All Chapters of Daddies And Their Naughty Angel: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

156 Chapters

PLAY WITH ME I

ANGELWe existed in the same routine for the next few days.A routine where Daddy and I shared a bed, ate meals together, completely in each other’s space—but yet, we were tiptoeing around the edges of the awareness that burned between us.Even if we didn’t talk about it, I could feel it.The tension.It thickened with each passing hour, filling the air between us until every breath felt heavy. Until I could practically taste the want radiating off him like heat from a furnace.Vincent watched me.These were hungry looks. Possessive. Consuming.His eyes followed me across rooms like dark shadows. They lingered on my face, my lips. They dropped to my belly and stayed there, darkening with something that looked like satisfaction. Ownership. Claim.I caught him doing it constantly.Obsessively.Every single day.And I loved it.There was something deeply satisfying about being watched like that. About knowing that Daddy—the man who controlled empires, who made grown men tremble with a gl

PLAY WITH ME II

ANGELVincent’s eyes dropped to my chest.Just for a second. Just a flicker.But I caught it.There you are, Daddy. There’s that hungry look I’ve been waiting for.“They’re so swollen,” I continued, cupping my breasts through my shirt like I was assessing the damage. Lifting them slightly. Pushing them together. Drawing attention to exactly where I wanted it.I made sure to move slowly, ensuring he could see every detail—the way my fingers sank into the soft flesh, the way my nipples hardened beneath my palms, straining against the thin fabric of my tank top. No bra underneath. There was nothing between his eyes and my body except a flimsy scrap of cotton.“Is this normal? The pregnancy books didn’t say anything about them getting this big.”Daddy’s grip on the book tightened. I watched his breathing shallow.That’s it. Keep looking, Daddy. Keep wanting.“It’s… normal.” His voice came out rougher than usual. Strained. As though he was forcing each word through gravel. “Your body is p

KISS ME, DADDY

ANGELI woke with the urgent need to pee.Again.Pregnancy bladder was a special kind of torture. I couldn’t go more than three hours without my body demanding I empty it immediately.The problem was Daddy. His arm was wrapped around me so tight, his body curved around mine like a cage. His hand was splayed across my belly—even in sleep. I could feel him behind me, his groin pressed against my ass through the thin fabric of his sleep pants. Twitching slightly, like even his cock was dreaming about me.The thought made me smile. I thought about grinding back against him, to wake him up the fun way and feel that thick length slide between my thighs until he was groaning my name into my hair.But my bladder had other plans.This baby and my stupid bladder was cockblocking me from the inside.I extracted myself from Vincent’s arms carefully, trying not to wake him. His grip tightened reflexively, a low possessive sound rumbling from his chest like a warning—but I managed to slip free.I

KISS, DEVOUR, POISON

ANGEL With our gazes glued, I reached down and cupped his cock through his sleep pants. Oh. Oh, fuck. He was hard. So hard. Thick and straining against my palm like it was trying to break free. I could feel every inch of him through the thin fabric—the rigid length, the swollen head, the heat radiating off him like a furnace. Daddy’s cock filled my palm and then some, impossibly thick, impossibly hard. I wrapped my fingers around him as best I could through the fabric. Stroked up, slow and firm, feeling him pulse beneath my palm. Feeling him throb with every frantic beat of his heart. And then I pressed my thumb against the head, rubbing in a slow circle. Then I pressed. Hard. He hissed—a sharp, pained sound punched out of his lungs—and his hips jerked forward involuntarily, grinding into my hand. His eyes squeezed shut. His jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles straining. “There you go, Daddy. Stop fighting it. You want me, don’t you?” I whispered, triumph in my ton

FRACTURES

VINCENT“I’m s-sorry!”I’d been in a daze, a foggy trance that snapped at those two words of apology.Then the reality of the room rushed back, crashing into me.All of it.The ragged, frantic hitch of my own breathing.The way my fingers were still buried deep into the soft flesh of her arms, gripping her hard enough to leave deep, dark bruises tomorrow.I was pinning down a pregnant woman. My pregnant woman. Standing over her like she was an enemy to hurtThe sound of her sob cut cleanly through the last of the haze.She was crying. Because of me.The realization landed like a sledgehammer directly to my sternum. The echo of the words I’d just snarled at her terrified me so intensely that I wanted to put a bullet through my own skull right then and there.“I’m sorry, I am SORRY!” she apologized again, her voice trembling under the weight of her panic.“…” I opened my mouth, but my throat was tight, choked with ash.No words came.I wanted to reach back through time, and strangle

STRANGERS

VINCENT Morning came, and nothing had changed. The sunlight was out, but it didn't do a damn thing to melt the frost that had settled over the house. Angel sat across from me at the breakfast table, eating her eggs dully. Her eyes stayed fixed on her plate. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t acknowledge my existence beyond what was strictly required to share the same space. Not even a good morning. None of her usual soft murmur as she passed my chair, no fleeting touch of her hand against my shoulder. Nothing. I couldn’t help but notice that she was dressed like she was heading to a convent. My eyes lingered on the hideous clothing. Where the hell did she pull out those clothes from? A high-necked cream colored sweater buttoned all the way to her throat, sleeves pulled past her wrists. Her pants were loose, heavy fabric that gave away absolutely nothing about the shape of her legs. I almost wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. Really? To this extent? Every ot

IN HIS MIND

VINCENTFour days.Four fucking days of this.I stood at my study window, a cigarette dangling from my lips. The smoke curled around my face. It was a habit I’d quit and picked back up during the time I spent recovering in that private hospital. After being shot severally by my ex-wife while my daughter had disappeared right from under my nose.I’d told myself I’d never touch a cigarette where Angel could see. She was the reason I’d quit in the first place, because Angel had read some school pamphlet about lung cancer and wouldn’t stop complaining. She’d applauded and called me her World’s Best Daddy for Quitting Smoking. I doubted she even remembered that though.Now, here I was, chain-smoking like a man on death row, because I didn’t know how to deal with her. With Us. And the whole fucking mess of a situation. She was in the pool now, her tempting body gliding through the water in her tiny swimsuit. She swam back and forth several times, like she had nowhere to be and no one

I’M NOT HIM

VINCENT “NO.” The word came out as a growl I barely recognized as mine. She looked at me with those baby blue eyes. “I’m deciding what’s best for us,” “NO,” I said again. “No?” She held my gaze as though my refusal was the irrational thing here. “Why? I just don’t want you to torture yourself watching me all the time. I’m doing this for you, can’t you see?” For me? How absurd. “Since when do you make decisions for me?“ “You are hurting.” She shot back, her voice was annoyingly certain as though she could tell my own emotions better than me. “And it’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to torture yourself just to be around me.” I exhaled raggedly to calm myself, she was driving me crazy again, “Angel. Listen baby, you got it wrong—” “Wrong?” Her chin lifted a fraction. “Every time you look at me, I see it.” Her eyes were getting glassy, tears threatening to spill. “The guilt. The regret. You resent me, and you’re trying so hard to hide it that it’s tearing you apart.” “I don’t

MILKING HER

ANGELHere’s the thing about Vincent Hale that most people didn’t live long enough to learn;He was an incredibly clueless man.Brilliant, yes. Ruthless, absolutely. But when it came to me?He was so clueless.Because if he’d been paying any attention at all—he would have noticed that I’d stopped being genuinely upset approximately seventy-two hours ago.The first night was real.After he’d pinned me to the bed and said those words, I lay there and thought that he didn’t want me.I’d felt that cold hollow feeling thinking Daddy was disgusted by me. By my body, the ruined thing I’ve become.But now? Now I know better.Daddy wasn’t disgusted, he wasn’t repulsed either and he also wasn’t enduring my presence out of guilt or obligation.I’d seen him regret it. His outburst of jealousy, and that’s when I knew.Daddy was desperate. Desperate and so consumed with wanting me that he’d relapsed on cigarettes and flown a phone across the Pacific Ocean in the middle of the night because he thou

MILKING HER II

ANGELI pinched my other nipple. Another bead gathered—larger this time—and before I could bring it to my mouth, Daddy caught my wrist again. This time he leaned down and licked it directly off my breast. His tongue flat against my nipple, gathering every trace, his lips closing around the pebble and sucking with a groan that vibrated through my chest and settled between my thighs.Then he squeezed them together and pushed his face between them, basically fucking his face with my tits—nuzzling, biting the inner curves, dragging his open mouth back and forth between them while he groaned against my skin like a man in physical pain.“You have no idea how many nights I lay next to you thinking about this.” His voice was muffled, spoken directly into my cleavage. “Watching these tits rise and fall under your shirt as you sleep. I’ve been wanting to do exactly this. To put my mouth on them and not come up for air.”“You should have,” I said, breathlessly. My fingers were in his hair, ho

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