Daddy Alpha, I’m In Heat

I Can’t Help It

~Lily~

Oh God. I can’t stop.

I tried. I really did. I told myself to shut up. To sit still. To breathe and think about literally anything else. I even stared at the ceiling and counted how many lights there were and tried to remember if I packed my sunscreen, but none of it worked.

Not a single thought could compete with the image of him.

Not one innocent little distraction stood a chance against the mental picture of Connor Blackwood standing in his room next door, naked from the waist up, maybe holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, his c**k thick and heavy in the other, stroking himself while growling my name under his breath like I belong to him.

I’m going to touch myself.

There’s no use pretending anymore. My thighs are already trembling. My panties are soaked. I can feel the slick every time I move, and it’s not just a little dampness.

It’s wet, heat-blooming-between-my-legs wet. And my clit is throbbing so hard it actually hurts.

I roll onto my side and let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. My heart is racing.

My body is flushed. I’m still wearing this sundress, but it’s hitched up around my waist now, and I don’t remember doing it.

I slide my hand down over my stomach, biting my lip, breathing hard, and I already know I’m about to go completely feral.

I hook a finger into the waistband of my panties and slide them down slowly, just past my thighs, letting the wet fabric cling for a moment before I push them to my knees.

I spread my legs, just a little, just enough for the cool air to hit the soaked mess between them, and I hiss through my teeth because even that tiny bit of contact sends a shockwave up my spine.

I’m so wet. So stupidly, embarrassingly wet. My p***y is swollen and slick, glistening in the low light, and I can already see how sticky it is just from looking down.

I press two fingers into the folds and drag them upward, just a slow little slide from my entrance to my clit, and I moan. Loud. Real. No-faking-it moan that makes me slap a hand over my mouth immediately.

Because oh my God, what if he heard that?

What if Connor heard me moan through the wall?

What if he knows exactly what I’m doing?

The thought makes my p***y clench so hard I nearly cry. My fingers start moving again, faster this time.

My middle finger circles my clit, tight and slow, and the second my hips start rocking into it, I’m gone. I can’t stop now.

My mind is gone.

I whisper his name without meaning to. I don’t even try to hold it back. I let it slip past my lips like a secret. Like a prayer. Like a confession.

“Connor…”

It sounds so dirty coming from me. So filthy. So wrong and perfect at the same time.

I slide two fingers down, dip them into my hole, and my p***y clenches around them like it was made for this.

I let out another moan, this one muffled into the pillow, and I feel my legs spreading wider, my body giving in, my mind breaking apart.

I curl my fingers inside me and my back arches so fast I nearly cry out. I’m tight. I’m aching. I’m throbbing around myself like I’ve been needing this for weeks.

I imagine it’s him.

I imagine his fingers instead of mine. Longer. Rougher. Thicker. Pressing deep into me while he whispers in my ear that I’m his now, that this tight little p***y belongs to him, that I’m not allowed to come until he says I can. I imagine him growling in my ear, holding my wrists down while I squirm and cry and beg for his c**k.

I rub my clit faster.

My fingers are soaked now, dripping with slick, making filthy little sounds that echo in the silence of the room. I’m panting. Sweating.

Humping my hand like a girl possessed. My legs are trembling and my stomach is tightening, and I know I’m close. I know I’m about to come.

“Please, Daddy,” I whisper, and the second I say it, the orgasm crashes through me like a f*****g wave.

“Fuuuuuck… oh my God… yes, Daddy… oh my f*****g God, yes—yes—yes, right there, please—”

My p***y clenches around my fingers so hard it makes my whole stomach lock up. Slick gushes out of me, hot and thick, coating my hand and dripping down the backs of my thighs.

My clit throbs. My head tilts back. My eyes roll up so far I think I might pass out from how f*****g good it feels.

I keep moaning. I can’t stop. I’m grinding into my palm like I’m f*****g possessed. My whole body is shaking, my chest is heaving, and I don’t even care if anyone hears me.

I want him to hear me. I want Connor to hear the way I scream his name when I come. I want him to know how hard I c*m just from thinking about him. I want him to know that this is his fault.

My moan turns guttural. My voice breaks. It’s not even words anymore.

“Ahh—f**k—yes, yes, yes—so deep—oh my God—it hurts—feels so good—I can’t stop—I want it—I want your c**k—I need it—Daddy—please—f**k me—”

I reach down and rub my clit with my other hand, fast and tight, while my fingers pump in and out of my soaked cunt. I’m close.

“Please—please, knot me—breed me—I want it—I want your knot inside me, Daddy—”

I’m not even thinking anymore. I’m just begging.

And then it happens.

The orgasm rips through me with so much force that I scream. Actually scream. Breathed into the pillow and screamed.

“DADDY—OH f**k—YES—YES, PLEASE—OH GOD, I’M COMING—”

My legs snap shut around my hand as my body convulses. I cry into the pillow. My fingers curl. My cunt clenches so tight it aches.

My toes point. My lips tremble. Slick floods my hand and I don’t stop. I keep rubbing. I keep moaning. I ride it out like my soul is on fire and only his name can put it out.

And then.

Knock knock knock.

“Lily?”

My blood turns to ice.

I freeze. My body jerks like I’ve been electrocuted. My hand flies away from my p***y so fast I nearly slap myself.

My legs clamp shut. My breath gets stuck in my throat. My entire body is still trembling, still clenching, still soaked and pulsing, but now I’m panicked. I’m wide-eyed. I’m soaked in c*m and caught red-f*****g-handed with my best friend standing on the other side of the door.

“Lily, are you in there?”

It’s Bella.

I stare at the ceiling like it might open up and swallow me. My cunt is still twitching. My n*****s are hard. I can smell myself in the air. The whole room smells like s*x.

“Drinks are starting,” she says. “Rose said to tell everyone to come to the lounge.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, trying not to gasp.

I don’t move.

I don’t breathe.

I just sit there on the bed, dripping and twitching and barely alive while the orgasm still echoes through my thighs and my best friend knocks on the door asking why I’m taking so long.

“Lily?”

Oh my God. Oh my God. Bella. That’s Bella. That’s her voice. Outside my door. My best friend. Standing there. Knocking. While I am literally lying here with my dress around my waist, my panties soaked and halfway down my thighs, and my fingers dripping with c*m.

“Lily, are you in there?”

Yes. I’m in here. I’m in here f*****g dying. I’m in here soaking the sheets and twitching from the aftershocks of the nastiest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.

I’m in here gasping for breath with my legs still shaking and the word Daddy still wet on my lips like a sin I don’t know how to erase.

“Drinks are starting. Rose said to tell everyone to come to the lounge.”

Drinks. Right. Great. Yeah, let me just uncurl myself from this bed like a freshly f****d mess and walk into a yacht full of people with the scent of orgasm clinging to my skin and Connor’s name still echoing in my skull like a moan I can’t shut up.

My whole body goes rigid. My face is on fire. I reach for the pillow and press it over my face like it might smother the humiliation surging through my bloodstream.

My p***y is still throbbing. My panties are soaked. There’s a wet patch on the sheets under me and my hand is shiny with slick.

I scramble up like a gremlin caught in the light. My dress is bunched up. My panties are twisted. My fingers are covered in c*m. I wipe them frantically on the inside of my thigh, then gasp and regret it because my skin is too sensitive and I nearly moan again like an i***t.

“Yeah” I shout, voice way too loud and cracked. “I’m fine! I’m coming!”

No. Bad choice of words. Very bad.

“I mean, I’ll be there! I was just… changing!”

My voice breaks on the last syllable and I clap a hand over my mouth like that will somehow erase the fact that I probably sound like I just got railed by a ghost. My thighs are shaking. My hair is a mess. My whole body feels like I just got bred and left to soak.

I shove my panties back up, wince at how wet they are, then pull my dress down and try to straighten it even though it’s clinging to my skin like it’s aware of everything I just did.

I fan my face with both hands.

“Okay, okay,” I whisper to myself like a girl on the verge of an emotional breakdown. “You just fingered yourself stupid and moaned Daddy loud enough for Poseidon to hear.

No big deal. Just walk out there. Smile. Pretend your clit isn’t throbbing. Pretend your thighs aren’t still wet. Pretend you didn’t come so hard you screamed into the sheets like a b***h in heat.”

I wipe the inside of my thighs with a towel. It’s warm. Damp. Smells like me now. I shudder. I’m never going to be the same again.

I take one last breath, glance at the wall that separates me from him, and whisper under my breath like a slut who has already accepted her fate.

“Let’s just hope I can walk straight.”

I pull the door open, and for one shining second, I think I’ve made it.

And then I slam face-first into something.

Hard.

I gasp. I stumble. My hand flies to the doorframe to steady myself. My n*****s brush against cotton, and every cell in my body goes hot.

I look up.

And it’s him.

It’s f*****g Connor.

His hand is already on my arm to steady me, big and warm and rough, and my whole body reacts before I can stop it. My p***y clenches. My throat dries. My brain starts short-circuiting like someone poured water into my soul.

His eyes meet mine. I knew definitely I was f****d.

Fuck.