Daddies In My Holes
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Angel Hale has spent her whole life worshipping one man. Vincent Hale.
He was the man who adopted her after her parents died in a mysterious cold blooded murder by their enemies.
To Angel, Vincent is perfection.
His deep voice dampens her panties, his presence makes her knees go weak.
She calls him Daddy, not by blood, but by obsession, desire, and the twisted bond she built around him since childhood.
But Vincent has a dark secret, one that will turn Angel's world upside down. Now she is stuck between two daddies. Uncle Daniel who wants to ruin her and Daddy who tells her she is his.
Only his.
But Angel cannot resist the desire of both men who want to claim her.
Can she defy the Daddy she loved so blindly?
Or will Daniel pull drag her back into his darkness forever?
And even more terrifying...
What will Daniel do when someone tries to take his doll away? Even if it's his best friend.
The war between Daddy and Uncle is coming-and Angel is the prize both are willing to spill blood to claim.
PLEASE NOTE: This book is an extremely DARK EROTIC romance with HEAVY EXPLICIT scenes, torture, human trafficking. The main characters are the villains you don't want to cross paths with.
Be warned!!!
Daddies In My Holes Chapter 1
ANGEL
Everyone has a dark secret. The filthiest, dirtiest, corrupted fantasies that we imagine just before sleep take us to oblivion.
That innate desire our judgmental world silences, it lingers in the pit of your stomach, spreading like a virus, an incurable, rotten disease to your throat, an abomination never to be whispered.
Do you have a secret like that?
Think hard. . .
You can tell me.
Don't you have one like that?
Think again. . . Harder. Go deeper. Take me in-all of me. I want to be inside. . . of your mind.
You still don't?
'Fine, I will tell you. If only you promise not to judge.' I bit my bottom lip in contemplation, my fingers hovering on my keyboard for a brief moment before I clicked on the send button.
This was a complete stranger anyway, what did I have to be afraid of? So what if he wanted to know my deepest secrets and desires?
We'd been chatting for about two months on this anonymous messaging app.
I only knew that he was a male, I'd never asked about personal details like his age or where he was chatting from , the anonymity of it made everything so much more exciting.
My secret? I had a lot. Like lots of it.
'We listen, we don't judge. Now, give it to me doll, this is a safe zone,' The stranger's words floated on my phone screen.
I began to type again, the thoughts that always lived in the back of my mind forming into words.
'My secret is that I want Daddy to stuff my holes. I love his thick muscles that look like they could engulf me, I love his nine-inch còck, the two thick veins that run crisscrossed each side of his penís. I love my daddy's balls, how heavy they look, the way they bounce when he thrusts. I love Daddy's face when he cúms, the primal grunt he makes and the way his brows twitch with pleasure. I love how thick his cúm is and wish it could get me pregnant. I love everything about daddy, I want to be daddy's breeding slut'
I hit the send button, before I could second-guess myself. My mind was racing now, this was the wildest confession I'd ever made, no doubt, the stranger was definitely trying to process the depravity of my mind.
Each passing second without a response made my anxiety worse. My breath was coming out in short pants, and I could almost feel the judgmental stare burning into my skin from my phone screen.
As much as I was nervous, I also felt hot and relieved, confessing my darkest secret to a stranger. It was exhilarating, like taking a full rush of fresh air into my lungs after being submerged underwater for so long.
Just letting another person know was already making my pússy throb in my shorts. I love Daddy so so so much.
I clasped my legs together, adjusting my position on my bed, rubbing my thighs just slightly together to send an electric jolt of pleasure through me.
Another message popped up on my phone twenty seconds later, 'You're such a naughty little girl, I will add you to my slave collection, you'd serve me just fine, a true whóre you are'
A small giggle left my mouth, so he wasn't judging me? From our previous chats so far, it was evident this stranger was a dom, and I didn't know if it was true, but he told me that he owned sèx slaves, true whóres who were only born to worship his supreme cóck. I bet he was lying, that had to be his darkest fantasy he was claiming to be true.
I didn't mind it though, this app was created to confess the darkest things about us that no one knew about. And while our chats excite me and sometimes I even stroked myself to orgasm to his words, the only person I want to have sex with is daddy.
I wanted Daddy to take my vírginity, to own me completely, I wanted to be his little slút exclusively. I couldn't imagine doing these fantasies with anyone but Daddy.
'What are the things you hate about your daddy?' A second message notification appeared on my phone. I frowned slightly, this kind of felt a little bit personal. He didn't know my dad, so why did the things daddy hated matter?
Was I thinking too much about it?
Hate?
I didn't hate Daddy at all, but I loathed Mommy Jillian.
Hate wasn't even a strong enough word to describe what I felt towards that bítch and that mysterious quiet older brother of hers that always made me feel uneasy each time he was around.
I'd never been able to express my resentment towards them, but now this stranger was giving me an outlet.
'I hate that daddy had to get married to Mommy Jillian, I hate the way his daddy's còck comes out shiny in her dripping dirty cúnt, the way her heavy títties bounce as she rides on daddy's díck, when daddy eats her pússy and makes her scream, I hate all of it because it should have been me. I hate when mommy sucks daddy's còck and swallows his cúm like it's the tastiest thing in the world, I hate that I don't know what daddy's cúm tastes like, and have to settle for the remnant of his precúm in his underwear"
But what I absolutely detested the most, was how hard Mommy Jillian was trying to replace my position in Daddy's heart. I loved Daddy, but I absolutely despise her.
'I hate mommy's older brother too, he's always broodingly quiet, but I caught him looking at my àss one time, even though he tries to hide it, I know he wants to fúck me.'
The stranger didn't reply after this, I sighed and slammed my phone against the pillow. My uncle, while I didn't exactly hate him, I despised how he always made me feel uneasy, like he could see the facade of my good little girl act. I didn't usually wear a bra at home, because I wanted Daddy's attention, but one time I'd caught Uncle staring closely at my títs. Too bad he wasn't going to get a sniff of me, I belonged to Daddy alone.
I pushed the thought aside, why was I even thinking about him in the first place?
I was fúcking bored, dinner was still in about thirty minutes. I needed to play.
That was when I saw it, peeking from beneath my pillow was a black piece of cloth.
Daddy's boxers. The Calvin Klein brand Jillian had bought last week.
I had sneaked into the laundry room this morning after she dumped it there for washing.
It had a whitish slightly hard crust now from a mix of both our juices. When I had stolen it just this morning, it had been wet, the taste had been a little bit salty, and rubbing his dampness against my clít had given me one of the most mind-blowing órgasms of my entire life.
Even after cúmming three times and screaming daddy's name this morning, I still wasn't satisfied.
Something was lacking, I craved the real thing, I didn't know how long until I went crazy from wanting Daddy to fúck the brains out of his little girl.
I brought daddy's scent to my nostrils and inhaled deeply. The sweet musk, faint smell of his cologne vibrated a soft móan from my lips.
fúck, I was growing wet again, a juice cracked down my slít, running down my thigh from the space between my shorts.
Fine, one more time before Mrs Martha will call me down for dinner.
My hand moved to the waistband of my shorts, and I yanked them down, kicking them all the way down to my ankles.
My fingers were slick, plunging inside myself, curling just the way I liked-but it wasn't enough. I needed him. I craved Daddy's thick còck splitting me open, stretching me until I whimpered.
The crust of Daddy's boxers scratched against my clít just right as I ground my hips into my hand, my breath hitching.
The scent of us, his musk, my slick-filled my nose, making my thighs tremble.
I dragged the damp fabric harder over my swollen clít, imagining it was his tongue instead, lapping at me like I was his last meal. I móaned into the mattress, my hips jerking.
Fúck.
The way he'd look at me sometimes-like he knew what I did when I was alone.
Like he wanted to pin me down and ruin me for anyone else. I could almost feel his hands on me now, those rough palms squeezing my títs before sliding down to my waist, holding me still while he fúcked into me with slow, filthy thrusts.
My fingers sped up, fúcking myself deeper. Daddy wouldn't go slow. He'd shove inside me with one brutal stroke, make me scream, then drag me back onto his còck over and over until I was sobbing, begging,
I rubbed faster. And faster.
Daddy was milking me, I'd always been his good little girl, and I deserved to cúm.
'Mmm mmm mmm'
"Daddy, daddy, I'm cúmming, your little whóre is cúmming!" The cry slipped from my mouth.
I was close. One more rub, another twist of my fingers inside me. . .
A sharp noise greeted my ears. I froze. My fingers stilled.
It was the sound of a throat clearing. My eyes flew open in shock as I stared at the door which I'd apparently forgotten to lock.
The person standing there was none other than Daniel Ricci. Uncle Daniel.
Daddy's best friend. . .
Mommy's brother.
Continue Reading
Daddies In My Holes of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage.
But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death.
As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket.
Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her.
Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved.
I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies.
They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die.
I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred.
Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me?
Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm.
I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12.
It was exactly three days before the world ended.
When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly.
"Just tell me where to send the money, Mom."
This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
7.4
I single-handedly saved my family's corporate empire from a hostile takeover, securing our market share for the next decade.
But my grandfather didn't see me as a hero. He saw me as a flawed piece of inventory.
To calm the board and fix the reputation I supposedly ruined, he forced me into an arranged marriage, auctioning me off to the highest bidder.
Desperate, I turned to my childhood friend, Egnacio, the only person who ever promised to protect me.
But instead of saving me, he publicly humiliated me. He used my desperation as a networking opportunity, pitching my arranged marriage as a business deal to a ruthless private equity king named Dexter Mathews.
Later that night, I caught Egnacio holding my cruel cousin in his arms.
"What man wants to be with a woman who looks at you like she's planning a hostile takeover?"
Hearing him mock my pain shattered the last bit of hope I had.
I realized I was never family to them. I was just a sharp knife, used to cut down their enemies and then traded for cash before I got dull.
The heartbreak vanished, replaced by a cold, violent rage.
I didn't break, and I didn't run.
Instead, I got into the back of Dexter Mathews's car. He had watched my family tear me apart, but he didn't see a broken pawn. He saw a queen.
And together, we were going to burn their entire empire to the ground.
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
9.7
I was the Luna of the Black Moon pack, happily carrying the Alpha's heir and believing in our Fated Mate bond.
But on a romantic getaway to the mountains, my beloved mate Ryker suddenly pushed me off a cliff.
As I dangled over the abyss, pleading for help, he just sneered and crushed my fingers under his heavy boot.
"Such a shame, my dear Luna."
I survived the plunge but lost my baby in a pool of my own blood.
Lying half-dead in the dark forest, I heard Ryker and his Beta confirming my "accidental" death.
He hadn't just cheated on me. He had orchestrated my murder to officially welcome his Chosen Mate.
He traded my life and our unborn pup for a piece of territory, disgusted by my mother's healing bloodline.
I couldn't understand how the sacred bond of the Moon Goddess could be so easily discarded, or how a father could butcher his own flesh and blood for power.
My love and grief were instantly replaced by a burning, venomous rage.
Fortunately, the legendary Alpha King passed by and saved me from the woods.
Hidden away in an ancestral sanctuary, I opened my laptop and sent a message to a mysterious ally.
"I need to get my revenge."
This time, I was going to make them pay in blood.
9.8
Ina Holman, heiress to a failing real estate empire, was forced to attend a high-stakes matchmaking meeting to secure a financial lifeline for her family.
But the drink she was handed was secretly spiked. Desperate to avoid a public scandal that would ruin her father, she fled into a VIP elevator, only to fall directly into the arms of Buren Warner—the most ruthless billionaire predator on Wall Street.
After a blurred, chaotic night, the nightmare truly began.
A fabricated scandal of her hotel rendezvous hit the front pages. Her father slapped her across the face, using the disgrace as an excuse to freeze her accounts and kick her out onto the streets, legally severing her from the family trust before declaring bankruptcy.
Even worse, her twin sister was killed in a sudden estate explosion.
And the final, crushing blow? Ina discovered that her ex-boyfriend, Faron, the man supposed to save her family, was secretly gay. He and her best friend had orchestrated the drugging to destroy Ina's reputation, allowing Faron to break their alliance and keep his inheritance without suspicion.
Stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity, Ina screamed in agony on the freezing streets.
Her own father had murdered her sister for a fifty-million-dollar insurance payout and sacrificed Ina to hide his assets. The people she trusted most had conspired to ruin her life just for their own selfish greed.
Driven into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose, Ina stared at the cold, calculating billionaire who had tracked her down to an abandoned cliffside estate.
"Marry me, and I will give you the power to destroy them all."
To avenge her sister and crush the people who betrayed her, Ina signed her soul to the devil.
