All Chapters of TOUCH ME MORE, DADDY: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

120 Chapters

STORY 22: HATE ME HARDER (MM) 1

Chapter OneThe War RoomI knew the meeting was going to be a disaster the second Jordan Vance walked in late.He didn’t even pretend to hurry. Just strolled through the glass doors of Conference Room B like he owned the air inside it, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, that permanent half-smirk already in place. His tie was loosened just enough to look intentional. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to the elbows, showing the kind of forearms that had no business existing on someone who spent most of his day talking. Dark hair slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it on purpose. He looked like he’d stepped out of a campaign for expensive watches and bad decisions.I hated that I noticed any of it.“Nice of you to join us,” I said without looking up from my laptop. “We only started twelve minutes ago.”Jordan dropped into the chair directly across from me of course he did and set his coffee down with deliberate care. “Traffic. You know how it is. Some of us don’

HATE ME HARDER (MM) 2

Chapter 2One BedThe hotel was the kind of mid-tier place that tried too hard to look expensive and failed in all the small ways that mattered.Glass lobby, aggressive air conditioning, a reception desk that smelled like synthetic citrus and ambition. The woman behind the counter smiled the professional smile of someone who had already dealt with too many difficult guests before noon. Jordan handled the check-in like he handled everything loud enough to claim the space, charming enough that she laughed at something he said that wasn’t actually funny. I stood three feet behind him with my bag and watched the transaction with the same detached irritation I reserved for most of his performances.“Reed and Vance,” he told her, sliding his ID across. “Corporate booking. Should be under the agency name.”She typed. Clicked. Frowned slightly. “I have you in 914. King bed. Non-smoking.”Jordan’s shoulders stiffened. “King bed. Singular.”“Yes, sir. One room was reserved.”I stepped forward.

HATE ME HARDER (MM) 3

Chapter 3Sleep never came.I lay on my side of the bed and stared at the thin strip of city light leaking between the curtains. The mattress was large enough that we weren’t touching, but it wasn’t large enough to erase the awareness of Jordan three feet away the sound of his breathing, the occasional shift of fabric, the heat that seemed to radiate across the middle of the bed like a live wire. Every time I closed my eyes I felt the wall against my back again, his forearm across my chest, the aggressive press of his mouth. My body hadn’t forgotten a single second of it. Neither, apparently, had his.Sometime past midnight he spoke into the dark.“You’re not sleeping either.”I kept my eyes on the ceiling. “Observant.”“We could pretend the kiss didn’t happen. Go back to hating each other like professionals.”“We never stopped hating each other.”A low, humorless breath from his side of the bed. “Then why are you still hard?”The words landed clean and mean. I turned my head. In the

STORY 23:COME HERE,MISS,AND DANCE ON MY COCK 1

Chapter 1The First PerformanceThe gates opened without a sound.I had expected a voice on the intercom, a security check, something that would give me a moment to steady my breathing. Instead the black iron simply parted as my rideshare approached, revealing a long driveway lined with trees that looked too perfectly spaced to be accidental. The house at the end of it was all clean lines and dark glass, the kind of architecture that refused to explain itself. No warm porch light. No visible staff. Just the low glow of recessed lighting along the path and the quiet suggestion that I was already being watched.I paid the driver, stepped out with my bag, and stood for a second on the pale stone. The air smelled like wet earth and something sharper cypress, maybe. My reflection moved across the tall windows as I walked toward the entrance. Black tights, soft rehearsal skirt, fitted top, hair pulled back in the same tight knot I used for every performance. Professional. Controlled. The ex

COME HERE ,MISS AND DANCE ON MY COCK 2

Chapter 2Rules and DistanceI woke to pale light filtering through the tall windows and the quiet certainty that I had not truly rested.The guest suite looked exactly as it had the night before precise, expensive, impersonal. My bag still sat where I had left it. The black performance clothes I had worn were folded neatly over the chair because I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them in a heap. For a long moment I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, and let the memory of Cole Rankin’s gaze settle over me again like a second sheet.He had watched me as if the rest of the world had been edited out of existence.I showered longer than necessary, letting the hot water work at the residual tightness in my shoulders and calves. When I dressed for the second evening I chose the same clean lines as before: soft black tights, a fitted top that allowed full range without distraction, hair scraped back into its usual severe knot. Professional armor. I told myself the extra care in t

COME HERE MISS AND DANCE ON MY COCK 3

Chapter ThreeThe AlmostMorning arrived with the same pale, exact light as the day before, and the same restless energy under my skin that no amount of stretching seemed to ease.I had slept in fragments thin stretches of unconsciousness broken by the memory of footsteps outside my door and the precise pressure of a single fingertip against my wrist. By the time I gave up on rest entirely, the house was already breathing in its quiet, expensive way. Coffee appeared without my asking. A light breakfast waited on the small table near the window. I ate because my body required fuel, not because I had any real appetite, and spent the afternoon in the guest suite trying not to replay the previous evening on a loop.It didn’t work.When the appointed hour came I dressed with deliberate care black again, clean lines, hair tightly bound and followed the silent staff member downstairs. The performance room looked unchanged: pale wood, glass wall, single black chair. Cole Rankin was already se

COME HERE MISS AND DANCE ON MY COCK 4

Chapter 4Breaking PointThe extension settled over the estate like a change in barometric pressure subtle, pervasive, and impossible to ignore.I woke the morning after the third evening with the ghost of his hand still present at my waist and a restless energy that no amount of stretching or strong coffee could fully disperse. The guest suite remained as precise and impersonal as ever. Breakfast appeared without request. The house continued its quiet, expensive breathing. And somewhere below, I knew the performance room waited with its single black chair and its unbroken silence.The next private session began the way the others had: barefoot on the cool wood, music filling the severe space, Cole Rankin seated and watching with that same undivided attention. But the commands had sharpened.“Hold the extension longer.”“Breathe slower through the transition.”“Look at me while you move.”Each instruction was delivered in the same quiet, measured voice. None of them were loud. None of

COME HERE MISS AND DANCE ON MY COCK 5

Chapter FiveCome Here, MissI remained in the doorway longer than I should have.The performance room still held the residual heat of the evening’s work the faint scent of polished wood, the low glow of the recessed lights, the single black chair with Cole Rankin seated in it exactly as he had been on the first night. He had not moved since I left. He simply watched me stand there on the threshold, flushed and restless, the accumulated tension of the past days coiled so tightly under my skin that even the sound of my own breathing felt too loud.He looked at me for a long moment. The silence stretched until it became its own form of pressure. Then he spoke, voice quiet, certain, and final.“Come here, miss, and dance on my cock.”The words landed like a key turning in a lock I had been pretending was not there.Something in my chest loosened and tightened at the same time. The careful professional distance I had clung to for days collapsed in a single breath. I stepped fully into the

STORY 24 : GO DEEPER DADDY

The house on Maple Street looked exactly like the photos Maya had sent me two stories of pale brick and dark shutters, a wide front porch with a swing that didn’t look like it got used much, and a neat lawn that suggested someone cared about appearances even if they didn’t spend a lot of time outside. I paid the driver, pulled my two suitcases onto the sidewalk, and stood there for a moment with the summer heat pressing against the back of my neck.Three months. That was the deal. Maya had a spare room, I needed a place to land while I finished job applications and waited for something to stick, and her dad had apparently said it was fine as long as I didn’t mind a quiet house. I had told myself it would be simple. Temporary. A soft place to figure out the next step.I had not expected to feel nervous before I even reached the front door.Maya must have been watching for the car. The door flew open before I could knock and she came down the steps at a half-run, dark hair in a messy kn

GO DEEPER DADDY 2

Shared AirThe second day began with the smell of coffee and the low sound of a news broadcast drifting from the kitchen.I came downstairs in the soft clothes I had slept in, hair still loose, and found Maya at the stove scrambling eggs while Adrian stood at the counter with a mug in one hand and his phone in the other. He was already dressed for the day dark trousers, a light gray button-down with the sleeves rolled neatly to the elbows. The morning light coming through the window caught the silver at his temples and the clean line of his jaw. He looked up when I entered, and for a fraction of a second his expression was unguarded. Then the careful neutrality settled back into place.“Morning,” he said. His voice was still rough from sleep.“Morning.”Maya turned with a spatula in hand and grinned. “Perfect timing. Eggs are almost done. Sit. Dad made the coffee strong enough to wake the dead.”I sat at the dining table because it felt safer than standing too close to either of them.

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