All Chapters of Daddies Taste Better : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

There’s only so much a person can swallow before the burn becomes too tight to hide, and I swear something in my chest snapped like a tiny thread quietly giving way. One moment I was nodding along, pretending to follow their stupid drug-laced conversation about who owed who money or which “dealer” was trustworthy, and the next… everything felt like it was collapsing inward. The noise felt thick, fucking irritating like it was wrapping around my throat, squeezing until breathing became a chore. My skin prickled, the room felt smaller, and the booth suddenly felt like a trap I had willingly walked into and pretended was a comfortable seat. “I’m gonna… um—I’ll be back,” I murmured with a smile that didn’t reach anywhere close to my fucking eyes. I didn’t wait to see if anyone heard me. I just slipped out of the booth and walked fast enough that the air behind me felt like it was chasing me. The bathroom was a little dark, the yellowish lights blinking like they were tired too

Gage Ashford ✮⋆˙⊹₊ ⋆✮⋆˙ I’ve always gotten what I wanted. Not because I’m some spoiled brat who throws tantrums—far from it. I’m a man of means, purpose, and flawless precision. Greed? That’s a word for the weak, for those who snatch at things that aren’t theirs by right. If it’s owed to you, if the world has aligned in such a way that it falls into your lap, taking it isn’t greed. It’s justice. It’s the natural order. I’ve built empires on that principle: corporations that swallow competitors whole, deals that leave the other side thinking they’ve won until they realize they’ve been outmaneuvered. Women, power, influence… they’ve all come to me because they were mine to begin with. But for the past few months, I’ve been denying myself something. A rarity, I’ll admit. Self-restraint isn’t my forte, but fatherhood changes a man, or so they say. It makes you selfless, or at least it pretends to. That’s the case with me and my son, Noah. His a twenty-three years boy

THEA WILSON °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I slept early that night. You might wonder why… but we all learn to cope in our own ways. I don’t drink, and I don’t use drugs; still, being awake felt like pressing gently on a bruise, just to feel the ache. So sleep was the only escape. Sleep was the only place where my thoughts couldn’t chase me, where Noah’s voice didn’t replay, where that look on his face when I handed him his phone didn’t loop over and over again like some cruel reminder. I curled into myself and let the dark take me before I could change my mind. But to my horror morning came fast. It always does when your world has gone to shit. I woke up to the soft gray light creeping through the curtains and for a moment, I just stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly, and letting out a quiet breath. Today wasn’t going to wait for me to fall apart. I had a life, lectures, a schedule and other things that didn’t get to pause just because my heart felt bruised and tender. Normally, N

That question—that simple, gentle question—almost undid me. I looked down at the table, tracing the rim of my glass. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Numb. Sad. Relieved. Angry. All of it.” She nodded like that made sense. “Breaks are messy.” “But I’m fine—it’s not the end of the world, and if things don’t work out between us… that’s okay.” I couldn’t believe how steady my voice sounded as I lied even though my eyes were practically leaking. God, so pathetic. Mia’s hand reached across the table, covering mine. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “It’s stupid.” “It’s not.” “It is,” I insisted. “I feel like I failed at something I was trying so hard to keep together.” She squeezed my hand. “You didn’t fail. He did.” I lifted my eyes to meet hers, but no matter how much I wanted to believe her, I couldn’t. “What if he’s right, though? What if I really am boring?” She scoffed. “If being emotionally stable and kind is boring, then sign me up.” Despite myself, a small smile tugge

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Shameless. That was the only fucking word that fit how I felt as I stood in front of Gage’s bedroom door for the second night in a row. I squeezed my eyes shut. The thought of him assuming I wasn’t interested—after I hadn’t met him in the library—made me uneasy more than I cared to admit. And before I knew it, I was here again, planted outside his door, wearing nothing but a thin silk nightdress that barely skimmed the tops of my thighs, with a neckline plunging so goddamn low that every breath threatened to spill my tits out. Taking in a deep breath, I knocked and the door opened almost immediately. Gage stood there in nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants, hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it, the ridges of his abs catching the hallway light. His gaze dropped slowly from my face to the way the silk clung to my breasts, my hips, and the shadow between my thighs. He took his fucking time drinking me in, but he didn’t speak. He just leaned one