บททั้งหมดของ Watch Me Explode, Daddy: บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 179

He tore it off, heart thundering. This was really happening. Sandra walked to the chair where he had draped his suit jacket and plucked the two silk neckties from where they hung. A sly smile played on her lips as she returned to the bed. “Hands on the posts,” she instructed, tone leaving no room for argument. A thrill of fear and absolute arousal shot through him. He placed his wrists against the cool polished wood of the headboard posts. She leaned over him, breasts brushing his chest, and deftly looped a necktie around each wrist, pulling them tight and securing him. The restraint was shocking, terrifying, and the most erotic sensation he had ever felt. He was utterly at her mercy. She didn’t make him wait. She swung a leg over his chest and straddled his face, positioning herself above him. The intimate scent of her—musky and clean—filled his senses. “You wanted to see,” she breathed, looking down the length of their bodies at his trapped, straining form. “Now taste.” She lo

The taillights of Dave’s sedan glowed like malevolent red eyes in the deepening twilight. Annie’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. For weeks these secret outings with his father, Roger, had frayed her nerves to the breaking point. The vague answers, the whispered phone calls, the faint unfamiliar scent that sometimes clung to his collar—all of it had coiled into a tight knot of suspicion in her gut. Tonight she had to know.She followed them downtown into a district of anonymous grey-brick buildings. Dave’s car slid into a parking spot and the two men—so alike in their confident stride—disappeared through an unmarked metal door. Annie counted to sixty, each second a painful hammer-blow in her chest, before she followed.The outer door gave way to a second, heavier one that muffled a deep, rhythmic thump of music. When she pushed it open the world shifted.The air was thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and somet

I floated down from the high with my legs still shaky, cleaned up in the bathroom, then collapsed face-down on the bed like a starfish and let sleep take me under. When I finally woke, the sky outside my window had already turned dark. A car door slammed somewhere below, followed almost immediately by my mother’s loud, bright laugh echoing through the house.“Lila! Mom’s home!”She didn’t knock. She simply pushed my door open with Damien right behind her, both of them dressed for something formal—Mom in diamonds, Damien in a sharp black suit that made him look even more severe than usual. “We have a charity gala tonight,” she said while checking her earrings in my mirror. “Be good, study or whatever. We’ll be back late.”I stood by the window and watched their Bentley disappear down the long driveway until the house felt too quiet, too empty. Thirty minutes later the front door opened again. My heart jumped hard against my ribs. They couldn’t possibly be back already. I grabbed the fi

Nova’s POV“Mum, please… you don’t understand.” My voice softened, almost breaking. “I can’t work with Davis—let alone live with him. I’ll find another tech company, I promise. Just not his, please. I’ll do better, I’ll behave, I swear. Just… don’t make me do this, Mum.”She sighed, her voice firm yet gentle. “No, sweetheart, it’s safer working with your brother. You won’t be so stressed”.“Trust me, I was once an intern. I know how tough it can be, how some sultry men try to take advantage of young girls, and I won’t want that for you. My decision is final, Nova. You’ll thank me later.”I didn’t say another word. I just turned away quietly, the lump in my throat tightening and went straight to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.“Ugh,Mom is so difficult,” I muttered, groaning into the pillow. “She always thinks Davis is the perfect son.”Tch, that same Davis whose eyes strip me naked every time he looks at me, his gaze so hungry it’s like he’s already fucking me in his head.Bac

The sun hung low over the bustling campus of the University of Lagos, casting long shadows across the cracked pavements where students hurried between lectures. It was the kind of afternoon that promised rain—thick clouds gathering like unspoken worries. For Amaka, a 22-year-old final-year student in Business Administration, those worries had just become a storm. She clutched her result slip in her trembling hands, the paper crinkling under her fingers as she stared at the failing grades glaring back at her. Marketing: D. Accounting: F. Business Law: E. How? She had studied hard, pulled all-nighters in the library, sacrificed weekends with friends. But the numbers did not lie. No signing out ceremony for her. No cap and gown, no tossing her mortarboard into the air with the rest of her class. Instead, an extra year—maybe more—if she did not fix this. Tears blurred her vision as she sat on a bench near the faculty building, the chatter of excited final-year students around her feelin