Ruin Me,Daddy

Chapter 1

Lila's pov

My fiancé is cheating on me.

That was the thought hammering through my skull as I stood frozen in the doorway of our bedroom, staring at a scene I could never scrub from my brain. I watched Ethan my Ethan thrusting into my best friend like a man possessed, her legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back while she cried out his name in a voice I'd never heard from her before.

This was the man I was supposed to marry in four days. The man I had given five years of my life to shared an apartment, planned a future, saved every penny for our honeymoon in Bali. And here he was, buried deep inside Mia, my maid of honor, the girl who had helped me pick my wedding dress last weekend.

I couldn't breathe. The whole room spun like I'd been slammed into a wall. Skin slapped against skin, wet and rhythmic, the bed creaking under them. Mia's moans were loud, filthy, desperate. "Harder, Ethan fuck, yes, just like that! Don't stop!"

He growled low in his throat, the sound primal, hungry. "You're so fucking tight, baby. So much tighter than her." Than her. Than me.

My stomach lurched. I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep from vomiting right there on the hardwood floor. Five years and he had never once sounded like that with me. Our sex had always been quick, mechanical, two minutes of awkward thrusting before he rolled off and checked his phone. I'd asked for more begged, even and he'd just sigh and say, "I'm tired, Lila. Stop being dramatic."

Now I knew why.

Tears burned hot behind my eyes, but I couldn't look away. Mia's back arched off the mattress, breasts bouncing with every brutal thrust. Ethan's hand was in her hair, yanking her head back as he pounded into her like he was trying to break her in half. She screamed his name again, legs shaking, and I watched her come actually come shuddering and soaking the sheets while he kept going, relentless.

I had never come like that with him. Not once.

My knees buckled. I grabbed the doorframe, nails biting into the wood. Humiliation flooded me so thick I could taste it. How many times had they done this? In our bed? While I was at work? While I was planning our wedding cake tasting?

The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, obscene and endless.

Ethan's grunts mixed with her whimpers, and every single one of them carved another slice out of my heart.

"You're really fucking shameless, Ethan," I whispered, voice cracking like glass.

They both froze.

Mia's eyes flew open first. Panic exploded across her face. She shoved at Ethan's chest, trying to scramble away, but he was still inside her, still hard. "Lila-oh my God, Lila, it's not-"

Ethan's head snapped toward me. His eyes widened, but not with guilt. With irritation. Like I was the one interrupting something important. He pulled out of her slowly, deliberately, not even bothering to cover himself as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Lila," he said, voice flat. "What the hell are you doing home early?"

That was his first question. Not "I'm sorry." Not "This is a mistake." Just annoyance that I'd ruined his afternoon fuck.

I laughed. It came out broken and bitter. "What am I doing here? In my own apartment? Four days before our wedding?" My hands shook so hard I could barely keep them at my sides. "You're inside my best friend, Ethan. You're fucking Mia in the bed we picked out together. And you have the nerve to ask what I'm doing here?"

Mia was crying now, pulling the sheet up to her chest like that could erase everything. "Lila, please... we didn't mean for it to happen. It just.."

"Shut up," I spat. The words flew out before I could stop them. "Don't you dare speak to me. You stood beside me while I tried on wedding dresses.

You helped me choose flowers. You hugged me when I said I was nervous about the honeymoon because Ethan never makes me feel... wanted."

Ethan rolled his eyes. Actually rolled his eyes. He reached for his boxers, slipping them on like this was just another Tuesday. "Jesus, Lila.

Always so dramatic. You act like the world ends because I needed something real for once."

Something real.

The words hit harder than any slap. "Real?" I repeated, voice rising. "Five years of me loving you, supporting you, ignoring every red flag that wasn't real? Me staying even when you made me feel like I was broken because I couldn't come from two minutes of lazy sex that wasn't real?"

He stood up, towering over me, still flushed from Mia. "You want the truth? I never loved you the way you wanted. Your family's money was convenient. The wedding was convenient. But this " he gestured back at Mia, who was now sobbing into the pillow " this is what I actually want. Someone who doesn't cry every time I don't go down on her for an hour."

My cheek burned like he'd already slapped me. Tears spilled over now, hot and fast. "You bastard."

I lunged forward, hand raised, ready to smack that smug look off his face. But Ethan caught my wrist, fingers bruising. "Don't," he warned, voice low and cold. "You're embarrassing yourself."

Mia whimpered from the bed, "Ethan, let her go..."

He didn't. Instead he leaned in close, breath still smelling like her. "Go cry somewhere else, Lila. Pack your shit if you want. But don't ruin the wedding deposits. My parents already paid for half."

That was it. The last thread snapped.

I ripped my arm free, chest heaving. "We're done. The wedding is off. You can explain to everyone why the bride walked in on you balls-deep in her best friend."

I turned and ran.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, out the front door into the pouring rain. My phone buzzed in my pocket probably Mia or my mother but I didn't answer. I just kept running until my lungs burned and my heels snapped off.

I needed to forget.

I needed to disappear.

I needed someone anyone to make me feel wanted for once in my goddamn life.

The hotel district was only two blocks away. The same five-star place we'd booked for our wedding night. I laughed through the tears as I stumbled toward it, soaked and shaking.

Tonight I wasn't Lila Harper, the good girl who played by every rule.

Tonight I was going to get drunk. Blackout drunk. And if the universe was kind, I'd wake up tomorrow in the arms of a stranger who actually knew how to ruin a woman the right way.

Because Ethan never could.

And right now, all I wanted was to be ruined.

Chapter 2

The hotel bar was dim, all low amber lights and velvet booths that swallowed sound. Rain lashed the floor-to-ceiling windows like it wanted in. I'd already downed three shots of tequila cheap, burning, perfect. The fourth sat in front of me, untouched for now, because my hands were shaking too hard to pick it up without spilling.

My dress clung to me like a second skin, soaked through from the run here. Black silk, the one I'd bought for the honeymoon. Low-cut, slit up the thigh. I'd worn it tonight to feel sexy for Ethan, to maybe spark something in him before the wedding. Joke's on me.

The bartender a pretty girl with pink hair slid a napkin under my glass.

"Rough night?" she asked, voice soft.

I laughed, bitter. "You could say that." I finally wrapped my fingers around the shot and tossed it back. Fire raced down my throat, settled hot in my belly. Better.

I scanned the room without really seeing it. Couples murmuring, a businessman nursing whiskey alone, a group of girls laughing too loud. No one looked twice at the drenched girl in the corner with mascara tracks down her cheeks. Good. I didn't want company. I just wanted to disappear into the haze until the pain dulled.

Except someone was watching me.

I felt it before I saw him prickling awareness at the back of my neck, like fingers ghosting over skin. My gaze drifted left, past the piano player, to the shadowed booth in the far corner.

There.

A man. Alone. Dark suit, no tie, top button undone. Mid-forties, maybe late forties silver threading through black hair at the temples, sharp jaw, eyes so dark they looked black even from here. He wasn't staring openly. He was... assessing. Like I was a puzzle he'd already half-solved.

Our eyes met.

He didn't smile. Didn't look away. Just held my gaze, steady, unblinking. Heat crawled up my spine despite the chill of wet fabric. I should have looked away first. I didn't.

Instead, I lifted my empty glass in a mock toast. Stupid. Reckless. His mouth curved just the barest hint of a smirk before he raised his own glass in return. Scotch, neat. Ice clinked softly.

My pulse kicked hard.

I turned back to the bar, cheeks burning. What the hell was I doing? Flirting? With a stranger? Hours after my life exploded?

But the tequila was working. The edges of everything softened. The humiliation still sat heavy in my chest, but it didn't hurt quite as sharply now. And that man... God, he looked like trouble. The kind I'd never let myself have.

I signaled for another shot.

Before it arrived, a low voice spoke behind me. "You're going to regret that fifth one."

I spun on the stool.

It was him.

Up close, he was even more devastating. Tall easily over six feet broad shoulders filling out the suit like it was tailored by God himself.

His cologne hit me first: dark, expensive, something with smoke and leather and sin. His eyes weren't black after all; they were deep midnight blue, flecked with gold when the light caught them.

He leaned one elbow on the bar beside me, casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at me. Like he could see every tear-streaked thought in my head.

"I can handle my liquor," I said, voice steadier than I felt.

"Can you?" His voice was low, rough velvet. "Because you're shaking."

I glanced down. My hands were trembling on the bar top. Damn it.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Without asking, he slid onto the stool next to mine. Close enough that his knee brushed my thigh through the slit in my dress. Electricity snapped between us.

"Rough night?" he asked, echoing the bartender. But where her tone had been kind, his was... curious. Hungry, maybe.

"You could say that." I met his eyes again. No point in pretending. "My fiancé was fucking my best friend in our bed. Four days before the wedding."

He didn't flinch. Didn't offer platitudes. Just watched me for a long beat.

Then: "He's an idiot."

A surprised laugh burst out of me. "Yeah. He is."

The bartender set the new shot down. I reached for it. His hand closed gently but firmly around my wrist, stopping me.

My breath caught.

"Let it sit," he said. Not a request. "You're already drowning. Don't make it worse."

Heat flooded my face and lower. The way he said it, the quiet command in his voice... it did something to me. Something wrong and right all at once.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"Lucian Kane." He released my wrist slowly, fingertips trailing fire along my skin. "And you are?"

"Lila." I swallowed. "Lila Harper."

"Lila." He said my name like he was tasting it. Like he liked the flavor. "Pretty name for a pretty girl who's about to make very bad decisions."

My core clenched at the words. Bad decisions. Yes. That's exactly what I wanted tonight.

"I'm already making them," I said, bolder than I'd ever been. "I came here to get drunk and forget. Maybe more."

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower lingering on the wet silk clinging to my breasts, the hard peaks of my nipples visible through the fabric. No bra. I hadn't worn one tonight, thinking Ethan would appreciate it.

He noticed. His jaw tightened, just a fraction.

"Careful what you ask for, princess," he murmured. "Some men don't play nice."

The word princess landed like a spark on dry tinder. My thighs pressed together instinctively.

"I don't want nice," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "I want to feel something. Anything. Other than... this." I gestured vaguely at my chest, where the ache still lived.

Lucian studied me for another long moment. Then he stood, offering his hand.

"Come with me."

It wasn't a question.

My heart slammed against my ribs. This was insane. I didn't know him. He could be dangerous. He probably was.

But right now, dangerous sounded better than empty.

I placed my hand in his.

His palm was warm, callused in places that spoke of control, of power. He tugged me gently off the stool. I swayed a little tequila and adrenaline and he steadied me with a hand at the small of my back. Possessive. Claiming.

We didn't speak as he led me through the bar, past curious glances, to the private elevator at the back. He swiped a black card. The doors slid open.

Inside, the space felt too small. Too intimate. He pressed the button for the penthouse floor. Of course.

As the doors closed, he turned to face me fully.

"Last chance to change your mind, princess."

I looked up at himreally looked. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes. The scar just under his jaw. The way his chest rose and fell a little faster now.

"I don't want to change my mind," I said.

His hand came up, cupping my jaw. Thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"Good girl."

The praise hit me like a drug. My knees weakened.

Then the elevator dinged.

He didn't wait. He scooped me up effortless, like I weighed nothing and carried me into the dark suite.

The door clicked shut behind us.

And just like that, I was his.

For tonight, at least.

Chapter 3

The penthouse door closed with a soft, final click that echoed in my chest like a gunshot.

Lucian didn't set me down right away. He carried me through the dark entryway, past shadowed marble and low recessed lighting that painted everything in gold and midnight. My wet dress stuck to my skin, cold silk against fever-hot flesh.

His arm under my thighs felt like iron steady, unyielding. I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric, branding me where it rested possessively on my ass.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The silence between us was thick, electric, filled with everything we weren't saying yet.

We passed a wall of windows overlooking the storm-lashed city. Rain streaked the glass in violent silver lines. Lightning flashed once, illuminating his profile sharp jaw clenched, eyes fixed ahead like a predator who'd already decided on his prey.

My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could feel it against his chest.

He carried me straight into the bedroom.

No preamble. No polite offer of a drink or small talk. Just the wide, low bed dominating the space, black sheets already turned down like he'd known I was coming. Maybe he had. Men like him always seemed to know.

He lowered me to my feet at the foot of the bed, slow, deliberate. My ruined heels clicked against the hardwood. I swayed tequila, adrenaline, fear and his hands caught my hips, steadying me. Holding me exactly where he wanted me.

"Look at me," he said. Quiet command.

I lifted my eyes.

Up close in the dim light, Lucian Kane looked even more dangerous. The faint scar along his jaw caught the glow. His midnight-blue gaze pinned me in place, stripping me bare without touching a button.

"You're shaking again, princess."

"I'm... cold," I lied.

One dark brow lifted. "Liar."

His thumbs stroked once along my hipbones-slow, deliberate circles through wet silk. My breath hitched. Heat pooled low in my belly, sudden and shameful.

He stepped closer until our bodies almost touched. I could feel the heat rolling off him, smell that dark leather-and-smoke cologne mixed with clean male skin. My nipples tightened painfully against the clinging fabric.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough velvet. "Say the word and I'll put you in a cab. You'll wake up tomorrow with nothing but a hangover and regret."

I swallowed hard. My tongue felt thick.

"I don't want to stop."

His eyes darkened. "Then you don't get to be shy. You don't get to hide. You asked to feel something. So you're going to feel every fucking thing I give you."

A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.

His mouth curved just that cruel, beautiful hint of a smirk.

"Good girl."

He reached behind me. The zipper of my dress rasped down in one smooth pull. Cold air kissed my spine. The wet silk peeled away from my skin like a second shed layer. He tugged it over my shoulders, down my arms, let it pool at my feet.

I stood there in nothing but black lace panties already damp and the remnants of ruined mascara.

Lucian stepped back half a pace. Looked.

Really looked.

His gaze dragged over me like a physical touch breasts heaving with every shallow breath, nipples dark and aching, stomach quivering, thighs pressed tight together to hide how wet I already was.

"Beautiful," he said, low. Almost reverent. Then darker: "And so fucking needy."

I flushed from chest to hairline.

He circled me slowly. A predator inspecting his catch. I felt his eyes on every inch my ass, the curve of my waist, the vulnerable nape of my neck where my hair clung in wet strands.

When he came back in front of me, he tipped my chin up with one finger.

"On your knees, princess."

My legs folded before my brain caught up. I sank down, knees hitting the plush rug. Eye level with the thick ridge straining against his suit pants.

My mouth watered. Shamefully. Instantly.

He didn't touch himself yet. Just watched me stare.

"You've never begged for cock before, have you?"

I shook my head, cheeks burning.

"Words, Lila."

"No," I whispered. "Never."

His hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just... owning.

"Then you're going to learn tonight."

He tugged once sharp enough to make me gasp. My scalp tingled. Fresh heat flooded between my legs.

"Unzip me."

My hands shook as I reached for his belt. Leather whispered through the loops. The buckle clinked. Then the zipper slow, torturous. I pulled it down tooth by tooth.

His cock sprang free thick, veined, already glistening at the tip. Bigger than Ethan's. Much bigger. The sight made my core clench hard around nothing.

Lucian wrapped his fist around the base, stroked once, slow. A bead of pre-cum welled up. My tongue darted out instinctively.

He chuckled low, dark. "Greedy little thing."

He guided the head to my lips. Smearing wetness across them like gloss.

"Open."

I did.

He didn't thrust. Not yet. Just fed me the tip slow, letting me feel the stretch of my mouth, the salty taste exploding on my tongue. I moaned around him without meaning to.

"That's it," he growled. "Suck."

I hollowed my cheeks, swirling my tongue, desperate to please. Desperate to feel wanted. His hand tightened in my hair, controlling the pace. Shallow at first teasing me with just the head then deeper. Deeper.

My throat fluttered. I gagged once. He didn't pull back. Just held me there, letting me adjust, letting tears prick my eyes again but different tears this time. Not heartbreak. Hunger.

"Good girl," he rasped. "Taking it so well for someone who's never begged before."

He pulled out with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting us. I whimpered at the loss.

"Not yet," he said. "I'm not coming in your mouth tonight."

He hauled me up by the arms effortless and tossed me onto the bed. I landed on my back, legs splayed, chest heaving.

He shed his jacket. Shirt. Trousers. Every movement precise, controlled. When he was naked, the sight stole my breath muscled chest dusted with dark hair, abs carved, thighs powerful. Scars here and there. A man who'd lived hard and won every fight.

He crawled over me, caging me with his body. Heat poured off him. His cock dragged hot and heavy along my inner thigh

.

"Look at me," he ordered again.

I did.

He hooked two fingers in the lace of my panties and ripped them away like they offended him. Cool air hit my soaked folds. I cried out.

"So fucking wet," he murmured, almost to himself. "Dripping for a stranger who's about to ruin you."

His hand slid between my legs. Two fingers parted me, stroked once through the slickness light, teasing.

I bucked.

He pinned my hip down with his free hand. "Stay still."

I tried. God, I tried.

He circled my clit slow, maddening circles. Pressure building, coiling tight. My hips jerked anyway.

He stopped.

I whined.

"Beg," he said simply.

"Please," I gasped. "Please touch me."

"More."

"Please, Lucian-Daddy-" The word slipped out, unbidden. I froze.

His eyes flared. Dark, dangerous delight.

"Say it again."

"Daddy," I whispered, trembling. "Please... make me come."

He rewarded me with one hard, perfect stroke over my clit.

My back bowed off the bed.

Then he pinned both my wrists above my head with one massive hand.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled. "You don't get to hide when you come."

His fingers plunged inside me two, thick, curling just right. His thumb worked my clit in ruthless circles.

Pleasure slammed into me like a freight train.

I screamed.

He didn't let up. Kept fucking me with his fingers, deep, relentless, while his mouth came down on my nipple sucking hard, teeth grazing.

The orgasm ripped through me violent, shattering. My whole body seized, thighs clamping around his hand, vision whiting out. I sobbed his name Daddy over and over like a prayer.

He worked me through it. Slowed only when I started shaking too hard to breathe.

When I finally collapsed, limp and wrecked, he withdrew his fingers. Brought them to my lips.

"Clean them."

I sucked obediently, tasting myself on him. Salty. Sweet. Mine.

He kissed me then first real kiss. Slow. Deep. Claiming. His tongue owned my mouth the way his fingers had owned my pussy.

When he pulled back, his voice was gravel.

"That was just the warm-up, princess."

He flipped me onto my stomach. Pulled my hips up. Spread me wide.

I felt the blunt head of him nudge my entrance.

"Last chance," he rasped against my ear. "Tell me to stop."

I pushed back instead greedy, desperate.

"Ruin me, Daddy."

He thrust in hard, deep, all at once.

I screamed again.

And the night really began.