I WANT DADDY'S C*CK

CHAPTER 1

**I m*sturbated to thoughts of my father in law**

My husband, Ethan, was snoring beside me, dead to the world after our pathetic excuse for s*x—if you could even call three minutes of him grunting on top of me "s*x." He'd rolled over, muttered "love you," and passed out before I could even pretend I'd enjoyed it.

I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, feeling that familiar ache between my thighs that my husband never seemed to satisfy anymore.

My hand slipped beneath the covers.

I wasn't thinking about Ethan. I hadn't thought about him during s*x in months. No, the man who haunted my fantasies, who made my p*ssy clench with just a look, was someone I had no right to want.

David.

My father-in-law.

God, even thinking his name made me w*t.

He was forty-eight, recently divorced, and every single thing Ethan wasn't. Commanding. Confident. The kind of man who looked at you like he could see straight through your clothes and knew exactly what you needed.

Last week at his house, he'd brushed past me in the kitchen. His hand had grazed my lower back—too low to be accidental. His breath had been hot against my ear when he'd leaned in to grab a wine glass from the cabinet above me.

"Excuse me, sweetheart," he'd murmured, and the way he said it made my knees weak.

I'd felt his eyes on me all night. Watching. Hungry.

My fingers moved faster now, circling my cl*t as I let the fantasy take over.

In my mind, Ethan wasn't there. It was just David and me in that kitchen. He'd corner me against the counter, those dark eyes burning into mine.

"You've been teasing me," he'd growl. "Walking around my house in those tight little dresses, bending over, making Daddy h*rd at family dinners."

I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

"I see the way you look at me, baby girl. Like you're hungry for something your husband can't give you."

His hand would slide up my thigh, under my dress, finding me already soaking w*t.

"No panties? F*ck, you really are a dirty girl, aren't you?"

I imagined him spinning me around, bending me over that same counter where we'd made small talk about the weather. He'd rip my dress up, spread my legs with his knee.

"You want Daddy's c*ck? Then beg for it."

"Please," I'd whimper. "Please, Daddy, I need it so bad—"

He wouldn't make me wait. He'd slam into me, thick and h*rd and everything I'd been craving. His hand would wrap around my throat, pulling me back against his chest.

"Does my son f*ck you like this? No? That's because he doesn't know what a filthy little sl*t he married."

My fingers were soaked now, my hips rocking against my hand. I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle the sounds I couldn't hold back.

"You belong to me now," David would growl in my ear. "Not him. Me. Say it."

"Yours, Daddy. I'm yours—"

The org*sm hit me hard, my whole body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed through me. I came in silence, biting the pillow, my husband's father's name on the tip of my tongue.

Shame flooded in immediately after. What the hell was wrong with me?

This was Ethan's father. My father-in-law. Family.

But God, I couldn't stop myself. Every time I saw David, the fantasies got worse. More detailed. More desperate.

I was f*cked up. Completely, utterly f*cked up.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, needing a distraction. Maybe I'd scroll through social media until I was tired enough to—

My heart stopped.

There was a text message. From David.

David: Can't sleep either?

The timestamp showed 2:03 AM. Three minutes ago.

My hands started shaking.

This had to be a coincidence. Just a random late-night text. He couldn't possibly know what I'd just been doing, what I'd been thinking about.

Could he?

I stared at the message, my pulse hammering in my ears. I should ignore it. Delete it. Pretend I was asleep.

But my thumbs were already moving.

Me: No. You?

Three dots appeared immediately. He was typing.

David: Thinking about you.

Oh f*ck.

Oh f*ck oh f*ck oh f*ck.

This was happening. This was really happening.

I glanced at Ethan, still snoring peacefully, completely oblivious. My heart was racing so fast I thought it might burst out of my chest.

Another message came through.

David: Been thinking about you a lot lately, Mia.

I couldn't breathe. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. This was wrong. So wrong. I should tell him to stop. Set boundaries. Be the good wife I was supposed to be.

Instead, I typed, We shouldn't be texting like this.

David: I know. But I can't help it. Tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me you feel this too.

The truth sat heavy on my tongue. I could end this right now. Save us both from whatever dangerous path we were about to walk down.

But I was so tired of being good. So tired of being unseen, unfulfilled, unloved.

Me: You're not crazy.

Three dots. Then:

David: What are you wearing?

My p*ssy clenched. This was really, really happening.

I looked down at myself—thin tank top, no bra, just underwear. My n*pples were still h*rd from my org*sm minutes ago.

I shouldn't. God, I absolutely shouldn't.

But I snapped a photo anyway. Nothing too revealing, just enough to show the outline of my breasts through the fabric, my hardened n*pples visible in the dim light.

I hit send before I could change my mind.

The response was immediate.

David: F*ck, Mia. You're so beautiful. I want to rip that off you with my teeth.

Heat flooded through me, pooling between my legs again. I was already getting w*t again, my body responding to his words in ways it never responded to Ethan anymore.

Me: Tell me what else you'd do.

I barely recognized myself. Was this really me? Good girl Mia, texting her father-in-law at two in the morning, asking him to describe how he'd f*ck her?

His response made my breath catch:

David: I'd back you against the wall. Kiss you until you can't breathe. My hand would slide into those panties and I'd find you soaking w*t for me, wouldn't I?

Me: Yes.

David: I'd make you beg for it. Make you say please, Daddy, before I'd even touch you properly. Then I'd bend you over my couch and f*ck you so hard you forget you're married to my son.

I was touching myself again, reading his words over and over, imagining every second of it.

Me: I want that. God, I want that so bad.

There was a pause. Then:

David: Tomorrow. Come to my house. 2 PM. Ethan will be at work.

This was it. The point of no return.

I could say no. I could be smart, be safe, be good.

Or I could have what I'd been craving for months.

Me: I'll be there.

David: Good girl. Now touch yourself thinking about Daddy and get some sleep. You'll need your energy tomorrow.

I set the phone down with trembling hands, heart racing, p*ssy thr*bbing.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

Tomorrow, I'd become exactly the kind of woman I'd always judged.

And God help me, I couldn't f*cking wait.