Please Me, Daddy

Gracie My fiancé is gay. That was the thought echoing through my head as I stood there frozen, watching a scene I could never unsee. I stared at the man thrusting into my fiancé’s ass, and at Charles moaning like a goddamn whore in heat. This was my fiance, the man I was supposed to marry in five days. The man I had shared a bed, a future, a life with for five whole years. But he was there, legs spread wide, eyes rolled back in bliss I had never seen cross his face when he was with me. I couldn’t breathe anymore, everywhere felt like it was spinning. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. My eyes stayed locked, watching as if my brain couldn’t register that this was real. “Ah, fuck, Mark… yes, I love this… fuck… you’re so big.” Charles moaned, and the words hit me like punches to the gut. My hand flew to my mouth, pressing hard to keep the nausea down. My heart felt like it had been torn from my chest and shoved dow

GraciaI stared down at the glass of whiskey in my hand, watching the amber liquid catch the bar lights.“So, yeah,” I muttered, the words slurring slightly. “That’s the story of my fucking life.”I gave a bitter little laugh and tipped the glass toward my lips, feeling the burn all the way down.“I found out my fiancé was gay, days before the wedding. And not just gay, ” I snorted, shaking my head. “The bastard even hit me. Can you believe that?”I turned to the bartender, who was wiping a glass but had frozen mid-motion, his eyes wide."I was the one who was supposed to be doing the hitting! How could I have let that bastard lay his hands on me? I should’ve hit them so hard in the face instead of just standing there and crying like a fool."The bartender set the glass down and shook his head, looking genuinely rattled. “Woah. When I said I wanted to hear your life story, I didn’t think it’d be that bad. Jesus.” He whistled low. “I can’t even imagine how terrible you must be feeling

Gracia Ten words echoed in my head like a bad song I couldn’t stop replaying.I am going to suck a dick in my dream.I was kneeling on the bed, hands wrapped around this stranger’s waist, face far too close to his hips, my cheek practically brushing against the line of muscle that disappeared under a dangerously low towel.Normally, there was no way I’d be doing this if this were real. No matter how heartbroken I was. No matter how many drinks I’d had. No matter how stupidly desperate I felt.I didn’t throw myself at men. I didn’t even beg when Charles stopped touching me because, believe it or not, I was a proud woman. And I definitely didn’t grovel at the feet of complete strangers to have sex with me, no matter how insanely hot they were.But what if this was a dream? Then it was the one I didn’t know I needed. My body wasn’t crying out for a drink, but for release, begging to be touched, to be ruined, to forget everything else. This was my true coping mechanism, not alcohol. I wa

Griaca My whole body froze. It felt as if something had entered me and ripped through everything I thought I knew about pleasure and about myself. “Fuck.” The word tumbled from my lips as my head fell back against the pillow, spine arching slightly. My thighs trembled, and every muscle in my stomach clenched tight, like I was burning from the inside out. He paused above me. That gorgeous, unreadable man’s brow furrowed slightly, like something unexpected had just clicked into place. "Are you a virgin?" he asked, his voice low. I stared up at him, vision slightly blurry, blinking back the tears that had gathered in my eyes. I didn’t know if they were from the stretch or the sudden rush of pleasure. And what kind of question was that? Why the hell was he asking it while still inside me, his fingers still hooked in that spot that had my body betraying me more with every passing second? I was too ashamed to answer, but I knew he wouldn’t go any further unless I did. “I—I’m not a

Gracia My face was on fire. Not just my face, my whole damn neck, shoulders, even the tips of my ears were turning scarlet. That always happened when I was furious. When the kind of anger that had no words rose up in me like boiling water. I could feel it under my skin ready to explode.God, I hated everything right now.The embarrassment was choking. The shame, the confusion, the helplessness of not remembering what happened, while that smug bastard treated me like I was just some desperate girl who’d crawled into his bed, begging for attention.No. No, I was not the villain in this story. I was the damn victim. But I had sat there and let him walk out, biting back my words like an idiot.And now here I was, stewing in regret, with my pride bleeding out all over the place.“Ahem. Miss,” a voice interrupted.I looked up sharply at the assistant or whatever he was. He wasn’t even looking at me. At least he had the decency not to look while I was covered in just a blanket.“Please, ma'