DIRTY DADDIES

"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.

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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.

1: DIRTY STEPBROTHER (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