All Chapters of HER FORBIDDEN DADDIES: FILTHY ONE SHOTS: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

103 Chapters

FUCKING MY BOYFRIEND'S BROTHER

HELENI'm standing in our shitty little kitchen slicing limes for the gin and tonic I desperately need when Ethan walks in looking like he's about to vomit on the tile.He can't even meet my eyes. His hands are shaking so hard he drops his keys twice before they clatter onto the counter."Babe," he starts, voice cracking like a teenager asking to borrow the car. "We need to talk."I slam the knife down so hard the cutting board jumps. The blade sticks into the wood with a satisfying thunk. "If the next words out of your mouth are 'it's not you, it's me,' I swear to God, Ethan, I will make you regret the day you learned to speak."He flinches like I actually hit him. His face cycles through white, then red, then white again. "It's worse. So much worse."He tells me everything.One long, trembling, pathetic confession that makes me want to claw his eyes out and feed them to him.Vegas. His bachelor party — the one he swore was "just strippers, babe, nothing crazy." Some bottle-blonde na

FUCKING MY BOYFRIEND'S BROTHER

Three weeks.Three weeks since Ethan sold me like a used car. Three weeks since I walked into Roman's penthouse and let him take everything I thought I was saving for my wedding night. Three weeks of being fucked in every room of his apartment, every surface, every position he can dream up.Three weeks, and I still haven't figured out how to destroy him.The problem is, I'm not sure I want to anymore.The private jet cuts through clouds on the way to Aspen, and I'm curled in one of the leather seats trying to process what my life has become. Roman is across from me, laptop open, looking every inch the billionaire CEO in his charcoal suit and steel-gray tie. You'd never know that twenty minutes ago he had me bent over the bathroom sink in the hangar, his hand over my mouth to muffle my screams while he took me from behind.The plug he slid into me afterward is a constant reminder. Every shift in my seat, every pocket of turbulence, sends a jolt of sensation through me that makes it imp

MY PROFESSOR AND HIS WIFE

CARLAMy name is Carla Valentina Reyes.I grew up in a one-bedroom apartment in the Bronx where the walls were so thin I could hear my mother crying after every sixteen-hour nursing shift. I learned to sleep through the sirens, the fights next door, the cockroaches skittering across the kitchen counter in the dark.I learned early that the world doesn't give you anything. You take what you want, or you go without.David Hawthorne was the first thing I ever wanted that I didn't have to steal.I was twenty, first semester of my graduate program, when he kept me after his seminar on the Marquis de Sade. I'd written a paper arguing that Sade's women weren't victims — they were the only ones who understood that power is the only currency that matters. He wanted to discuss my "provocative thesis."I stayed on purpose.I wore the black silk slip dress that cost me two months of diner tips because I knew it made my brown skin glow like something precious. I leaned over his desk to point out a

MY PROFESSOR AND HIS WIFE (2)

CARLAI park my beat-up Honda next to where David's Audi will eventually sit and take a moment to breathe.My hands are shaking.I tell myself it's the cold, but that's a lie. I'm terrified. Excited. Aroused. All of it tangled together in a knot I couldn't untie if I tried.I've been wet since I got David's text this morning confirming they were on their way. Forty-eight hours of anticipation, of imagining what I'm going to do to them, of touching myself and then stopping because I want to be desperate too. I want to feel what they're feeling.I let myself in with the key David mailed me.The interior is all exposed beams and soft leather, a massive stone fireplace dominating the living room, thick rugs scattered across the hardwood floors. The air smells like pine and woodsmoke and money.I walk through the space slowly, trailing my fingers over surfaces, claiming it. The kitchen with its marble countertops. The bathroom with its rain shower big enough for three. The master bedroom w

MY PROFESSOR AND HIS WIFE (3)

CARLAI sit on the edge of the bed and spread my legs, letting them see how wet I am, how much their submission has affected me."David. You've had your mouth on me before. Show your wife what you've learned."He moves forward on his knees, positions himself between my thighs, and looks up at me with reverent eyes."May I, Mistress?""You may."He buries his face between my legs.His tongue finds my clit immediately — he knows exactly what I like by now, the pressure, the rhythm, the way I need him to build it slow before I let myself fall. I grip his hair and pull him closer, grinding against his mouth.Katherine watches, transfixed. Her hands are clenched at her sides, her thighs pressed tightly together."You want to touch yourself," I observe between gasps."Yes, Mistress." Her voice is strained."You can't. But you can come here and watch. Closer. I want you to see exactly what he's doing."She crawls forward until she's inches away, close enough to see his tongue sliding through

MY PROFESSOR AND HIS WIFE (4)

I wake to the gray light of a snow-covered morning and the warmth of two bodies pressed against mine.Katherine is curled into my left side, her face soft with sleep, her breath slow and even against my shoulder. David is on my right, one arm draped possessively across my stomach, his lips parted slightly.They look peaceful. Innocent, almost.I know better.I lie still for a long moment, letting myself feel this — the weight of them, the heat, the quiet intimacy of waking up tangled together. This is what I wanted, I realize. Not just the sex, not just the power, but this. Being at the center of something. Being needed.Being irreplaceable.The old Carla — the one who grew up hearing her mother cry through thin walls, the one who learned to want nothing because wanting only led to disappointment — that Carla would be terrified right now. She'd be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to snatch this away.But I'm not that girl anymore.I'm the one who does the taking now.I

MY PROFESSOR AND HIS WIFE (5)

CARLA She lifts her head, meets my gaze. Her face is wet with tears and flushed with pleasure, her mouth open as David works her with his tongue."Tell me how it feels.""So good, Mistress." Her voice is wrecked. "His tongue — he's never — we've never done it like this—""Like what?""Like he means it. Like he's trying to worship me instead of just get me wet enough to fuck."I glance at David, whose ears have gone red with shame."Is that true, David? Have you been lazy with your wife?"He pulls back just enough to speak. "Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry. I didn't know—""Now you know. Make up for it. Don't stop until I tell you."He dives back in with renewed fervor, and Katherine's eyes roll back before she catches herself and locks her gaze on mine again.I let them continue like that for a long time — David eating his wife like his life depends on it, Katherine watching me while pleasure crashes through her in waves. I bring her to the edge three times, reading her body, telling David

REVENGE FUCKING MY STEP BROTHER

I've been tasting this moment since I was fifteen years old.Back then, I was just the quiet step-sister who didn't know how to fight back. Jax was the golden boy — 6'3", varsity quarterback, the pride of our blended family. Everyone loved him. Everyone thought he was perfect.They didn't see what he did behind closed doors.I still remember the first time. He barged into my room while I was changing, shoved me face-down on the bed, and let his friends film while he laughed. After that, it became a game to him. He'd make me wear his practice jersey to school with nothing underneath, then spread rumors that I was "team property." He told everyone I was easy. He told everyone I was worthless. He made sure no one would ever believe me if I tried to speak up.The worst was the night he cornered me in the laundry room. Pinned me against the dryer. Put his hand between my legs and told me he was "just checking" if I was still a virgin.I was sixteen. I cried in the shower for three hours.I

REVENGE FUCKING MY STEP BROTHER (2)

I wake up slowly, luxuriously, wrapped in sheets that smell like him.The morning light filters through his bedroom curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed I claimed as my own. I stretch like a cat, feeling the pleasant ache between my thighs from last night's self-indulgence. His pillow is still damp where I came on it, and the memory makes me smile.I wonder how he slept.I already know the answer, of course. He didn't.I take my time getting up. I shower in his bathroom, use his expensive body wash, dry off with his towels. I don't bother getting dressed — just pull his jersey back on over my bare skin and pad downstairs barefoot.He's exactly where I left him.Spread out on the living room floor, wrists still cuffed, ankles still zip-tied to the couch legs. His face is a mess — dried tears, crusted drool, the hollow look of a man who hasn't slept in over twelve hours. The plug is still inside him, still buzzing on low, and his cock is an angry shade of red, curved up agai

REVENGE FUCKING MY STEP BROTHER (3)

I wake up on Sunday morning with his body curled around mine like I'm the only thing keeping him alive.We're in my old bedroom, tangled in pink sheets that smell like sex and sweat. His arm is draped over my waist, his face buried in my hair, and even in sleep his hips press against me like he's afraid I'll disappear. The plug is still inside him — I can feel the base of it against my lower back when he shifts.For a long moment, I just lie there and let myself feel it. The weight of him. The warmth. The complete and total reversal of everything we used to be.He used to make me feel so small. Now he clings to me like I'm his whole world.I could get used to this.I slip out of bed slowly, careful not to wake him. He stirs, murmurs something that sounds like "please," but doesn't open his eyes. I stand at the edge of the bed and look down at him — this man who terrorized me for years, now naked and plugged and desperate even in his dreams.One more day. One more day to make sure this

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