Todos los capítulos de Daddies In My Holes: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

DANIEL “This place looks huge. Will there be a lot of people?” Angel’s voice wavered as she stared out the window at the high-rise building in Vegas. “But I’ll be there, just keep your eyes on me,” I watched her profile, the way fear painted itself across her features. She was trying so hard to be brave, my little Angel, but I could smell the terror on her. It made me want to fuck her again. Right here in the car. I wanted to remind her that fear was just another kind of arousal when it came from the right source. We’d flown in this morning, barely making it to the hotel before I’d bent her over the bathroom counter and filled her cunt while she watched herself get destroyed in the mirror. Then again in the shower. Then once more on the bed before we’d left. Right now, my cum was still inside her, marking her from the inside out where it belonged. She’d stand on that stage dripping with my claim, and when I brought her home, she’d still smell like me. Her holes be full of me. A

ANGELI woke up to the color of cotton candy pink. My eyes fluttered open to ceilings, and then the curtains. Pastel pink and white, designs from píninterest, I would know because I’d loved them once. The bedding underneath me smelled like lavender, a scent I recognized too well. This room. I knew this room. It hasn’t been a dream! Memories hit me instantly, all of them attacking at once. My breath came faster, panic crawling up my throat with clawed fingers. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I should be in Daniel’s bed, wrapped in his sheets that smelled like sandalwood and possession. I should be in his arms, safe in the cage he’d built just for me.That was when I felt him.A presence in the room, the hairs on my neck prickled. I turned my head slowly, some primal instinct making me dread what I’d find. I saw him. His dark gaze stared back at me looking like the black hole itself. My heart stopped. Those eyes watching me looked haunted in ways the

ANGELThe knife came down. But Vincent’s hand shot up and caught my wrist mid-strike, stopping the blade inches from his throat. For one suspended breath, I could see my reflection warped in the metal. Neither of us moved. His eyes gleamed with surprise, and then hurt. Almost like he didn’t believe I would actually hurt him. I took the chance, using his immobility to my advantage, attempting to shove the knife again. He caught my wrist. And twisted.His movements weren’t violent. Just enough pressure that forced my fingers to spring open against my will. The knife clattered to the floor, my only weapon. “No!” I lunged for it but Vincent was already moving. He kicked the knife to a spot in the room where my eyes couldn’t reach. “Angel, stop it!” He pulled me against him, his muscular arms wrapping around my body and squeezed me tight. My chest flattened against his, my arms pinned between us as I thrashed and fought.“Let me GO!” The scream tore from my throat, raw and animal.

VINCENT‘Daddy.’The word echoed through the walls of my bedroom, muffled but unmistakable. A sob. A plea. The desperate cry of a broken girl calling for the man who’d destroyed her.I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the closed door that separated my room from hers, and felt rage build in my chest like pressure behind a dam. Hot. Violent. Threatening to burst through the control I’d been maintaining.It had been a week of this. Seven nights of listening to her scream for him. The torture of hearing her beg ‘Daddy’ to come back, to save her, and take her home. I always lay awake in the dark, heart right with poison while she worshipped the memory of the bastard who’d broken her.It wasn’t her fault. I knew that.My little Angel had done nothing wrong. This was all on Daniel. All on the council who’d voted to traffic her like she was cargo. It was also on me for failing to protect her when it mattered most.But knowing it wasn’t her fault didn’t make it easier to hear another m

VINCENTThe next morning, I prepared breakfast, grateful for the routine. The eggs were scrambled exactly how she used to like them. The toast cut diagonally. Fresh fruit arranged on the plate. A glass of milk because she needed the calcium.Normal things that a father would do for his daughter.I would be that person.I entered her room with the tray, and she was already awake. But her eyes were staring at nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge my presence, or turn her head when I walked in.I set the tray on the nightstand as quietly as I could.“Sit up and eat,” I said. My voice came out firmer, almost harsh. “I don’t want to call the doctors again.”I knew she hated the doctors. She would do almost anything to avoid them coming back with their needles and their tests and their clinical assessment of her mental state.The doctors. I’d called them that day not only to feed her through the IV, although that had been critically important. I’d also needed them to check other things. To