DIRTY DADDIES: AN 18+ EROTIC COLLECTION

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.

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.

MABEL'S POV

God, I fucking hated Chase Vanderbilt.

It wasn't just the trust fund, the smug, chiseled jaw, or the way he ruled this entire campus like it was his personal kingdom.

It was the way he looked at me. Like I was a bug. A piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his two-thousand-dollar loafers.

"Problem, scholarship case?" His voice, a low drawl laced with pure venom, cut through the library silence.

I'd been trying to study for my Econ midterm, but all I could focus on was the way he was holding court at the large oak table, his frat brothers hanging on his every word.

He was the star quarterback, the golden boy, and he knew it.

I slammed my textbook shut. "The only problem here is your voice, Vanderbilt. Some of us are actually here to learn, not just to have our daddies buy a degree."

His friends snickered, but Chase's gray eyes just narrowed. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

He leaned forward, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "You've got a real smart mouth on you, Mabel. I wonder how it'd feel wrapped around my cock."

Heat flooded my cheeks, a traitorous flush that had nothing to do with anger.

"In your dreams," I spat, gathering my things with trembling hands.

"Every fucking night," he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips.

That was the infuriating thing. This wasn't one-sided.

The hatred was a live wire between us, and every time we sparred, it sparked something else. Something dark and hungry and desperate.

The tension boiled over for months. It was in the way he'd "accidentally" brush against me in a crowded hallway, his hand lingering on my lower back just a second too long.

It was in the filthy, promising looks he'd shoot me across the lecture hall while the professor droned on.

I'd go back to my dorm, my panties soaked, and hate-fuck myself with my vibrator, imagining it was his mouth, his hands, his... everything.

The breaking point was the Halloween party.

I went as a sexy fairy, because fuck it, why not? He was a vampire, of course.

A ridiculously hot one in a tailored black suit and fangs. Our eyes met across the buzzing dance floor, and the air came alive.

He started toward me, a hunter on a mission. I turned and fled, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

I ducked into what I thought was a bathroom. It wasn't. It was a dark, cramped supply closet.

Before I could escape, the door opened and he filled the frame, backlit by the strobe lights.

"Running away, little fairy?" he purred, stepping inside and locking the door. The click of the bolt was the loudest sound I'd ever heard.

"Get out, Chase."

"Make me."

He was on me in an instant, his body caging me against a shelf of paper towels.

The smell of his cologne and expensive whiskey was intoxicating. I shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a brick wall.

"I hate you," I breathed, even as my hips arched toward him.

"I know," he growled, his mouth crashing down on mine.

It wasn't a mere flimsy kiss. It was a battle. Teeth clashing, tongues warring. It was raw and violent and everything I'd fantasized about.

His hands ripped the wings from my costume, then tore the front of my dress, my tits spilling out into the cool air.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he snarled, pinching my nipples hard, sending jolts of sharp pleasure-pain straight to my clit.

I cried out, and he swallowed the sound, his kiss becoming even more demanding.

He spun me around, bending me over a stack of boxes. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. The other hiked up my skirt, his fingers roughly shoving my thong aside.

"So fucking wet for me," he grunted, sliding two fingers inside me. "All this time, pretending you're too good for me. And your cunt is dripping."

"Shut up," I moaned, pushing back against his hand.

"Make me," he repeated, his voice darker. He pulled his fingers out, slick with my arousal, and brought them to my lips. "Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this."

I opened my mouth, sucking his fingers clean, my eyes locked on his in the dim light. The filthy act made me even wetter.

That broke him. He unbuckled his belt, the sound of his zipper echoing in the small space.

I heard him spit into his hand, and then I felt the thick, blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

"You ready for this, you little bitch?" he whispered in my ear, his body covering mine.

"Just fuck me, you asshole," I panted.

He drove into me in one brutal, searing thrust. I screamed, the stretch bordering on pain, but it was the most exquisite feeling I'd ever known.

He was huge, filling me completely, hitting a spot deep inside that made me see stars.

"Holy shit," he groaned, his body going still for a second. "You're so fucking tight. You're gonna milk my dick dry."

Then he started to move. It was a brutal rhythm, pure, unadulterated fucking. The shelves rattled with every thrust. His hand was still in my hair, his other hand gripping my hip so hard I knew I'd have bruises.

"You like that?" he grunted, slamming into me. "You like being my little fuck-toy?"

"Yes!" I cried, my own orgasm coiling tight, my fingers scrambling for purchase on the cardboard boxes.

"Whose dirty little cunt is this?"

"Yours!" I sobbed, the admission tearing from me.

"Damn right it is."

He reached around, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles. It was too much.

The overstimulation, the vulgar words, the sheer force of him.

My vision whited out as I came, my pussy clenching around his cock in violent, pulsing waves. I screamed his name, my body convulsing.

Feeling me come set him off. With a final, deep thrust that buried him to the hilt, he roared, his hot cum flooding my pussy in thick, endless spurts.

He collapsed over me, his sweaty chest against my back, both of us panting and wrecked in the dark.

We stayed like that for a long minute, the only sound our ragged breathing. Slowly, he pulled out, and I felt his cum start to drip down my thighs.

He turned me around, his expression unreadable. He gently wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb-a gesture so at odds with what we'd just done.

Then he smirked, that infuriating, gorgeous smirk.

"Still hate me, darling?"

I looked him dead in the eye, my body still humming, my pussy still throbbing. "More than ever."

His grin widened. "Good. My room. Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."

He unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving me alone in the dark, covered in the evidence of our hatred, and already aching for more.