All Chapters of Thirty Dark Nights.: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

MIAI did not take the lace off.I went down the hall with the phone still warm in my hand and Mark’s girl laughing in my ear like a bruise. The study door was half open. Marcus was at the desk like the morning had never happened, like he had not wiped me off his cock and put it in my mother.I stepped in and shut the door.“Ruin me.”He looked up slowly. “Say that again.”“He is with someone else. He told me I was dead in bed and then I heard her laugh into the phone. I learned everything you taught me so I could go back to him and he is already inside another girl.” My voice shook and I let it. “I do not want practice anymore. I want you to wreck the version of me that thought he was worth it. Please, Daddy. Ruin me.”He stood up. He locked the door without looking away from the lace, from the smeared mascara, from the way I was already leaking through the panties I had put on for a boy who did not want them.“Clothes stay on until I tear them. On your knees. Mouth open. You do not

MIA“On the desk,” Mom said. “Same way I found you. I want the exact picture. Do not pretty it up.”My legs were still shaking. His cum was still slipping out of me in slow ticks. Marcus looked at her like he was measuring a pulse.“Anna.”“I locked the door. I said what I want. If you hesitate I will remember you had the courage to ruin her and none to face me.”He lifted me onto the desk. The wood was cold under my ass. He shoved the torn lace aside and dragged the head of his cock through the mess he had already left in me. I was swollen and slick and open. I felt Mom’s eyes like heat on my inner thighs.“Look at her,” he said. “This is the treatment. She came in begging after that boy chose someone else. She asked to be wrecked. I gave her what she asked for.”Mom stood close enough that I could hear her breathing change. “Then give it to her again. I want to see her take it. I want to see you stop pretending this was medicine.”He pushed in.The stretch pulled a broken sound out

MIA“Clothes off. Both of you. On the bed. I did not bring you in here to play shy after what I already watched.”Their room smelled like her perfume and his soap. The mattress was huge. Mom set a black bag on the nightstand and unzipped it like she was opening an argument. A thick vibrator. A smaller bullet. A bottle of lube she did not pretend was romantic.Marcus stripped without hurry. I peeled the fresh clothes off with shaking hands. I was already wet. I had been wet since she sent us to separate showers and told us not to come.Mom pointed at the middle of the bed. “Mia on her back. Knees up. You do not close them. Marcus, you wait until I say you can put it in her.”I lay down on my mother’s sheets. She climbed on beside me, still naked, still pissed, still looking at my cunt like it had stolen from her. She clicked the big vibrator on. The buzz filled the room.“This is mine. I use it when he works late. Tonight it learns your clit so I can watch you break in my bed.”She pre

Kai.“Get your shit off my bed.”King did not look up from the phone in his hand. He sat on the edge of the mattress that used to be only his, shoulders tight under a clean white shirt, jaw set like he was already counting the hours until I left again.“That is my side now,” I said. I dropped the duffel on the floor between us. The zipper had split on the bus. One of my shirts hung out, wrinkled and smelling like the station. “Mom said half and half. You heard her.”“I heard her say you could stay until you found work.” His thumb kept moving. “I did not hear her say you get to crawl into my sheets the first night.”The house was quiet in a way it never used to be. Their wedding had been three weeks ago. Our parents were already gone, some resort package they had booked before the ink dried, the kind of trip people take when they want strangers to call them newlyweds. The spare room still had boxes. The couch downstairs was too short. So here we were, one room, two twin beds pushed aga

Kai.“You missed breakfast.”King said it without looking up from the coffee he was pouring. Our parents were already gone again, some work thing his father could not skip and a salon appointment my mother had refused to cancel. The kitchen smelled like the pastries she had left on the counter. I had slept on the far bed with my back to him and woken up hard anyway, the taste of last night still somewhere under my tongue no matter how many times I had rinsed.“I was not hungry,” I said.“Liar.” He slid a mug across the island. His fingers did not touch mine. The distance was worse than the hand he had used on me. “You came downstairs last night, smiled at my mother, and ate the chocolate one like you had not just swallowed my cum. She thinks you are sweet.”“She thinks you are the good one.” I took the mug because my hands needed something. “That has not changed.”“It changed at midnight.” He leaned on the counter, shirt buttoned all the way up, hair still damp from a shower I had not