Ch. 71..75: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 71-75

Favorite Sin 71

I moaned.

Loud. Filthy. Like I didn’t care if the entire forest heard me.

Because it felt that good.

My back arched off the tree. My thighs squeezed around his waist. And my cunt clenched again–hard–like my body was trying to take matters into its own hands and pull the orgasm out of me whether he allowed it

or not.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered, watching me like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “You’re going to come from this, aren’t you? Just from my hands on your tits.”

I nodded frantically.

I couldn’t speak.

I was grinding against him now. Openly. Desperately. The friction from my ruined panties and the thick bulge

in his pants was everything. I was right there. My whole body was begging. Screaming.

And he leaned in.

And whispered-

“Beg.”

I sobbed.

Actually sobbed.

“Please, Daddy,” I cried, rocking harder, more frantic now. “Please touch me. Please make me come. I need it. I need your fingers. I need your c**k. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, I swear.”

He growled.

Like, full chest rumble. Like his wolf heard me and approved.

And then–finally–he slid his hand into me.

Straight down. No teasing this time. No detours.

And he touched me–really touched me–for the first time since I ran.

And he swore.

“f**k, kitten,” he growled, pressing his fingers right into my soaked folds, “you’re drenched.”

“I told you,” I gasped, eyes rolling back. “I’ve been dripping since you counted to five. I think I ruined the

kitchen floor.”

He chuckled.

“You ruined more than that.”

And then–he slid a finger inside me.

< Round Two In Fur

Slow. Deep. Perfect.

And I saw stars.

His fingers slid into my shorts like he owned them. Like my panties were just an annoying piece of fabric standing in the way of what he already considered his.

Which, okay, fair.

Because the second his fingertips brushed over my soaked folds, I completely fell apart. Like all my bones vanished and my body melted into the tree behind me, gasping, whimpering, grabbing onto his shoulders like he was the only thing keeping me from sinking into the forest floor.

And maybe he was.

Because Damon wasn’t just touching me. He was claiming me.

One finger. Two.

Slipping deep inside me, curling up like he knew exactly where my soul was hiding. His thumb stayed outside, circling that swollen, throbbing spot like he was playing with a trigger. And I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think. I was just moaning.

Loud. Shameless. Full–body moaning like I was possessed.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, hips grinding into his hand. “Damon. Oh my God. You can’t do that. You can’t just say ten seconds and then chase me and then f**k me with your fingers against a tree like I’m a–f**k–like I’m a feral little slut who’s just waiting to be ruined.”

“You are,” he murmured darkly, his voice right at my ear, thick with heat and pride and so much f*****g ownership it made my spine bow. “You’re my little Omega slut. You were soaking before you even made it to

the trees.”

“I hate you,” I cried, but I was rutting into his hand like a b***h in heat. “You’re so mean. You’re ruining my underwear. I think my clit is broken. You’re making me shake, Damon. I think I’m gonna die.”

“You’re going to come,” he corrected, dragging his mouth across my jaw. “And then I’m going to f**k you until you can’t feel your legs.”

I moaned again.

So loud it echoed. So loud it probably scared off a few birds. So loud I could feel my orgasm curling behind my ribs like a goddamn monster waiting to break loose.

But then he slowed down.

His fingers stopped. Just like that.

They stayed inside, deep and still, like a punishment.

And I almost screamed.

“No,” I gasped, squirming, chasing the friction. “Don’t you dare, Don’t you f*****g dare stop now. You can’t do

that. You can’t tease me like that, Damon, I’m literally throbbing, I’m going to cry, I swear-”

“Shh,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear. “Breathe, kitten. I want to ask you something.”

I blinked up at him, still panting, still trembling.

O

< Round Two In Fur

“What?” I whimpered. “What could you possibly need to ask me right now? You have fingers in me. My brain is soup. My v****a is crying. Just f**k me already.”

He smirked. Of course he did. That cruel, sexy Alpha smirk that always meant danger was coming.

And then he said it.

Slow. Dark. Filthy.

“Should we do it in wolf form?”

I stopped breathing.

Like literally just forgot how to exist.

“What,” I croaked, and it wasn’t even a question. It was just air leaving my lungs in shock. “What the f**k did

you just say?”

His nose brushed mine. His hand moved again–just barely–just enough to make my cunt clench around his fingers like it wanted to keep them.

“You heard me,” he said softly, like he was asking what I wanted for breakfast instead of offering to wreck me on four legs. “Do you want that, kitten? Do you want me to shift? Do you want me to f**k you in our true forms? No more clothes. No more words. Just raw instinct. Teeth. Fur. Knot.”

My thighs clenched. Again.

Hard.

Painful.

Because holy f*****g hell, why did that sound hot? Why was I suddenly imagining myself on all fours, whining, begging, presenting for him like my wolf wanted to be filled so deep I couldn’t shift back?

“That’s not fair,” I whispered, grinding into his palm like I’d lost my mind. “You can’t say that s**t while you’ve got your fingers in me. That’s cheating. That’s evil. That’s illegal. I’m 18. I don’t have the emotional maturity

for that kind of fantasy.”

He chuckled.

Chuckled.

Like he knew he’d already won.

“You’re thinking about it,” he murmured, kissing my cheekbone. “You’re picturing it. Your little tail lifted. My teeth at your neck. My knot stretching you so wide you forget you were ever human.”

I came.

Right then.

I swear to the Moon, my whole body snapped. My back arched. My legs shook. My vision blurred. And my cunt clenched so hard around his fingers I swear I heard him growl.

It hit me like a lightning strike. One second I was grinding. The next I was screaming. Not words. Not even sounds. Just noise. Pure, unfiltered, Omega pleasure that burst out of me like a firestorm and burned everything else down with it.

And he didn’t stop.

Round Two In Fur

3 Porte

He kept f*****g me through it. Slow and deep. Letting me ride his fingers like a b***h in heat who couldn’t

stop moaning.

I slumped against the tree.

Sweaty.

Shaking.

Utterly f*****g ruined.

And he leaned in again.

Licked my cheek.

Bit my earlobe.

And whispered-

“Round two’s in fur, kitten.”

I didn’t even have time to respond.

Didn’t have time to think.

Or speak.

Or beg for a second round.

Because the second Damon whispered, “Round two’s in fur,” the forest shifted.

I could barely stand.

My legs were shaking.

My brain was fried.

I was still panting from the orgasm he gave me against the tree with just his fingers. Still dripping. Still ruined. And now my Alpha was standing in front of me in wolf form, and he was huge.

Like, not just big. Not just muscular. He looked like a f*****g god carved from smoke and nightmares and pure, raw Alpha power.

His fur was pitch black, his eyes glowing gold, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself

back from pouncing.

And I was naked.

Fully.

Completely.

Standing in the dirt with leaves stuck to my thighs, sweat dripping down my stomach, my cunt soaked and twitching and swollen and so ready it hurt.

And I knew what was coming next.

I felt it in the air.

In the way the wind shifted.

111

C

Round Two In Fur

In the way he looked at me like I was prey he’d already caught and now he just had to decide where to devour

me.

But he didn’t mount me.

Not yet.

He circled me slowly, dragging the side of his massive body against mine, and I swear I felt his c**k brush my thigh. I whimpered. Like full–body, helpless little whine that made my tail twitch and my n*****s tighten all

over again.

And then, he shifted.

Right there in front of me. His wolf form disappeared into skin and heat and muscle, and suddenly Damon was standing there–naked–his eyes wild, his jaw sharp, his c**k thick and hard, dripping precum onto the forest floor like he’d been ready to f**k me since the second I took off running.

I stared.

Like, I actually just stared.

Because holy f**k, he was gorgeous. His body was covered in dirt and sweat, his hair messy from the shift, his chest heaving, and his c**k–God–his c**k was flushed, heavy, twitching like it wanted to be buried inside

me.

“Get inside the house,” he said, voice low and cracked like he was holding himself together with f*****g

dental floss. “Now.”

“Run kitten!”

Favorite Sin 72

Lyra

“Run, kitten.”

That’s what he said. That’s all he said. And just like that, I was gone. My entire body snapped into action like I had no control over it.

One second I was staring at him, wide–eyed and soaking wet, my legs barely working because he had just finger–f****d my soul out of my body under a tree.

The next second, I was shifting. Fur rushed over my skin like a second orgasm, my bones cracked, my teeth sharpened, and my paws slammed into the forest floor so hard I actually startled a few birds out of the trees.

And then I ran.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. My whole body was moving on pure adrenaline and filthy instinct. My tail was high, my chest was pounding, and my entire lower half was dripping so badly it actually made me stumble.

I swear to the Moon Goddess, I felt my slick leaking down the inside of my thighs while I was running.

Full–speed. In wolf form. Through the f*****g woods.

Which, I’m pretty sure, isn’t normal.

And yet somehow–it was exactly right..

Because I wasn’t just running to escape. I was running to be caught. To be chased. Hunted. Cornered.

Mounted. My heart was screaming in my chest. Not from fear. From heat. From knowing what was coming.

From knowing that behind me, not far at all, my Alpha was already running. Already planning how he was going to pin me down the second I slowed.

And I couldn’t stop thinking.

Not even for a second.

Oh my God, I’m actually doing this. I’m running. He told me to run and I just shifted an

like my cunt was

in charge of my entire nervous system. What is wrong with me? This is so bad. This is so, so bad.

Why am I throbbing while sprinting? Why am I dripping so much I can feel it even through fur? Is this what being mated feels like? Is this what real Omegas do? Do they just lose their f*****g minds and let their Alpha

hunt them like wild animals?

And then-

his voice hit me.

Inside my head.

(f**k, your wolf looks so beautiful.)

I tripped.

Actually tripped mid–step, pays stumbling over a root because holy f*****g hell, he was in my head now. Damon was mind–linking me and it didn’t sound like a normal voice. It sounded like s*x. Like heat soaked in dominance, Like his voice had grown claws and was dragging them down my spine from the Inside out.

III

O

< Claimed By Him

(I can’t wait to claim her.)

I whimpered. Out loud. In wolf form.

My tongue lolled from my mouth. My paws lost rhythm for a split second. My whole body flushed hot, inside and out, because the way he said it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t romantic. It was a snarl. A dirty, possessive, snarling confession that made my slick coat the inside of my legs again and my claws dig harder into the ground.

He wasn’t just chasing me. He was imagining me in wolf form, bent over, whining, tail lifted, legs trembling as he mounted me and shoved his knot inside. He was imagining my fur wet with sweat and slick, my body broken open around his c**k, tied to him in every way that mattered,

And I couldn’t stop picturing it either.

I was running through the forest, heart thudding like war drums, and all I could think about was how it would feel. His weight pressing down on my back.

His fangs at the back of my neck. His c**k splitting me open, stretching me wider than I’d ever been, and the knot. Oh God, the knot. I could already feel it swelling in my head like a fantasy too dangerous to say out loud.

(You smell so f*****g ready.) His voice curled in my brain like smoke. (Your little wolf cunt’s leaving a trail.

You think I can’t taste your heat all over the air? You think I won’t catch you, pin you to the floor, and f**k that sweet little hole until you’re howling loud enough to wake the gods?)

I nearly collapsed.

My body was buzzing. My muscles twitching. My cunt aching so bad it almost made me slow down just so he’d grab me sooner. I could feel his paws closing in behind me, feel the heat of his breath against the back of my tail.

I made it to the clearing by the cabin and leapt up onto the porch, barely catching myself as I skidded forward and shifted back. My naked body hit the wooden floor and I was breathless, covered in sweat, heart racing like it was going to burst out of my chest.

And then he was there.

Full wolf.

Bigger than I remembered.

Darker. Rougher. The kind of predator you didn’t run from–you offered yourself to.

He shifted mid–step. His fur melted into skin, and suddenly he was standing over me. Naked. Covered in dirt and heat and muscles so tight it looked like his whole body was carved from rage. His c**k was already hard. Already leaking. Already aimed between my legs like it knew where it belonged.

I rolled onto my hands and knees, chest still heaving, sweat dripping down the curve of my ass, and I looked back at him over my shoulder with my hair in my mouth and a smile on my lips.

“Come catch me, Daddy.”

And then I bolted again.

One more time.

III

о

Claimed By Him

One last sprint. Into the mansion. Through the doorway. Toward the bed.

I didn’t even make it halfway before he caught me.

He lunged.

Grabbed me by the waist. Tossed me onto the mattress so hard it bounced.

And then he was on me.

Not gentle. Not slow.

Just sweat. Heat. c**k pressed against my folds. His chest pinning me down. His voice in my ear-

“You wanted to be hunted, kitten. Now I’m going to f**k you until your wolf can’t walk.”

HEPURES

I nodded as my fur spilled back over my body in a rush. My paws touched the sheets. My tail lifted like it had

a mind of its own. And just like that–I was in wolf form, on his bed, panting, trembling, my heat–slick already

soaking the covers beneath me.

And then I felt it.

His hand.

Running down the slope of my back like he was petting something sacred.

“f**k,” he muttered out loud, his voice cracked and low like it physically hurt him to hold back. “Look at you.”

I blinked, ears twitching, breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

(You are the most beautiful f*****g thing I’ve ever seen.)

His voice was inside me again. That mind–link wrapping around my skull like silk, tugging on every thought

until I couldn’t think straight anymore.

(I didn’t know a wolf could look like this. So soft. So fierce. So ready. Your fur is shining, baby. You smell like sin. Your tail’s so high I can see how wet you are from across the room.)

I whimpered.

Not cute.

Desperate.

High–pitched and humiliating and needy as f**k.

and seen me.

Because no one had ever said anything like that to me before. No one had ever looked at Not my human form. Not my wolf. Not the messy little girl trapped between both who didn’t know how to stop overthinking for two goddamn seconds.

But he saw all of it.

And he wanted it.

He wanted me.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered again, crouching beside the bed and running his hand down my spine in long, slow strokes that made my hips twitch and my cunt clench. “Every part of you. Look at that fur. So dark. So soft. You’re made for this. You’re made to be mounted.”

(You know what I see when I look at your wolf?)

35

< Claimed By Him

I shook my head, panting harder now, tail twitching as my body gave itself away.

(I see the rest of my f*****g life.)

I swear my whole body stopped breathing.

My paws clawed at the blankets. My tail curled. My heart cracked open.

Because I wasn’t used to that.

Not from him. Not from anyone.

He looked at me like I was sacred.

Like I was the most precious thing to ever breathe.

(Do you know how good you smell right now?) he added, and I swear I felt his voice in my belly. (You smell like heat and surrender and moonlight. You smell like mine. I want to spend hours just licking your slick off your fur. I want to taste every part of you before I even think about putting my c**k in.)

I whimpered again, louder this time. I arched my back, lifted my tail higher, and gave him the one thing I knew

he wanted–access.

And he groaned.

Rough. Broken. Human and wolf and hunger rolled into one.

(You want me to claim you like this, don’t you?)

Yes. Yes. Yes.

(You want to feel my knot stretch that tight little cunt and tie us together until you can’t even think anymore. You want me to bite the back of your neck while I fill you so full you feel it in your chest.)

I dropped my head to the mattress and moaned like a b***h in heat.

Because that’s what I was.

Not a girl.

Not a good Omega.

Just his.

Wet. Open. Begging.

He climbed behind me, finally, finally mounting me, his hands digging into my fur, his my folds, hot and twitching and so f*****g ready.

And still, he didn’t rush.

He leaned forward, his chest against my back, his mouth near my ear, and he whispered-

“You are the most beautiful wolf I have ever seen.”

I whined.

I melted.

And when he finally pushed in?

I shattered.

pressing against

Favorite Sin 73

~Lyra

The second he lined up behind me, my legs nearly gave out.

I was still in my wolf form, my tail lifted, my chest pressed into the bed, my whole body trembling from how hard I was trying to stay still. Damon was behind me, naked again, in his human body now–huge, covered in sweat, his c**k throbbing and hard and dripping as it pressed right against my swollen, soaked entrance.

I was panting.

Literally panting like a wild animal. My tongue was hanging out. My paws were clawing at the sheets. My heat was so loud inside my head I could barely hear myself think.

And I was narrating every single second of it in my own mind like I was giving a live s*x commentary.

Oh my God. He’s gonna do it. He’s actually going to f**k me in wolf form. I can feel it. He’s right there. His

c**k is so hot. I swear to the Moon, it’s pulsing. He hasn’t even pushed in and I already feel full. I’m so wet.

I’m dripping. I think I left a stain on the bed. That’s so disgusting. He probably loves it. f**k. Thope he loves it.

He growled behind me, low and sharp, and then I felt his hand on my back. He stroked my fur, slow and

rough, his fingers sliding all the way down to my hips, and when I shifted under his touch, my body

responding like it had been waiting for this exact moment all my life, he leaned forward and whispered into

the back of my neck.

“You ready to be knotted like a good little Omega b***h?”

I moaned.

Out loud. In wolf form.

It was high–pitched and humiliating and made my tail twitch like I was begging for it.

And then he started pushing in.

The moment the head of his c**k pressed between my folds, I thought I was going to explode. I was so sensitive I flinched. I was so slick it slid right/in–just the tip–but it still made me jerk forward on the bed like. he’d just knocked the air out of me.

My body tried to clamp down on him. I was throbbing. Pulsing. My inner walls were squeezing so hard it felt like I was trying to suck him in before I even had him.

And I couldn’t stop thinking.

Holy s**t. Holy s**t. Holy f*****g s

**t/That’s it. That’s the tip. That’s just the tip. That’s not even half. That’s not even close. And it already hurts so good I want to scream. How the hell is he going to fit that whole thing inside me? Is he trying to split me in half? Is that what this is?

He pushed deeper.

Slow. Steady. Ruthless..

And I screamed.

I screamed into the mattress, my back arching, my tail curling tighter. My cunt was clenching so hard around

A

Tied Together

him I felt him pause like he needed to breathe. But he didn’t stop. He just growled again, darker this time, and

kept going.

Every inch was agony. Every inch was perfect.

I was being stretched open in a way I’d never felt before. Every vein. Every ridge. Every hard, pulsing throb of

his c**k rubbed against my inner walls until I felt like my entire body was tightening around him just to

survive it.

And then he bottomed out.

Balls deep.

His hips slammed into my ass with a sharp, wet sound that echoed through the cabin, and I swear to the Moon, I blacked out for a second.

And then it hit me.

He was inside.

All the way.

His c**k was buried in my cunt. His hands were gripping my fur. His chest was pressed against my back, and

I could feel his breath on my shoulder as he pulled out just a little-

And then slammed back in.

And I lost my f*****g mind.

I moaned so loud I startled myself. My legs shook. My paws slipped on the sheets. My entire body was convulsing from the sheer, overwhelming sensation of being f****d like a beast.

He was thrusting now. Hard. Deep. Brutal. His c**k pounded into me over and over, and each time it hit the deepest part of me, I saw stars. My moans were getting louder. My thoughts were getting faster. My body was unraveling.

Oh f**k. Oh f**k. He’s huge. He’s so f*****g deep, I can feel it. I can feel every thrust. I think he’s touching my cervix. I’m going to die. I’m going to come. I’m going to come so hard I bark or pass out.or both. This is insane. This is–this is-

And then I felt it.

The knot.

Swollen. Hot. Stretching me.

Pushing against the entrance of my p***y like it was trying to force its way in and never come out.

I cried out.

Loud. Broken. Desperate.

And he didn’t stop.

He grabbed my hips tighter. Pulled me back into him. And shoved forward hard, slamming the growing base

of his c**k against my entrance, trying to force that fat knot into a hole that wasn’t ready for it.

But I was ready.

Tied Together

My body didn’t know how to take it, but my soul did. My wolf did. My heat did.

I pushed back.

I screamed again.

And then it popped in.

The knot. Locked. Sealed. Mine.

My entire body spasmed.

I came so hard I felt the world tilt. My eyes rolled back. My cunt clamped down so violently I heard him grow! like an animal losing control. I was sobbing into the bed. Shaking. Trembling. Milking him with everything I

had.

And then he came.

Inside me.

Hot.

Endless.

Flooding my womb with thick, sticky c*m that spilled around the knot and soaked the sheets under us.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

I couldn’t stop thinking.

I’m knotted. I’m full. I can feel it. I can feel his c**k pulsing. I can feel his c*m pouring into me. I can feel the stretch. It hurts. It feels good. It hurts so good I never want it to stop. He’s claiming me. He’s breeding me. He’s ruined me.

He leaned down. Kissed the back of

my

neck.

“Good girl,” he whispered against my fur, still inside me. “So f*****g good. You took my knot like you were made for it.”

“You took me so well. So f*****g perfectly. You’re everything, kitten. Every part of you. This wolf. That cunt. That soft little moan when I stretch you. I could live inside you.”

I whimpered.

I wasn’t even trying to be quiet anymore. I was panting into the mattress, drooling, twitching. My back legs were trembling. My cunt was clenching again around his knot even though I’d just come so hard I couldn’t see straight.

“I should’ve chased you sooner,” he murmured against my ear, dragging his hand dow….y spine again. “You look so pretty like this. All fur and sweat and slick. You look like mine. You are mine.”

He pressed his chest against my back again, rubbing it there like he wanted to fuse us together, and I swear! could feel his c**k still throbbing, Still hard. Still locked.

“I think I want to keep you knotted like this for hours. I think I want to wake up every day buried in this p***y, in this perfect little body, leaking down your thighs and-”

“Dad!!!”

3/5.

<Tied Together

The voice cut through the air

High. Loud.

Too close.

“Dad, hurry!! Come downstairs now!! I have a surprise for you!!”

I froze.

My heart stopped.

# Fasts

Damon went perfectly still behind me, except for his c**k–still pulsing–still deeply, completely inside me.

And my thoughts?

They exploded.

No. No. No. No. No. This is not happening. This is a hallucination. My brain made that up. That’s not real. Tasha is not downstairs. She did not just yell for her dad. She does not say she had a surprise. I’m knotted. I’m literally knotted to her father. My Alpha’s c**k is inside me. His c*m is still leaking out of me. There is no way in the seven hells she is downstairs right now.

But she was.

And she was yelling again.

“Come on!! I swear, you’re gonna love it! It’s a big one!”

Damon cursed.

Out loud.

Low. Dangerous. So rough I felt it shake through his chest into mine.

“Fuck.”

And I wanted to cry.

Because we were still tied. Still locked. Still stuck together, his knot sealing me shut like a f*****g cork, and we couldn’t separate until it went down. Which it hadn’t. It wasn’t even close. If anything, the panic had made me clench harder.

I was whimpering now. Full–blown spiraling. Still in wolf form. Still knotted. Still filled with enough c*m to breed a litter. And my best friend was downstairs, calling for the man who just broke me open and promised to never let me go.

“Damon,” I hissed through the bond, my voice high and cracked with panic. “Damor this. I’m knotted. I’m leaking. My legs are shaking. I think I’m going to cry.”

n’t shift back like

“Stay still,” he growled, his voice sharp but not unkind. “Don’t move. Don’t say anything. Let me handle it.”

And then she yelled again.

“Daaaaad! Are you seriously ignoring me right now? Rude!!”

Favorite Sin 74

~Lyra

I buried my face in the sheets, panting so hard my chest was heaving. Sweat was sticking to the fur on my stomach, my legs were still shaking, and I could feel his knot still slowly, painfully sliding out of me with a wet, embarrassing pop that made me whimper against the mattress.

There was slick everywhere.

All over my thighs. All over his sheets. Dripping in strings from between my legs like my cunt didn’t get the memo that this was a bad f*****g time to be in afterglow mode.

Tasha’s voice was still echoing up the stairs.

She was yelling for her dad to come downstairs And me?

I was tied to her dad thirty seconds ago.

And the second that knot came out and the air hit my ruined, swollen cunt, I panicked.

I looked back at Damon, my eyes wide, my heart slamming inside my chest like it was trying to escape through my ribs, and I said the dumbest f*****g thing I’ve ever said in my life.

“You know what?” I breathed. “Let’s just both go downstairs.”

He blinked at me.

“What?”

I was already shifting back. My fur melted back into skin, my hands landed flat on the bed, and the second my human body returned I regretted everything.

I was naked. Still dripping. Still so stretched open I couldn’t feel anything but slick sliding out of me in slow, humiliating pulses. My legs were trembling like I had the flu. My thighs were still twitching from how violently

I came.

And my brain?

My brain was holding onto reality with duct tape and prayer.

“We should go,” I said again, pulling the sheet under me and trying to wrap it around myself even though I was still panting and shaking like I’d just been f****d into next week. “It’ll look suspicious if you don’t go. Just go first. I’ll come behind you.”

Damon looked at me like I was insane. Which, to be fair, I was.

“You can’t walk,” he said, and his voice was soft now, still ruined from everything ..e’d just done. “You’re leaking.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I whispered. “Just go. Please. I’ll be right behind you.”

He sighed.

Ran a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. Walked over and bent down–still naked–and kissed me on the forehead.

1:6

What The Hell?

And it wrecked me.

Because I was still ruined. Still full. Still his.

And he kissed me like I was something precious.

Then he turned, grabbed a shirt and sweatpants and left.

Just like that.

And I–like the complete, unhinged, freshly–bred disaster of a girl I was–stood up on shaky legs and immediately whimpered.

Oh f**k.

Oh f**k.

Oh f**k.

Oh f**k.

That was the first thing I said the second I tried to take a step and realized my legs didn’t work. Like, at all. They were numb, like jelly. Like someone had unplugged all the bones in my body and replaced them with wet noodles and shame. I was still holding the sheet around my body, trying to cover my t**s and my thighs even though it didn’t matter–because the real problem wasn’t what I looked like.

It was what I felt like.

My p***y was throbbing.

Not softly. Not sweetly.

It was pulsing like it was still hungry, even after he’d knotted me and filled me with so much c*m I was still leaking. I could feel it sliding out of me in slow, sticky drips, slipping down the inside of my thighs with every step I took. It was warm. Wet. Unforgivable.

“Oh f**k,” I whispered again, dragging my hand down my face. “I can’t walk properly. I can’t even breathe properly. What the hell did he do to me? Why am I still open? Why is there still c*m inside me? Why is my body acting like I didn’t just get turned into a literal Omega f**k toy ten minutes ago?”

My heart was thudding. Not from the orgasm. From the reality. From the danger of what I was about to walk

into.

Because downstairs wasn’t empty.

Downstairs was Tasha.

And her voice was still echoing up the stairs, cheerful, f*****g oblivious.

“Come on, Dad! You’re taking forever!”

I limped toward the stairs, clutching the banister with one hand, the sheet with the other, and every inch of me was sore. My back ached from the way he bent me over. My hips ached from how wide he stretched me. My inner thighs were raw from how fast I’d run and how hard he’d f****d me. I was still clenching. Still fluttering. Still so goddamn full I felt like I needed to lie down and cry into a pillow for twenty–five hours.

Instead, I took another step.

And another.

< What The Hell?

Each one slow. Careful. Like if I moved too fast, his c*m would actually hit the floor behind me.

I followed him.

Slowly.

Painfully.

One step at a time, limping like I’d just gotten back from a demon exorcism and my v****a didn’t survive it.

Then I heard her voice again.

“Look who’s here, Dad!”

I peeked around the wall, barely able to hold the sheet over my chest. My heart was still pounding. My brain was still fried. I was already thinking of ways to sneak into the bathroom and clean up before anyone noticed the way my legs were literally glistening.

But then I saw her.

Tasha.

Grinning like an i***t.

And next to her was a woman i have never seen before.

And the next thing she said pierced my heart. And then-

“Mum! Mum is back!!. Look at her”

That was what she said.

That was the word that dropped into the room like a goddamn bomb.

And I froze.

My whole body went cold.

My breath caught.

And I felt everything stop.

Mum?

My eyes widened

.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t breathe.

My hand was still gripping the banister like it was the only thing keeping me from collapsing and rolling down the stairs in a broken pile of bruises, slick, and humiliation.

My legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand. My vision was blurry. My heart was beating in my ears like war drums. And I was just standing there. Silent. Paralyzed. Numb. Trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at.

Because it didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make any f*****g sense.

She was here. A woman. Tall. Blonde. Pretty in that scary, glossy, ex–model kind of way. She looked like

<What The Hell?

* Points >

money. She looked like a storm. She looked like she’d walked out of a magazine spread about women who

ruin lives with a smile.

And Tasha had just called her–mum.

Her mum.

Which meant-

I turned my head slowly, like my neck was made of stone, like my brain was trying to protect me from what it

already knew.

And there he was.

Damon.

Standing completely still, dressed now, thank God, in a black T–shirt that clung to his chest and sweatpants that were low on his hips. But none of that mattered. None of that registered. Because I wasn’t looking at his

body anymore.

I was looking at his face.

His expression.

His guilt.

His silence.

And that’s when my stomach dropped.

Because I remembered.

I remembered what he told me.

I remembered the words exactly. Like they were tattooed on the inside of my skull.

“She’s dead.”

That’s what he said.

That’s what he looked me in the eyes and told me when I saw her picture and asked about her in the penthouse.

“She’s dead.”

Dead.

Dead.

But she wasn’t dead.

She was standing right there.

Smiling. Breathing. Wearing lip gloss.

What the hell was happening?

What the actual, mind–f*****g hell was I looking at?

Was I dreaming? Hallucinating? Had I lost my mind somewhere between getting knotted and leaking all over the stairs?

What The Hell?

Because this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t possible.

I couldn’t stop thinking. My brain was spiraling so fast it felt like the thoughts were crashing into each other and falling apart as they hit.

He told me she was dead. He told me she was gone. He kissed me like a man who lost something. He f****d me like he had nothing left. He marked me like he was claiming the only thing that was still his.

And now she’s standing here?

Alive?

Tasha’s mum is alive?

That’s not just a lie. That’s not just a red flag. That’s a whole nuclear warhead of betrayal tied up in a bow and delivered to my feet while I’m still dripping his c*m.

I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. My hands were trembling against the railing, and the sheet around my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds now. I was shaking. From rage. From confusion. From something sharp and ugly blooming in my chest that tasted like heartbreak before I could even name it.

I looked at Damon again.

Waiting.

Begging him to explain.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t even look at me.

And that?

That broke something inside me.

Because I realized–he wasn’t shocked.

He wasn’t confused.

He wasn’t wondering what she was doing here.

He knew.

And I…didn’t.

I looked at him to say something but he didn’t speak.

He didn’t defend himself.

And that silence?

That silence told me everything.

I felt it in my chest first.

A tightness.

A pressure I couldn’t name, like my heart was caving in around itself, squeezing until it cracked right down the center. I didn’t even feel the tear when it slipped out. It just fell.

Because the truth was simple now.

<What The Hell?

Damon lied to me.

He f*****g lied to me.

And I didn’t know how to come back from that.

Favorite Sin 75

The Past Returns

~Damon~

This is not how I wanted her to find out.

f**k.

I stood there, frozen, watching the sheet slide off her trembling shoulder as she gripped the banister like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Her eyes were wide. Wet. Wounded. And they were staring at me like I’d just ripped her soul out and smiled while doing it.

Because I did.

Not with a blade. Not with claws.

With silence.

With a lie I told so long ago it felt like a different lifetime.

“She’s dead.” That’s what I told her. That’s what I looked her in the eyes and said, knowing damn well it wasn’t true. Knowing I had no f*****g right. But I told her anyway. Because it was easier than telling her the real truth. Because if I had told her the truth, I would have lost her before I even had the chance to make her mine.

And now?

Now I was watching her bleed from the inside out, wrapped in nothing but a crumpled sheet and my c*m still leaking down her thighs.

And I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t f*****g breathe.

Because she looked destroyed.

And I did that.

Not with my knot. Not with my hands.

With my silence.

With that one stupid lie I told the night she curled up in my bed and asked me if the woman in the picture

was my

wife.

“She’s dead,” I said.

I remembered the way she looked at me. Like she understood. Like she felt sorry for me. Like she trusted me enough to let me hold her in my arms after that.

That moment built something.

This one just burned it to the ground.

I watched her from across the room, every inch of me begging to go to her, but I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch. Because how the f**k do you fix something like this? How the f**k do you explain why the woman you said was dead is now standing in your kitchen looking like she’s ready to reclaim everything?

III

O

726

< The Past Returns

I didn’t know she was coming back today.

+ Pakis

Now she was here. Standing tall. Dressed in white. Hair perfect. Skin glowing like she just came from a spa retreat instead of a rehab center. She looked too good.

Too composed. Too… polished. Like maybe she’d gotten some work done before showing up. Like maybe she

knew exactly how she wanted this reunion to go.

And I didn’t give a single f**k.

Because my eyes never left Lyra.

She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t breathing. She was just standing there at the top of the stairs like her soul had been torn out. I saw her eyes. I saw the confusion. The betrayal. The heartbreak. And then I saw the tear.

One single tear falling from her cheek as she clutched the railing.

And it broke me.

My jaw clenched. My fists curled. My throat burned with all the things I wanted to say but couldn’t, because I didn’t even know where to start. I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted her to find out like this.

But I was out of time.

“Damon,” Camilla whispered.

Her voice was soft. Sweet. Like it used to be. But there was something else in it too. A familiarity I didn’t want. A claim she had no right to anymore.

“I missed you.”

I didn’t even have a second to react. She stepped forward and suddenly her arms were around my neck. Her body pressed into mine. Her lips crashed against my mouth like she still belonged there.

My entire body locked.

My mind went blank.

And then rage poured in like a tidal wave.

I ripped her off me so fast she stumbled backward and nearly knocked into the counter.

“What the hell is wrong with you,

woman?!”

Camilla’s eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her chest like she was the one who’d been violated.

“You kissed me back,” she said, like it was fact. Like she could rewrite the truth just by saying it with enough

conviction.

“No,” I growled, “I didn’t. I stood there because I was too f*****g shocked to helieve you were insane enough to try that in my house.

I stopped myself.

Bit down on the words.

Because that wasn’t something I could say. Not now. Not like this. Not with Lyra still standing upstairs, barely able to breathe.

“You’re still angry,” Camilla muttered, brushing herself off like she wasn’t the one who blew her last chance at

< The Past Returns

dignity.

“Angry?” I laughed once, sharp and dry.

“I’m out now, Damon. I’m clean.”

“f**k,” she added, her voice cracking as her heels clicked against the floor behind me. “I missed you. I missed you so f*****g much.”

I didn’t speak. I stood there, breathing through clenched teeth, trying to control the violent pulse hammering through my veins. My hands were already balled into fists. My jaw locked so tight I could hear it creak.

I heard her footsteps behind me before I felt her.

She came closer. Slowly. Carefully. And then-

Her fingers touched the front of my sweatpants.

It was a soft, tentative graze, like she thought she still had the right to reach for me. Like my c**k

belonged to her just because it used to. Like the woman I just knotted upstairs didn’t exist. Like the scent of s*x still on my skin, the memory of Lyra’s trembling thighs and tear–soaked moans, wasn’t still tattooed across my whole f*****g body.

I looked down.

Her hand was there.

Flat against me.

And that was it.

I turned, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her hand away from me like it was poison.

“Get your hands off me,” I growled, my voice low, firm, and shaking with rage. “Don’t touch me. Ever again. Do you understand me?”

Camilla stepped back. Her eyes widened, shocked. Not because she was hurt, but because she was realizing -maybe for the first time–that whatever piece of me she thought still existed was gone.

She stared at me like I’d just slapped her across the face.

“You really hate me now,” she whispered.

“I don’t hate you,” I said, because hate would mean I still cared enough to feel something. “But I don’t belong to you. Not anymore.”

Her mouth parted like she was about to speak again, but that’s when Tasha’s voice cut through the silence.

“Dad!”

She stepped forward from the archway, her arms crossed, her expression nicked.

“Why are you treating her like this?” she asked, her voice trembling with that same emotional blindness teenagers always had. “She’s not the same person as she was two years ago. She’s clean now! You should be happy that she’s back!”

My head turned slowly, and I stared at her with every ounce of restraint I had left.

“Tasha,” I said, and my voice dropped to that dangerous quiet I only used when I wanted someone to listen to

C

< The Past Returns

me, not argue. “Don’t meddle when adults are talking. Go to your room. Now.”

She blinked.

Took a breath like she wanted to challenge me. Like she thought I would bend if she just looked sad enough.

“But, Dad-”

I didn’t shout.

I didn’t need to.

“I said now,” I repeated, my tone dropping further, thick with warning. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

She froze. Swallowed. Then backed away without another word, disappearing down the hallway with tears in her eyes and confusion on her face.

When Tasha was gone, I turned back to Camilla.

She hadn’t moved.

She was still standing there in that too–perfect dress, her arms wrapped around herself like she couldn’t believe I didn’t fall at her feet the second she walked in.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, slowly walking toward her. “I am glad you’re clean. I am. I prayed for it. I begged God for it. But you don’t get to walk in here and pretend like the world froze while you were gone. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to talk to me like nothing happened. Because everything happened,

Camilla.”

She opened her mouth, but I didn’t give her the chance to speak.

“You left. I’m the one who held our daughter while she cried. I’m the one who sat by the phone every day wondering if you were still breathing. I’m the one who walked into your bathroom and found your body collapsed on the floor surrounded by empty pill bottles. I’m the one who drove you to that clinic and signed the f*****g forms to admit you. And I did it out of love. I did it because I couldn’t bear to bury you. But that doesn’t mean I waited for you.”

Her shoulders were trembling now, and I could see the way her lip shook, but I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

Because Lyra was upstairs, broken. Crying. Probably thinking I used her. Probably wondering if she was just some replacement for a woman I once loved. And the longer I stayed down here, the more damage I knew I was letting happen.

“I moved on,” I said finally. “I found something good. Something real”

Camilla was silent now.

Tears slid down her cheeks, but I didn’t feel satisfaction. I didn’t feel vind

d

I felt empty.

Tired.

Done.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I said softly. “But whatever it is, you’re not going to find it here.”

The Past Returns

But Camilla didn’t move.

She didn’t cry harder.

She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she stood there like a woman who still believed she had a chance. And when she spoke, her voice was low, pleading, soaked in delusion that made the back of my neck tighten.

“I’m not going anywhere, Damon,” she whispered. “I want you. I still want you. I missed you every second I

was gone.”

She took a step forward.

And then another.

And before I could speak, her hands were at her chest. Fingers sliding over the delicate buttons of her white

blouse.

One.

Two.

Three undone.

f**k.

Her shirt fell open slightly, just enough for her breasts to spill forward–perfectly pushed up, nearly bare, like she planned it all. Her bra was sheer. Lacy. The kind she used to wear when she wanted to be forgiven with

S*X.

Her n*****s were visible through the fabric. Her breathing was soft and shallow, her lips parted, and her gaze locked onto mine like she thought showing her body would erase everything.

f*****g b***h. It didn’t.

All it did was make me see red.

“Don’t you f*****g dare do that, Camilla,” I snapped, and my voice boomed across the room like a threat wrapped in steel. “Do not mistake my self–control for invitation. I won’t lay my hands on you because I don’t hit women, but don’t f*****g push me. I swear to God–back up.”

She froze.

Finally.

But her lips were still trembling, and her shirt still hung open like bait, like she didn’t fully believe I meant it. “There is nothing for us,” I said again,/slower now, each word heavier than the last. “Avoid me, Camilla. Hear me very clearly. There is. Nothing. For. Us.”

I didn’t wait for a reply.

I didn’t want one.

I didn’t care what tears she shed or what games she tried to play next.

Because Lyra was upstairs, hurting and crying.

And it was my fault.