Todos os capítulos de Daddies In My Holes: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

ANGELI kissed him back. Tasted him. He growled into my mouth and the kiss turned feral — teeth and tongues and fury. . . Something underneath that was starving.He pressed me further onto the couch and his weight came down on me. His hips landed between my thighs and I felt him — hard, straining, pressed against my soaked underwear through his pants.And just when I was starting to get used to his taste, my mind already conditioning that I was getting fucked, he pulled back from the kiss. I made a sound — needy, desperate — and reached for him.He stood up abruptly, looking down at me.“Don’t move.” He commanded with the same dangerous calm I’d learned to recognize. My hazy eyes followed him as he walked to the bar. He ignored the impatience burning through me and poured himself a drink. He took a sip with his back to me. Like he had all the time in the world. As if his daughter wasn’t lying on his couch with her legs open and her body shaking.“Vincent—” I barely started.“Did

ANGELHe started to move.He was not gentle. Not careful. He fucked me like he was trying to break the couch. Like he was trying to break me. Like every week of restraint was a wave and they were all crashing at once. His hips slammed against my ass with a force that drove me forward into the cushions and his hands dragged me back onto him with each thrust.The sounds filling the room were obscene. Wet. Raw. Skin meeting skin. My moans were muffled by the cushion. His grunts low and animal behind me.I could feel everything. Every thrust pushing deep, pressing against my cervix, sending jolts of sharp-sweet sensation up my spine. I could feel how wet I was — drenched, dripping, his cock sliding in and out of me with a slick friction that made filthy sounds with every stroke. I could feel my own arousal running down my inner thighs, pooling on the couch beneath my knees.“Daddy—” My voice was a mess. I was pushing back against him, matching his rhythm, taking him deeper with each strok

VINCENTI froze. The door handle turned. I grabbed for Angel’s head, trying to yank her away from my cock—Too late.The door opened.Mrs. Martha stood in the doorway. Her eyes found the bed. Found me. Found Angel between my legs with her lips red and swollen and wet and my cock glistening with her saliva inches from her face.Martha’s mouth fell open. No sound came out. Her eyes went wide — wider than I’d ever seen them — and the color drained from her face in a rush that left her grey.Angel looked over her shoulder at Martha. Then, like nothing in the world was wrong, she turned back to me and took my cock back into her mouth.“Give me your cum, Daddy,” she said, the words muffled and vibrating around my shaft, her eyes locked on mine while Martha stood in the doorway watching my daughter suck my cock.The door slammed shut. Martha’s footsteps — fast, unsteady — retreated down the hall.Something inside me detonated. Not arousal. Not shame. Fury. Pure, white-hot fury at the girl be

VINCENT Martha was in the living room. She saw me come down the stairs and her face gave nothing away. Not a flicker. Not a glance. Whatever she’d seen an hour ago, she’d sealed it behind a mask of professional composure that I might have admired if I weren’t the man she’d caught with his cock in his daughter’s mouth. Angel had gone back to sleep and curled up in my sheets. Naked. Satisfied. I’d left her looking like something between an angel and a crime scene. Martha handed me my morning coffee. Her hands were steady. Her voice was even. If she was thinking about what she’d walked into, she gave no indication. But I knew Martha. I’d known her since I was a boy. That woman processed everything and expressed nothing until she was ready. She was not ready. And I wasn’t going to bring it up. I took a sip and sat down, waiting to know what she had wanted. “Sir,” Martha said. “I need to take two weeks off. Family emergency.” She paused. “I’ll send a replacement. Someone I trust to h

ANGEL The kitchen went silent after my outburst, then Vincent’s voice came. “Angel. Get up!” His tone was sharp, totally nothing like the coaxing voice that had whispered nasty things in my ears an hour ago. “Clean that mess.” His eyes were stern, holding no warmth. I looked at him like he’d asked me to jump from a cliff. “You’re kidding.” “Do I look like I’m kidding?” “That’s literally what she’s here for, Daddy.” I threw my hand toward Celine without giving her the dignity of a glance. “She’s the housekeeper. She keeps the house. There’s a mess in the house. Seems like a her problem.” “Her job is to manage the household. Not to stand there while you throw plates at her feet.” His eyes were still locked on mine furiously. “Get up. Get a mop. Clean the floor. Pick up every piece of glass.” He paused. “And apologize to Celine.” A disbelieving laugh escaped my mouth, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Apologize? To her? The woman who just called me a brat and then cried