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Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 222

“All of me.”noveldrama

Oh my God. Okay. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? My whole body reacted. Like my nipples perked up, my core clenched, and my brain said, Ma’am, this is not a drill.

And of course, because I’m eighteen and chronically incapable of leaving well enough alone, I opened my mouth again.

“I saw this in a movie once,” I said slowly, dragging the words out like I was laying the groundwork for something deeply inappropriate. My fingers twitched with excitement. My smile curled up on one side. I knew I was about to say something that would either make Damon combust or pounce-and honestly, either was fine with me.

His brow lifted. “Oh?” he asked, clearly intrigued but already suspicious of me. “What kind of movie, kitten?”

“The hot kind,” I said sweetly, then bit my lip in a way that was 100 percent intentional. “And I’ve always wanted us to try it.” He leaned in a little. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his jaw flexed like he was already fighting off ten dirty thoughts just to remain seated. “What exactly do you want us to try?”

“Cosplay,” I whispered, dropping the word like it was a sacred spell. “I’ll be the teacher… and you’ll be the student.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at me. And the way his eyes darkened? Yeah. That was the moment I knew I’d won.

His fingers tightened slightly on my thigh, and he leaned in just close enough that his breath fanned across my ear.

“You naughty little girl,” he growled against my skin, and the second those words hit my ear, my whole body reacted like it had been flipped on like a light switch.

My nipples hardened through the thin fabric of my shirt, my thighs squeezed together without permission, and my spine arched the tiniest bit, just enough for him to feel how much I wanted him without me having to say another word.

But of course, I said more anyway. I always do. Because I talk too damn much, and clearly have no concept of shutting up when a sexy, dangerous Alpha is hovering over me with that look in his eyes.

I couldn’t help myself. I smirked. I dragged my fingers slowly up his chest, eyes locked on his like I was about to commit an actual crime and wanted him to watch me do it.

“I’d sit on the desk,” I began, voice smooth and sweet like honey that could drown you if you weren’t careful. “Wearing the tiniest skirt you’ve ever seen. Like, short enough to make someone fail a class just from looking at it. And it would ride up every time I crossed my legs. And I wouldn’t even fix it. I’d just let you stare.”

Damon didn’t move. But I saw his jaw tighten. That vein in his neck ticked. His breathing slowed in that scary-calm way he does right before he ruins me.

“And I’d wear glasses,” I went on, like I wasn’t already pushing my luck, “not because I need them, but because I want to look like I’ll ruin your life and grade your paper at the same time. I’d cross my legs like a lady but smirk like a whore. I’d say, ‘Mr. Thornvale, can you explain why you haven’t turned in your assignment this week?’ while I pop a lollipop into my mouth and pretend not to notice how hard you are under the desk.”

He blinked. Slowly. The kind of blink men do right before they bite.

I leaned in, whispering now, letting the filth drip from my tongue like I was built for sin. “And when you give me that stupid smirk and say something cocky like ‘I was too busy thinking about you, Miss,’ I’d make you kneel. Right there. In front of the desk. I’d slide my chair back, open my legs, and tell you to prove your devotion.”

Damon still hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t even blinked again. He was stone. Steel. Every muscle in his body coiled tight like a bomb.

“I’d tell you you’re not allowed to stop,” I added, dragging my fingers down his abs now, “not until I give you an A+ and moan your name loud enough for the whole hallway to hear. And even then, I’d make you stay after school. For detention. You’d sit on your knees while I grade your performance with my thighs wrapped around your face.”

That was it. That was the moment he broke.

His hand grabbed my thigh, hard, fingers digging into the flesh like he was two seconds from dragging me across the bed. But he still didn’t move further. He just stared at me with fire in his eyes.

“Kitten,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl, “if you keep talking, I am going to forget we’re waiting for the pack doctor and fuck you so hard your ‘after school’ fantasy becomes a week-long coma.”

I gasped.

And then, like the absolute chaos demon I am, I smiled.

“So you do want to do it.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the kind of exhale men do when they’re hanging onto their last thread of sanity. “You’re evil.”

“I’m creative,” I corrected sweetly, tilting my head and batting my lashes. “And also very committed to your academic success, Mr. Thornvale.”

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