บททั้งหมดของ DDD: Daddies Dirty Desire: บทที่ 201 - บทที่ 210

Six months pregnant.Ashley’s belly had rounded beautifully, a firm, perfect swell that both men couldn’t keep their hands off. The mansion had transformed from a fortress into a home. Guards still patrolled, but the tension had eased. The Moretti threat was ashes. Now the only war was choosing between soft gray or warm cream for the nursery walls.They built it together.Every afternoon, Nico and Dante worked in the sunlit room beside the master suite. Ashley sat in a wide rocking chair, bare feet propped up, directing them with a paintbrush in hand.“Left side needs another coat, Daddy,” she teased Nico, who was on the ladder in a tight black T-shirt streaked with paint. Silver threaded through his dark hair caught the light as he glanced down at her with a heated smirk.“Keep calling me that and this nursery won’t get finished today, princess.”Dante, shirtless and sweating, knelt beside her and pressed a kiss to her belly. “Our son is going to be spoiled rotten.” His large hand ru

Victoria Vale pulled her suitcase up the familiar stone walkway, the wheels clicking over the cracks she used to jump as a teenager. The two-story colonial house looked exactly the same — white shutters, deep front porch, the old oak tree still standing guard in the front yard. But everything else had changed.Her mother had left six months ago for a 28-year-old personal trainer. The divorce papers had been signed quickly and quietly. Now Victoria was twenty-two, freshly dumped by her own worthless ex, and temporarily homeless after her apartment lease ended. Coming back to Alex Hawthorne’s house felt like both defeat and destiny.The front door opened before she could knock.“Victoria.” Alexander Hawthorne’s deep, warm voice wrapped around her like a hug. At forty-seven, he still looked unfairly handsome — tall, broad-shouldered, with neatly combed dark hair streaked silver at the temples and kind hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. The “good father” everyone always praised. Even

Alex had been avoiding her for three straight days.He left for campus before she woke up and returned after dark, claiming endless meetings and grading deadlines. Victoria knew better. She could feel his eyes on her when he thought she wasn’t looking — the way his gaze lingered on her legs when she walked past, the tension in his shoulders every time she said his name.He was running. She refused to let him.On Thursday afternoon, she showed up at his university office unannounced.She wore a soft butter-yellow sundress that barely reached mid-thigh, thin straps tied in delicate bows on her shoulders. The neckline dipped low enough to show the soft swell of her breasts, and she’d skipped the bra. Her long chestnut hair fell in loose waves, and she carried a small insulated bag with his favorite lunch — turkey club sandwich, fresh fruit, and the dark roast coffee he loved.His office door was ajar. She knocked softly and stepped inside.Alex looked up from behind his wide oak desk, gl

The morning after felt like stepping into a new world.Victoria woke wrapped in Alex’s arms, his warm chest pressed to her back, one large hand possessively cupping her breast even in sleep. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, highlighting the silver at his temples and the peaceful lines of his face. She shifted slightly, and his cock—already half-hard—nudged against her ass.Alex stirred, pressing a slow kiss to her shoulder. “Morning, baby girl,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep and something deeper. Then reality seemed to hit him. His body tensed. “Victoria… last night—”“Was perfect,” she finished, turning in his arms to face him. She kissed him softly, coaxing his lips until he melted into it. “Don’t ruin it with guilt. Not yet.”He groaned, pulling her closer. They made love again—slow and lazy in the morning light. Alex moved inside her with deep, rolling thrusts, eyes locked on hers, whispering how beautiful she was, how tightly she gripped him. Victoria came with his n

The sun was beating down like it wanted to melt everything in Lagos. I stepped off the bike I borrowed from Jake, my tank top stuck to my back with sweat. Twenty-one years old, fresh out of uni for the break, and my parents had decided to travel abroad without me. Jake, my best friend since secondary school, had said, “Bro, just crash at my place all summer. Mom won’t mind.”His mom. Mrs. Elena Reyes.I pushed open the front door and the cool air from the fan hit me like a blessing. The house smelled like fried plantain and her perfume—something sweet and warm, like vanilla mixed with woman. Elena was in the kitchen, humming softly to an old highlife song playing low on her phone. She turned when she heard me and smiled that smile that always made my stomach tighten.“Marcus! Welcome back. You look like you ran a marathon.” She was wearing a thin yellow sundress that stopped mid-thigh. The fabric was light, almost see-through in the afternoon light coming through the window. No bra.