All Chapters of YES! DADDIES: AN EROTIC COMPILATION OF SHORT STORIES: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

EMILIAI don’t know why I let the words leave my lips. But I do anyway, “That makes two of us."We're looking at each other and something is happening in the space between us. Something that's been building for months and finally has nowhere else to hide."Emilia." The way he says my name makes my skin feel too tight."What?""Stop looking at me like that."Heat floods my face despite the cold air. "Like what?""Like you want to close the distance between us and see what happens when you do."I should deny it. Should laugh it off. Should do literally anything except stand here confirming what he just said with my silence."What if I do want that?" I ask instead.His jaw clenches hard enough that I can see the muscle jump. "Then you need to think very carefully about what you're starting.""Why?""Because this complicates everything that's already complicated. Because you're here under circumstances that make this questionable at best. Because once we cross this line there's no going

CLARA.I meet my husband for the first time three hours before our wedding.Not ideal but better than some arrangements where the bride doesn't see the groom until he's lifting her veil at the altar.My father made this match six months ago. An alliance between our kingdom and the northern territories that have been threatening our borders for a decade. Marriage instead of war. My hand in exchange for peace.Romantic.I've spent six months preparing for this. Learning northern customs. Memorizing names of lords and ladies I'll be expected to recognize. Practicing my new title until it stops sounding wrong.Queen Clara of the North.Still sounds wrong."He's here," my lady-in-waiting says from the doorway. "King Matthias has arrived. Your father wants you in the south parlor."My stomach drops. "Now?""Now, your highness."I stand and smooth my dress even though it doesn't need it. Blue silk with silver embroidery. Not my wedding dress but nice enough to make a first impression.First

CLARAOne month of marriage and I've turned into someone I don't recognize.The kind of woman who counts hours until her husband returns from a week-long diplomatic trip. The kind who plans what she'll wear when he walks through the door. The kind who's currently lying in his bed wearing nothing but black silk and lace waiting for him to finish his last meeting.I never thought I'd be this person.But then I never expected to fall for my husband this hard this fast.Matthias left a week ago for negotiations with the eastern provinces. Standard political business that required his presence. He asked if I wanted to come but I had obligations here that couldn't be postponed.A week shouldn't feel this long.But seven days without him in our bed has felt like months.I shift against the sheets and the silk chemise slides against my skin. Black. Sheer enough to be pointless. The dressmaker raised her eyebrows when I ordered it but didn't ask questions.She probably guessed what it was for.

JADEThree years in porn and first days still make my stomach twist.Not the sex. That stopped being intimidating around month two when I realized my job was just showing up and doing what came naturally while someone filmed it. It's everything else. New crew who might be professional or might be creeps. New director who might know what they're doing or might waste six hours on bad angles. New scene partner who could be amazing or awful and there's no way to tell until the cameras start rolling.Today is worse than usual because my scene partner is Riley Vance.Riley Vance who has more awards than I have years in the industry. Riley Vance who's known for being selective about who she works with and brutal about calling out bad performers. Riley Vance who apparently requested me specifically for this scene which is either the biggest compliment of my career or about to be the most humiliating experience of my life.Possibly both.I'm in hair and makeup going over the scene outline when

ELENAThe third time Rook Castellan shows up in my ER I start to think he’s doing it on purpose.First time was six weeks ago. Dislocated shoulder from a bad landing during practice. Standard sports injury. I relocated it, prescribed pain medication, gave him the usual speech about rest and physical therapy, and sent him home.Second time was three weeks ago. Sprained ankle during a meet. Again, standard. Wrapped it, prescribed anti-inflammatories, told him to stay off it for a week minimum.Now he’s back.Sitting on the examination table in bay four at eleven PM on a Tuesday wearing track pants and a compression shirt that does nothing to hide the fact that he’s built like an Olympic athlete.Which he might actually be based on the university gear he’s always wearing.“Dr. Ruiz,” he says when I walk in. He’s holding an ice pack to his ribs. “We have to stop meeting like this.”“That’s my line.” I wash my hands and pull on gloves. “What happened this time?”“Collision during relay