Ch. 6..10: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 6-10
Favorite Sin 6
I didn’t even make it to the bed.
I barely got the door closed.
I stumbled inside my room like my legs didn’t belong to me, like I wasn’t human anymore, just some sick, soaked thing possessed by the scent of him. Of Damon. Of Alpha. His sweat. His skin. His c**k.
f**k.
My back hit the door with a thud.
I just stood there. Shaking. Breathing like I’d just run miles barefoot through snow. My hands were trembling. My cunt was throbbing. My panties stuck to me like wet silk, soaked straight through, clinging to the lips of my p***y like they were trying to keep the heat inside.
But it was useless.
I was dripping.
So f*****g wet it felt wrong.
I peeled the robe off my skin in one slow, breathless motion. My n*****s were hard, stiff like diamonds, brushing the air, brushing my hair. Every movement made me whimper.
The cool air kissed my chest.
But my skin was burning.
I was fire. Flame. f*****g need.
My thighs rubbed together as I walked to the edge of the bed. I could feel it. The slick sliding down the inside
of my legs, sticky and warm. I didn’t even want to check. I knew it was messy. Knew I was soaked from the look in his eyes when he said…
“You think you can take me? That sweet little virgin cunt of yours wouldn’t survive a f*****g inch.”
My knees buckled.
dropped onto the bed with a moan. My fingers curled into the sheets. I pressed my thighs together, grinding, desperate, trying to find pressure but there was nothing.
Nothing but hunger.
My chest heaved.
My p***y clenched.
I spread my legs slowly. Shame burned across my cheeks, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My fingers slid
down my stomach, shaking like I was about to do something sinful.
Because I was,
I wasn’t just thinking of him.
Midnight Cambo
I was about to f**k myself to the thought of my best friend’s father.
Alpha Damon.
My fingers slipped into the waistband of my panties. They were soaked. Soaked. The fabric clung to the folds of my cunt, sticking between the lips like they wanted to hide how filthy I was. But there was no hiding it. No pretending.
I was soaked because of him.
Because of the way he looked at me like he wanted to tear me apart.
Because of the way he said he’d destroy me.
I pushed the fabric aside.
Flesh met air.
And I gasped.
The slick was everywhere. My inner lips were swollen, flushed, desperate. My clit pulsed so hard it hurt. My fingers brushed it once and I jerked, my head falling back, a whimper escaping my lips.
I didn’t mean to say his name.
But I did.
“D–Damon…
”
My fingers circled my clit, slow. Gentle. Testing. But even that was too much. It felt like I was touching a raw nerve, like every bit of blood in my body had gathered there. I moaned.
Low. Needy. Embarrassing.
I imagined his fingers instead.
Rough. Big. Hot.
I imagined him pinning my hands to the mattres’s, smirking while I writhed, begging him not to stop.
I moaned again. Louder this time.
My hips started to rock.
I slid two fingers lower, spreading my folds, feeling the heat trapped between them. I was drenched. The slick coated everything. I dragged it back up to my clit, rubbing circles that weren’t soft anymore.
Faster.
Harder.
“f**k,” I gasped, teeth sinking into my lip.
I closed my eyes.
And saw him.
Towering over me. Naked. Veins popping. c**k so massive it looked dangerous. That cruel smirk on his face
as he told me…
“I don’t f**k little girls like you. I destroy them.”
<Midnight Cem
I shoved two fingers inside my p***y.
I cried out.
I imagined his c**k instead.
Thick.
Veiny.
Ruthless.
I pumped my fingers harder. Faster. The slick sounds filled the room. Squish. Squish. Squish. My thighs trembled. My other hand clawed at my breast, squeezing, twisting my n****e till I whimpered.
“I’m so f*****g empty,” I moaned. “Please…”
There was no one there.
But I begged anyway.
“Please, Alpha… f**k me. I need it. Need you to break me..make me scream..make me c*m…”
My fingers curled inside.
I found that spot. The g spot. My c******s
And f**k…
“Ah..!”
My back bowed. My clit pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own. I rubbed harder, grinding down, f*****g myself, moaning his name over and over like a slut who didn’t care anymore.
“Damon… Damon… f**k, Damon…”
The orgasm crashed through me like a goddamn storm. My legs locked. My stomach caved. My p***y clenched so hard around my fingers it felt like it was trying to break them. My mouth dropped open but no sound came out at first. Just air. Just heat.
Then..
“Ahhh…fuck…yes…Alpha…yes..”
+ Prints 2
I cried as I came f*****g hards, so f*****g hard thst my lips trembled as I felt the I knees slips out of my p***y. Oh f**k. It came out violently like a rush.
My cunt gushed. My thighs twitched. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted the salt on my lips.
I collapsed.
Breathless.
Ruined.
Still empty.
Still starving.
Because no matter how deep my fingers went…
They weren’t him.
<Midnight Cm
And they never would be.
They never would be.
E Points
Because no matter how fast I moved,
how deep I shoved, how tight my walls clenched, they were still mine. My fingers, which wet just soft, small and weak and I didn’t want small and soft. f**k. I wanted to be split. I wanted to be stuffed. I wanted to be
*****d so deeply that I forgot my name.
I should’ve been satisfied. But guess what? I wasn’t.
My body should’ve collapsed and stayed down, twitching in post–orgasm haze, f****d out by my own pathetic little hands. But it wasn’t enough. f**k, it wasn’t even close. Because the second I stopped moving, the second my hips stilled and the sheets stuck to my thighs, that ache came crawling right back.
Like my p***y was mocking me.
Like it knew those fingers weren’t his.
And they never would be.
I rolled onto my back with a sob. Not from sadness. From need. My chest was rising and falling too fast, my skin damp with sweat. My clit throbbed so hard I thought I might scream again just from air touching it.
I looked down.
My p***y was glossed.. The lips slick and red from friction, twitching with every heartbeat. My folds glistened. My entrance fluttered like it was waiting to be filled. Begging.
I spread my legs wider and stared at it.
My cunt.
Dripping.
Used.
And still f*****g starving.
My fingers hovered there for a second. Shaky. Barely able to move. And then I dipped two of them back into the slick.
Warm.
Wet.
f*****g soaking.
I whimpered.
I couldn’t help it.
The moment I touched myself again, my head fell back against the pillow, and I let out the filthiest, rawest sound that had ever left my throat. My toes curled. My eyes fluttered. My lips parted in a moan that was barely human.
“Oh..fuck…”
I didn’t even go slow this time.
<Midnight Com
I shoved them in.
Hard.
PORTS ?
Two fingers deep inside my soaked p***y, curling fast, searching for that spot, that sacred place inside me that only lit up when I thought about him.
And I was thinking about him.
So hard it hurt.
I imagined him standing at the doorway.
Arms crossed. Shirtless. His c**k already hard. Thick. Heavy. Veins running like rivers down the shaft. His eyes locked on mine, full of fire and hunger and punishment. I imagined him saying it. Low. Cold. Cruel.
“Didn’t I tell you not to touch what’s mine?”
I gasped.
I f****d my fingers deeper.
“Yours,” I whispered, voice cracked and soaked in filth. “I’m yours…”
My other hand flew to my clit.
I started rubbing it fast. Relentless. No rhythm. Just desperation. I needed it. Needed to c*m again. Harder. More. I needed it to hurt. To burn. I needed it to feel like I was being f****d open by him.
Favorite Sin 7
My back arched.
My belly clenched.
And I couldn’t stop.
The squelching noises were obscene. Sticky. Loud. The air reeked of s*x and slick and sweat. My thighs slapped against the sheets. My hips rolled. I was a mess. A needy, dripping, crying slut of a mess.
“Please…Alpha…please…”
I moaned into the room like a f*****g offering.
My fingers curled again. My p***y squeezed around them like it was trying to keep them in. But they weren’t enough. They were too thin. Too short. Too human. And I needed a monster. I needed that thick c**k I’d felt pressing into my stomach, so f*****g high up it made me think he could f**k my soul out of my body.
My thighs started to shake.
My breath came out in short, sharp pants. My n*****s were rock hard, tight points brushing the air with every movement. My free hand grabbed one, twisted, pulled until pain lit up my chest and pleasure shot straight to my clit.
“Oh fuck..oh fuck..please…
I was losing it. It felt like my mind had gone to another dimension because f**k I was gone.
And still, I imagined him.
Not touching me.
Not f*****g me.
<
<Midnight C m
Just watching..
Arms folded.
c**k out.
Smirking.
Watching me fall apart like the filthy, desperate little slut I was.
His voice echoed in my head…
“That p***y’s loud, baby. She screams for me before I even touch her.”
I screamed.
Loud.
So loud it cracked the air.
The orgasm ripped through me like lightning.
My legs clamped shut around my hand. My p***y clenched and fluttered. I could feel it..spasming, gushing, coating my fingers in another wave of wet heat that made a mess of my thighs, my robe, the bed beneath me.
My hips wouldn’t stop jerking. My body writhed, trying to ride out every last pulse of that pleasure. I was choking on it. Drowning in it. Gasping for air between whimpers.
And still…
Still…
It wasn’t enough.
Because it wasn’t him.
Not his voice.
Not his hands.
Not his c**k.
I let my fingers slip out of me.
Slow.
Sticky.
They glistened in the low light, slick smeared to the knuckles, soaked in every bit of proof that I was f*****g
ruined.
And I whispered to the ceiling like a confession:
“I need you, Alpha.”
My hand fell limp beside me.
My chest rose and fell like I was dying.
And maybe I was.
Because I didn’t know how many more times I could c*m before something broke inside me.
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<Midnight C–m
And I wanted him to be the one who broke it.
+8 Powis
My breath went up and down, chest rising in uneven waves as I stared at the ceiling like it held the answers to every filthy, shameful thing I’d just done.
f**k.
I just gave myself a mind–blowing orgasm..three, actually..and I didn’t even feel guilty about it.
Not even a little.
If anything, I felt… high.
I rolled over with a groan, legs sticking together from the mess between them. My p***y still twitched. Still clenched like it didn’t believe it was over. I could feel my slick cooling on the inside of my thighs, tacky and hot and humiliating. I needed to clean up. To sleep. To forget.
But I knew sleep wouldn’t come.
It never did.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and blinked at the screen.
2:08 AM. f**k.
Royalty Writes
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Favorite Sin 8
What The Hell!!
f**k. There was no point honestly.
There was no f*****g point in even checking the time again..
No point in grabbing my phone again or pretending I’d sleep. Sleep was a lie. A cruel f*****g fantasy I kept telling myself while my body throbbed, my cunt ached, and my skin burned like someone had set fire to it
from the inside.
My limbs wouldn’t stay still.
My legs twitched.
My feet kept flexing.
My fingers? Still tingling.
Every time I closed my eyes, I didn’t see dreams.
I saw him.
Damon. Alpha. Daddy. The man whose voice had already broken me from the other side of a door. Who hadn’t even touched me and still left me shaking through three orgasms that barely scratched the itch he put in me.
I shifted on the bed, and my thighs stuck together..wet, raw, used. The slick was cold now, and it made everything sharper. I could feel it drying on the inside of my legs, between my folds, everywhere.
I should’ve gotten up.
I should’ve cleaned up.
But I didn’t want to.
I wanted to feel it.
I wanted the mess to remind me of what I’d done.
Of how filthy I’d been.
Of how loud I’d moaned for a man who wasn’t even in the room.
I swallowed hard.
My throat was sore.
Had I been crying?
No.
Moaning.
Whimpering. Begging. Gasping.
Like some f*****g heat–sick Omega in the middle of a rut.
And maybe I was.
Because nothing else explained this.
What The Hell!!
This need.
This deep, bone–level, spine–cracking ache that lived in my womb now. It wasn’t just arousal anymore. It was possession. Fever. It was a sickness with his name tattooed on it.
I pulled the pillow tighter around me and tried to breathe.
It didn’t work.
My n*****s still hurt. My p***y still pulsed. The air against my skin still made me clench like I was seconds from breaking again.
I rolled onto my side.
The robe slipped down my hip.
I didn’t fix it.
My skin was slicked in sweat, hair clinging to my face and neck, and I felt feral. Desperate. Like I’d crawl
across the floor if it meant someone would fill this f*****g emptiness.
And not just someone.
Him.
“Do you know what this c**k would do to you?”
f**k.
My hips bucked just thinking about it. I squeezed my thighs together and whimpered when that pulse hit me
again. That sharp, sensitive throb that started in my clit and echoed up through my belly like lightning.
I could touch myself again.
I could.
But I knew it wouldn’t help.
Nothing would. Not unless it was him. Not unless he was pressing my face into the mattress while he
stretched me open, whispering cruel things while I cried from how good it hurt.
I moaned.
Out loud.
No shame..
No one was awake.
Everyone was asleep.
The guards. The maids. Tasha.
Even him. Probably.
Or maybe not.
Maybe he was sitting in the dark somewhere.
Half–naked. c**k hard. Drink in hand. Thinking about how wet I’d been when he had me against the wall. Thinking about how I whimpered when he said I couldn’t take him.
ぐ
What The Hall!
I could still hear it.
“You think you can take me? That sweet little virgin cunt of yours wouldn’t survive a f*****g inch.”
My breath hitched.
I rolled back onto my back and pressed my palm against my belly.
It was warm.
Still twitching.
Still hungry.
I let my hand slide lower, hovering just above my mound. I could feel the heat rising off me. My folds were so swollen I didn’t even need to part them to know I was soaked again. Already.
I pulled my hand back.
No.
No, not again.
My body couldn’t take another orgasm. Not without breaking,
“I need a drink,” I whispered. “I need to get the f**k out of my head. I need to waste myself until this goes
away.”
Even though I knew it wouldn’t.
Even if I drank the whole f*****g bottle, the ache would still be there, whispering his name through my skin.
I sat up.
Slow. Shaky.
My legs were unsteady, and the sheets clung to my thighs from the mess I’d made. My robe was twisted around my waist. I didn’t bother adjusting it. What was the point?
It was already open.
My breasts were already out.
My n*****s were already hard and begging to be sucked. Pinched. Bitten.
The cool air hit me the second I stood.
And f**k, I felt it.
Everywhere.
Between my legs.
Across my chest.
Down my spine.
I didn’t fix my robe.
Let it hang.
Let it show everything.
။
What The Hell”
I could still hear it.
“You think you can take me? That sweet little virgin cunt of yours wouldn’t survive a f*****g inch.”
My breath hitched..
I rolled back onto my back and pressed my palm against my belly.
It was warm.
Still twitching.
Still hungry.
I let my hand slide lower, hovering just above my mound. I could feel the heat rising off me. My folds were so swollen I didn’t even need to part them to know I was soaked again. Already.
I pulled my hand back.
No.
No, not again.
My body couldn’t take another orgasm. Not without breaking,
orgas.
“I need a drink,” I whispered. “I need to get the f**k out of my head. I need to waste myself until this goes
away.”
Even though I knew it wouldn’t.
Even if I drank the whole f*****g bottle, the ache would still be there, whispering his name through my skin.
I sat up.
Slow. Shaky.
My legs were unsteady, and the sheets clung to my thighs from the mess I’d made. My robe was twisted around my waist. I didn’t bother adjusting it. What was the point?
It was already open.
My breasts were already out.
My n*****
s were already hard and begging to be sucked. Pinched. Bitten.
The cool air hit me the second I stood.
And f**k, I felt it.
Everywhere.
Between my legs.
Across my chest.
Down my spine.
I didn’t fix my robe.
Let it hang.
Let it show everything.
What The Hell!!
I padded barefoot to the door, body still aching, p***y still leaking, and I didn’t care.
Because somewhere in this house, there was whiskey.
And somewhere deeper in the dark, maybe… just maybe….
He was awake.
I stepped out into the hall, and the silence swallowed me whole. It felt like the walls were holding their breath.
The floor was cool under my feet, but my skin was too hot to care. Every step I took made the silk of my robe slide against my thighs, brushing my sensitive folds. My slick made it worse. The way it clung, wet and sticky, had me clenching with every brush of air.
I moved like a ghost.
Down the stairs.
Past the long windows and old family portraits that glared at me like they knew exactly where I was going.
What I looked like. What I wanted.
I didn’t stop.
I needed the drink too f*****g badly. Needed to numb everything that was crawling through me..this ache, this obsession, this filth I couldn’t scrub out of my bones no matter how many times I came.
I turned the corner into the kitchen.
And froze.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. That maybe I was just still stuck in some half–orgasmic haze, my body hallucinating after everything I’d done.
But then I heard it again.
A moan.
A real one.
High–pitched and f*****g sharp.
“Ah..fuck, yes..”
I stopped breathing.
Because I knew that voice.
Tasha.
What the f**k?
I stayed there..half in the shadow of the hallway, hidden behind the kitchen entrance..my bare feet glued to the tile, heart pounding, skin burning as I strained to hear it again.
Another moan.
Louder this time.
“Daddy..fuck, yes..right there..”
What The Hell!!
My stomach twisted.
What the f**k.
I edged forward.
The kitchen lights were off. But the dim glow of the fridge light spilled across the floor..just enough to cast
silhouettes.
And that’s when I saw it.
Her.
Bent over the counter.
Naked.
Fully naked.
Her hands were gripping the edge of the granite. Her back was arched. Her ass high. Her long blonde hair was stuck to her shoulders with sweat, and her body was moving..rocking..with every thrust being slammed
into her from behind.
And behind her?
One of the guards.
A Beta. I think
Not one I knew well..just one of those silent ones who stood watch at the northern border. Strong. Broad. Built like a damn beast. His shirt was gone. His pants were around his thighs. His entire body was flexing as he slammed into her from behind, hips crashing into her ass with a wet rhythm.
Their bodies were loud. Tasha gasped again, her voice sharp and high, echoing through the room.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
I just stood there, hidden in the dark, watching my best friend get f****
d like an animal in the same kitchen I was about to crawl into for a drink.
She moaned again.
Long and throaty, her back arching, ass bouncing with every thrust. The Beta grunted, one hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back so hard she cried out. His other hand reached around and grabbed her breast, squeezing it like he was trying to leave a bruise.
Her n*****s were hard. Her p***y was making that sound..that wet, greedy sound that echoed straight into my
own cunt.
And I was standing there, chest heaving, soaked.
Watching.
Without even meaning to, my thighs clenched together.
My breath trembled.
Because I couldn’t stop staring.
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5/7
What The Henn
Not just at them.
But at the difference.
The wrongness.
The ache in my chest that grew sharper and sharper with every second I stood there.
Because it wasn’t him.
It wasn’t Damon.
It wasn’t the Alpha.
And I didn’t want to see her like this.
I wanted to be her.
Bent over.
f****d.
Moaning so loud I didn’t care who heard.
But not by a Beta.
Not by some soldier.
By him.
I took a step back, my heel catching on the edge of the hall. I stumbled. Gasped. My hand flew to the wall to
steady myself.
The sound wasn’t loud.
But it was enough.
He looked up.
The Beta.
His eyes locked with mine.
And for one long, stretched second, we just stared at each other.
My robe was open.
My thigh was bare.
My cheeks were flushed.
And my inner legs were still glistening.
He looked at me like he knew.
Like he could smell what I’d done.
Tasha didn’t notice.
She was still moaning.
Still begging.
Still getting split open like a prize.
III
O
What The Hell”
And me? I just wanted to get out of the kitchen cause honestly I don’t find myself getting that drink anymore.
As I was about to sneak past into my room. My foot slammed into something hard.
I didn’t even see it coming. One second I was slipping away like a shadow, the next..
crack..my shin hit the edge of the hallway table. Pain shot through my leg and I stumbled forward.
Everything happened fast.
I lost control.
My hands flailed for the wall, the floor, anything..but it was too late. I hit the ground hard, my ass smacking the cold tile, the impact punching a gasp out of my lungs. My legs flew open. The robe rode up as almost half of my body part got exposed.
Everything.
Then I heard it.
Tasha’s voice.
“What the f**k was that?”
Royalty Writes
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Favorite Sin 9
I didn’t breathe.
I couldn’t.
My lungs refused to work, my chest too tight, too full of everything I couldn’t say. The ache between my legs was still alive, still pulsing like a second heartbeat. Shame curled its claws into me, but so did something worse. Something deeper. Something dirtier.
Desire.
My robe was halfway open, clinging to my slick skin, exposing my thigh, my breast, the curve of my stomach still twitching with aftershocks I hadn’t earned.
And Tasha?
Tasha was standing there, sweat glowing on her skin, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, and her eyes locked onto me like I was something she’d stepped in.
“Lyra?!”
Her voice cut through me like a lash.
It didn’t sound like a best friend’s voice.
It didn’t sound like concern.
It sounded like accusation.
It sounded like hate.
Like I’d violated something sacred.
Like I was the disgusting one.
I blinked, my vision blurry. My heart was thudding so violently I could hear it in my ears, louder than her moans, louder than the slaps of skin still echoing from minutes ago.
I tried to cover myself, but my hands were shaking too hard. The robe was twisted around my body like a trap. My thigh was exposed, glistening. My n*****s were stiff and visible under the thin silk, and I could still feel the slick between my legs pooling, warm and wet and incriminating.
She saw.
Of course she f*****g saw.
Her eyes ran over every inch of me, slow and deliberate, like she was cataloging every ounce of filth she could find on my skin.
And she didn’t even look surprised.
She looked like she expected it.
Like she already knew how disgusting I was.
“What the f**k are you doing?” she snapped, grabbing a towel off the counter and wrapping it around her bare body with zero shame, t**s still bouncing, her p***y still glistening between her thighs. “Were you just
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<
< Late Nights Heat
standing there watching me get f****d like some kind of pervert?”
“No,” I whispered. My voice was paper–thin. Pathetic. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Didn’t mean to?” she barked. “Then what, Lyra? What the f**k were you doing standing there in the dark with your robe open and your thighs soaking wet? What were you waiting for, huh? Your turn?”
My breath caught in my throat.
I wanted to speak.
I wanted to deny it.
But I couldn’t.
Because she was right.
I had watched.
I had stood there, dripping down my legs, my fingers twitching like I wanted to touch myself again just from
the sounds. Just from the way the Beta slammed into her. Just from the way she moaned.
But she didn’t know the worst part.
She didn’t know that it wasn’t the Beta I was imagining.
That the c**k in my fantasies wasn’t his.
It was his.
Damon.
“You’re f*****g disgusting,” she spat. “I saw your face, Lyra. You looked like you were gonna cream yourself
just watching us.”
Her words slapped me harder than any hand ever could.
I wanted to shrink into the floor.
I wanted to disappear.
But my cunt was still pulsing.
Still aching.
Still betraying me.
And she wasn’t done.
“You want him, don’t you?” she said, her voice lower now. “You want the guard. That’s why you stood there
dripping on the floor like a little b***h in heat. You wanted him to see you. You wanted him to stop f*****g me and bend you over that f*****g counter.”
I swallowed hard.
The truth twisted behind my teeth.
No.
Not him.
Never him.
277
O
< Late Nights Heat
But her eyes saw something else.
And she hated it.
“You wanted him to grab you by your hair,” she said, voice curling with poison. “To shove his c**k inside you so deep you forgot your own name. You wanted him to f**k you stupid while I watched, huh? You sick little freak.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
The tears came before I could stop them.
But they weren’t just tears of humiliation.
They were tears of heat.
Of pain.
Of need.
Because even now..especially now..I still wanted it.
But not from the man she thought.
I wanted to be bent over.
Split open.
f****d senseless.
But not by some Beta.
Not by a soldier.
By the man who ruined my mind just by walking past me. The man whose voice left me wet for hours. The one who hadn’t even touched me and still made me break.
Damon.
Alpha.
Daddy.
But she didn’t know.
She crouched low, eye to eye with me, her breath hot in my skin.
“Don’t you f*****g dare tell anyone what you saw,” she hissed. “Especially not about me and the guard.”
“If you even breathe a word, Lyra,” she said, her voice sharp as glass, “I’ll tell everyone what you looked like when I caught you. The way your thighs were shaking. The mess between your legs. The f*****g look in your eyes. Like you were begging to be f****d next.”
My cheeks burned so hot they could’ve blistered.
But she wasn’t wrong.
Because I had been begging.
Silently.
Shamelessly.
C
Late Nights Heaten
For something darker.
For something crueler.
I didn’t answer.
I just nodded.
Because if I opened my mouth, I was scared I’d say his name.
She stood up, her towel clinging to her skin, her mouth curled in that same sinug, knowing smirk.
“Good night,” she muttered as she walked away, the Beta trailing behind her like a beast who’d just marked
his territory.
And me?
I stayed there.
On the floor.
Legs still open.
Skin still tingling.
Throat still sore from every moan I hadn’t even realized I’d let out.
I pulled my robe over me slowly. My hands were trembling. My body was still dripping.
But it wasn’t over.
Not even close.
Because I could feel him.
Somewhere in the house.
Like he’d heard the shift in my body.
Like he’d tasted the shame on my skin.
Like he knew.
And maybe.
Just maybe.
He was coming.
For me.
~~
I sat down there for a while. I didn’t care anymore.
I just needed to drink.
I needed to shut my brain the f**k off.
I yanked open the fridge and grabbed the first bottle as I unscrewed the cap with shaking fingers.
Raised it to my lips.
And drank.
TH
O
Late Nights Heat
Hard.
The first gulp burned. It scorched its way down my throat and punched my lungs from the inside out. I coughed, wiped my mouth, and drank again. This time longer.
I didn’t stop until my stomach clenched.
Until the alcohol settled like liquid iron in my gut.
Until the trembling dulled.
Just a little.
I braced my hand on the countertop, the marble cold under my palm. I could still hear her moaning in my head. Still hear the slap of skin, the wet sound of her p***y taking him, the Beta’s low grunts, the sound of flesh claiming flesh while I stood there like a shadow with soaked thighs and a starving womb.
I drank again.
Harder.
“Just sleep,” I whispered to myself, voice shaking. “Just f*****g sleep, Lyra. He doesn’t want you. You’re imagining everything. Just get drunk enough to forget.”
But I didn’t forget.
My cunt still pulsed.
My mouth still ached.
His voice still lived in my head like a devil.
And then.
“I thought I told you to stay away from me.”
My whole body froze.
The bottle slipped from my lips.
My heart stopped.
No.
No.
No no no no no.
My stomach flipped, and every drop of alcohol I’d swallowed turned to fire and panic in my bloodstream.
He was behind me.
The man I’d just tried to drown in whiskey.
The man who made my body betray me with nothing but a tone.
I didn’t turn around.
I couldn’t.
My breath hitched. My robe was still gaping open at the chest, barely hanging on by the belt I’d never tied. I could feel the sweat cooling on my back. The air around me changed. Guess what? It thickened instead.
Home X
Late Nights Heat
My skin burned.
He took a step closer.
I could hear the soft fall of his bare feet on the tile. I wanted to sink through the floor but guess what? It
wasn’t possible.
“I said,” he repeated, “I thought I told you to stay the f**k away from me and anywhere I am.”
My throat closed up.
My hands clutched the edge of the counter like it could save me.
But it couldn’t.
Nothing could.
Not when he was here.
Not when he was close.
“Hmm… yeah, you did,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just came down to get a drink, that’s all.”
But my voice cracked.
I f*****g gulped.
Because I could feel him moving toward me slowly.
The kind of slow that makes your breath catch and your knees twitch.
I turned around…and he was there.
Closer than I thought.
His chest bare.
His body all hard lines and ink and power.
And his eyes?
They were f*****g fire.
They didn’t look at my face. Not at first.
They dropped.
To my chest:
To where my robe had fallen open, to my exposed cleavages.
His hand lifted.
And I swear my heart stopped.
I held still. Completely still.
Like if I moved, the moment would break.
Like if I breathed too loud, he’d disappear.
His fingers brushed my collarbone. Just lightly. Just enough to feel like a matchstick dragging across my
skin.
< Late Nights Heat
Then he went lower.
His whole hand flattened and slowly dragged down the center of my chest. My pulse skipped. My p***y clenched. My throat went dry.
He stopped just above my t**s.
Right in the center.
Right where the fabric dipped and the skin was still warm from where I’d imagined him biting me there
earlier.
f**k.
Please squeeze it.
Please touch me.
Please make me cry from how good it feels.
But he didn’t.
He just let his hand hover there, his fingers twitching like he wanted to. Like he was thinking about it.
And then his voice dropped.
Rough. Dark. Filthy.
“You’ve grown, Lyra.”
I swear I almost came just from that.
He said my name like a f*****g price. Like it tasted wrong on his tongue but he still wanted to say it again
and again and again.
“You’ve f*****g grown,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Look at the size of your breasts now. You’re not a little girl anymore.”
My breath hitched.
My n*****s peaked instantly, hard and aching, pressing against the silk like they wanted him to see. Like they needed his f*****g mouth.
“Oh f**k,” he said under his breath. “This is turning me on so f*****g good.”
I swallowed again.
Royalty Writes
#Vote# My dear readers. Your comments are well welcomed. How are you enjoying this book? Do you like it so far? How’s the tension. Can you feel it.
2
Favorite Sin 10
My eyes fluttered shut.
And it wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t innocent.
It felt like collapse. Like my body had short–circuited under the pressure of his presence.
Like my mind couldn’t bear the heat that surged through me the second his fingers brushed the top of my
chest.
Everything in me clenched.
My p***y.
My stomach.
My throat.
It was like all my nerves had been rewired just for him.
To feel him.
To want him.
To f*****g need him like oxygen I hadn’t earned.
I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until my lips parted and it shuddered out of me like a moan I was
too scared to let escape.
Because I wasn’t just standing there anymore.
I was unraveling.
My robe was already loose, gaping, barely covering anything. My n*****s were hard..aching points beneath the silk. My skin felt too tight. My core pulsed so violently it was like a second heartbeat between my legs.
And I could feel a thread of wetness sliding down the inside of my thighs again.
Fresh.
Hot.
Soaking me.
I thought I was empty.
After everything earlier.
After the orgasms. The crying. The drinking.
But no.
He was here now.
And with just a few words and the heat of his breath on my skin, he made my entire body start over.
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1.7
<fyras Hunger
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, voice like gravel. Like sin. “Your skin… f**k. I remember when you were just a kid. Flat little chest. Always hiding behind books and oversized shirts like some shy little thing.”
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
I was frozen with my back to him, my hands gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing
keeping me upright. My thighs pressed together, squeezing my swollen clit, and I nearly groaned from how sensitive I already was.
His voice dropped lower.
But the words got filthier. Darker I must say.
“But now?” he breathed. “Now look at you.”
His fingers moved down again.
So slow.
So agonizing.
They stopped right on my titties. f**k!! f*****g suck them daddy!!!
Not squeezing.
Not groping. Just resting.
Like he was teasing both of us.
Like he wanted to see if I’d beg.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to sob from the restraint.
Because all I could think was…
Please.
Please squeeze and suck my n*****s.
“They’re heavy now,” he said softly, like he was in awe. “So f*****g full. Straining against this thin little robe. I
can see them bouncing every time you breathe. You feel it, don’t you? The ache?”
I nodded. Weakly. Shamefully.
“I bet they get sore when you’re turned on,” he whispered. “Don’t they?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
My voice wasn’t even mine.
It was wrecked.
It was soaked in desperation.
And when I felt the tip of his finger stroke the edge of my breast..barely a graze..I almost came right then and
there.
“f**k,” he groaned under his breath. “They’re so f*****g soft. I’d bury my face in them and suck until you cry.
Lyras Hunger
Until you beg me to stop.”
I whimpered.
Out loud this time..
I didn’t care.
I couldn’t care.
“I bet they’re sensitive too,” he continued, voice curling like smoke around my spine. “Bet if someone bit down
right here..”
His finger slid to my n****e beneath what I wore, the lightest tap.
“..you’d scream, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded again.
Tears burned behind my eyes.
Not from sadness.
From need.
He leaned in.
I felt his breath on my throat.
“You let someone do that to you this summer?” he asked darkly. “You let some punk teenager suck on what
doesn’t belong to him?”
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He paused.
I could feel him stilling behind me.
“Hm,” he murmured.
“Hmmm. Is that so?”
That sound..God, that sound..slithered down my spine like oil. It was low. Deep. Almost like he was tasting
me without using his mouth.
Like he already knew exactly what was running between my thighs and wanted to make it worse.
I squeezed the counter. My knuckles ached. My fingers dug into the cold marble like it was the only thing
keeping me tethered to the world. My body had stopped being mine the second he walked in.
I could feel him behind me. Not touching.
But close.
Too close.
The kind of close that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
The kind of close that made my stomach flip and the heat between my legs pulse.
“You really think I’m going to touch you?”
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O
Lyras Hunger
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
My throat was dry. My mouth open.
Because I had thought he would.
Because my cunt was wet and begging for it.
Because I’d come down here not just for the drink.
But for this. For him. For something..anything.
And he knew it.
He f*****g knew.
“I’m not going to,” he said, stepping closer..not to touch me, just to make sure I felt it. “I’m not touching you, Lyra.”
The sound of my name on his tongue sent a violent shiver down my back.
He said it like it didn’t belong to me.
Like it was his already.
“You’ve got all these dirty little fantasies in your head,” he murmured, his voice sliding over my skin like heat, “and you need to get rid of them. Now.”
I shut my eyes tight.
No. No, I can’t.
Because the fantasies were all I had.
They kept me awake at night, kept me shaking under the covers, kept my fingers moving between my thighs until I bit my own hand to stay quiet.
“You’re a little girl. Always been and always will be” he said.
“I watched you grow. I watched you go from some awkward brat with scabby knees and no t**s into…”
He paused.
And the silence between us cracked open something in me.
“…this.”
My breath hitched.
I didn’t dare turn around.
Because I knew what he was looking at.
My robe was loose. I could feel it clinging to the sweat along my ribs, the fabric catching the hard peaks of my n*****s like a second skin. My thighs were slick and parted. The back of the robe bare covered the curve of my ass.
I was trembling.
Open.
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O
L
<Lyras Hunger@%
Wet.
Ripe.
And he wasn’t even touching me.
“I saw you cry over stupid boys,” he said, circling behind me now. “Boys who didn’t even know how to make
you c*m. Boys who probably came in their pants just from kissing your neck.”
I clenched.
f**k. My p***y actually clenched around nothing just from the way he said it.
“You stood there in the hallway earlier, didn’t you?” he said. “Watching Tasha get f****d. e.
I gasped. How did he know!
“You stood there in the dark,” he growled, “dripping. Salivating. Imagining it was you bent over the counter. His voice was in my ear now. I could feel his breath hit the side of my face.
“Shocked? Yeah I can tell from your eyes that you are. Just so you know I have my eyes everywhere baby girl “I bet you touched yourself afterward,” he whispered. “I bet you shoved your fingers into your tight little cunt and whispered my name like a prayer.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
I had whispered his name.
Over and over again.
Mouth open. Thighs soaked.
While my whole body begged for something I couldn’t even say out loud.
But now?
He was saying it for me.
“And now you’re here,” he said. “Half naked. Dripping down your thighs. Soaked with want.”
I moaned. A real one this time.
He didn’t stop.
“You want me to pull this robe open,” he said. “To expose you. Touch you. Bite you. Ruin you.”
My breathing got ragged. My whole body vibrated with how badly I wanted it.
But he just laughed.
“I’m not going to.”
The words ripped something in me.
My mouth dropped open in protest..but nothing came out.
I couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t beg.
Lyras Hungers
“You’re not ready,” he said. “You think because you have t** now, because your pay leaks for må like e b***h in heat, that you can handle a man like me?
”
I whimpered.
“You think I’m going to make love to you, Lyra?” he said. “Whisper sweet things while I fill you up?
His voice turned colder.
“I won’t.”
He moved to the side, just enough so I could see the edge of his jaw, the muscles ticking as he stared down
at me.
“You wouldn’t survive my c**k,” he said. “You’d cry the second I pushed in. You’d scream. You’d bleed.
My legs gave a little. My knees nearly touched.
“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” he growled. “You want to be broken. You want Daddy to split you open and mark you.”
I choked back another moan. My body was screaming for it.
“And I will,” he whispered. “One day. But not tonight.”
He leaned close again, his lips brushing the shell of my ear
“Because tonight, I want you to suffer.”
He stepped back.
“I want you to crawl back upstairs with your cunt still throbbing. I want you to lie in bed and f**k your fingers so deep you cry into the pillow.”
I was trembling so hard my teeth nearly chattered.
“I want you to dream about me,” he said. “And when you wake up, soaked and swollen and still hungry…”
He paused.
“I want you to remember I chose not to touch you.”
My legs gave out.
I caught myself on the counter again, barely holding it together.
He stepped back fully.
His heat was gone.
But the scent of him?
The sound of him?
The f*****g ache he left inside me?
That was staying.
And then he said it..
“Go to bed, little girl. You can’t handle Daddy”
Lyras Hunger
“So any fantasy you have about me. f*****g erase them”
And he was gone.
Leaving me ruined.
And untouched.
~~
I scoffed. “Of course,” I whispered under my breath, my voice so low and full of hate I barely recognized it as my own. “Of f*****g course you left me like this.
“f*****g bastard”
“I hate this,” I whispered. “I hate you. I hate that I’m like this. That I’m still wet. That I’d let you spit in my mouth if it meant you’d look at me for more than a f*****g second.”
“I should be ashamed,” I whispered. “I should be disgusted with myself.”
But I wasn’t.
I was f*****g hungry.
I curled forward and pressed my face to my knees as tears soaked my legs. My hands clenched in the fabric of my robe and I cried. Not from sadness. From need. From f*****g madness.
Because I wanted him so bad I couldn’t think. Because I hated that he didn’t want me. Because I was sitting in his kitchen on my knees, drunk and soaked and whispering his name over and over again like it was a
curse and a prayer.
He did this.
He f*****g did this.
And I’d let him do it again.