Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 160

“Your scent,” he murmured. “It’s not clean. It’s not pure anymore. You reek of Alpha cum

He said it like it was a compliment. Like I should be proud of it. And the worst part? The absolute worst part? My body reacted to it. My skin got hotter.

I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, to remind him I had a whole Alpha Daddy who could snap his neck like a pencil and not even flinch-but he didn’t let me. Of course he didn’t. Because apparently this boy was allergic to boundaries and full of sin.

 “You’ve been fucked,” he went on, voice lower now, crueler, like he wanted to carve the truth into me with every word. “And not just once. No, I can smell it on you. He’s been inside you more than once. He’s filled you up. Claimed you. Knot or no knot, doesn’t matter. Your body belongs to him now. And yet-“

He leaned in close, way too close, and my back hit the locker behind me with a soft thud. His eyes dragged down my body, slow and smug and invasive, until they landed right where they shouldn’t—just beneath the hem of my skirt.

“-you’re still walking around like a brat who doesn’t know she needs to be leashed.”

I gasped so loud I swore the whole hallway heard me, but nobody was looking. Nobody cared. The students kept walking, chattering, slamming lockers, gossiping about assignments and lunch, and here I was, being verbally assaulted by a hot demon in uniform.

“Get away from me,” I hissed, but it came out more breathless than threatening, and his grin told me he knew it.

“Fuck, you got thicker,” he murmured, his voice so casual, so full of hunger, like he was talking about a meal he couldn’t wait to eat. “That Alpha’s been feeding you right, huh? Pumping you full of cum and stuffing you with breakfast in bed?”

His hand moved before I could stop it.

Down.

Over the curve of my hip. Across the outer edge of my thigh.

And then lower.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, shoving his chest, but his other arm snaked around my waist like a fucking trap, and then we were moving-he dragged me, dragged me, across the hallway and into the shadowy corner between the janitor’s closet and the vending machine.

It was half-hidden. Dark. Forgotten. Like it was made for secrets and sin. And oh God, the second we stopped moving, his eyes dropped to my thighs again.

“You shouldn’t wear skirts this short if you don’t want people staring,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles along my bare thigh like it was nothing. Like he had the right. “But maybe you do.

My breath came out in a sharp, panicked burst. I tried to speak, but it just turned into a squeak. A full-on Omega squeak, and I hated myself for it.

His hand moved higher.

“Let me go,” I said through clenched teeth, trying to shove him again, but he was too strong, and my stupid body wasn’t cooperating. My thighs were shaking. My knees were weak. And worst of all-my core was getting wet. Wet. In the middle of school. In a hallway. With this boy touching me like he had no fucking shame.

I opened my mouth to yell-really yell-but his hand slapped over my mouth so fast I didn’t even see it coming.

“Shhh,” he murmured, voice dark now. Dangerous. But not loud. Not panicked. Like he’d done this before. Like this was just routine. “You don’t want Daddy hearing, do you? You don’t want him storming in here, sniffing the air, and finding out some little punk made his Omega wet in the middle of the hallway.”

I froze.

Because holy shit.

He was right.

Damon would smell it. If he came near this corridor, if he caught even a whiff of my heat or arousal or distress, he’d come charging in like a fucking wolf possessed. And it wouldn’t be a warning. It wouldn’t be a threat. It would be blood and broken bones and a whole-ass murder scene.

I shook my head against his palm, and his smirk widened.

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers still tracing that line down my thigh, getting closer and closer to the edge of my panties, and I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I was letting this happen. My mind was screaming, begging me to move, to run, to bite him or knee him or do something. But I wasn’t strong enough for him.

“You smell so fucking good,” he whispered, bending down now, nose brushing the side of my neck. “I could taste you right now. I could bend you over this vending machine, pull your panties to the side, and fuck you so good you’d forget how to spell your name.”

My breath caught.

Because the way he said it?

It wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

He stepped forward, just one step, and I backed up immediately-but there was nowhere left to go. My spine hit the wall again, and for the first time since this whole stupid morning started, I actually felt scared.

Not just turned on.

Not just annoyed.

Not just horny.

But scared.

Because he was smiling again.

Not that cute little smirk from earlier. Not the arrogant “I want to fuck you in front of the vending machine” smile.

No.

This smile was darker. Sharper