All Chapters of Dirty Daddies Underground: Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Harper's POVI don’t close the chat. I watch the little icon shift to read, and then the typing bubble appears. They’re still here. Still responding. And I can’t lie, part of me is grateful for that.The other part of me, the one buried deep, is scared to admit just how much I want this. I want it for reasons I can’t tell Mark. I want it for reasons I can barely explain to myself.Part of me still believes if I do this, if I go through with it, Mark might let go of the debt he keeps hanging around my neck like a noose. Maybe he’ll stop reminding me of what I owe him. Maybe things will go back to how they used to be.But the other part, the one Mark can’t reach, the one that’s mine, wants this for entirely different reasons. That part is quiet but real. That part craves it.The_Triumvirate: Don’t worry about your experience, or lack of it. Your past isn’t an issue for us, it’s a concern, yes, but not an obstacle. As for your question… we have shared before. Not often, and never with so

Theo's POVBruisedLace.That username alone says so much. There’s something delicate about it, something exposed. It draws a picture of softness marred by experience, and I can’t tell if that’s what appeals to me, or worries me. Maybe it’s both.A laugh cuts across the room.“Shit, he’s skipping.”Mason drops into a nearby chair, amusement painted across his face. I glance over at him without stopping.Nathan follows close behind, slumping down beside Mason on the bench like they’ve been running for hours instead of sitting through another expansion meeting. “Meeting’s done. Expansion’s holding steady. That’s us caught up,” he says, rubbing his temples. “Now onto you. How did it go?”I slow to a stop and toss the rope aside, chest rising and falling with the afterburn of exertion. Sweat clings to my skin like static.“Her saying she hadn’t done this before…” I pause, leaning back against the wall as I pull a towel over the back of my neck, “…she didn’t just mean the app. She meant eve

Harper's POVBy the time I get home, the city lights have begun to blur behind the windowpanes and my feet are aching from too many hours on them. I kick off my shoes near the door and collapse onto the couch with a sigh that feels like it’s been trapped inside me for days. The apartment is quiet. Mark’s not back yet, and the silence, for once, feels like relief instead of a warning.I sit still for a moment, letting my shoulders sink into the cushions, then pull out my phone and open the app. Their messages are still there, waiting. I stare at them for a few seconds, heart beginning to drum low in my chest. It’s time to reply.BruisedLace: Thank you for the apology, although it’s not needed. I promise I’ll tell you if anything feels outside my comfort zone or against my limits. I understand how important limits are.I chew on my bottom lip, hesitation dancing at the edges of my fingertips. Then I decide to just say it. To stop circling around the idea and step into it. I type slowly,

Harper’s POVIt takes me three hours to get through everything they sent. Three long hours of reading, double-checking, hesitating, and then pushing myself to keep going, because if I stop now, I might never finish. I tick each box carefully, pausing often to think about what I’m really comfortable with, and what I’ve only ever pretended to be okay with. The list is overwhelming in its detail, more thorough than I expected, but I understand why it matters. It isn’t just a form, it’s a map, and if I lie on it, I’ll only be leading myself somewhere I don’t want to go.When it’s done, I attach the file and send it back. My hands are shaking a little, and I don’t even know if it’s fear or anticipation anymore. It might be both.I don’t have time to sit with that feeling, though, because the front door opens and Mark steps inside. I close the app in a heartbeat and slide the phone into the cushion beside me. He’s already smiling, a rare, open kind of smile that immediately makes me nervous