Crave Me, Daddy’s Good Girl

VERONICA POV

“Why don’t you put these glasses on?”

I stood in my hot-red lingerie, waiting for my boyfriend of five years to get off work on the night of our fifth anniversary. The first thing he said to me after walking into our bedroom was that.

“W-what?”

I’ve known for a long time that things haven’t been the best in our sex life. Jason always seems like he’d rather be anywhere but with me whenever we’re in bed. But seeing the look of disinterest as he scans my body breaks my heart more than just a little.

I can’t help but cover my body even more in shame. He’s holding up a pair of glasses, and it’s not just that — in his arms are clothes: a revealing tank top and an extremely short tennis skirt.

“Jason, what is this?”

“It’s just something to spice up the bedroom, Veronica. Don’t think too much about it, c’mon… come try it on.”

“But this isn’t even my style. It seems like… something Moni, my best friend, would wear.”

When I trail off, his face contorts and I know instantly I’ve messed up. He’s angry now, throwing the clothes on the floor and cursing. I flinch back instinctively, scared he might raise his hands on me as usual.

“So, we can’t even try something new?! I’m sick and tired of your bullshit, Veronica! This is why you’re not attractive anymore!”

His words rip me apart and my eyes burn with unshed tears. “Jaso—”

“Veronica! Earth to Veronica!” My best friend, Moni, singsongs, snapping me out of my thoughts.

We’re catching up in a café. She just got back in town after three years last month, and we’ve barely been able to see each other since.

I wince. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about last night…”

“Oh, fuck that loser!” Moni snaps. I have no idea why she hates Jason so much. It makes no sense. “You deserve way better, babe. Don’t stress over that shithole… okay?”

I nod slowly, forcing a small smile even though the word stings. “But don’t call him shithole. He’s still my sweetheart… It was just a little misunderstanding.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh please… you ke—” Her phone rings.

“Babe…” flashes on the screen with a red heart emoji.

“I have to take this. I’ll be right back,” she says, already standing and walking toward the entrance.

Babe? Moni never told me she had a boyfriend… She’s one of the biggest men-haters I know ever since the incident that happened back in high school with her ex. Is she hiding things from me now?

“Hey, waiter,” I say, waving him over.

“Can I get two cups of coffee latte, and two croissants?”

“Yeah sure… in five minutes it’ll be ready.”

I nod.

Moni comes back now, her whole face lit up. “Veronica, my boss at the art gallery just called. I have to go now. When would you be going home? Just be sure about the time I should be coming over.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you dating your boss or having some dirty secret affair?”

She laughs, but I could tell, for a fact, it was halfhearted. “What do you mean by that, Veronica? My boss? Oh please, that man is a fucking jerk.”

“Are you hiding things from me now?” I ask, my voice low.

“Girl, please. I’m not Jason,” she sighs. “Just tell me when you’re going home, argh.”

I swallow hard. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t heard anything from the medical department. But probably in about four hours.”

A smile tugs on her lips. “That’s fantastic. Bye now… love you,” she’s already turning to leave.

“Wait—the crois—”

Damn it. She’s gone.

Sigh…

The waiter arrives with my order.

“Uh, can you please pack the extra cup to go instead.”

“Yeah sure, ma’am,” he says with the standard customer-service smile.

My phone buzzes; it’s a message notification from Diana, my sister. I set a special notification tone so I could know when her text came through.

Diana: The medical defense class got shifted today. There is no information yet on when it’s supposed to hold.

“Yesss!” I whisper-shout, my elbow banging the table a little too hard from excitement.

I wasn’t even mentally prepared for that defense—my brain is absolutely not in defending mode today.

This medical school is, honestly, just an extremely expensive way to go clinically insane while pretending I’m saving lives.

I spill a little coffee but savor the croissant—this café has got to be the best in town. Everything about it is just so good.

“Here’s your packed lunch, ma’am,” the waiter says, bringing the card machine. I swipe, and “Success” flashes on the screen.

I booked an Uber while eating. The driver’s here now. I grab my bags and head out.

The ride is quiet at first, but the driver keeps trying to make small talk. I give short answers; I’m not in the mood. I should have noticed his bio earlier— “extremely fun talkative ride.”

I roll my eyes, staring out the window. My mind drifts back to Jason, to the horrible things he said last night.

I glance at my watch. He won’t be home yet. Maybe I should surprise him with a quick romantic dinner. I could invite Moni over to make it more fun—she’s great with people, even if she hates Jason for reasons I probably don’t know about. She disliked him even before I ever told her how badly he treats me, which has always seemed strange. But she could pretend—for one night.

I pay the driver and step out. Fishing for my keys, I juggle my bag. Once the key clicks into place, it turns smoothly.

I push the door open, stepping inside. I set my bag on the velvet couch.

“I should start right away,” I whisper to myself.

Just as I’m about entering the kitchen, a sudden noise from upstairs causes me to halt in my tracks.

My heart slams against my ribs. Is someone else in the house? Did I just walk in on a burglar?

No one ever comes over—it’s just Jason and me. And Jason won’t be home until seven.

However, at that moment, I realized something. Earlier last week, Jason had mentioned his hired mom would be coming to stay with us for a little while for aftercare from her chemotherapy.

But what if it isn’t her?

I scan the room for anything I could use to defend myself, just in case, but there’s literally nothing.

I tiptoe into the kitchen, grab a frying pan, and weigh it in my hands. “I’m not ready to hurt anyone, but what choice do I have?”

I pause at the bottom of the stairs, testing each step to make sure none creaks. They seem fine.

I climb slowly, heart pounding so loud I’m sure whoever’s up there can hear it. Veronica, you have to be strong, I tell myself, then whisper a quick childhood-habit prayer.

“Please be Mom… please be Mom…” I whisper, biting the inside of my cheeks.

I follow the sounds—familiar giggling, too familiar—and it’s coming from… I swallow hard… Jason’s bedroom.

A wave of relief flickers across my face. That doesn’t sound like a burglar. So if it isn’t a burglar, then who?

But I’ve never met Jason’s mom, let alone heard her voice. So it’s certain it isn’t her.

I creep closer. A low male groan follows the giggling.

“Moni… you’re so fucking wet,” Jason’s voice drifts through the door.

My eyes widened. My heart slammed in my chest.

No.

No. This can’t be happening…it just can’t.

It has to be some sort of misunderstanding.

Hands trembling, I push the door open just enough to see.

The sight greets me like a punch to my gut. I stagger back a step, one hand flying to my mouth to stifle the gasp. My knees feel weak, like they might give out.

In the middle of the bed… Jason lays flat. My own childhood best friend straddles him, completely naked, riding him.

His cock slides in and out of her as she moans loudly, her head thrown back. “Mmhm… yes, right there, daddy… you fuck me so good.”

Tears sting my eyes instantly. I press the sleeve of my hoodie to my face to wipe them away before they fall.

His grip tightens on Moni’s ass, spreading her cheeks wider.

Th… those glasses… that was the exact pair he tried to make me wear last night. This is why. He’s wanted her all along. He’s been trying to turn me into her because I wasn’t enough.

“Bet my pussy is way juicier than Veronica’s, right?” Moni gasps.

“It does… fuck, it does,” he groans, spanking her ass hard.

For a split second I imagine swinging the pan at both of them, making them pay.

But that’s not me.

I set the pan down quietly on the floor just in case my anger bubbles up. I don’t want to make a mistake and regret it later.

I straighten my spine, cross my arms tight over my chest, and clear my throat—trying to sound steady, firm, anything but broken.

“Should I bring you two some water? Cheating must be so exhausting.”