Ruin me, Please: Romantic stories

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ⚠️ 

This is not a sweet romance.

This is not a love story with gentle feelings and happy endings.

Ruin Me, Daddies is a dark, explicit erotica collection filled with taboo relationships, age gap, power imbalance, dirty talk, and extremely graphic sexual content.

Inside these pages you will find:

Older dominant men who take what they want

Girls who call them Daddy while they’re being ruined

Blackmail, punishment, rough sex, multiple partners, and filthy, unapologetic smut

If you are looking for soft romance, emotional healing, or closed-door scenes, close this book now.

If you want raw, obsessive, wrong, and dripping wet stories that will leave you aching…

Welcome.

You have been warned.

18+ only.

***NORA'S POV***

My fingers were already dripping wet.

I lay on my stomach in the guest bed with my phone propped against the pillow and my hand between my legs, two fingers sliding slowly through the slickness I had created. The video on the screen was nothing special — just a man holding a woman’s thighs open while he fucked her deep and steady — but it was enough. Every wet sound that came from the speakers made my hips push forward against my own hand.

I was nineteen years old and still a virgin, and I was so tired of it I could barely stand myself.

My friends had stopped being subtle about it months ago. At every hangout someone would eventually laugh and say, “Nora’s still pure,” like it was the funniest thing in the world. Last week Sophia had looked straight at me over her drink and asked if I was planning to die untouched. The rest of them had laughed. I had laughed too, because what else was I supposed to do? Tell them that the only person I actually wanted to touch me was the one man I was never supposed to want?

My ex-boyfriend, Daniel, had lasted four months. He was patient at first. Then he got quiet. Then one night he told me he felt like he was dating a child who was scared of her own body. He said he needed someone who wasn’t afraid to be wanted. I didn’t even cry when he left. I just sat on the edge of my bed and realized I was more ashamed of still being a virgin than I was of losing him.

That was three weeks ago.

Now I was here, in Uncle Victor’s house, because my mother had left for a two-week work trip and decided I shouldn’t stay home alone. Uncle Victor’s wife, Aunt Caroline, had gone to a conference on the same day, so it was just the two of us in the big, quiet house for the entire stretch of time. My mother had kissed my forehead at the airport and said, “Be good for your uncle.” I had nodded and smiled like the obedient niece I was supposed to be.

I was not being good right now.

I pressed my fingers harder against my clit and bit down on the pillow to keep quiet. In the video the man was talking low and filthy, telling the woman to take it. My mind swapped his voice for a deeper one without permission. Suddenly it wasn’t a stranger on the screen. It was Uncle Victor’s hands holding my thighs open. It was his voice telling me to be still. It was his cock stretching me open for the first time.

A soft, broken sound left my throat.

I had been having this same fantasy for almost two years. It started the summer I turned seventeen, when he came to the house for my birthday dinner and hugged me longer than usual. I had felt the solid heat of his chest and the strength in his arms and something inside me had shifted so hard I felt dizzy. After that I couldn’t stop noticing him — the way his shirts fit across his shoulders, the low sound of his voice when he laughed, the careful way he always touched the back of my neck when he said goodbye. I told myself it was harmless. It wasn’t.

Now I was alone in his house, touching myself to the thought of him, and the ache between my legs was so sharp it almost hurt.

I slid two fingers inside myself and clenched around them, imagining they were thicker. My hips rolled against the mattress. The wet sounds of my own body mixed with the ones coming from the phone. I was close. My thighs started to tremble. In my head Uncle Victor was watching me do this. In my head he wasn’t stopping me. In my head he was telling me to come for him.

“Nora?”

His voice came from the hallway, low and calm, followed by a soft knock on the door.

I froze so completely that my fingers were still buried inside me. My heart slammed against my ribs hard enough to make me feel sick. The phone screen was still glowing with the paused video of a man buried between a woman’s legs.

“Nora,” he called again, a little closer. “It’s almost nine. You coming down for the movie or are you already asleep?”

Friday night movie. Our usual routine whenever I stayed over. He would make popcorn, I would pick something from the streaming list, and we would sit on opposite ends of the big couch like we had for years. It used to feel safe. Lately it felt like torture.

I yanked my hand out from between my legs, wiped my fingers hastily on the sheet, and scrambled to pause the video and lock the phone. My voice came out higher than I wanted when I answered.

“I’m awake. I’ll be down in a minute.”

There was a short pause on the other side of the door.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll start the popcorn.”

His footsteps moved away down the hall.

I sat up slowly, breathing hard, and stared at the closed door. My panties were soaked. My fingers still smelled like me. The fantasy hadn’t left my body just because he had spoken. If anything, hearing his real voice only made it worse.

I pressed my thighs together and closed my eyes.

I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep touching myself to the thought of my own uncle and then walking downstairs to sit next to him like nothing was wrong. Something had to give. Either I was going to lose my mind, or I was going to do something irreversible.

I stood up on unsteady legs, pulled on a pair of soft shorts and an oversized shirt that belonged to him from years ago, and tried to make my face look normal.

Then I opened the door and went downstairs to watch a movie with the man I couldn’t stop wanting.