DADDY'S NAUGHTY PET

Sophie's POV

I'm getting married in two weeks, and I'm about to make the biggest mistake of my life.

Not marrying Derek. That's probably a mistake too, if I'm being honest with myself. Twenty-four years old, engaged to my college sweetheart who thinks missionary once a week is adventurous, planning a wedding that feels more like a performance than a celebration.

No, the mistake I'm about to make is walking into this strip club.

But my best friend Maya had insisted. "One last wild night before you're tied down forever," she'd said, dragging me and three other bridesmaids to Onyx-the kind of upscale gentlemen's club where the dancers look like models and the private rooms cost more than my car payment.

The bass thundered through my chest as we claimed a table near the main stage. The lights were dim, red and purple hues casting everything in sin. Half-naked men moved on stage with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly how good they looked. And god, they looked good. Muscular, tattooed, the kind of bodies Derek definitely didn't have.

I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be looking. I shouldn't have felt this heat pooling low in my belly as I watched them move.

"Drinks!" Maya shouted over the music, shoving a martini into my hand. "To Sophie's last night of freedom!"

The other girls cheered. I downed the drink in three gulps.

Two drinks became four. Four became six. The room started spinning pleasantly, my inhibitions melting away with each sip. I watched the dancers with increasing boldness, my thighs pressing together as I imagined what those strong hands would feel like on my body.

Derek had never made me feel like this-desperate, aching, willing to do something reckless just to satisfy the craving. We'd been together since I was nineteen, and our sex life was... fine. Predictable and boring, if I was being brutally honest after six vodka sodas.

But these men? They looked like they could fuck me until I forgot my own name.

"That one keeps looking at you," Maya whispered in my ear, nodding toward the stage.

She was right. One of the dancers-tall, probably mid-thirties, with dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass-had his eyes locked on me. He moved like liquid sex, all rolling muscles and deliberate movements, and when he smiled at me, it was pure sin.

My face flushed hot. I looked away, but I could still feel his gaze burning into me.

"You should get a private dance," Maya urged, giggling. "Come on, live a little! Derek never has to know."

"I don't know..." I started, but she was already waving him over.

Fuck.

He approached our table with the easy confidence of a man who knew exactly how devastating he was. Up close, he was even more gorgeous-those dark eyes, the shadow of stubble on his sharp jaw, tattoos covering his muscular arms. He had to be at least thirty-five, maybe older. A real man, not a boy like Derek.

"Ladies," he said, his voice deep and smooth like whiskey. His eyes landed on me. "Bride-to-be?"

The stupid sash Maya had forced me to wear gave it away. I nodded, suddenly unable to form words.

"Congratulations." He didn't sound like he meant it. "How about a private dance? My gift to the blushing bride."

Maya practically shoved me out of my seat. "She'd love one!"

My heart hammered as he extended his hand. I took it-his palm warm and rough against mine-and let him lead me away from the table, down a hallway lined with doors. Private rooms.

We stepped into one and he closed the door behind us. The music was muffled here, the lighting lower, more intimate. A leather couch dominated the small space, and mirrors lined one wall.

"I'm Dante," he said, leaning against the closed door. "What's your name, beautiful?"

"Sophie," I managed, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

"Sophie." He said it slowly, like he was tasting it. "How old are you, Sophie?"

"Twenty-four."

His smile widened. "And how old is your fiancé?"

"Twenty-five. Why?"

"Just wondering what kind of man lets a girl like you walk into a place like this without him." He pushed off the door and stalked toward me with predatory grace. "Wondering if he knows what he's got."

I should've been offended. Should've defended Derek. Instead, I just stood there, frozen, as Dante circled me slowly.

"He doesn't, does he?" Dante continued, stopping behind me. His breath was warm against my neck. "Doesn't know that underneath this good girl act, you're desperate to be touched. To be fucked properly for once in your life."

"That's not-" I started, but he stepped closer, his chest brushing my back, and the words died in my throat.

"You're soaked already, aren't you?" he murmured in my ear. "I can see it in the way you're breathing. The way you're pressing your thighs together. You came here hoping something would happen. Hoping someone would finally give you what you need."

He was right. God, he was so fucking right, and the shame of it only made me wetter.

"This is just a dance," I whispered, but it sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Sure it is." His hands landed on my hips, pulling me back against him, and I felt the hard length of him pressing against my ass through his leather pants. "But if you want more, Sophie, all you have to do is ask."

I should've said no. Should've walked out right then. But I didn't.

Instead, I turned in his arms and looked up at him. "I want more."

His smile was wicked. "Good girl."

He kissed me hard, his tongue invading my mouth, claiming it. I moaned against his lips, my hands clutching at his bare shoulders. He tasted like mint and sin, and when he bit my bottom lip, I gasped.

"How much more do you want?" he asked, his hands sliding under my tight dress, pushing it up my thighs. "Just this? Or do you want to know what it feels like to be properly fucked?"

"Both," I breathed. "Everything. I want everything."

He groaned, palming my ass through my panties. "Fuck, you're perfect. Does your fiancé know what a desperate little slut he's marrying?"

The degradation should've bothered me. Instead, it made my pussy clench with need.

"No," I admitted. "He thinks I'm... innocent."

Dante laughed darkly. "Then let's ruin that innocence."

He walked me backward until my legs hit the couch, then pushed me down onto it. I landed on my back, my dress bunched around my waist, and watched as he stripped off his leather pants. His cock sprang free-thick, long, pierced at the tip-and my mouth watered.

"Have you ever sucked cock, Sophie?" he asked, stroking himself slowly.

"Yes, but-"

"But your fiancé's dick is small and he comes in two minutes," Dante finished. "I can tell. You've never had a real cock in that pretty mouth, have you?"

I shook my head.

"On your knees then. Let me teach you."

I scrambled off the couch and dropped to my knees on the carpet. He stepped closer, his cock level with my face, and I stared at it with a mixture of hunger and intimidation. The piercing through the head glinted in the low light.

"Open," he commanded.

I obeyed, parting my lips, and he guided himself into my mouth. The metal of the piercing was cool against my tongue, the taste of him salty and masculine. I moaned around him, my hands coming up to grip his thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, his hand tangling in my hair. "Now take it deeper. Show me what a good little bride-to-be you can be."

I took him deeper, fighting my gag reflex as he hit the back of my throat. Tears gathered in my eyes but I didn't pull back. I wanted this. Wanted to prove I could handle him.

"Fuck, your mouth feels good," he groaned, his hips starting to thrust shallowly. "But I bet your pussy feels even better."

He pulled out of my mouth and hauled me to my feet, spinning me around to face the mirrored wall. I watched our reflection as he yanked my dress over my head, leaving me in just my bra and panties. His hands cupped my breasts through the lace, squeezing roughly.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "Look at how fucking perfect you are. And you're about to give all this to some boy who doesn't deserve it."

"Please," I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for anymore.

He unclasped my bra and tossed it aside, then hooked his fingers into my panties and dragged them down my legs. I stepped out of them, completely naked now except for my heels, and watched as his hands roamed over my body possessively.

"Spread your legs," he said. "Let me see that virgin pussy."

"I'm not a virgin," I protested weakly.

"You are to me." His hand slid between my thighs, fingers stroking through my wetness. "Fuck, you're dripping. When's the last time you were this wet for your fiancé?"

"Never," I admitted, my head falling back against his shoulder.

He slid two fingers inside me and I cried out. "That's what I thought. You need a real man, Sophie. Someone who knows how to make you scream."

"Yes," I gasped as his fingers curled, hitting that spot Derek had never found. "Please, I need-"

A knock on the door made us both freeze.

"Dante?" A male voice called through the door. "You good, man?"

Dante's fingers didn't stop moving. "Yeah. Why?"

"Got a request. Group wants to know if the bride's interested in a bachelor party special."

My pussy clenched around his fingers. "What's that?" I asked breathlessly.

Dante's smile in the mirror was absolutely filthy. "That's when my friends and I take turns fucking the bride-to-be until she can't remember her own name. Usually costs a couple grand."

My rational mind screamed that this was insane. That I should get dressed and leave right now. But my body-my desperate, aching body that had never been properly satisfied-had other ideas.

"How many friends?" I heard myself ask.

"Three." His thumb found my clit, rubbing circles that made my knees weak. "Me and three others. Four men who'll use every hole until you're filled and dripping with cum. That's what you want, isn't it? To be used like the desperate slut you really are?"

I should've said no.

Instead, I looked at him in the mirror and said, "Yes. I want all of you."

His grin was predatory. "That's my good girl."

He opened the door, his fingers still buried in my pussy, and three more men stepped into the room.

They were all gorgeous. All older-ranging from mid-thirties to what looked like early forties. All built like they spent hours in the gym. One was covered in tattoos, another had silver at his temples that made him look distinguished and dangerous. The third had the body of a professional athlete.

They looked at me-naked, flushed, dripping down Dante's hand-and their eyes darkened with pure hunger.

"Gentlemen," Dante said, finally removing his fingers and bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean. "Meet Sophie. She's getting married in two weeks and wants one last wild night. Think we can help her out?"

"Fuck yes," the tattooed one growled.

"She's perfect," the silver-haired one agreed, already stripping off his shirt.

The athletic one just smiled. "Let's ruin her for her husband."

My pussy clenched at the words. This was happening. This was really happening.

Dante guided me to the couch and sat down, pulling me into his lap so I was straddling him. His cock pressed against my entrance, thick and hard and ready.

"Last chance to back out," he said, even as his hands gripped my hips. "Once we start, we're not stopping until we've all had you. Multiple times."

I looked at the four men surrounding me-these beautiful, dangerous men who looked at me like I was something to be devoured.

Then I sank down onto Dante's cock.

We both groaned as he filled me, stretching me wider than I'd ever been stretched before. The piercing dragged against my inner walls in a way that made stars burst behind my eyes.

"Holy fuck," I gasped, my hands bracing on his shoulders. "You're so big."

"And you're so fucking tight," he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "Start moving, Sophie. Ride my cock like a good girl."

I started to move, lifting up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had pleasure building with each bounce. His hands guided me, pulling me down harder, making me take all of him.

The other three watched, stroking themselves through their pants, and knowing they were all going to fuck me next made me even wetter.

"That's it," Dante encouraged. "Fuck yourself on my cock. Show them what a desperate little bride you are."

I rode him faster, chasing my release, my tits bouncing with each movement. One of the other men-the tattooed one-stepped forward and captured my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. I cried out, the dual sensation overwhelming.

"She's close," Dante observed. "I can feel her pussy squeezing. You want to cum, Sophie?"

"Yes," I sobbed. "Please let me cum."

"Then cum," he commanded, his thumb finding my clit. "Cum all over my cock so we can pass you around like the fuck toy you want to be."

His words combined with the pressure on my clit shattered me. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, my pussy clamping down on him as I screamed. Pleasure whited out my vision, my whole body shaking.

"Fuck!" Dante groaned, and I felt him pulse inside me, filling me with hot cum.

He'd come inside me. No condom. The realization should've terrified me, but instead it just made me clench harder around him.

When I finally stopped shaking, he lifted me off his lap and the silver-haired man immediately took his place on the couch.

"My turn," he said with a dangerous smile. "And I like it rough."

I looked at the four men-at the cum already leaking down my thigh, at the hungry way they watched me-and knew I was in for the longest, most depraved night of my life.

Derek would never know. And honestly? I didn't care

.

This was exactly what I needed.

I thought one round with four men would satisfy the craving.

I was wrong. So fucking wrong.

Because sitting there on that leather couch, cum leaking down my thighs, watching these four gorgeous men stroke themselves back to hardness while they looked at me like I was their next meal-I realized one orgasm wasn't going to be enough. Not even close.

I'd spent five years with Derek thinking sex was supposed to be quick and disappointing. Five years of missionary position and him finishing in three minutes while I faked it just to make him feel good about himself. Five years of my vibrator doing more for me than my fiancé ever had.

But now? Now that I'd felt what real fucking was like? Now that Dante's thick cock had stretched me open and made me cum harder than I ever had in my life?

I wanted more. Needed more.

I wanted them to take me in ways Derek wouldn't even fantasize about. Wanted every hole claimed, every boundary shattered. I wanted to be their complete fuck toy, used and wrecked until I couldn't remember why I'd ever said yes to that boring proposal.

Gabriel-the silver-haired one who looked like he'd stepped out of a cologne ad-stood from where he'd been watching. He had to be in his early forties, distinguished in a way that made my pussy clench. His body was lean but muscular, and when he looked at me, his eyes held a darkness that promised he knew exactly how to hurt me in the best ways.

"My turn," he said, his voice carrying an authority that made me instinctively want to obey. "And I don't do gentle, little bride. I'm going to fuck you so hard you feel me for days. Every time you sit down, every time you move, you'll remember my cock destroying this sweet cunt."

My breath caught. "Yes. Please."

"Please what?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Please fuck me, sir," I whispered, and I don't know where the 'sir' came from, but it felt right.

His smile was predatory. "Good girl. Dante, you got her all warmed up for me. Now I'm going to show her what rough really means."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up from the couch, spinning me around and bending me over the arm of it. My ass was in the air, my face pressed into the leather that still smelled like sex and Dante's cologne. I could feel Dante's cum still leaking out of me, dripping down my inner thighs.

Gabriel's hand cracked across my ass without warning, the sharp sting making me yelp.

"Count them," he ordered. "I want to hear you thank me for each one."

Another smack, harder this time, on the other cheek.

"One," I gasped. "Thank you, sir."

"Good girl."

He spanked me methodically, alternating cheeks, each strike harder than the last. My skin burned, tears gathering in my eyes, but my pussy was getting wetter with each impact. By the time he reached ten, I was sobbing and grinding against the couch arm, desperate for friction.

"Look at this," Gabriel said, and I felt his fingers stroke through my wetness. "You're fucking soaked. You love being spanked like a bad girl, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I admitted, shame and arousal mixing into something overwhelming.

"Your fiancé ever spank you?" he asked, pushing two fingers inside me.

"No," I whimpered.

"Course not. He probably treats you like you're made of glass. Doesn't know you need to be handled rough." His fingers curled, hitting that perfect spot. "Doesn't know his pretty little bride fantasizes about being used like a whore."

"Please," I begged, not even sure what I was asking for anymore.

"Please what? Use your words."

"Please fuck me, sir. I need your cock. I need it rough. Please-"

He slammed into me without warning, his cock even thicker than Dante's, and I screamed into the leather. He gave me no time to adjust, just started pounding into me with brutal force that made the entire couch shake.

"That's it," he growled, one hand fisting in my hair and yanking my head back while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. "Take it. Take every fucking inch like the desperate slut you are."

His pace was punishing, each thrust driving deeper, hitting places I didn't know existed. The angle had him dragging against my G-spot with every stroke, and I felt that coil of pleasure building embarrassingly fast.

"Already close again?" Gabriel noticed, his voice mocking. "Fuck, you really are desperate. How many times has your fiancé made you cum? Once? Twice in five years?"

"Never," I sobbed. "He's never made me cum."

"Jesus Christ." His thrusts got harder. "Never? And you were going to marry him?"

"I didn't know-didn't know it could feel like this-"

"Now you do." He released my hair and reached around to find my clit, rubbing harsh circles. "Now you know what it feels like to be fucked by a real man. To have a cock that actually knows what to do with this tight little pussy. Cum for me, Sophie. Cum on my cock so I can fill you up like your fiancé never will."

His words pushed me over the edge. My second orgasm hit even harder than the first, my vision whiting out as pleasure consumed me. I felt myself gush around him, soaking both of us, my walls clamping down so hard he cursed.

"Fuck, fuck-" Gabriel's rhythm faltered and then he was cumming too, hot spurts joining Dante's inside me, marking me, claiming me.

He pulled out and I collapsed against the couch, legs shaking, barely able to hold myself up. I could feel both men's cum leaking out of me, dripping onto the leather.

"Jesus, she's perfect," someone said-Marcus, the tattooed one.

"My turn," another voice added. James, the athletic one built like a professional swimmer.

Strong hands lifted me off the couch and laid me on the plush carpet in the center of the room. I looked up to see all four men standing over me, stroking themselves, their cocks hard and ready again.

"You ever had two cocks at once, Sophie?" Dante asked, kneeling beside me.

I shook my head, unable to form words.