What Are You Doing Here?
What Are You Doing Here?
~Damon~
I honestly thought she was in real danger when she called.
Her voice had cracked over the line. She sounded like she couldn’t breathe, like something had gone terribly
wrong, like someone had touched her, or worse.
My entire body had tensed before she even said my name. I was ready to kill. Ready to rip a throat out
bare–handed. I thought she’d been hurt. I thought someone had laid a hand on what belonged to me.
But she came here.
Trembling.
Tear–stained.
Still dressed in her little school uniform and breathing like her lungs didn’t work right.
And she said she might be pregnant.
Oh, my sweet little kitten.
I won’t blame her.
Still young. Still figuring out what it means to be an Omega, still new to the fire inside her. Her mind doesn’t
understand what her body already knows.
Of course she’s scared. Of course she’s confused. She’s still learning what it means to carry power between
her legs.
But now?
She’s mine.
And she’s about to be the mother of my pup.
She tried to resist me when I touched her.
Tried to pout and punish me for making her laugh when she wanted to cry.
She told me I couldn’t suck her t**s.
But her body told me something different.
The second I whispered in her ear–Are you sure?-her thighs clenched. Her breathing broke. And when I pressed my hand against the soft curve of her breast, her n****e pushed back against my palm like it was
begging me to keep going..
She gave in faster than I thought she would.
She looked me in the eye and whispered it–Take off my clothes, Damon.
Her voice cracked.
Her chest heaved.
Her mouth parted like she needed my tongue more than she needed air.
What Are You Domg Here?
Please, Daddy. Suck them. Make it stop hurting.
I swear to the Moon I was about to drop to my f*****g knees.
I was going to peel that dress down and pull her t**s into my mouth and suck until she whimpered, until her back arched, until she clawed at my hair and begged me to keep going.
I was going to leave her t**s red and wet and sore and mine. I was going to bite them. Kiss them. Worship them like the perfect Omega offerings they were.
She needed it.
She wanted to be licked like cream.
She wanted to be eaten until she cried.
And I was going to do it right f*****g there.
Against the wall.
With her dress pulled down, her t**s bouncing in my mouth, her knees weak and her voice hoarse from
moaning my name.
I didn’t care where we were.
I didn’t care who was still in the pack house.
She came to me.
She ran to me.
She begged me.
That sweet, breathy little voice of hers cracked open my f*****g chest when she said take off my clothes,
Damon. And when she followed it with suck them, Daddy, make it stop hurting, I nearly blacked out. My c**k
was already hard. Painfully hard. So hard it was pressing against the inside of my slacks like it wanted to
tear through and bury itself in the soaked heat between her thighs.
I was going to bend her backward right into the wall and drag her dress down to her waist so I could see
everything.
I was going to spread her legs with my thigh and pin her there, sucking one tit while squeezing the other,
switching back and forth until her body went limp in my hands.
I was going to make her cry. Not from fear. Not from sadness. From relief. From pleasure. From being
worshiped so deeply she forgot her own name.
I was going to growl against her chest while I marked her with my tongue.
I was going to lap over her n****e until it was raw and red and slippery, then suck it hard while she begged for
my c**k like the needy little Omega she was born to be.
I was going to whisper how good she tasted. How full her t**s felt How she’d better start getting used to it, because when that test came back positive, I wasn’t letting her wear a single bra until the pup was born.
I was going to suck until I tasted milk.-
And then?
What Are You Doing Here?
I was going to flip her over, right there in the middle of the damn room, bend her over the arm of the couch and rip her panties straight off her thighs with my teeth.
I was going to sink my fingers into her wet, pulsing cunt while my mouth stayed latched to her chest and growl mine between every suck, every bite, every filthy, sacred, primal kiss against the body she gave to me.
Because she is mine.
And I don’t care that she’s eighteen.
I don’t care that she came in crying.
I don’t care that she’s terrified.
Because I saw it the second she looked
She didn’t come here to be saved.
She came here to be claimed.
And I was going to do it.
Right f*****g there.
e with tears on her lashes and arousal on her breath.
Until the whole house heard her cry out Daddy while my knot split her open and my c*m filled her womb
again.
But then that door opened.
And that f*****g voice cut through everything.
“Damon!
That voice stole the sound of Lyra’s next moan from my` `mouth.
It stole the taste of her tit from my tongue.
It stole the sacred moment when I was about to ruin her completely and make her forget why she was ever
afraid.
I didn’t even look at her at first.
My hands were still on Lyra.
She was frozen.
Her n****e was still bare.
Still pink.
Still mine.
And her breath was still heavy with the whimper she never got to release.
She whispered it so quietly I almost missed it.
But I heard her.
“This bitch.”
I turned my head slowly, eyes narrowing with every second that passed, until I saw her standing there in the doorway like a f*****g storm.
What Are You Doing Here?
Camilla.
Of course.
Her hair was wild. Her eyeliner smudged. Her skin pale and sweaty, her pupils so wide they looked like ink had spilled across her eyes.
Her mouth was curled into a twisted little smile, but her hands were shaking, and she had that look–the one I’d seen before. Too many times.
“Camilla,” I said slowly, my voice low and sharp. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer at first.
She laughed.
Not a normal laugh.
It was brittle. The kind of sound you hear when something is unraveling at the seams and trying to pretend
it’s fine.
“Who gave you the right to come here?” I asked again, stepping in front of Lyra now, not to cover her, but to confront the disrespect. “Huh? Who the f**k told you you could walk into my house without knocking, without being invited?”
Camilla just tilted her head and giggled again.
Then she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a small bag of white powder, and without hesitation,
she opened it, sniffed hard, and threw her head back.
Her entire body jerked like it was trying to snap itself into reality. She smacked the side of her own head like
she was trying to beat the high into her bloodstream.
Oh damn she’s back to taking drugs.
Behind me, I felt Lyra flinch.
Camilla stared at me with wide, glassy eyes.
“You f*****g bastard,” she spat, stumbling forward now, her voice cracking at the edges. “You were going to
f**k her, weren’t you? You were about to have your mouth all over her before I walked in.”
She took another step.
“Damon,” she screamed suddenly, her voice raw and broken. “Why can’t you f*****g love me?”
Her hand flew to her face again. She sniffed, loud and messy, and rubbed her palm over her nose like it would
erase the shame bleeding out of her.
“I gave you everything,” she yelled. “l/f*****g did a boob job for you, Damon. You told me you liked them bigger, and I did it. I bled. I got cut open. I laid on that table and let them carve me just so you’d we me
again. And you haven’t even touched me!”
I didn’t speak.
I didn’t even blink.
I looked at her like a stranger.
What Are You Doing Here?
Because that’s what she was now.
She wasn’t my past.
She wasn’t my lover.
She wasn’t anything.
Not anymore.
But she wasn’t done.
Camilla never knew when to stop. Not when she was sober, and especially not when she was coked up and drowning in her own delusions.
She stood there in the middle of my office, swaying slightly, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed, her lips twitching like she couldn’t decide whether to scream or cry or throw herself on the floor and beg.
And then she did it again.
She reached into that same coat pocket, pulled out another small hit of powder, and snorted it like oxygen. She shook her head like she was trying to knock sense into herself, but it only made her voice louder,
sloppier, more desperate.
“What does this b***h have that I don’t, huh?!” she screamed, voice cracking as her eyes locked on Lyra like
she was trying to burn a hole through her.
I didn’t answer.
My hand was still on Lyra’s breast.
She was still trembling.
And I could feel her heart racing under my palm like a bird caught in a fist.
“She’s f*****g stupid and fat, Damon!” Camilla shouted, spit flying from her mouth as her mascara smeared lower across her face. “You’re going to throw me away for some tight b***h who doesn’t even know what the
f**k she’s doing?!”
Her voice cracked again.
But she didn’t stop.
“I’ll tighten my p***y if that’s what you want,” she snapped, eyes wide, teeth clenched. “I’ll go get f*****g stitches if that’s what turns you on. I’ll make it brand new. Just for you. Damon, please–please, I want you. I want you so f*****g bad. I need it. I need you to f**k me. Right now. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll crawl. I’ll let you do whatever the f**k you want to me. Just don’t leave me for her.”
Her hand reached for her shirt, fingers fumbling at the buttons as she stumbled another step closer. She popped one open. Then another. Her t**s were out now.
- ht. I’ll
“I’ll show you,” she whispered. “I’ll show you I can be better. I can be whatever you want, I’ll lose grow my hair out. I’ll bleach it if that’s what you like. You want someone quiet? I’ll be silent. You want a
w***e? I’ll spread my legs right f*****g now.”
She reached down to her waistband, tugging at her pants like she was about to strip in the middle of the
room, in front of both of us.
What Are You Doing Here?
“I’ll let you slap me,” she begged. “Choke me, f**k me anywhere. Any time. You can come in my mouth and
leave. I won’t even ask for anything back. Just–please. Please don’t act like I’m not good enough. I can be
her, Damon. I can be better than her,”
“Stop this nonsense Camilla!”
Royalty Writes
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