All Chapters of Daddies In My Holes: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

ANGEL“Turn over,” he said.My arms were shaking so badly I could barely push myself up. I rolled onto my stomach. I was lying in my own mess on the kitchen table. Destroyed. And I didn’t care about anything except the feeling of him stepping closer behind me.He grabbed my hips. Pulled me to the edge until my feet were on the floor and my torso was flat on the table and my ass was presented to him. His cock pressed against my entrance. Hot. Wide. The head nudging against me, spreading me, teasing.“You made a mess, Angel.” His voice behind me was thick with lust and excitement. “You fountained all over his kitchen. Squirted all over his cock.” He pressed in. Just the tip. I felt the stretch and my breath stopped. “What do we say?”“Thank you, Daddy.” My voice was barely a rasp. “Thank you for making me cum so hard,”“And what do you want now?”“I want Daddy’s cock.” I pushed back against him. Desperate. Trying to take more. “Deep. Inside me. I want to feel you fill me up, Daddy.

ANGELI found Daddy in the lower level. He was standing at a metal table with three of his men. And in his hand was a gun which he looked to be testing its performance. I stopped in the doorway.I’d seen Vincent angry and violent, watched him break a man’s face and straighten his cuffs afterwards. But I’d never seen him with a gun in his hand. And the image — his long fingers wrapped around the grip, his thumb resting on the slide, made my breath hitch and my thighs press together.I wanted him to fuck me with it. The thought arrived fully formed and completely deranged and I didn’t push it away. I wanted to feel the cold barrel against my skin. For him to trace it down my body while I felt the danger pressed against me while he was inside me. I was getting wet. In a doorway. Watching my daddy handle a firearm. My cunt was throbbing and my nipples were hard against my dress and I was one depraved thought away from walking over and dropping to my knees in front of his men.He looked u

ANGEL Three evenings later, I headed downstairs when Celine was already setting up the dining table. Ignoring her completely, I sat down at the table and pulled out my phone. I didn’t spare her a glance when she set a plate in front of me. She lingered when she was done and I nearly rolled my eyes. I was proud of myself for resisting the urge, I mean, look at me, exercising restraint. Daddy would be so proud if he were here. It didn’t last for long. “Do you need anything else, Miss?” She asked. I looked up from my phone slowly, my eyes dragging over her face, lingering on her hair. Those fucking strawberry blonde. “If I do, don’t you think I’ll tell you myself?” I plastered a smile on my face. The kind that showed too many teeth and reached absolutely nowhere near my eyes. “But since you asked, why not just make yourself scarce? I’ll serve Daddy when he arrives. You know since I actually know how he likes things.” She stood there for a beat too long. I could see her wanting

ANGELThere were two of them actually, familiar faces that I knew from the island.Kayla and Lona. Daniel’s slaves.They weren’t wearing masks. They stood at one end of the club’s dark hallway, drinks in hand, completely unaware of the masked stranger watching them from across the room. Kayla’s hair was shorter than I remembered, cut into a sleek bob that framed her heart-shaped face, and Lona had traded her usual dark curls for something straighter, but otherwise they looked exactly the same—pretty and utterly at ease in a place like this.“Angel, what’s wrong?” Kevin’s voice came from somewhere beside me, and I realized I’d stopped walking. “You know them?”“Sort of,” I managed.For a moment, I thought about running before they could recognize the girl hiding behind a wig and borrowed identity. But something held me in place. A dark, reckless part of me that needed to know what had happened after I left. What had become of Daniel’s perfect little world after his death.I walked towa

ANGEL Darkness was all there was at first, thick and heavy, pressing against my eyes like something that wanted inside. My eyes fluttered open groggily, weakly adjusting to my surroundings. A ceiling first, pale and unremarkable. A lamp on a bedside table, bookshelves against one wall, lined up neatly and orderly, and finally, curtains drawn tight over a window that might have shown me what time it was if I could have seen through them. A bedroom. I was tied to a bed in someone’s bedroom. Then the pain came—starting in my wrists where rope bit into raw skin with every breath I took, spreading through my shoulders that had locked up from being held in the same position for too long, settling deep into my jaw where someone had stuffed fabric between my teeth. It tasted like dust and sweat and fear, gagging me, stealing my voice before I even had a chance to use it. I tried to scream anyway, but the sound died in my throat and all I could do was thrash against whatever was holding m