บททั้งหมดของ I'm all yours daddy : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Isabella's POVThe sunlight filtered through the blinds of my dorm room, casting striped patterns on my bed where I sat cross-legged, staring at my laptop. Last night's encounter with Daddy still hummed in my veins, my pussy sore in the best way from how he'd claimed me. But that bliss shattered the moment I opened my email during lunch. It was a forward from his work account probably meant for someone else, or maybe he hit send too quickly. Attached was a photo that made my blood boil: his PA, Emily, in skimpy red lingerie, her tits spilling out, with a caption that read, "Missed you last night, boss. Can't wait for our next 'meeting'."I zoomed in, my fingers trembling. She was pretty, I'll give her that—blonde, curvy, with that fake innocent smile. But she was touching what was mine. Daddy's cock belonged to me, not her, and certainly not Mom. The jealousy twisted in my gut like a knife, sharp and unrelenting. How long has this been going on? Was she the reason he sometimes skipped

Isabella's POVThe days blurred into a haze of anticipation and guilt-tinged excitement. It had been three days since I'd spiked Mom's creamer with the antifreeze, starting small just a capful mixed in, enough to begin the process without raising alarms too quickly. She sipped her coffee every morning, commenting on how the brand must have changed because it tasted "extra sweet." I smiled through it, my pussy tingling at the secret power I held. Daddy knew now; he'd seen the jug in my car and pieced it together during our midnight fuck. Instead of stopping me, he'd thrust harder, whispering how my darkness turned him on. "You're my little poisoner," he'd growled, his cock slamming into my wet pussy as we fantasized about a life without her.This morning, Mom looked paler than usual, stirring her coffee slowly at the kitchen island. "I don't know, Isabella," she said, rubbing her temples. "I've had this nagging headache for days, and now my stomach's off. Maybe it's the flu going aroun

ISABELLA The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and regret, a sterile cage where Mom lay hooked to machines that beeped like accusing heartbeats. It was day ten of her "mysterious illness," and the doctors were scratching their heads, ordering more tests while whispering about possible environmental toxins. I stood by her bedside, holding her hand cold and clammy now feigning tears as Richard paced the hallway outside, his phone buzzing incessantly. Emily, no doubt. That bitch hadn't stopped texting since he "paid her off," her messages a mix of pleas and threats. But Mom... she was the real obstacle, wasting away from the antifreeze I'd been slipping her, with Richard's help now. Last night, after visiting hours, he'd fucked me in the hospital parking garage, his cock slamming into my wet pussy against the car hood, whispering how her decline made him harder than ever."Isabella?" Mom's voice was a frail whisper, pulling me back. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. "Hone

Isabella The diner’s neon sign flickered in the rearview mirror as I sat in the car, my fingers gripping the steering wheel, my pussy still tingling from the memory of Richard’s cock inside me last night. We’d fucked while plotting to take out the PI, our whispers of poison and disposal blending with moans until we both came, his cum dripping down my thighs. But now, watching him exit the diner after his meeting with the PI, his face pale and shoulders slumped, I felt a cold knot of doubt tighten in my chest. He’d told the PI some grizzled guy named Mike, hired by Mom before she died and he knew too much. Demanded too much money. And those texts I’d found on Richard’s phone, hinting I’d be “next” if I got too clingy, echoed louder than ever. Was Daddy playing me, just like he’d played Mom and Emily?I adjusted my skirt, the dampness between my legs a constant reminder of how much I craved him, even now. The car door opened, and Richard slid in, his cologne mixing with the faint scent

The desert wind howled outside the motel window like a vengeful spirit, whipping sand against the glass as I lay tangled in the cheap sheets, Richard's cum still leaking from my pussy. We'd fucked three times since dumping Victor's body once in the car on the way back, my legs wrapped around him in the passenger seat while he drove one-handed; then in the shower, his cock slamming into me from behind as water mixed with blood from a scratch on his arm; and finally here, on this sagging bed, where I'd ridden him slow and deep, whispering questions about the new text that had come in right after the kill: *Need an exit strategy. She's a liability. -V*. Victor was dead, his neck twisted like a broken doll, but the message lingered on Richard's burner phone like a curse. Who the fuck was "-V" now? And why did it feel like the noose was tightening again?I traced a finger down his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart strong, alive, mine. Or so he claimed. "Daddy," I murmured, my vo