DIRTY DADDIES: AN 18+ EROTIC COLLECTION

CHAPTER 2: FINGERED BEFORE THEM

EVIE'S POV

The thought lingered on my mind, like the scent of his cologne still clinging to my skin.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, tracing the swollen curve where his teeth had nipped me.

His possessiveness consumed me, tangled in the haze of endorphins and something darker, something that coiled low in my belly.

My thighs ached, the ghost of his grip still burning where his fingers had dug into my hips. I should've been horrified. I should've been running.

Instead, my body hummed, alive in a way it never had before, like a live wire sparking under my skin. Used. Ruined. And desperately, shamefully, wanting more.

I forced myself upright, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through me. The towel Theon had thrown at me lay crumpled on the bed.

I snatched it up, pressing it between my legs, my breath catching at the rough feel of it against my raw, oversensitive flesh.

A shiver ran through me as I caught my reflection in the mirror-hair wild, lips bruised, the lace of my corset gaping open where he'd torn it.

I looked... fucked. Thoroughly. And my eyes... they didn't look sorry.

My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the laces, trying to tie them back into some semblance of decency. It was useless.

The fabric was stretched, the eyelets torn. I gave up, yanking my skirt down, the black lace barely covering the red marks his hands had left on my thighs.

The party noise was a dull roar under the door. Laughter. Music. Life going on while mine had just been split into a before and after. I had to go back down.

I had to find Mia, pretend none of this happened. But the thought of facing that crowd, of facing him again, made my stomach twist into a tight, anxious knot.

The door creaked open before I could move.

I whirled, my heart leaping into my throat, but it was just Mia. Her catgirl ears were slightly crooked, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes widened as they landed on me.

"Holy shit, Evie," she breathed, shutting the door and leaning against it. "You look like you just got railed by a god. And from the way Theon dragged you out of here..." She grinned, a wicked, knowing thing. "Spill. Now."

My face burned. "Mia, I can't-"

"Oh, don't you dare." She crossed the room, her gaze zeroing in on the hickies on my collarbone, the torn corset. She let out a low whistle. "He marked you. That's some possessive, caveman shit." Her eyes met mine, sparkling. "I mean, he's your stepbrother but... I approve. So? How was it? Was he... you know? A selfish jerk or..."

The memory of his fingers inside me, his mouth on my skin, his voice growling filthy things in my ear-it all crashed over me.

My core clenched, empty and aching. I squeezed my thighs together.

"It was... a lot," I whispered, the understatement of the century.

Mia's grin softened. "Good a lot or bad a lot?"

I swallowed, the truth fighting its way out.

"I don't know. It was... rough. And... I liked it." The confession felt like a sin. "He's so... angry. And he just... took me. And I let him."

"Babe," Mia said, linking her arm with mine. "That's the hottest thing I've ever heard. Now, come on. You can't hide in here all night. You need to walk out of this room like the queen who just got her world rocked."

She tugged me toward the door. My legs felt like jelly. The hallway was worse, the air thick with weed and sweat.

Every brush of a passing body made me flinch. My eyes darted through the crowd, searching without my permission.

My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, humming with a desperate need for a specific, rough pair of hands.

And then I saw him. Again.

Theon.

He was back to the kitchen doorway. He wasn't looking at me, but I felt him, a magnetic pull that made my breath catch. As if he sensed my stare, his head turned.

Those ice-blue eyes locked onto mine across the room. There was no smile-just a slow, burning intensity that stripped me bare, right there in the middle of everyone.

His gaze dropped to my torn corset, to the marks on my neck he'd put there, and a dark, possessive satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

Mine, that look said. All mine.

My cheeks flamed. I quickly looked away, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"See?" Mia whispered, nudging me. "He can't keep his eyes off you. Now, let's get a drink. You look like you need one."

We pushed to the mini bar. The air was even hotter here, bodies pressed together.

I stuck close to Mia, accepting the cup she handed me, the vodka soda doing nothing to calm the frantic energy buzzing under my skin.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what Theon dragged out."

Tyler's voice was like oil sliding over my skin. He materialized beside us, his toga looking even more ridiculous up close.

His eyes, glazed with drink, roamed over my body with a slimy appreciation that made me want to shrink away.

"Heard you got a private tour of Mercer's room," he slurred, leaning in too close. His breath was sour with beer. "Guess you're not as quiet as you look. Save some for the rest of us, yeah?"

Before I could even form a response, a presence materialized behind me. Solid. Hot. Threatening.

Theon's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me back flush against his hard chest. I gasped, the contact sending a jolt straight to my core.

"Problem, Briggs?" Theon's voice was low, a quiet rumble that vibrated through me. It was a threat.

Tyler's smirk faltered. He held up his hands. "Just chatting, man. No need to get possessive."

"I'm not getting possessive," Theon said, his fingers splaying across my stomach, branding me through the lace. "I am possessive. She's mine. Touch her again, and I'll break every one of your fucking fingers. Are we clear?"

The air crackled. Tyler's face paled. He mumbled something and melted back into the crowd.

Theon didn't move. His lips found my ear, his voice a rough, private whisper that made my knees weak.

"You forget my rules already, little witch?"

"I didn't-he came up to me," I stammered, my body melting into his despite my racing mind.

"And you didn't walk away." His hand slid lower, his fingertips dipping just below the waistband of my skirt. A silent, devastating claim. "I think you need a reminder."

He turned me in his arms, his gaze burning into me. The music was a pounding, primal beat.

His hand moved to the small of my back, pressing me against him until I could feel the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans. He was already hard. Again.

"Dance with me," he commanded, and it wasn't a request.

He led me into the writhing center of the living room, his body a cage around me. His hands were on my hips, guiding my movements, his thighs pressing against the backs of mine.

We weren't just dancing; we were simulating everything we'd just done upstairs. His hard length pressed against my ass, and I arched into him, a helpless, wanton movement.

"That's it," he growled into my ear, his breath hot. "Move that sweet little ass for me. Show me what you learned."

His hand slid from my hip, under my skirt, his fingers tracing the lace edge of my ruined panties. I gasped, my head falling back against his shoulder.

"Theon... people can see," I whispered, even as my hips ground back against him.

"Let them see." His fingers hooked into the lace, tugging it aside. The cool air hit my exposed skin, followed by the searing heat of his touch as his fingers slid through my wetness. "Fuck, Evie. You're still dripping for me. Soaking wet."

A moan caught in my throat as he pushed a finger inside me, just to the first knuckle. My inner walls clenched around him, greedy. My eyes fluttered shut.

"Look," he ordered, his voice rough.

I forced my eyes open. A guy nearby was watching us, his gaze locked on where Theon's hand was hidden under my skirt. Shame warred with a shocking, depraved thrill. We were supposed to be siblings.

"He's watching me fuck you with my fingers," Theon murmured, his own finger curling inside me, making me whimper. "He's imagining what it would be like. But he can't have it. This pretty, tight little cunt is mine, isn't it?"

"Yes," I breathed, my composure shattering.

"Mine to fuck. Mine to fill." He added a second finger, stretching me, and I cried out, the sound swallowed by the music. "Now come for me. Let him watch you fall apart on my hand."

His thumb found my clit, rubbing in firm, perfect circles. His fingers pumped inside me, hitting that deep, perfect spot.

The combination of his touch, the public shame, the raw possession in his voice-it was too much. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and blinding.

I convulsed in his arms, my body milking his fingers as I shook, a silent scream on my lips.

He held me through it, his body a solid wall keeping me upright. When the last tremor faded, he slowly pulled his fingers out, glistening with my release.

He brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on mine, and sucked them clean.

"Always a delight."

Then he was pulling me again, through the crowd, up the stairs. Not to his bedroom this time, but into a bathroom. He locked the door, crowding me back against the cold sink.

His hands were on my corset, tearing it the rest of the way off. His mouth was on my breasts, sucking new bruises into my skin.

He was a man possessed, and I was his willing sacrifice.

"On your knees," he rasped, unbuckling his belt.

I sank down without hesitation, the cool tiles hard beneath my knees.

I looked up at him, at the raw hunger on his face, and felt a surge of power. This terrifying, beautiful boy was undone because of me.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in my hand. I leaned forward, my tongue darting out to taste the salty drop of pre-cum beading at the tip.

He groaned, his hand tangling in my hair. "That's it, baby. Open that pretty mouth."

I took him in, my lips stretching around his girth. I sucked him deep, my tongue swirling, my hand working the base. His curses were a filthy, beautiful prayer above me.

"Fuck, yes... just like that. Take it all, you greedy girl."

I lost myself in the rhythm, in the taste of him, in the sounds he made. I was his good girl, his dirty little secret, his witch.

And in this moment, on my knees in a bathroom at a party, with my stepbrother's cock down my throat, I had never felt more alive.

He was close. I could feel it in the tense of his thighs, in the way his cock pulsed against my tongue.

"I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strangled.

I didn't pull away. I looked up, meeting his blazing blue eyes, and took him deeper.

With a guttural roar, he came, his release hot and bitter down my throat. I swallowed every drop, my own body humming with a desperate, renewed need.

When he finally softened, I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He looked down at me, his chest heaving, his expression one of awe and pure, unadulterated lust.

He hauled me to my feet, his kiss brutal and addictive.

"You're never going to be free of me, Evie," he breathed against my lips.

And as his hands began to roam my body again, ready for round three, I knew the most terrifying part wasn't his words.

It was that I didn't want to be.