Todos os capítulos de CUM-STURBATION: 20 DADDIES—FORBIDDEN TO THE LAST DROP : Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

The months that followed the three-day session were a storm that cleared the air. Months later, my parents were now divorced. My mother was the one who finally asked for the divorce. Vaughan felt guilty at first; he thought he was the monster who broke the family. That was until I showed him the video of her and Sterling. It was the final nail in the coffin. Now, she lives with Sterling, claiming she is helping him run the company. But we knew better. As for me, I stayed with the only man who ever truly saw me. I walked into the studio late in the afternoon. The red lights were on, and the air smelled like ozone and Vaughan’s cologne. Vaughan had finished his session with clients for the day. He was sitting at his editing desk, his brow furrowed as he looked at some raw footage. I didn't make a sound as I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “What’s up, Daddy?” I whispered, my lips brushing his ear. “How was today’s session?” Vaughan leaned back into

Marcus sat back on the heavy leather couch. His hands were still locked behind him. He looked like a king on a throne, even though he was a prisoner. I stood over him, my chest heaving. The power I felt was like a drug, better than anything he sold on the street. I reached up and unzipped my tactical vest. I let it hit the floor with a heavy thud. Then came my shirt. I stood there in just my black lace bra and my police trousers. My heart was slamming against my ribs. I could see his eyes—those dark, knowing eyes—tracking every move I made. "You're such a bad officer, Maya," he rasped, his voice like gravel. "Shut up," I hissed. I reached for my belt. I unbuckled my trousers and let them slide down my hips. I stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but my bra and a pair of matching lace G-string. I was already soaking wet. The scent of him, the thrill of the arrest, and the memories of three years ago had me ready to burst. I walked over to him. I straddled his thick

The restaurant was quiet, the smell of fried onions and old coffee hanging in the air. My parents had finally left for the afternoon, trusting me to run the register. But I had my own way of doing business. I didn't care about the small change from a cheeseburger. I wanted something more.In the back storage room, surrounded by crates of soda, a middle-aged man was slamming into me. He was breathing like a broken vacuum cleaner, his face red and sweaty. He thought he was doing something great. I was bent over a stack of napkins, my hands gripping the edge of a wooden table."Mmm-nnn-gh... is this really it?" I asked, my voice dripping with boredom. "Is this the best you’ve got? My coffee is stronger than your thrusts.""I'm... I'm trying," he wheezed, his rhythm becoming messy and desperate. He was pounding into me, but it was all surface. No depth. No power."Go harder! Fuck me like you actually have some blood in your veins!" I snapped, looking over my shoulder at him. "If you can't

The wood of the table was cold and hard against my back, a sharp contrast to the furnace of his body as he loomed over me. He didn't give me a moment to breathe. He grabbed my ankles and shoved them back toward my ears, folding me in half until my spine felt like it would snap and my pussy was tilted up, completely open and helpless under the dim light bulb."You wanted to play games, Kessie," he growled, his voice a dark, rough rasp. "Now you're going to learn how a real man finishes one."He didn't ease in. Without a single drop of mercy. He lined himself up and hammered home with a single, violent thrust that bottomed out deep in my gut. I felt the air leave my lungs in a sharp whistle. He was so thick, so impossibly wide, that I felt my skin stretching and burning as he claimed every inch of my internal space.At that moment I was sure that after this, I would stop that nonsense I did in this restaurant. No more special services. All I needed was for God to save me from this man.

The sun was barely up when I opened my eyes, but the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee was already drifting under the bedroom door. Owen was already up. He was that kind of man—sweet, reliable, always the one to handle the morning rush while I blinked away the sleep. I walked into the kitchen, my heart feeling heavy after the restless night I’d spent thinking about Ford’s mouth on mine. My two children were sitting at the table, their school bags already packed and sitting by the door. "Morning, mommy!" they chirped in unison. I leaned down, kissing their soft cheeks, trying to ground myself in my real life. "Morning, angels. Eat up." I moved toward the stove, where Owen was flipping pancakes. He looked up and smiled, pulling me into a warm embrace. He kissed me deeply, a sweet, safe gesture that usually made me feel at peace. Today, it just made me feel guilty. "Breakfast is almost ready," Owen whispered against my lips. "Please, sweetheart, go wake my brother. Everythin