Daddy Alpha I’m In Heat (Lily and Connor) novel Chapter 14

~Lily~

Okay. Walking to the lounge. Just walking. A normal, innocent stroll down a very expensive yacht hallway like I hadn’t just had my pussy manhandled by a grown–ass man with arms that could break a watermelon and a voice that could get a girl pregnant without even touching her.

I kept tugging at the hem, pretending I wasn’t walking like someone had just rearranged my soul with his fingers and left my legs wobbling like Bambi on ice.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders like I was heading into war, and opened the lounge door with the confidence of a girl who definitely didn’t just have her best friend’s dad growling against her t**s thirty minutes ago.

And then.

“BITCH.”

I blinked.

“WHERE. THE FUCK. HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

She was across the lounge, but sprinting toward me like we were in a damn reunion special.

Her long curly hair bounced behind her like a shampoo commercial and her acrylics were flailing in the air as she pointed at me with the fury of a girl who knew I was hiding something.

“Oh my God, Bettã, chill,” I laughed awkwardly, hugging my arms around my chest to hide the Mount Everest going on with my nipples. “I was just..um..showering?”

“Showering?” She stopped in front of me, hands on her hips, eyes squinting like a detective. “For that long? Since I called you. Were you scrubbing each ass cheek individually?”

“I’exfoliated my..my… um, pussy,” I blurted before my brain could stop me.

Then I froze. Like fully froze. Mid–sentence. Mid–life. Mid–breath.

“No..I mean..not like that!” I backpedaled so fast I could’ve done the moonwalk. “I meant… I exfoliated my legs! But also my pussy! I mean, not in a weird way! Just like a normal hygiene way, like, you know, feminine care and smoothness and all that jazz! Not like… not like freaky exfoliation. Not like I was down there with a loofah whispering dirty secrets to my clit. Oh my God, why am I still talking?!”

Bëttä just stared at me.

Mouth slightly open.

Eyebrows raised to heaven.

“Bitch…”

“I KNOW,” I wailed, covering my mouth with both hands like that would somehow rewind time and delete the sentence from existence. “Forget I said that! Erase it from your brain! I’m malfunctioning! I’m traumatized by heatstroke or steam inhalation or..fuck..I don’t know! I’m a victim of my own hormones!”

Bëtta was blinking slowly like she was trying to reboot her brain after hearing that mess come out of my mouth.

Then she snorted.

Then she full–on burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” she gasped between cackles, grabbing onto my arm like she needed to steady herself. “You’re not okay. You are not okay. Did you mix vodka with your conditioner? Did you fall and hit your head in the shower? Did you deep–throat your loofah for fun?”

I slapped her arm and hissed, “Can you shut up? People might hear you!”

“Oh they need to hear this,” she cried, doubling over in laughter again. “The world needs to know that my best friend just confessed to exfoliating her cooch like she was prepping it for a red carpet appearance.”

“I hate you,” I groaned, trying to hide my face with my hair, even though I knew damn well that wasn’t going to help because my nipples were still screaming through my dress like twin sirens calling every male within a fifty–foot radius.

“And you smell like cologne,” she added, standing back up and sniffing the air around me with the drama of a bloodhound on a crime scene. “Expensive cologne. Masculine. Dominant. Smells like someone who says ‘good girl‘ and means it.”

“STOP!” I shrieked, pressing my hands to my ears like I was warding off a demon. “You are insane!”

“Oh, I’m insane?” she pointed at me with a wild grin. “You’re the one smelling like a guy’s body spray and talking about pussy exfoliation like you’re giving a TED Talk on coochie care!”

I was combusting. Legit combusting. My whole face was on fire. My armpits were sweating like I was in a job interview with Jesus. My thighs were still clinging to each other like lovers in war. And my clit? My clit was pulsing like it missed Connor’s fingers and was now filing a complaint with HR.

“I can’t do this,” I muttered, grabbing a grape from the fruit table and tossing it in my mouth just to stop myself from screaming again. “I need therapy. I need prayer. I need to dunk my whole body in the ocean and beg Poseidon for a rebrand.”

“Oh no, bitch, you need to tell me everything,” Bellä said, linking her arm through mine and dragging me toward the plush white lounge chairs.,

“You’re not getting out of this. You don’t just walk into a room with sex hair, bite marks on your chest, and confession–level guilt dripping from your pores without giving me the full plot.”

“Bite marks?” I choked. “What bite marks?!”

She smirked. “Don’t act dumb. I saw it. When your dress shifted. Right under your collarbone. Either you got into a fight with a vampire or someone got real hungry while they were down there.”

I gasped so hard my soul nearly left my body.

I yanked the neckline of my dress up and hissed, “Mind your damn business.”

“Oh honey,” she whispered dramatically, clutching her heart like I just confessed to murder. “You got Daddy’d, didn’t you?”

“I swear to God, Bettã..”

“Was it the chef? The bodyguard? The sexy bartender? Oh my God, was it one of the hot twins from the other yacht? Was it the captain?

“It wasn’t anyone, shut up!” I whisper–yelled, gripping her arm like my life depended on it. “Drop it! Please. For the love of my sanity. Just let it go.”

She raised both eyebrows. “You’re blushing like a virgin on prom night.”

I smiled sweetly and bit into another grape like I wasn’t seconds away from physically combusting.

“Let. It. Go.”

And she did.

For like… five seconds.

Before she turned to me again with a wicked glint in her eye and whispered, “So. How big was the dick?”

I screamed.

And I swear to God, the ceiling shook.

“Just fucking tell me how big was the dick!” Bella shrieked beside me like a possessed little demon, her arm still locked through mine as we marched toward the lounge like chaos was our destination.

“Who was it, bitch?! Was it huge? Like ruin–your–life huge? Did it look like it could rearrange your guts and give your cervix an attitude problem? I need details!”

“Fuck you, Bella, stop talking!” I snapped, whipping my head around so fast my hair smacked both of us in the face. “You sound insane. People can hear you! You’re going to get me crucified on this yacht. I didn’t fuck anyone!”

“Oh please,” she laughed, eyes wild with glee. “You think I’m buying that bullshit? You’re walking like your legs forgot how to function. Your t**s are hard enough to cut diamonds. You smell like cologne and sin. And your dress? That thing is clinging to you like it knows something.”

“I’m serious, Bettä!” I hissed, dragging her faster, trying to dodge the stares from the corner of the lounge. “I didn’t fuck anyone. I’m still a virgin!”

I don’t know why I said it so loud. I don’t know why my voice decided to ring out like a dramatic movie confession. But the second the word virgin left my lips, I regretted everything.

Because that was the exact moment my Omega wolf decided to crawl up from the depths of my mind and drop a soul–ruining truth bomb into my brain with the nastiest, most knowing little voice she could conjure.

“Not yet,” she purred like she was lighting a cigarette after committing a crime.

“But once Daddy fucks you, you won’t be anymore. And it won’t be long, kitten.”

I stopped walking.

Like fully, dramatically, heels–skidding–on–the–floor stopped.

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