All Chapters of DIRTY DADDIES: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

CHAPTER 1: HALLOWEEN FUCKEVIE’S POVThe air is thick with the smell of spilled beer and some gross, sweet perfume.The bass from the music is pounding up through my heels, right into my bones. I’m frozen just inside the door of this stupid mansion, my fingers twisting in the hem of a skirt that’s way too short.This “witch” costume Mia forced me into is a joke. This black lace corset is squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe, shoving my tits up so high they’re practically in my face.I can feel the cool air on my thighs where these stupid stockings end, and these heels are a death trap.What the actual fuck am I doing here?For two months, I’ve been a pro at avoiding Theon Mercer. Since our parents got married, his cold stares and shitty comments have turned the house into a warzone.He’s arrogant. Entitled. Thinks he owns the whole world.And now, thanks to Mia, I’m standing in the middle of his party, dressed like a slutty Halloween decoration, basically begging for his attention. T

MABEL’S POVGod, I fucking hated Chase Vanderbilt.It wasn’t just the trust fund, the smug, chiseled jaw, or the way he ruled this entire campus like it was his personal kingdom.It was the way he looked at me. Like I was a bug. A piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his two-thousand-dollar loafers.“Problem, scholarship case?” His voice, a low drawl laced with pure venom, cut through the library silence.I’d been trying to study for my Econ midterm, but all I could focus on was the way he was holding court at the large oak table, his frat brothers hanging on his every word.He was the star quarterback, the golden boy, and he knew it.I slammed my textbook shut. “The only problem here is your voice, Vanderbilt. Some of us are actually here to learn, not just to have our daddies buy a degree.”His friends snickered, but Chase’s gray eyes just narrowed. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.He leaned forward, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “You’ve got a real smart mou

CHAPTER 2: THREE-HOLED FUCKTOYNOELLE’S POV“FUCK ME,” Rowan roared, his balls slapping my skin. “Her cunt’s gripping me like a vice. I can feel your cock through her walls, man.”“I’m balls-deep in her ass,” Declan groaned, his fingers digging bruises into my hips. “She’s taking all of it, the greedy little bitch.”They found a rhythm. A dirty, punishing pace. Rowan would slam forward, shoving my whole body down onto Declan’s shaft.Then Declan would pull back, making me feel every single inch of both of them moving inside me.“You love this, don’t you?” Rowan snarled, his thrusts getting wilder, harder. “You love being our little three-holed fucktoy?”“YES! I’M YOUR WHORE!” I shrieked, my voice breaking. “FUCK ME! BREAK ME!”That was all they needed. They completely lost it. The room was just noise—their animal groans, the wet slap of skin, their filthy mouths.“I’m gonna pump this pussy full of my cum,” Rowan growled, his body starting to shake.“I’m gonna flood her ass,” Declan pa

GRACE’S POV The bass from the frat house was a physical thing, pounding against my ribs like a second, shittier heartbeat. I fucking hated Halloween. Hated the cheap costumes, the sticky floors, the whole performative chaos. But my roommate had begged, and I was a sucker. So here I was, “Little Red Riding Hood,” a fucking cliché in a too-short red velvet cloak, trying to get to the bathroom without some drunk asshole spilling his jungle juice on me. And then I saw him. Gideon. Of course. The universe’s personal fuck you to Grace Miller. He was leaning against the wall, a plastic cup in his hand, dressed as some kind of wolf. No shirt, just a fake fur vest open over his stupidly ripped torso, and a mask pushed up on his forehead. It was tacky as hell, but on him, with those dark, predatory eyes and that permanent smirk, it worked. It worked way too well. Our eyes met across the sweaty, gyrating crowd. A jolt, like touching a live wire, shot straight down my spine and set

CHAPTER 1: BENT OVER HIS DESKEMILY’S POVI’m that girl, you know? The one with the glasses always slightly askew, a stack of books taller than I am, and a permanent coffee stain on my cardigan. My idea of a wild Friday night is annotating my favorite fantasy novel with a new pack of colorful pens.So, how did I end up bent over my Ethics professor’s desk with his cum dripping down my thighs?It started with my thesis. I’d poured my entire soul into forty-seven pages on the feminist lens of Reclaiming Female Promiscuity in Erotic Fiction. I’d lived on cold pizza and adrenaline for three days straight, convinced this was my magnum opus.Professor Herman did not agree.The fluorescent lights in his office hummed. He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, not even looking at me as he flipped through my pages. His fingers—long, elegant, the kind that should be playing Chopin—tapped the desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. My stomach was in knots."You call this a thesis?" His voice cut through the quie