All Chapters of DDD: Daddies Dirty Desire: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

117 Chapters

My boyfriend's dad 1

Amanda stepped out of Jake’s Jeep onto the gravel drive, the lake air cool and pine-scented against her bare legs. The house rose ahead of them—dark cedar and wide glass windows reflecting the last gold of sunset, sprawling across the slope like it owned the water. She’d seen pictures, heard Jake brag about “the family compound,” but standing in front of it felt different. Intimate. Expensive. Dangerous in a way she couldn’t name yet.Jake was already three beers deep from the cooler in the back seat. He slung an arm around her shoulders too hard, kissed her temple sloppily, and shouted toward the house, “We’re here, losers!”Inside, the weekend unfolded like every other visit she’d endured: loud laughter, clinking bottles, Jake holding court. By dinner he was flushed and loud, leaning across the long oak table to flirt shamelessly with his cousin Riley—twenty-three, blonde, easy smile. He kept touching Riley’s wrist when he talked, laughing too long at her jokes, glancing at Amanda o

My boyfriend's dad 2

Amanda couldn’t sleep without seeing it: Ethan’s bare chest glistening under the kitchen lights, the slow drag of his thumb across her lip, the way his fingers had curled inside her like they’d always known exactly where to go. She replayed it on loop—his low voice saying “He doesn’t deserve you,” the taste of lake water and salt on his skin when she bit his shoulder to keep quiet. Her body remembered too. Every time she shifted in bed, the faint ache between her thighs reminded her she was still slick from the memory alone.Jake barely noticed she’d come back changed.He was already deep into the semester’s first frat parties—texts at 2 a.m. asking where she was, then ghosting when she answered. When they did see each other, he was half-drunk, hands clumsy and impatient, finishing too fast and rolling over to scroll his phone. Amanda lay beside him staring at the ceiling, thighs pressed together, thinking of how Ethan had made her come without even taking his shorts off.She lasted s

My boyfriend's dad 3

The obsession took root fast and deep, like ivy strangling brick. Amanda stopped counting the days since the apartment; she counted the hours between texts instead. Jake was a ghost in her life now—always at some tailgate, some house party, some late-night “study session” that smelled like cheap beer and perfume that wasn’t hers. He didn’t notice how often she left campus, how her phone stayed face-down when he was around, how her skin carried faint bruises shaped like fingerprints that weren’t his.Ethan filled the silence.His commands arrived without warning, lighting her up like matches struck in the dark.Ethan: No bra today. Wear that thin white sweater. I want your nipples hard thinking of me all through lecture.She obeyed. Sat in the back row of her psych seminar with the fabric clinging, every shift of her body sending sparks straight between her legs. When she sent him a discreet photo from under the desk—nipples peaked, sweater stretched tight—his reply was immediate.Etha

My boyfriend’s dad 4

The secrecy began to fray like cheap thread pulled too tight.Jake noticed first in small, sharp ways. Amanda’s weekend “study sessions” always lined up with Ethan’s sudden business trips—Chicago one week, Boston the next. She came back smelling faintly of cedar and expensive cologne that wasn’t Jake’s brand. Once he leaned in to kiss her neck and pulled back frowning. “You smell like my dad’s aftershave.” She laughed it off—said she’d hugged him goodbye at the cabin—but his eyes narrowed, suspicion settling like sediment.He didn’t confront her yet. He just watched.Then came the family dinner.Ethan hosted at the lakeside house—steaks on the grill, red wine flowing, the same long oak table where everything had started. Jake arrived already buzzed, eyes glassy, arm slung around Amanda’s shoulders too possessively. Conversation stayed surface-level until dessert.Jake leaned back, fork clattering against his plate. “You’ve been distant lately, babe. Always on your phone. Always ‘study

My boyfriend’s dad 5

The end came with a single, careless text.Jake had borrowed Amanda’s phone to order pizza—his battery dead, hers right there on the coffee table. He swiped open the messages without thinking. The thread with “Dad” was near the top. Nothing graphic. Just the last one, sent two nights earlier after a stolen hotel hour:Ethan: Miss your mouth already.Jake stared at the words until they blurred. Then he scrolled up—just enough. Saw the pattern: late-night timestamps, vague excuses, Ethan’s name appearing too often. He didn’t need more.He threw the phone across the room. It cracked against the wall.Amanda walked in from the kitchen, froze when she saw his face—red, twisted, eyes wild.“You fucking slut,” he spat. “My dad? My own father?”She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.He lunged for his keys. “I’m calling him. Right now.”Ethan arrived twenty minutes later—still in his suit from the office, tie loosened, face already pale like he knew. Jake met him at the door with a fist.The

My father best friends 1

Lila stepped out onto the wide back deck with a tray of marinated steaks, the late-June sun still brutal even as it dipped toward the horizon. The barbecue was in full swing—smoke curling from the grill, classic rock thumping from the outdoor speakers, laughter rolling across the lawn like thunder. Her father’s annual summer blowout. Same faces every year. Same easy rhythm.Except this year she wasn’t invisible anymore.Victor, Damien, and Reid arrived together in Victor’s black pickup, doors slamming, boots hitting gravel. They moved like a pack—broad shoulders, easy confidence, the kind of men who’d built things with their hands and never apologized for taking up space. Victor clapped her father on the back hard enough to make him cough-laugh. Damien handed over a case of craft IPA with a quiet nod. Reid flashed that crooked, wicked smile that had always made her stomach flip even when she was too young to understand why.They’d called her “kiddo” for years. Teased her about boys, a

My father’s best friend 2

A week crawled by in agonizing slow motion.Lila replayed the patio every night—Victor’s fingers curling inside her, Damien’s teeth on her neck, Reid’s mouth swallowing her moans. She woke up soaked, thighs pressed together, fingers already between her legs before she was fully conscious. She avoided her father’s eyes at breakfast, afraid he’d see the flush that hadn’t left her skin.Then the text arrived Tuesday evening from an unknown number.Unknown: Tonight. Victor’s lake house. 10 p.m.Unknown: Wear nothing under the coat.Her pulse slammed against her ribs. She stared at the screen until it dimmed, then typed back a single word.Lila: Yes.She showered twice. Shaved everywhere. Slipped into a long black trench coat—silk lining cool against bare skin—and nothing else. The drive to the lake felt endless; every red light made her thighs clench, anticipation twisting low in her belly. By the time she pulled up to the modern cedar-and-glass house perched on the water’s edge, her hand

My father’s best friend 3

The encounters hardened into ritual faster than Lila expected.Her father’s business trips—site inspections, client meetings, overseas conferences—became their signal. Whenever his suitcase rolled out the front door, one of the men would text the burner group chat they’d named simply “Ours.”Victor: Cabin. Friday night. Bring the blindfold.Damien: Penthouse. Tomorrow after 9. No bra.Reid: Truck. Behind the office. 30 minutes. Now.Locations shifted like moods: Victor’s lake house for long nights of slow, drawn-out torment; Damien’s secluded cabin in the pines where no one could hear her scream; Reid’s sleek downtown penthouse with its mirrored walls that let her watch every angle of her own ruin. And the quick, dangerous ones—Victor’s black truck parked in the shadowed lot behind the construction office after a “late meeting,” her bent over the console while the three of them took turns in the cramped space, windows fogged, her father’s building just across the lot.They grew bolder

My father’s best friend 4

The fever burned hotter with every stolen hour.They no longer waited for her father to leave town. Risk became part of the thrill—sharp, electric, addictive. A quiet Italian restaurant downtown: her father across the table, laughing at one of Victor’s old stories, while under the long white cloth Victor’s hand slid up her thigh, fingers pushing her dress aside, finding her already wet. He circled her clit slow and deliberate while Damien’s foot hooked her ankle wider, keeping her open. Reid leaned forward to refill her wine, his thumb brushing her nipple through silk when no one was looking. She came silently—teeth sunk into her lower lip, eyes locked on her father’s oblivious smile—while Victor’s fingers stayed buried inside her, milking every tremor.Another afternoon: a “site visit” at the downtown office tower they were developing. Her father on the fifteenth floor reviewing blueprints. The three men led her to the executive bathroom on twelve—single stall, lock clicked.Damien b

My father best friends 5

The pullback came quietly, like smoke drifting from a dying fire.Business surged—new contracts, site deadlines, endless meetings. Her father was home more often, his laughter filling the house again, his questions about her day sharper now that he wasn’t always distracted. The men still came around—barbecues, poker nights, casual beers on the deck—but the air between them and Lila had changed. No more lingering glances that promised ruin. No more subtle brushes of fingers when passing a beer. Just polite smiles, professional nods, the occasional “How’s school?” that felt like distance dressed as concern.The burner group chat went quiet.Days stretched into weeks without a single ping. When a message finally came—Victor’s number, terse and final—it was only to confirm a “last meeting” while her father was away for one more overseas trip.Victor: Lake house. Saturday night. 9 p.m.Victor: This is the end, baby.She arrived first.The house was dark except for the low glow of string li

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