~Lyra~
He needs to know
Because if I’m pregnant…
If I’m actually pregnant…
Then this is real. Not just in a fantasy way. Not just in the kinky, dirty, breed-me-Daddy kind of way that made my toes curl and my back arch every time he whispered mine into my mouth while I was trembling under him.
This isn’t just about what happened on the bed. Or the desk. Or the balcony. Or all those times he knotted me so deep I couldn’t think straight for hours afterward.
This is about my body. Changing. Growing something. Someone. His.
Because if I’m pregnant, that means there’s an actual baby inside me. A little Alpha or Omega forming from all the c*m he stuffed inside me while I moaned and begged for it and told him I wanted this. That I could take it. That I needed it.
And I did.
God, I did.
