All Chapters of HER FORBIDDEN DADDIES: FILTHY ONE SHOTS: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

MARCUSI wake to the sensation of being wrapped in warmth.For a disoriented moment, I think I'm dreaming. Then my brain catches up to my body, and I realize Lily is pressed against me — her leg hooked over my hip, her arm draped across my chest, her face tucked into the curve of my neck.She's still asleep, her breath slow and even against my skin.At some point during the night, she migrated across the bed and attached herself to me like I'm the only solid thing in her world. My old t-shirt has ridden up around her waist, and I can feel the bare skin of her thigh against mine, the soft curve of her hip beneath my hand.My hand.I'm holding her. I don't remember doing it, but my palm is resting on the swell of her ass like it belongs there, like this is something we do.I should move. I should extract myself carefully and pretend this never happened.Instead, I lie still and let myself feel it.The weight of her. The warmth. The way her body fits against mine like we were designed to

MARCUSTomorrow never comes.Or rather, it comes, but we don't talk about boundaries. We don't set rules. We don't act like responsible adults.Instead, we fall into a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing and as dangerous as a loaded gun.Every morning, Lily helps me shower. Every morning, her hands linger longer than they need to. Every morning, I end up coming in her grip while she watches me with those dark green eyes, licking her lips like she's memorizing the taste of my pleasure.Every night, she climbs into bed wearing nothing but my shirt and presses herself against me. Every night, we find new ways to touch without crossing the final line — her grinding on my thigh until she soaks through my shorts, me fingering her to orgasm while she muffles her screams against my shoulder, both of us edging closer and closer to the point of no return.It's been two weeks.Two weeks of torture. Two weeks of ecstasy. Two weeks of wanting something I have no right to want and knowing she

Tessa’s POV Diane’s dead—my mother, who never loved me, who spat “worthless” and “mistake” at me like they were my names. I don’t know how to mourn her. My chest’s hollow, like I’m supposed to cry, but the tears won’t come. How do you grieve a woman who made you feel like nothing your whole life?Guests are arriving for tomorrow’s burial—neighbors with casseroles, cousins with fake tears, all whispering about Diane like she was some martyr. Their pitying glances burn, so I slipped away, needing air, needing something to dull the ache. The house smells like dust, whiskey, and old wood, too warm for my liking, making my tank top cling to my skin. I’m not sure I belong here, not after Mom’s venom, not after everything. I left for the city months ago, trying to outrun her voice, but it’s still in my head, clawing at me.Jack’s at the door, pushing it open against the storm’s howl, his broad frame filling the space like he’s carved from the earth itself. God, he’s always been sexy, an

TESSA The house is quiet now, too quiet, like it’s holding its breath before tomorrow’s funeral. The guests who came to help are gone, leaving just me and Jack in this creaky old tomb of a place. Snow’s still pounding outside, sealing us in, and I’m in the bathroom, letting the shower’s hot water scald my skin. The steam’s thick, curling around me like a shroud, but it can’t wash away the anger burning in my chest. Diane’s face keeps flashing in my mind—her sneer, her voice spitting “worthless,” “mistake,” “you’ll never be enough.” My whole life, she tore me down, made me feel like I was nothing. Even dead, she’s clawing at me, and I hate her for it. I hate how I’m supposed to mourn a mother who never loved me.My fists clench, nails biting my palms, and I’m done. Fuck her. I’m not letting her ruin me anymore. My mind shifts to Jack—to this afternoon in the attic, his hard cock grinding against my ass, his fingers on my nipple, calling me beautiful. Jack’s different, always has

Jack’s POVI’m panting, my cock still leaking cum inside Tessa’s tight pussy, her body trembling under me on her wrecked bed. My phone’s screaming on the nightstand, some asshole probably wondering where I am, but I’m not done with Tessa. Not by a fucking long shot. I grab the phone, end the call with a jab, and toss it across the room. It clatters against the wall, and I turn to her, my hands seizing her hips, yanking her against me. Her black dress is shredded, her tits spilling out, her face flushed and dripping with spit and tears. She’s a mess, a gorgeous, filthy mess, and I want to ruin her more.“Tess,” I growl, my voice thick, “I ain’t done with you yet.” Her eyes spark, hungry and wild, and she nods, her lips parted, saliva dripping down her chin. Diane’s dead, her venom—calling me a failure, hitting and hurting me every chance she got, still stings, but here, with Tessa’s pussy clenching around my fingers, her moans filling my ears, we’re finding solace. I shouldn’t be