tasha’s face went pale.

“Lyra… what are you saying?”

I laughed. It was dry and cracked and sounded like it’d been filtered through broken glass.

“I’m saying,” I growled, taking a step toward her, “that I’m stuck with you. That starting next month, I’ll be walking the same damn hallways as the girl who f****d my ex. Who sucked his d**k. Who lied to my face while his c*m was probably still drying in her panties. That’s what I’m saying.”

She gasped.

“And I swear, Tasha, if I have to sit next to you in homeroom or see you giggling at some teacher’s joke while I’m trying not to vomit at the memory of you gagging on him..I might just lose it all over again.”

I was panting now. My fists were clenched. My head was pounding. My soul was on fire.

“You were supposed to be the one person I never had to guard myself from. And now I don’t even know who the f**k you are.”

“Now leave.”

She blinked, confused, like she hadn’t heard me right.

So I stepped closer, just enough for her to feel it – the heat, the rage, the heartbreak that was seconds away from turning into something unholy.

“I said leave, Tasha.”

Her mouth opened again. I could see it – the desperation, the apology sitting on the tip of her tongue, the hope that maybe, maybe there was still a sliver of softness left in me for her to hold on to.

There wasn’t.

And when she didn’t move fast enough, when she stood there looking like she still had something left to say, I tilted my head, gave her the kind of smile that only comes from being completely f*****g done, and I said it: “Before I drag those fake ass extensions off your f*****

g head.”

She froze.

The words hit her like a slap. Like a brick. Like divine retribution from the girl whose soul she fractured. “I’m not kidding,” I whispered, voice low and shaking but more dangerous than anything I’d ever said in my

345

< Tainted Trust

life.

“I’ll yank those synthetic spaghetti strands straight off your scalp and staple them to the ‘b***h of the Year‘ award you clearly think you deserve. I’ll rip them out one by one like petals from a flower while I chant ‘he

loves me, he loves me not,‘ except the answer’s always gonna be not, because the only thing that boy ever

loved was himself.”

Her mouth fell open.

And I wasn’t done.

“You’re lucky I only humiliated him tonight. Because if you don’t walk away right now, I will drag your lying ass back into that party by your lace front and give you the public humiliation you deserve. And I swear to God, Tasha, I’ll do it in heels. With my mascara running. On camera.”

She didn’t move.

So I took a step forward, eyes wide, smiling now that crazy, unstable,

–

I’ve–lost–everything–so–let–me–go–out–swinging kind of smile.

“Go. Before I do something we both would regret“.

She gasped.

Her knees buckled.

And then she ran.

And me?

I stood there…

Breathing like I had just survived a war.

Because I had.

I was still standing there, breathing like I’d just outrun a pack of wolves in stilettos, heart cracked wide open, tears still wet on my cheeks, when my phone beeped in my hand.

The screen lit up.

Damon.

Oh my God. No. No no no.

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and unlocked it with trembling fingers.

“I’m coming back home in 30 minutes.”

My soul left my f*****g body.

“f**k. f**k. Oh my God.”

Favorite Sin 57The Penthouse

The Penthouse

~Lyra~

He was coming home. As in..here. As in this house. The same house where the music was still playing, where half the school was probably grinding in the living room..

He couldn’t see this.

He would kill Tasha. Not figuratively. Not emotionally. Like, literally. We’d both be dead. Buried six feet under a

f*****g rose garden with matching tombstones that said, “Here lies Lyra and Tasha. They tried Damon

Thornvale.”

I started pacing again, the panic fully kicking in.

Think, think, think, b***h.

He could not find out.

So I did what any emotionally unwell, freshly heartbroken, wildly overstimulated girl would do.

I lied.

“Nooo. The insect fumigants just left. Like just now. The house is fumigated and still smells like poison. It’s not safe to come in yet.”

I held my breath. Sent it.

He read it instantly.

And then his reply dropped like a bomb.

Ohh. So where are you?

Oh God. Oh f**k. My brain was on fire. My thoughts were a hamster on cocaine. I didn’t even blink before ! typed back:

About to follow Tasha to hang out at a friend’s place.

Boom. Sent.

There. That sounded casual. That sounded chill. That sounded like something a normal, mentally stable teenage girl would say. You know, if she hadn’t just committed social homicide in the backyard.

But no.

Damon Thornvale wasn’t done.

His message came so fast I barely had time to flinch.

Don’t go there.

That’s all it said at first.

I stared at the screen, heart thudding, brain melting, thighs already pressed tight like they knew what was coming.

And then the next message popped up.

The Penthouse

One.

By.

One.

Like he was doing it on purpose.

I don’t give a f**k whose house it is.

I don’t give a f**k who’s there.

You’re not going anywhere.

I want you to come to me.

Now,

I blinked, the air leaving my lungs in a slow, choking breath.

Another message.

I’m heading to my penthouse. I’ll send the location.

And then.

Come sit on daddy’s lap like a good girl.

I gasped.

I could feel the way my entire soul arched at those words. My n*****s hardened beneath my bra like they’d just heard the gates of heaven open, and my cunt – oh my God, my cunt – pulsed like it had a mind of its own. Like my body didn’t give a single f**k that I was still crying five minutes ago.

My fingers tightened around the phone. My jaw clenched. And before I could even process that, the next message came in.

I’ve f*****g missed you.

I want to feel your mouth on my c**k.

I want your lips swollen and your throat stretched until you forget your own name.

I want to f**k you so hard your little teenage legs forget how to walk.

I want to watch you cry with your cheeks full of spit and my c*m dripping out of your p***y like a ruined doll.

That’s what I need tonight.

I made a sound. A real, choked, needy sound. A whimper caught between a sob and a moan.

“Oh fuck.”

ugh

I was soaking. I could feel it – that hot, sinful wetness seeping into my panties like my cunt had given up on pretending to be innocent. My thighs pressed tighter. My legs twitched. My eyes fluttered shut.

–

And still more messages.

Come to me.

Come let daddy bend you over the counter and f**k the pain out of you.

2/8

The Penthouse

I want to hear you scream my name until you forget who the f**k Tasha even is.

You belong to me.

You hear me, baby?

Mine.

+ Parts

I let out a high, shaking breath, chest heaving, heart pounding, mouth open like I needed to be fed more filth just to stay conscious.

I whispered out loud to no one.

“Daddy…”

My hands were trembling.

My entire body was on fire.

–

He hadn’t even touched me he wasn’t even near me – and still, I was soaking through my f*****g underwear like a dumb little w***e who couldn’t think when he snapped his fingers.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

I read the messages again.

Then again.

And I whispered, “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Because Damon Thornvale was the only man alive who could send a paragraph and make me want to get on all fours in traffic.

He was the only man who could make my cunt cry harder than my eyes ever did.

And after tonight?

After the betrayal, the heartbreak, the public humiliation?

I didn’t want soft.

I didn’t want gentle.

I wanted to drown in him.

I wanted him to make me forget every name except his.

I wanted him to make my throat sore and my body beg and my soul break.

I didn’t even think.

My thumb was shaking, my body already humming, my panties soaked like I’d been sweating sin between my thighs for hours – and I needed to hear him. I needed to hear his voice. I needed him in my ear, raw, filthy, live. My heart was racing. My fingers were slipping on the screen from how f*****g sweaty my palms were. I

a real mess

and none of it mattered because the only name in my head was his.

was a mess

I hit call.

It rang once.

Twice.

–

—

The Penthouse

He picked up.

His voice was already low, already thick, already lethal,

“You couldn’t wait, could you?”

I let out a whimper, biting my lip, breath already shaky. “Were you… were you saying the truth?”

He chuckled. Dark. Dangerous.

“You mean about bending you over and f*****g the pain out of you?”

My breath hitched.

“About f*****g your mouth till you can’t speak, Lyra? About filling your throat and your tight little p***y until all

you know is daddy?”

I moaned. Audibly.

Like a dumb little toy. Like a desperate, pathetic little slut who needed permission to keep breathing.

“Oh f**k…” I gasped.

“About missing me”

“You just had to call me, didn’t you?” he murmured, voice like silk soaked in gasoline. “Had to let me hear how soaked you are through the phone. You wanted me to hear you fall apart.”

“I… I needed to know if you meant it,” I whispered, thighs clenching so tight I thought I might bruise myself.

“Check your message,” he growled.

My hands were shaking as I pulled the phone away just long enough to swipe down.

New photo.

Oh my God.

My entire soul screamed.

It was a picture of his c**k.

Hard.

Huge.

Veins popping.

Thick, flushed, leaking.

And in the background?

My name.

Written on a little torn slip of paper.

Placed next to his c**k like a f*****g signature.

Lyra.

I gasped so hard I choked on my own breath.

He was hard for me.

A

<

The Penthouse

He’d taken the picture for me.

And he didn’t stop there.

Another text came in immediately after.

“I’m hard for you.”

“Now be fast.”

“Come suck it.”

“Don’t waste my f*****g time, Lyra.”

“Unless you want to be punished the second you walk through that door.”

I moaned again.

I didn’t even try to hold it back. It came out loud. Raw. Like it punched itself straight out of my stomach and

into the sky.

Because my cunt was throbbing.

My mouth was watering.

My whole body was buzzing like it needed to be used.

I lifted the phone back to my ear, heart pounding, cheeks flushed, breath fogging up the screen.

“D–daddy,” I whispered.

“I’m coming.”

“No,” he said, voice dropping. “You’re not coming. Yet. You don’t come until my c**k is down your throat and my fingers are in your hair and I’m f*****g your face like you were made for it. Now get. The f**k. Over here.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whimpered.

And then I ran and took a cab to the location he sent to me.

Favorite Sin 58

Still shaking..

Still soaking.

Still ruined.

But already his.

The second I got into the cab, I knew I was f****d. Like, not metaphorically, not in a dramatic I’m–so–in–trouble way. I mean fucked.. The moment my ass hit that seat and the door shut, I swear to God my cunt cried out in despair because it needed d**k and all it had was faux leather and sinful thoughts.

The driver glanced back at me through the rearview mirror and I smiled like the innocent little angel I absolutely was not, because if he could hear even one of the thoughts bouncing around my horny teenage brain, he’d either call the police or ask for my number.

I tried. I tried to calm down. I tried breathing. I tried thinking about algebra or dead fish or that one time I saw

but none of it worked. None of it. my grandma’s boobs by accident

–

The Penthouse

Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Damon’s c**k. Huge. Hard. Angry. Leaking. And right next to it, my f*****g name. Mine. Lyra. Written in that cocky, dominant scrawl like he was branding me without even

touching me.

And then the buzzing started. My phone lit up like a Christmas tree on coke.

Tasha.

Of course.

Decline.

She called again.

Decline.

Again.

Decline.

“God, stop f*****g calling me!” I hissed under my breath, clicking block so fast I almost broke the screen. Because I couldn’t think about Tasha. I couldn’t think about parties or betrayal or fake–ass–friends. All I could think about was Damon’s voice and that c**k and the way he was going to ruin me.

Like really ruin me.

Like crying on the floor, can’t sit right for a week ruin me.

I squirmed again, pressing my palm against the seat like it could anchor me to reality. But no. My reality was d**k. One d**k, specifically. One monster, Alpha f*****g daddy d**k with a cocky voice and a penthouse and a temper that could kill.

And I wanted him to use it.

Use me.

God, I was such a w***e.

A teenage, traitorous, best–friend’s–dad–obsessed w***e.

My legs kept twitching. My p***y throbbed again. I pressed my lips together and tried not to cry.

I wanted to touch myself so bad.

Just a little. Just to ease the ache.

My hand even twitched toward my skirt.

No.

No.

He said don’t come until he says so.

Don’t f*****g come until his c**k is in my mouth.

And I was a good girl, right?

Right?

I whimpered.

The Penthouse

The cab hit a bump. I gasped. My clit pulsed from the pressure.

“F**k,” I whispered, biting down on my knuckle, eyes wide, heart pounding, panties sticking to me like melted

candy.

I pulled out my phone and opened the picture again.

Oh my God.

It looked even bigger now.

Like my cunt just imagined it longer and harder and meaner with every glance.

I clenched.

I trembled.

I accidentally moaned again.

I was losing my f*****g mind.

And then..I saw it.

The pin dropped. The little red location dot. I was almost there.

Four minutes.

Three.

Two..

I was shaking so hard now I couldn’t even sit still. My ass kept rubbing against the seat like it was possessed. My breath was coming in hot little gasps.

The driver glanced at me again.

I smiled sweetly.

Like I wasn’t about to go get face–f****d until I forgot my own name.

And when the car stopped?

I didn’t even wait.

I opened the door.

Iran.

Heart in my throat.

p***y dripping.

Mind gone.

He was going to ruin me.

And I was going to f*****g let him. f**k.

Favorite Sin 59

~Damon~

I lit the cigar slowly, letting the flame linger just long enough to burn the edge, then pulled in a deep drag as I leaned back against the counter.

The penthouse was dark, save for the gold halo of city lights pouring in from the windows, painting long shadows across the marble floor.

1 hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights. Didn’t need to. I was too wound up. Too hard. Too goddamn restless to care about anything except the fact that she hadn’t arrived yet.

I’d been pacing since I sent her the location.

Every clock tick pissed me off. Every breath I took that didn’t smell like her skin made my fists clench tighter. My c**k was already hard, straining against the front of my slacks, pulsing with a hunger that had been building for days.

I hadn’t f****d anyone. Hadn’t touched myself. Not once. Not since the last time I f****d her, crying into her own arm while I shoved her deeper and deeper into the only goddamn role she was ever meant to play–mine. I didn’t even realize how fast I was smoking until ash crumbled to the floor.

I growled low under my breath and dragged the cigar across the crystal ashtray, letting it sizzle as I checked the time again. Ten more seconds. That’s all she got.

Ten more seconds before I said f**k it, went to that fumigated house she thought she could hide in, and dragged her ass out by the throat of that too–tight shirt she always wore when she wanted attention. I knew her games. I’d seen every one. And she had no idea how badly I wanted to rip every lie out of her mouth and replace it with my c**k.

My phone buzzed against the marble.

I snatched it.

First message-

Dr. Lesedi: Damon, I just wanted to inform you that Camilla has been discharged from the facility today. Please call me if she needs any support.

f**k. I actually thought she’d stay longer.

My jaw clenched.

I stared at the words for a long time, letting them sit there in the silence, letting the name–Camilla–hit the air like a ghost I didn’t ask for.

Great. Mind you Im being sarcastic.

This is the least of my problems/right now.

And honestly I should’ve cared. I really should’ve.

But I didn’t. She’s a f*****g lunatic. Yeah you might be wondering why I scaled her a lunatic? I’d definitely tell you about that soon. But now f**k I needed Lyra.

1/6

Surrender To Me

I

closed the message.

Didn’t reply.

Didn’t feel a thing.

Because the only girl in my f*****g head right now was Lyra.

Not Camilla. Not the woman I married. Not the shell of a wife who hadn’t touched me in a year, who stopped looking me in the eye long before I stopped going home. She could come back. She could scream. She could cry. She could burn the whole damn city to the ground for all I cared.

It wouldn’t change a f*****g thing.

Because I didn’t miss her.

I missed Lyra.

I missed her bratty little voice, always sharp enough to cut me and soft enough to beg when I had her pinned

under me.

I missed that throat, the way it wrapped around my c**k like she was trying to suffocate herself just to make me groan. I missed her scent–vanilla and sin–and that soaked cunt she always swore she hated me for but spread so willingly the second I said her name.

I missed her like a f*****g sickness.

My palm slammed against the counter, the sound echoing through the room as I clenched my jaw.

“Where the f**k is she?” I hissed through my teeth, already reaching for my phone again.

I was going to text her.

I was going to call.

I was going to make her put the phone on speaker and tell me exactly where she was, who she was with, and why the f**k she thought I wouldn’t come for her.

But then.

The elevator dinged.

And just like that…

I didn’t need to call.

Because she was here.

And she had no f*****g clue what she just walked into.

My head turned.

And there she was.

Lyra.

Small. Breathless. Eyes wide and glassy. Lips parted like she was already moaning. Hair wild like she’d been touched by sin before I even laid a finger on her.

Her chest rose and fell in these shallow, shaky little breaths that told me everything I needed to know. She’d been thinking about me. Touching herself in her head. Wishing I was inside her already.

2/0

Surrender To Me

And I hadn’t even spoken.

I didn’t move right away. I just stood there, watching her from across the room with a look that made grown men piss themselves and made brats like her soak through their panties.

I could see her thighs trembling from here.

She tried to step forward.

My voice stopped her cold.

“What took you so long?”

She froze.

I stepped forward once.

My shoes echoed across the floor. My slacks hung low on my hips. My c**k was still hard behind the zipper,

thick and unforgiving, and I made no attempt to hide it.

“Was the cab ride too long?” I asked, tilting my head. “Did traffic keep my little w***e away from her daddy? Or were you sitting back there with your legs spread and your fingers twitching, trying not to come because you wanted to be a good girl?”

Her breath hitched.

I saw it.

The way her knees bent. The way her lips parted like she wanted to lie and couldn’t find the words.

I smirked.

“Oh, I know what it was.”

Another step.

I was close now. Inches away. My body towered over hers like I was made to pin her to every wall in this f*****g penthouse.

“You were wet before you even left the house, weren’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

I leaned in, my mouth brushing her ear as I whispered.

“You were soaking when you called me”

She shivered.

“You were dripping when you saw my hard on picture”

I trailed one finger up her arm.

“You were pulsing the second I sent that photo.”

I curled that finger under her chin and tilted her face up.

“And now here you are. All dressed up in your little skirt. Panties ruined. Eyes f****d–out. Looking at me like you forgot every reason you were mad.”

Her lips trembled.

Surrender To Me

I didn’t let her speak.

I slid my thumb into her mouth.

Just like that.

Slow. Firm.

She gasped and moaned around it, sucking it in without hesitation.

I grinned.

“There she is,” I murmured. “My pretty little cumslut. Didn’t even knock. Couldn’t wait to get her throat filled,

huh?”

I pressed her back against the wall and leaned in close, my breath hot on her cheek, my body pinning hers

completely.

“You’ve got five seconds to explain why I shouldn’t throw you on the floor and f**k you so hard you forget your

f*****g name.”

Her thighs squeezed together.

Her mouth opened.

And my c**k twitched.

Because the second she tried to speak, I was going to ruin her again.

Her mouth opened the second I pulled my thumb out, and the first thing that spilled from those swollen, spit–slick lips was exactly what I wanted to hear.

“I missed you so much, daddy,” she gasped.

Her voice was already shaking, already cracking under the weight of everything she’d held back. And then the words started pouring out of her like they’d been backed up behind her teeth for days, like she’d been drowning and I was the only air left on Earth.

“Like I literally couldn’t f*****g think. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I just kept checking my phone like some dumb little addicted slut waiting for a hit. I swear to God, I tried to get you off my mind for a bit, but it didn’t even work because every time I closed my eyes all I could see was your c**k and that stupid f*****g smirk you get

when you

know I’m about to come and–oh my God–I swear I almost touched myself like five times but I didn’t, I promise, I didn’t because you said not to and I wanted to be good, I wanted to be the good girl you come home to and ruin.”

She said it all in one breath.

Rambling. Fast. Panicked. Like if she didn’t spit every word out, her heart might explode.

And f**k if I didn’t feel my c**k twitch hard enough to break skin.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

I just stared down at her with something between reverence and rage.

Because hearing that brat lose control? Hearing that filthy little mouth pour every obsessive thought into the space between us like a confession at my altar?

mende to Me

It made me want to destroy her all over again.

And still she kept going.

Shaking now, gripping the front of my shirt like she thought I might walk away. Like she didn’t already know

I’d burn this whole goddamn building down before I let her go.

“I was going f*****g insane without you,” she said, voice rising, cracking at the edges. “Do you even understand what you do to me? I can’t go anywhere without thinking about how you f****d me that night. I can’t sit in a whole day without remembering the way you spit in my mouth and told me to swallow like a good little cumrag. I can’t sleep without my fingers twitching because I miss the weight of your c**k on my tongue, and I hate it–I hate how much I missed you–but I did. I missed you so much, daddy. So f*****g much.

I felt the growl in my throat before I heard it.

It clawed its way up my chest and burned behind my teeth. Not just because of what she said. But because of how she looked when she said it–eyes wide, lashes wet, lips trembling like she was on the edge of

begging for her life.

And she wasn’t done.

She laid her cheek against my chest like she belonged there, like her body already remembered the way mine fit against it. Her fingers clutched at my slacks, knuckles white, nails biting into the fabric like she needed something to anchor her to this moment or she’d come undone.

“And now all I want is to feel you again. I want to choke on your c**k until I cry. I want your c*m dripping out of me when I walk tomorrow. I want you to grab my throat and f**k the apology into my mouth. I don’t care what you do to me, daddy. I just want to be yours again.”

She looked up.

Those eyes.

God, those eyes.

Wet. Wild. Desperate.

Every word she said, every filthy confession, every shaky breath–it was all there in her gaze. Open. Raw.

Mine.

“Please,” she whispered, voice almost gone now. “Just make me yours again.”

And right then, I knew.

I wasn’t going to f**k her.

I was going to claim her.

Own her. Oh f**k I’ve missed her.

Favorite Sin 60

ddicted To You

~Lyra~

As soon as I stepped into the penthouse and my eyes landed on Damon, everything stopped.

Like literally everything.

My lungs forgot how to work, my heart f*****g imploded, and every single thought in my brain melted into one single, overwhelming, unbearable need..

I just wanted him to f**k me. f**k me senseless. f**k me stupid. f**k me until my voice cracked and my body forgot how to work. f**k the living hell out of me.

Oh my f*****g God, I’d missed him.

I’d missed the way he stood like he owned the world. The way his slacks hung off his hips like they were tailored by sin itself. The way his chest rose and fell slow, controlled, like his whole body was made of violence and patience wrapped in ink and rage.

He had a glass in one hand, a half–burnt cigar resting in the ashtray beside him, and that look on his face..that cold, cocky, lethal f*****g smirk that said he knew exactly what I looked like crying, moaning,

gagging on his c**k, and begging for more.

My thighs elenched the second our eyes met.

I felt it..this white–hot pulse between my legs like my cunt recognized its f*****g master before my mouth

could even open.

And the way he looked at me?

Like I was prey.

Like I was property.

Like I was the c*m–drunk little toy who’d dared to block his number, and now I was about to pay

second I made him wait.

I couldn’t even breathe right.

for every

My whole body was screaming. Every inch of me was on fire. I felt the slick in my panties the second I took my next step, and it wasn’t even subtle anymore. It was soaked. Humiliatingly soaked. Like I’d been edging for a week and my body just gave up the second I saw him.

He stepped toward me, slow, like he had all the time in the f*****g world and wanted me to suffer for every

second of it.

And I swear to God–I swear–I almost dropped to my knees before he even touched me.

I could feel it. That ache in my jaw. That twitch in my throat. That empty, hungry, desperate f*****g pressure in my core that screamed fill me, ruin me, own me again.

I wanted him to grab me. Slam me against the wall. Tear my clothes off and spit in my mouth. I wanted his belt across my ass and his cm down my throat and his c**k buried so deep inside me that I could taste it in the back of my f*****g skull. I didn’t care how it happened. I didn’t care if he made me beg or scream or sob

–l

Addicted To You

just wanted him.

I needed him.

I needed daddy.

And when he finally spoke, when that low, possessive growl hit the air and he asked me what took so long, I swear I almost came right there in the doorway.

My knees buckled.

My cunt clenched.

My heart practically exploded.

Because I knew what came next.

He wasn’t going to be gentle. He wasn’t going to hold me and tell me it was okay. He was going to f**k the apology out of my mouth and make me thank him for every second of it.

And God help me..I wanted it.

The second his eyes dropped to my thighs, I knew I was done for.

And then he said it.

He said it low. Rough. Like he was talking to himself.

“Well, well. Did you grow thicker overnight?”

My lungs seized.

My p***y clenched so hard I nearly cried.

I wanted to die and scream and moan all at once because he was still staring..still looking at me like I was something worth breaking open, like every curve was a challenge and every soft part of me was just another place for him to leave his f*****g mark.

He took one slow step forward, and then another, until his body was right in front of mine. I could feel the heat coming off his skin. I could smell him–cologne and smoke and s*x and something wild underneath that made my insides twist like I’d been drugged by my own hormones.

“Gosh,” he muttered, voice like gravel dragged across silk. “Look at your fat ass and thighs.”

I choked on air.

Like actually choked.

Because the way he said it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mean. It was worse. It was reverent. It was filthy. It was the kind of voice a man uses when he’s about to drop to his knees and eat a girl alive.

And I could feel my whole body start to shake because I wanted that. I wanted his mouth. I wanted his hands. I wanted his c**k. I wanted every inch of this man and every word that came out of his mouth to be inside me, around me, all over me.

His hands came up slowly–almost like he was giving me time to run, but we both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

His fingers slid under the hem of my top. They didn’t yank. They didn’t tear. They just slipped in like they

< Addicted To You

belonged there, warm and commanding, and my breath hitched so loud it echoed in the room.

“Let me see it,” he whispered, and the sound of those words against my ear almost made me fall to my knees. “All of it. Every inch that’s been keeping me up at night.”

He started lifting my shirt.

Slow.

Tormentingly slow.

Like he was unwrapping a present he wanted to play with for hours before f*****g it senseless.

I lifted my arms automatically, breath shaking, n*****s already so hard they brushed against the fabric and sent shivers down my spine. He peeled it off inch by inch until it was over my head and on the floor, and then his hands moved down again–this time to the waistband of my skirt.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

All I could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, praying he didn’t see how wet I already was.

He did.

Of course he f*****g did.

He grinned, low and dangerous, as his fingers slipped between the band and my skin.

“You were made for this,” he said, dragging the skirt down over my hips like he was watching a performance tailored just for him. “You were made to be stripped like this. Undressed slow. Worshipped. f****d. Ruined.”

I whimpered.

Actually whimpered.

Because the way he looked at me in that moment–like I was his personal addiction, like he’d been starving and I was the only thing in the world that could feed him–it made me forget every reason I ever tried to stay

away.

My skirt hit the floor.

He looked down at me–now just in my ruined, soaked panties and my bra–and smiled like he’d won

something.

And f**k, maybe he had.

He didn’t wait.

The second my skirt hit the floor, his hands were back on me..rougher now, more urgent, more possessive. His fingers slid under the curve of my ass and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing, like my body belonged to him and his alone.

My arms flew around his shoulders, my legs locked around his waist, and my entire body pressed against his like we were two halves of something violent and dirty and inevitable.

His c**k was already rock hard between us, pressing up against my soaked panties and I swear I almost came from the pressure alone.

< Addicted To You

“You think I haven’t thought about this every f*****g night since I left?” he growled against my mouth, voice hot and thick with hunger. “You think I didn’t jerk off to the memory of this fat little cunt riding my c**k until f was cursing your name into my fist?”

I whimpered before I could stop myself, legs tightening around his waist, grinding down on him like my p***y had taken control of my body.

“You think I didn’t stare at the wall in some empty f*****g hotel room and imagine you like this? Wrapped

around me, begging me to ruin you again?”

He slammed me back against the wall so hard the impact knocked the air from my lungs. My back hit the smooth surface, my head tilted back, and then he kissed me–hard. Messy. Tongue and teeth and breath and

filth.

His mouth devoured mine, like he was trying to drink every second he’d missed, and I let him because ! wanted it just as bad. My fingers clawed at his hair, my thighs gripped him like a vice, and I kissed him back like if I did it right, maybe the pain in my chest would stop.

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to mine, both of us panting, both of us trembling from how f*****g close we were to losing control.

“I missed you, too,” he said low, barely audible. “I missed this f*****g body. I missed the way you moan when I f

**k you deep.

I missed the way you cry when you come so hard you forget your own name. I missed the taste of your cunt. The sound of your voice. The way you look at me like I’m God and the devil and your daddy all at once.”

I moaned so loud it echoed.

And then he shifted his hips.

I felt the pressure of his c**k through his slacks, grinding into my core like he already knew exactly where I

was aching.

“I should punish you,” he growled, mouth dragging down my jaw to my throat. “I should make you beg for every inch. I should tie you up and make you scream.”

He bit me–just under my ear, sharp enough to make me cry out–and then his fingers yanked my ruined panties to the side.

“But not tonight.”

He reached between us and unzipped himself, and I felt it–the heat, the weight, the sheer size of him pressing against my entrance like he was born to be there.

“Tonight,” he said, positioning himself against my soaked p***y, “I’m going to f**k you just like this.”

He pushed in–deep.

One hard, smooth, perfect thrust that slammed every inch of him inside me while I screamed into his neck.

My back arched.

My legs locked.

My nails dug into his shoulders as the burn spread through me, wild and beautiful and raw.

“f**k,” I sobbed, head falling back against the wall.

< Addicted To You

48 Bring 2:

“You missed this c**k?” he hissed in my ear, slamming in again so hard the picture frame beside us tilted.

I nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, daddy, I missed it so f*****g much…”

He grinned against my throat, his hands gripping my ass as he started to move, slow at first, then faster,

deeper, rougher.

“Good,” he growled. “Because you’re going to take every f*****g inch until I say stop.”

And then he really started f*****g me.

Hard.

Savage.

Right there against the wall with my legs shaking around his waist, my cunt fluttering with every thrust, my voice breaking apart into gasps and moans and cries of “Daddy, daddy, please….”

And Damon?

He just kept going.

Like he was never going to stop.