Daddy Alpha I’m In Heat (Lily and Connor) novel Chapter 16

~Lily~

“Bella, what the hell is wrong with you?” I blurted, eyes wide as my jaw dropped straight into the damn carpet.

“Are you seriously grinding on your man like a porn star while your dad is right there watching you?

Have you completely lost your fucking mind? Get the fuck off of him, bitch! Show some respect!”

She didn’t even pause. She just looked at me over her shoulder with that chaotic little smirk, hips still moving on her boyfriend’s lap like she was starring in the next yacht edition of Girls Gone Wild.

I threw my hands in the air like I was trying to summon divine intervention. “You are literally riding him in front of your father, Bëłła! The same man who raised you! The same man who is standing right there! And you’re moaning like we’re all deaf or blind or both. Do you have no sense of decency left inside your coochie at all?!”

She laughed, full and breathless, her tongue slipping out to lick her bottom lip before leaning in and kissing her boyfriend again, louder this time, filthier.

I grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into it because I was two seconds away from combusting.

“And what the fuck is up with all these people?” I shouted, spinning around to look at the overflowing lounge.

“Did you invite more guests? This place is suddenly packed like it’s a damn music video. I thought it was just going to be a chill summer cruise with the fam. Maybe a few close friends.

But now there’s like twenty–five horny–ass teens with cocktails and open shirts, and I’m scared I might walk into an orgy if I open the wrong door.”

Bëltã finally looked at me again, cheeks flushed, her eyes glazed over with too much champagne and not enough shame.

“Live a little, Lilly,” she moaned, voice thick and sultry as she rolled her hips in a slow circle that made her boyfriend grab her ass tighter.

“Fuck… My dad gave me permission. I literally told him before we even left the harbor that I was gonna have fun. Like so much fun. Threesomes, shots, dancing on tables, losing my panties somewhere in the Mediterranean kind of fun. And he said…” she gasped a little when her man bit her shoulder, then grinned through it, “…he said ‘just be safe, Bella.‘ So fuck it. I’m free.”

My hands were trembling. My thighs were clenched so tight I was practically sitting on my own uterus.

My heart was pounding like a war drum, not just because she was being insane, but because the entire time she was saying this, Connor hadn’t looked away from me once.

Not once.

He didn’t even blink when she moaned again and threw her head back like she was about to cum on the couch.

“I cannot believe this is my life,” I muttered, pacing in tight, frantic circles with my arms flailing like an overwhelmed kindergarten teacher on the verge of a breakdown.

“I came on this yacht for a relaxing vacation. I was supposed to sip cute drinks and take selfies and maybe flirt with the bartender. Not get fingered by my best friend’s dad and then watch her give her boyfriend a dry fuck in front of the whole crew like it’s amateur hour at a sex club. What the actual fuck is happening?”

Bëttä just kept moaning.

I looked at her. I looked at him. I looked at Connor.

And my pussy clenched so hard I had to sit down before I passed out.

“You know what, Bëłła?” I snapped, my voice climbing up to that dangerous pitch where I was one breath away from losing my entire shit.

“I won’t sit down here and listen to your moans like I’m watching a live porn show with surround sound. Fuck you. I came here to relax, not to get a front–row seat to your moaning Olympics.”

She gasped, eyes wide and dramatic like I just slapped her, then leaned in closer to her man, grinding him harder, slower, filthier like she was trying to ruin my life.

“Why are you mad, bitch?!” she laughed breathlessly, tossing her hair over her shoulder while his hands slid up her waist.

“Fuck!! Is it because I’m getting dick and you’re not? Huh? You mad I’m riding my man like a stallion while you sit there clenching your virgin thighs like a nun in heat?”

“Bëllã, I swear to God…”

“Baby” she moaned, dragging the word out like it was dipped in syrup, “she’s mad I’m moaning in front of her. She’s mad I’m grinding your cock. Isn’t that so sad?”

He didn’t even respond. He just grabbed her ass tighter, kissed her neck, and made her gasp again.

“Didn’t you get laid before coming here?” she said, turning back to me with a wicked grin. “Oh right, no, you didn’t. So now that you see me grinding my man, you’re mad about it.”

I blinked, mouth open, trying to form a comeback that didn’t sound like I still smell your dad on my skin.

“You know I love you, right?” she added sweetly, cupping her man’s face and humping him like she was on a mission to make the whole damn yacht vibrate.

“But I’m not stopping. So go meet your mystery man, whoever the fuck he is, and while you figure out how to get laid, I’ll be over here fucking mine. Bye, bitch.”

I rolled my eyes so hard my soul flipped. “I need a drink,” I muttered, standing up so fast I almost knocked over the fruit tray.

I stormed away, cheeks burning, thighs sticky, heart pounding, and that voice in my head..my slutty little Omega..still whispering.

You’re mad because she’s getting fucked and you’re not, my Omega purred inside my head like she was lounging on a velvet couch with a glass of wine, watching my breakdown like a reality show.

You’re mad because her moans reminded you how empty your pussy still is.

“Shut up,” I muttered under my breath, walking faster as I passed a couple making out by the hallway. “I’m not mad. I’m embarrassed. There’s a difference.”

No, babe. You’re mad. You’re seething. Because you’re dripping wet, your clit’s been screaming since he pulled his fingers out of you, and your best friend is out here putting on a whole porn show while you sit there trying not to think about how good Daddy smelled when he whispered good girl in your ear.

“Fuck off,” I hissed again, voice sharper, breath catching. “You’re not helping.”

And the way he looked at you? You saw it. The whole room disappeared. You could’ve been the only one here. He watched you while she moaned on top of another man. He didn’t even blink. You felt it. That stare. That claim. That promise.

“Shut up,” I snapped, turning into the bar area, yanking open the mini fridge like it was personally responsible for my horniness. “I need ice. I need juice. I need holy water.”

You need cock.

I slammed the fridge door shut, hands shaking. “Oh my God. Can I have one fucking minute without you narrating my sexual crisis?”

You want him to come over here. You want him to drag you to a quiet room, push you against the wall, and finish what he started. You want him to growl into your mouth, rip this tiny dress off your body, and finally–finally–fill that aching little hole he teased open with his fingers. You’re starving for it. Dying for it. You’d beg if he asked.

I pressed both hands to the counter, hunched over like I’d just run a marathon through sin, and whispered to myself, “You’re insane. You’re just a voice. You’re just a horny glitch in my brain.

You’re not real.”

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