
DIRTY DADDIES: AN 18+ EROTIC COLLECTION
That's it, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are." My boyfriend's father had me bent over his desk, hand wrapped around my throat, splitting me open with his thick cock while my boyfriend was on the line.
* * *
Forget what you know about love stories. This is a fucking raw, no-filter plunge into the depraved fantasies you only jerk off to when you're home alone.
This collection is your VIP pass to the kind of filth that leaves you shaking-where powerful bosses bend you over their desks' and depraved strangers use your holes in dirty alleyways before vanishing into the night.
We're talking about the kind of raw, pulse-pounding taboo that gets you off: forbidden age gaps, rough, messy gangbangs, public throat-fucking that steals your voice, and first times that leave you gaping, dripping, and ruined for anyone else.
Consider this your final warning. This is explicit, vulgar, and engineered to soak your panties. If you can't handle stories drenched in choking, rough anal, non-con/dub-con kinks, and filthy-mouthed sluts who beg to be used like the cum-dumpsters they are, close this book now.
But if you're ready to get utterly wrecked-if you're craving that full-body, mind-melting, vibrator-on-high kind of climax that leaves you a boneless, dripping mess...
Your next orgasm is waiting. Turn the page.
We promise you'll be a good girl for us.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1: HALLOWEEN FUCK
EVIE'S POV
The air is thick with the smell of spilled beer and some gross, sweet perfume.
The bass from the music is pounding up through my heels, right into my bones. I'm frozen just inside the door of this stupid mansion, my fingers twisting in the hem of a skirt that's way too short.
This "witch" costume Mia forced me into is a joke. This black lace corset is squeezing me so tight I can't breathe, shoving my tits up so high they're practically in my face.
I can feel the cool air on my thighs where these stupid stockings end, and these heels are a death trap.
What the actual fuck am I doing here?
For two months, I've been a pro at avoiding Theon Mercer. Since our parents got married, his cold stares and shitty comments have turned the house into a warzone.
He's arrogant. Entitled. Thinks he owns the whole world.
And now, thanks to Mia, I'm standing in the middle of his party, dressed like a slutty Halloween decoration, basically begging for his attention. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
"Stop fidgeting, you look fucking hot," Mia hisses in my ear, shoving a red cup into my hand. I take a sip and wince. It's basically straight vodka. "See? Better already."
I scan the room, my eyes skipping over drunk, laughing people. It's a mess of bodies grinding, people disappearing into dark corners. It smells like sweat and weed. And then I see him.
Theon.
He's in the kitchen, holding court. Leaning against the counter like a goddamn king, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
His dark hair is messy, and those ice-blue eyes are sharp enough to cut. He laughs at something, and the sound goes right through me.
His white t-shirt is stretched tight over his stupidly broad shoulders and his jeans are hanging so low on his hips I can see the trail of hair leading south.
My stomach does a flip. Fuck. He looks good.
I force myself to look away, but it's too late. Tyler Briggs, the king of sleazy charm, has spotted me. I see him nudge his friend and look right at me.
"Damn," he says, loud enough for me to hear. "Who knew the quiet one was hiding all that?"
My heart plummets. I try to turn away, but he's already coming over, a gross smirk on his face. Mia, the traitor, just grins and disappears.
Tyler boxes me in against the wall, his body too close, his beer breath hot on my face.
"Well, well. Eve. Didn't recognize you without a book." His fingers brush my waist and my skin crawls. "Nice costume. Or lack of one."
I try to shift away. "Thanks. Yours is... something."
He's in a toga. Of course he is.
He leans in, his voice a slimy whisper.
"Always wondered what you were hiding under those sweaters." His thumb strokes the lace of my corset, and I feel sick.
I'm about to shove him off when a shadow falls over us.
Theon's hand clamps down on Tyler's shoulder, yanking him back so hard he stumbles.
"Get your fucking hands off her," Theon growls. His voice is low and dangerous, and it does something to me right between my legs.
I shouldn't like it. But I do.
Tyler just laughs, holding his hands up. "Chill, Mercer. Just talking. Didn't know she was yours."
Theon doesn't even look at him. His eyes are locked on me, burning with a fire I've never seen. He looks pissed. He looks hungry.
"Who said you could wear that for anyone but me?" he says, his voice rough.
My breath hitches. "Excuse me?"
He doesn't answer. His fingers wrap around my wrist, tight enough to leave marks, and he's pulling me. Dragging me through the crowd.
I stumble in my heels, my protests swallowed by the music.
"Theon! Stop!"
He doesn't stop. He pulls me up the stairs, past people making out, and kicks open his bedroom door, shoving me inside. The lock clicks.
I whirl around, my back against the door.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You can't just-"
He crashes into me, his body pinning me to the wood. One hand slams next to my head, the other grips my hip, his fingers digging in. His breath is hot on my neck.
"You're mine tonight. And I don't share."
My heart is hammering. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But my body is screaming the opposite. Heat pools low in my belly, and I can feel myself getting wet.
"You don't own me," I whisper, but my voice is shaky.
"No?" His free hand slides up my thigh, his calloused fingers brushing against the damp lace of my panties. A whimper escapes me. "Then why are you already so fucking wet for me, Evie?"
Oh, God. He feels it. He knows.
His chuckle is dark and triumphant.
"God, you're such a fucking tease. Always have been." His lips burn against my ear, his teeth closing on the lobe. "You think I don't see you? Prancing around in those tiny shorts with no panties on? Getting yourself off in the bathroom, hoping I'll hear? You're not a good girl, you're a greedy little whore, Evie. And this wet, aching cunt is proof you're mine to use."
His fingers press harder against the soaked fabric, and my hips jerk. A moan tears from my throat. I'm betraying myself, and I can't stop.
Then his mouth is on mine. It's a desperate kiss-brutal and demanding. His tongue forces my lips apart and he tastes like beer and pure sin. I melt into him.
My hands clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer. I kiss him back, my tongue tangling with his, and a low growl rumbles in his chest.
His hands are everywhere. Gripping my waist, squeezing my ass so hard it'll bruise, tangling in my hair to tilt my head back. I'm on fire. The corset is too tight. I need it off. I need him.
He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck.
"Fuck, you taste like trouble," he groans, biting my collarbone.
His hands find the laces of my corset and he yanks them loose with one sharp pull. The fabric falls open and my tits spill out into the cool air.
His breath hitches.
"Look at you." His voice is full of awe. Then his mouth is on my breast, his tongue lashing my nipple before he sucks it deep.
I cry out, my fingers fisting in his hair. It's too much. His hot mouth, his rough stubble on my sensitive skin. I'm losing my mind.
"Theon-!"
His hand slides down my stomach, past the waistband of my ruined panties. His fingers slide through my wetness, making me gasp.
"So fucking soaked," he murmurs against my skin. "You like this, don't you? You like when I touch your dirty little pussy."
Two of his thick fingers push inside me without warning, and I scream. It's a rough, perfect stretch. He curls them, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes my eyes roll back.
"You're mine, Evie," he growls, his fingers pumping in and out. "Say it."
I can't think. I can't breathe. Pleasure is coiling tight in my core.
"Yours," I sob, the word ripped from me. "I'm yours!"
His growl of approval is my undoing. My orgasm shatters through me, my body clamping down on his fingers as I scream, my vision whiting out.
He doesn't stop, drawing out every last shudder until I'm limp against the door.
Then he pulls his fingers out, shiny with my wetness, and brings them to his lips. His eyes lock on mine as he sucks them clean.
A dark smirk plays on his mouth.
"Sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted."
My legs are jelly. But he's not done. He spins me around, pressing my front against the door. His hard cock is digging into my ass.
"Ass up," he commands, his voice rough.
He bends me over, his hand a firm pressure on my back. I feel the cool air on my bare skin as he yanks my skirt up.
His hand comes down on my ass in a sharp smack. I yelp. The sting is sharp, but it melts into a deep, throbbing heat. He does it again, and I moan, pushing my ass back for more.
"Such a filthy, greedy girl," he rasps, his hand rubbing the sore spot.
I feel him tear my panties the rest of the way off. Then his fingers are back, spreading me open.
"Look at this pretty, used pussy," he groans. "So fucking ready for my cock."
I feel the thick, hot head of him press against my entrance. I'm so wet, so open for him.
"You're gonna take every inch," he growls. And then he slams into me.
I scream as he fills me, stretching me to the brink. It's a burn, a perfect, brutal fullness.
His balls slap against me as he sets a punishing rhythm, his grip on my hips keeping me in place.
"You like that?" he grunts, pounding into me. "You like when I fuck this tight little cunt raw?"
"Yes! Harder!" I'm begging, my voice ragged. I've never felt so owned, so completely fucked. His cock is hitting a spot deep inside me that feels like heaven.
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. "Who do you belong to?" he demands.
"You!" I sob. "Only you, Theon!"
His thrusts become wild, erratic. I feel him swell inside me, and then he's pulling out, flipping me onto my back on the bed. He hooks my legs over his shoulders, his eyes burning into mine.
"Look at me," he orders, his voice raw. "Watch me fill you up."
He drives back into me, and I obey, my eyes locked on his. I watch the sweat on his brow, the strain in his neck, the pure, raw need on his face as he fucks me.
It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing rough, fast circles. "Come for me, Evie. Now."
I explode. My back arches off the bed, a broken scream tearing from my throat as another orgasm wrecks me, my pussy milking his cock. He groans, his thrusts turning jerky, and then he pulls out.
I watch, mesmerized, as his hand strokes his thick, hard cock and he paints my stomach and my tits with hot, sticky stripes of his cum.
The sight of it on my skin makes me moan, my body still trembling.
He stands over me, chest heaving, his eyes dark and satisfied. "Now everyone will know who this pretty pussy belongs to."
He tosses a towel at me.
"Clean yourself up. Then get back to the party." His gaze is a brand. "And don't you dare let anyone else touch what's mine."
Then he's gone, the door slamming shut.
I lie there, covered in his cum, my body aching and used. My mind is racing. What the fuck just happened? I let him ruin me. I begged for it.
Things would never be the same again.
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7.2
Betrayed by her sister. Killed by her husband.
Reborn, Sarah returns with one goal-revenge.
This time, she won't be the fool.
And with the Knox, the most dangerous man by her side...
she'll ruin them all, and take back everything that belongs to her.
Promotional line: They killed me once. This time, I'll destroy them first.

9.4
I walked away from a billionaire husband who betrayed me with my best friend-divorced, pregnant with twins, and determined never to look back.
But Ethan Harrington doesn't know how to lose.
Years later, he's sober, broken, and begging for scraps of time with our children. Supervised visits. Two hours a month. Steel boundaries.
I thought revenge would feel sweeter.
Instead, I found Damian Black-dangerous, devoted, scarred by his own shadows-and built a new empire from the ashes of the old one.
Now I'm carrying his child.
Our daughter.
But when Ethan's redemption starts looking too real, and old secrets threaten to unravel everything I've fought for...
Will I finally close the door on my past?
Or will one last betrayal force me to choose between the family I chose and the one that was forced on me?
Betrayal. Divorce. Secret babies. Second chances. Revenge. A kickass heroine rising from ruin.
And a love that refuses to stay buried.

8.8
My father bailed a violent ex-con out of prison just to force me into a marriage with him. I stood in a filthy Bronx hallway, my Vera Wang gown dragging through the grime, knowing this was the price for my mother’s life. If I didn't marry the man behind the steel door, the wire transfer for her hospital ventilator wouldn't go through the next morning.
The man, a scarred giant named Dock, treated me with cold contempt, telling me he didn't touch things he didn't want—and he didn't want a "Jacobson." I thought I had hit rock bottom, tied to a criminal while my family lived in luxury. But the nightmare was just beginning.
When I tried to return my wedding dress to pay for rent, my sister Janie and stepmother found me. They laughed as security dragged me out of the boutique, calling me a "charity case." When I finally crawled back to our family manor to beg for the money my father had promised, Janie revealed the horrific truth. She had liquidated my mother’s medical trust to fund a waterfront real estate project.
"Get out and let your mother rot," she screamed, throwing a glass of ice water in my face before having guards dump me in the dirt. I knelt on the gravel, wet and bleeding, realizing my own flesh and blood had signed my mother's death warrant for a profit. I had nothing left—no money, no home, and a husband who was supposed to be a monster.
I didn't understand why they hated me so much, or how I would survive the night. But then, a black car screeched to a halt in front of me. Dock pulled me inside, his eyes burning with a lethal coldness I’d never seen in a common thug.
As he wiped the blood from my hands, he picked up a encrypted phone and gave a single command.
"Initiate Project Titan. I want the Jacobson Group insolvent by Friday."
I looked at the man I thought was a broke felon, realizing I hadn't just married a stranger—I had married the most dangerous man in the city, and he was about to burn my family's world to the ground.

8.1
Aria once believed in forever-until her husband Zane Callahan shattered her world with a divorce that felt like a death sentence.
Broken, betrayed, and bleeding from the loss of their unborn child, she disappeared into the shadows and rebuilt herself as a one-week wife-for-hire.
No strings. No scars. No emotions.
Until Kane Callahan walked in.
He needed a bride to inherit his dying father's empire. She needed one more contract before vanishing again. But one thing neither expected? The tangled past that bound them-because Kane is Zane's estranged brother.
Aria swore she would never love again.
Kane swore he would never forgive.
But secrets don't stay buried. And neither do hearts that never truly stopped beating.
By Monday, the contract ends.
By Monday, someone will break!
By Monday, a love built on lies might just be the only truth worth saving.

8.1
When they remarried for the fourth time, Blaire Bennett told Evan Everett it was their last chance. If he betrayed her again, she would leave him for good.
Evan had sworn absolute loyalty, hand over heart-then turned around and wrapped another woman in his arms.
Caught red-handed, he delivered his excuse with practiced ease. "I can't control the split personality. You can't punish me for something the other me did."
It was a pathetic lie, and Blaire had believed it three times.
Only moments ago, she had heard him admit with her own ears that the so-called split personality was nothing but an act-a convenient cover for cheating. That was when the truth finally tore through her.
The pain had carved into Blaire like a blade. She filed for divorce without hesitation.
This time, she would not look back.

7.4
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.