HER FORBIDDEN DADDIES: FILTHY ONE SHOTS のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

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

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

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

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

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