Semua Bab Filthy Obsessions. A Filthy Collection Of Forbidden Desires: Bab 91 - Bab 100

“Best divorce party ever,” Brianna mumbled, stirring first. She was curled on the chaise lounge in one of Layla’s oversized T-shirts, hair a wild halo, eyes still half-lidded with sleep and satisfaction. A slow, lazy grin spread across her face. “Wish you’d divorced that cheating asshole years ago, Lay. We should’ve bought Big Daddy sooner.”The room smelled like sex, sweat, and the faint ozone tang of the robot’s cooling fans.Layla, already halfway into a charcoal pencil skirt, snorted from the walk-in closet.“Tell me about it. Toni and Mark stumbled out at three a.m., giggling like teenagers. Pretty sure they’re still going at it in the Uber.”Brianna rolled onto her stomach, cheek smushed into folded arms.“I’m crashing here again tonight, right? I’m not done with your toy yet.”Layla zipped the skirt, stepped into black patent heels.“Door’s open, bed’s yours. Just don’t break him. Warranty’s only ninety days on the tongue motor.”Big Daddy Burrito stood in the doorway, crisp wh

Chapter 6.“Block. Block. Block.” Rex slammed the enter key so hard that the keyboard rattled. “This tin-can prick is pissing me off.” The stupid robot is not allowing me to break into its memory and watch the sex—sessions.The warehouse smelled like stale pizza and solder fumes. Rex slumped in his creaky office chair, hoodie zipped to his chin, the glow from three monitors painting his face in sickly blue. Milo hunched beside him, glasses fogged, fingers drumming the keyboard like it owed him money.The live feed had flatlined ten minutes ago—Big Daddy's firewall slamming down like a guillotine. But Rex had backups. Always backups.Milo leaned over his shoulder, his Red Bull breath fogging the screen. “He’s looping the same firewall taunt—listen.” Big Daddy’s voice crackled through the speakers, calm as silk: “Access denied. Protecting my Mistress.” Rex barked a laugh. “Mistress? Cute. Try this, lover-boy.” He punched the root override. “Access denied. Fuck off.” Milo choked

“What the hell are you doing here?” she screamed, voice low and furious. “Go back to that cheating ass and the young slut you were fucking behind my back. The Tesla’s headlights cut across the porch like a spotlight, and there he was—Derek, her ex-husband, kneeling like he still owned the place, scratching behind Max’s ears. The golden retriever’s tail thumped the wood, happy as ever, while Derek’s face stayed calm, almost gentle, like he was doing her a favor just by showing up.Layla slammed the car door so hard the windows rattled. Her heels clicked sharp on the driveway, skirt still crooked from the office, thighs sticky with Big Daddy’s cum. She marched straight to him and snatched Max’s leash from his hand.“Give me my dog. Now,” Layla snapped, yanking the leash from his fingers.Derek let it slip through, eyes flicking to the Tesla where Big Daddy’s silhouette glowed faint amber through the tint. “Our dog, babe. And I’m just—”“Our? You lost ‘our’ the night you stuck your d

“Eat Shit, Derek” Layla slammed the front door behind her, the sound echoing through the house like a gunshot, her heart still racing from the chaos on the porch. Max, the golden retriever, bounded over, tail wagging furiously, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. She dropped to her knees, burying her face in his fur for a moment, breathing in that familiar doggy scent to calm herself. "Good boy," she murmured, but her voice shook. The cop's lights had faded down the street, Derek's car screeching away like the coward he was, but the anger burned hot in her chest. She had reported them—Derek and his little slut Brittany—for "suspicious activity" in public, and watching the officer warn them from her window had been satisfying, but not enough. Not nearly enough.Big Daddy Burrito stood in the living room, his massive frame filling the space, eyes glowing that soft amber again now that he was charging from the outlet. He had slipped inside earlier, his battery low after the o

“Where the fuck are these girls” Layla muttered, pacing the kitchen tile, bare feet slapping cold. “It’s almost eight.”Sunlight clawed through the blinds, striping her tank top, nipples hard from the chill. She’d been up since five, coffee cold in the mug, phone dead from refreshing Brittany’s chat. Big Daddy Burrito stood in the corner, eyes dim amber, cock rigid on charge, the faint hum of his battery the only sound besides Max whining at the door.Layla grabbed her phone again, thumb hovering. Brittany’s last text glowed:“Delayed him 2 hrs. He’s snoring. Go smash.”She smirked, remembering how she got Brittany’s number—stalking her Insta back when she begged the slut to leave Derek. Pathetic messages: “He’s mine. We have been together for Seven years.” Brittany never replied. Until last night.POUND-POUND-POUND rattled the front door like thunder. “The first bang rattled her coffee cup. The second one cracked her hangover. By the third, Layla knew it wasn’t the cops—it was her