Be Careful On How You T
Be Careful On How You Touch Her
~Damon~
The doctor is here. Now I know y’all might be wondering how I killed Camilla.
Well she’s dead. And no, I don’t feel guilty. Not in the way people expect.
You want to know if I feel good about it?
Way
The part of me tho. Just a little. Maybe I feel good that she’s gone. That her voice won’t be polluting the air
around my Omega. That she won’t get to put her poison anywhere near Lyra, or near the child growing inside
her.
But my wolf?
He doesn’t just feel good. He feels f*****g satisfied. Like a beast curled up next to a fresh kill. Like nothing else matters now that the threat is gone. My wolf doesn’t do guilt. He does instincts. And his instincts told him to protect Lyra, no matter the cost.
Now I have to figure out how the f**k I’m going to explain to Tasha why her mother has gone missing.
But that’s not what matters right now.
That is so far down the list of priorities I can’t even see it.,
Because the only thing I care about in this moment is the girl sitting here, flushed and trembling, her shirt slightly askew, her breathing shallow, her n*****s visibly hard beneath the thin cotton. Her name is Lyra. She is my Omega. My problem. My obsession. My girl.
And the doctor?
She’s here to check if the baby growing inside her is alive and well or if she is not pregnant.
There’s a knock.
“Alpha Thornvale,” the voice says gently through the door. “I’m here for Lyra’s check–up.”
Lyra stiffens. Her eyes flick to mine, wide and glassy. Her thighs press together, not to hide herself but to contain something, her wetness.
The arousal she’s been soaking in ever since she sat on my lap and told me in perfect, pornographic detail how she’d make me kneel for her in a fake classroom.
And now she wants to pretend she’s behaving?
She has the audacity to sit there like some innocent little student and whisper, “I’ll be a good girl.”
That sentence alone makes my c**k throb so hard it aches.
She’s not being good. Not even close. She’s drenched, needy, swollen between the thighs.
Her lips are parted, her chest rising too fast, and her eyes are burning with the kind of heat that tells me she
1
wants me to ruin her right in front of the doctor. She’s just too much of a coward to say it out loud.
I open the door.
The doctor steps inside with the air of a professional who’s seen it all and won’t comment on any of it. But
Be Careful On How You 1.
her eyes scan Lyra in a single flick and pause.
They see the messy hair. The flushed cheeks. The half–unbuttoned shirt. The way she’s sitting a little too straight, a little too perfectly, as if trying very hard to look untouched.
The doctor doesn’t say anything. Just sets her bag down, pulls out her equipment, and nods toward Lyra with soft, practiced calm.
The moment the doctor’s gloved fingers pressed against Lyra’s breast, I saw it.
The change.
The shift in her posture.
The breath that caught in her throat.
Her n*****s hardened instantly beneath the thin fabric of her blouse.
Not because of the cold.
Not because she was startled.
But because the nerves in her breast were awake now, and her body..mine, every inch of it mine..was
responding.
Responding to someone else’s hand.
The female doctor’s touch wasn’t intimate. It was clinical, detached.
She didn’t mean anything by it. But Lyra’s Omega instincts didn’t care about that. Her body was soft, swollen,
sensitized from being bred.
Her skin remembered every time I had taken her apart with my mouth, every time I had sucked her n*****s until she screamed, every time I had f****d her so deep her chest bounced and her t**s begged for attention.
And now?
That same body was reacting in front of me. Her n*****s were pushing against her shirt like they wanted to
be sucked.
She was aroused.
From a f*****g breast exam.
And then the doctor made it worse.
She pulled back slightly, narrowed her eyes as if gauging Lyra’s physical state, and said it.
“Hm. Mr. Alpha Thornvale, would you excuse us for a minute?”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t breathe.
I laughed.
The kind of laugh that made people nervous. The kind that always came before something dangerous.
The doctor straightened at the sound. Her shoulders stiffened. She realized too late that she’d overstepped.
“Excuse me?” I said, stepping forward. “You want me to leave?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but I didn’t give her the chance
“You do realize she’s my Luna, right?” I continued. “She carries my mark. My seed and whin knows mayhe
****** child. There is no part of her body you’re about to touch that hasn’t already been in my hands, under
my mouth, or on my bock.”
The doctor’s eyes widened slightly, but I didn’t stop.
“She is mine.” I growled, locking eyes with her. “Her slick, her scent, her f*****g moans they belong to me. Her
chest rises when I touch her. Her thighs tremble when I look at her. And her body every inch of it is a map I’ve
memorized in the dark.”
I leaned in one step closer, lowering my voice.
“There is nothing.” I said.
“that you are going to see here that I haven’t f****d, bitten, or filled.”
Lyra wasn’t speaking.
She was silent.
Still.
Breathing fast, skin flushed and her cheeks were burning.
She didn’t say a word. But I could feel her trembling.
Not with fear.
With arousal.
She liked this.
She loved this.
She loved the way I was claiming her in front of someone else. She loved the way I was growling about her slick like it was currency. She loved the way my c**k was throbbing beneath my slacks while I told a doctor
EVERTHING.
“I don’t need to be excused,” I said, my tone was final now. “I need you to carry out your job. And I will stand
right here while you do it.”
The doctor swallowed her reply, nodded stiffly, and turned back to Lyra.
She resumed the exam.
Her hands were careful now.
But I wasn’t watching her anymore.
I was watching Lyra.
And I knew what she needed.
She needed me.
She needed to be punished for letting another hand wake up her body.
She needed to be bent over the bed, blouse ripped open, ass shoved to the side, and taken so hard the imprint of my c**k stayed inside her for hours.
Be Careful On How YouT
She needed to cry out into the mattress while I reminded her whose slick she made.
Whose name she screamed.
Whose f*****g baby was in her womb.
And the second the doctor walked out of that room?
That’s exactly what I was going to do.
“Lift your shirt,” she said firmly, but not unkindly.
“I want to see your breasts bare. I need to examine you properly. This won’t take long.”
Lyra didn’t move at first.
Her breath caught. Her lashes fluttered. Her thighs shifted where she sat on the edge.
She looked flushed, trembling slightly, her skin already glowing pink from the inside out. Her fingers went still in her lap, as if her body didn’t quite know how to obey. Her eyes flicked to me.
She didn’t say it out loud.
But she was asking..Should I?
And I gave her the answer without a single word.
I stepped closer. I reached forward slowly and hooked my fingers under the hem of her shirt, dragging it up.
I pulled the shirt higher, over her ribs, then let it bunch above her breasts like a banner wrapped beneath her
collarbones.
Her bra was useless.
The doctor stepped in.
“We check the breasts early during pregnancy,” she explained calmly, “because the tissue changes quickly. Increased blood flow, sensitivity, swelling. You may notice your n*****s becoming firmer. That’s completely
normal.”
Lyra whimpered.
Her arms twitched, her fingers fisting the sheets on either side of her thighs. She wasn’t breathing properly
anymore.
I stood completely still.
But inside, I was breaking apart.
“You may feel some tenderness here,” she murmured. “And your milk glands might begin to swell sooner than expected, especially in bonded Omegas.”
The doctor moved to the second breast.
“I see your n*****s are already producing some fluid,” the doctor noted calmly. “That can happen in early pregnancy, especially in response to stimulation or strong emotional connection to the Alpha.”
Lyra moaned.
She tried to cover it with a cough. She tried to sit up straighter. But her body wasn’t cooperating. Her legs trembled. Her p***y was soaked. And her chest was on display, n*****s hard and weeping while a stranger
Be Careful On How You T
touched her in front of me.
And I lost it.
The doctor stepped back slightly, shifting her attention lower.
Her hands hovered over Lyra’s belly, then gently lowered. Her right palm rested softly just above Lyra’s pelvis, pressing with pressure against the barely–visible curve of her stomach.
She waited. Her hand stayed in place for several seconds, her brow relaxed, her fingers light.
Then she smiled.
“Congratulations, Alpha and Luna,” she said, her voice soft with certainty. “She’s pregnant. The vitals are strong. The baby is growing.”
Lyra turned toward me instantly, and the look on her face nearly knocked the breath out of my chest.
Her lips spread into a trembling smile. It was wide and disbelieving. Her eyes shimmered. One tear escaped down her cheek, and she didn’t even bother to wipe it.
Her mouth opened like she wanted to laugh, and for a second, I thought she might. I saw the joy. I felt it radiate off her. This was real. It wasn’t just a test. It wasn’t a maybe. It was happening.
She was carrying my child.
But the doctor didn’t move away.
Her smile faded slowly. Her brow pulled tight as she looked down again. She pressed her palm once more to Lyra’s belly, this time slower, deeper, like she was trying to feel past the surface.
I watched her carefully.
She said nothing for several long seconds.
Then she spoke.
“I want to check one more thing.”
She pressed her fingertips a little deeper into Lyra’s lower abdomen and angled them slightly left, feeling along the base of her womb. Her hands stopped as her eyes sharpened.
And then she said it.
“I feel something… off.”
My entire body stilled.
“What the f**k do you mean?” I asked.
The doctor didn’t look up. Her focus/stayed locked on Lyra’s stomach. Her touch didn’t move. She inhaled
once and fast.
“I feel something is wrong with the baby,” she said carefully.
Lyra’s whole body jolted.
Her expression shattered in an instant. The smile she wore just seconds ago vanished like it had been carved
off her face.
Her eyes went wide, her hands flew down to her belly, and her entire frame tensed with terror.
* Be Careful On Flow You T
“What?” she cried, her voice high and broken.
She shook her head as if the words could be undone, as if they could be shoved back into the doctor’s mouth and replaced with something else.
“What’s wrong with my baby?” she cried again, louder now, on the verge of panic.
“Tell me what the f**k is wrong with my child!”
