Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 213

~Lyra~

“But I’m not gonna lie, kitten,” he murmured, his hand sliding up my side like he owned every inch of my skin, “your tits are big now.”

I blinked at him, still trying to come down from the panic he’d just soothed out of me, and then my breath caught completely when he tilted his head slightly, licked his lips, and said—

“Can Daddy suck them?”

Oh. My. God.

I stared at him like he’d just asked to fuck me in front of the Moon Goddess herself. My mouth opened. My chest rose.

My nipples-those traitorous, sensitive, aching little things-hardened instantly like they were excited about the invitation. And for one hot second, I almost said yes. I almost melted right there in his hands and whispered please like the needy little Omega I always became in his arms.

But then I remembered.

I remembered him smirking.

I remembered him making dumb jokes about biology class like I wasn’t standing in front of him sobbing about possibly being pregnant.

So I pulled back just a little. Just enough to pout.

And then I smirked right back.

“No,” I said sweetly, blinking up at him with the fakest innocence I could manage. “You can’t suck them. Not after saying I overreact. That’s your punishment. You get to look, not touch.”

His eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched-like he liked the challenge.

“You sure about that, kitten?” he whispered, his voice suddenly dropping into that low, husky, dangerous tone that made my spine shiver and my thighs press together without permission.

“Because I think you’re bluffing. I think you want Daddy to pull your dress down and suck those sore, heavy tits until you’re crying from how good it feels.”

My breath hitched again. Instantly.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, and my eyes fluttered like he’d just breathed into my bloodstream. “I think you want me to bite them,” he continued, his hand sliding around to the front of my body so slowly it made me whimper. “I think you want me to leave teeth marks. I think your little Omega body is already leaking for it.”

“Shut up,” I whispered, but my voice wasn’t strong. It wasn’t sharp. It was barely even real. I was already shaking again, already breathless, already clinging to the fabric of my dress like it could protect me from the fact that yes, he was right. I was wet. I was aching. I was seconds away from begging.

“I think you’re going to let me do it anyway,” he said, his voice thick and hungry now, his nose trailing down the side of my cheek. “Because you’re mine, kitten. And those perfect tits? They’re Daddy’s.”

And then he went further.

Because of course he did.

He doesn’t stop when I’m trembling. He doesn’t stop when I’m trying to hold myself together. He waits for it. He feeds on it. And once he sees that little crack in my voice, that stutter in my breath, that squeeze of my thighs—he goes straight for the kill.

“You know what I think, kitten?” he whispered, and his mouth was right at my ear now. His breath sent a full-body tremble down my spine. “I think they’re already swollen because your body’s preparing. It knows. Your tits are getting ready for our pup.”

I gasped.

Not softly.

Not politely.

And I was trying. I was trying so hard to stay firm, to keep my hands planted against his chest instead of letting them slide up into his hair and yank his face down to my tits where I really wanted it. But he kept going.

“You want my tongue, don’t you?” he whispered, his hand finally, finally sliding into my dress to cup the full weight of one aching, swollen breast.

“You want me to drag it over your nipple. You want me to suck until you cry. Until your milk comes in. Until this tight little body starts leaking for me.”

My knees buckled.

I whimpered-like actually whimpered-mouth open, throat tight, and every inch of my body screaming at me to give in.

But I didn’t.

Not completely.

I shook my head, weakly. I clutched his wrist like I was going to push him away. I opened my mouth to say something bratty and mean, something like you wish or earn it, but all that came out was this soft, wrecked moan as his thumb flicked my nipple through the fabric.

He leaned in closer.

Mouth at my ear again.

“You can’t fight me, kitten,” he whispered, and my eyes fluttered shut. “Not when you’re this wet. Not when your tits are this ready. Not when your little Omega cunt is already pulsing like it knows I’m about to knot you again.”

I gasped.