LOGINANGEL
I probably should leave, but when have I ever left before? I might be a masochist because I love to torture myself like this, watching something I could never have. This wasn’t the first time I had secretly monitored Daddy in sexual situations, it was exactly like this that I knew how huge daddy’s cóck was, and how beautifully moulded, crafted it was for a woman’s pleasure. Jillian’s tongue trailed those hot veins, she smooched on it, leaving wet trails on it. Daddy let out a pleasured grunt, his head thrown back, his fist tightened on Jillian’s hair. And those hot veins on his tattooed forearm flexed. “No teasing,” He murmured, his deep voice, smooth like undiluted whiskey jolted straight to my own pússy. My clít was already sore from the aftermath of yesterday’s climax, but right now, I could feel myself getting wet again. My nipplés felt strained through my clothes, my bréasts growing heavier. I wanted to swallow Daddy’s cóck too. If it were me kneeling before him, I wouldn’t tease Daddy, I’d do my utmost best to worship that cóck as he deserved, I’d let him please himself with my mouth as he wanted, then he’d shoot his cúm down my willing throat, and I’d swallow like the cúm dumpster I wanted to be. For a second, it wasn’t being Jillian dominated by Daddy’s cóck, it was me, it was my lips stretching obscenely around Daddy’s cóck, unable to fully fit his huge size in my small mouth. So, I opened my mouth wider, and wider until it hurt, because I’m his pleasure doll. It was my saliva gleaming down his shaft, dripping onto my chin as I hollowed my cheeks around his pènis, sucking him deeper with a filthy, gagging noise. My throat was stretching to accommodate him, fitting his cóck around my throat like a glove. I could feel every vein throbbing with blood against my throat. Jillian choked, breathing raggedly, then she coughed and spluttered, effectively snapping out my imagination. Of course, it could only be in my fantasy. Never real, never me. I watched Daddy’s fingers twist in her hair, guiding her, forcing her to take him to the root of his pènis. Jillian’s throat bulged, tears beading at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t stop—she just whimpered around him, bobbing faster like a desperate slút. That should be me. Fuck knows I was more than desperate for it, my slít was clenching and unclenching around nothing, the coffee grew colder in my palms as my breathing became laboured. The wet sucking noises and sounds of Jillian choking sent jealousy coiling bitterly and heavily in my stomach. She pulled off Daddy’s shaft with a lewd pop sound, spit stringed between her lips and the glistening bulbous head of Daddy’s fully eréct pénis. “Do you like that?” She smirked at him, saliva dribbling down her chin. “Get back to sucking,” Daddy ordered, he adjusted his stance, his thighs spreading further apart. Jillian ducked her head lower to nuzzle Daddy’s heavy balls. “Fúck, now, suck on it," Daddy growled, she obeyed, her lips parted as she took one testicle into her mouth, sucking gently before releasing it with a wet pop. Her fingers stroked Daddy’s shaft, spreading Daddy’s own slickness down his length. “You love this fúcking díck, don’t you?" Daddy said to her, and she laughed softly. “I want to suck it all day and never stop,” Jillian giggled again, “Your cóck is the best thing I've ever owned, let me please you, I’ll show you how much I love this díck” “More sucking, less talking,” Daddy hummed. If only Daddy had looked sideways, just once, he would have known that there was someone else who loved his fúcking díck. Even more than Jillian. Jillian moaned around him, lapping his balls with broad, sloppy strokes. “Your cóck tastes the best, Daddy,” No. Her words hit my ears wrongly, the last part of her sentence. What did she just call him? Maybe I’d heard wrong. It had to be. Because that word was mine. “Call me that again, and daddy will pound your skull so hard and you won’t fucking speak properly for says. Say it!” Daddy growled roughly. Jillian gazed up at him teasingly, and she purred, “Daddy…” She barely let the words out when Daddy gripped her hair tighter, yanking her back onto his cóck with a brutal thrust. His hips were moving rhythmically now, but he wasn’t gentle. Each movement of his hips was hard, relentless. Merciless. Savage. The wet noises of gagging and choking echoed in the air, Jillian’s nostrils were suffocated by Daddy’s balls, her cheeks were fully wet now, her nostrils running. My skin was hot. From fury. I was enraged, how could Daddy do this? Why did he betray me like this? He’d just asked someone else to call him something that only I called him. He just gave Jillian the right to call him that, where did that leave me? With nothing. Hot angry tears burned in my eyes, I tried to blink them back but they fell anyway. I took a small step backwards, and another. I didn’t want to watch anymore. Then something happened, Jillian’s eyes darted sideways. Her gaze stopped. Directly at me. Our eyes met. My breath hitched in my throat. She didn’t look away. Neither did I. One second passed. Then two. She was still choking on Daddy’s cóck, but I saw it in her eyes even from the distance between us. The gleam of satisfaction and malice in those eyes. So she knew that I had been watching. The whole time, she had been aware of it and she had probably called him Daddy just to spite me. To exert her ownership of him. “Take your eyes off me again, and you get punished!” Daddy thrust hard into her mouth, her eyes snapped back to Daddy instantly. But not before I caught the last look she threw at me, she fucking winked at me. She moaned and choked, swallowing him whole again, her nose pressed into his pelvis. The wet, sloppy sounds of her throat working filled the room, her nails digging into Daddy’s thigh as she sucked like she was starving for it. The last thing I saw was her pulling away slightly to spit on Daddy’s cóck, the thick glob of her saliva sliding down Daddy’s veined length. I turned away, but not before Daddy’s deep pleasured voice reverberated in my ears, "Wanna swallow my cúm, baby girl? Beg for it. Say you want my cúm in your throat!” I walked to the staircase on trembling legs, my fingers clenched around the stupid coffee mug. I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t tolerate it. Jillian couldn’t completely steal my Daddy. I was breathing heavily, my lungs felt on fire, my insides were churning, not from arousal, but from hatred so deep it threatened to consume me from within. . I was angry at Daddy. I was his baby girl. His little girl. Not Jillian. Me. Me Me Me Only Me. Just Me. Did he forget everything? How he use to hold me all night when I had nightmares about my parents? How he always soothed my hair back to sleep and rocked me in his arms. He was the reason why I grew my hair longer, because he loved caressing it when soothing my fears. So, why did he forget everything? Why? What was special about Jillian that had him so obsessed? Why was I invisible to him all of a sudden? I stared at the coffee mug, the dark liquid showed my reflection, my dilated pupils, the exact image of a girl who has lost it. My brain was summing up calculations. What would it take for me to be in Daddy’s arms again? I would do anything. I meant it. I would do absolutely anything. To make Daddy care about me again. I stood at the edge of the staircase, one moment I was standing, and in the next. . . My legs slipped. The mug flew from my hands, splintering into a million pieces as warm coffee splashed me as I fell. My body hit the stairs, and pain exploded instantly, radiating through my whole body. I screamed. And screamed. It hurt. So much. My eyes were blurry, my whole body alive with pain. I counted, barely breathing as I was. One. Come to me, Daddy. Two. . . Your baby girl needs you. Three. . . Camera rolling. Set. . . And. . . Action! “ANGEL!” Daddy’s loud yell came. His voice was cold with terror. I could smell his fears miles away, and want pooled in my lower belly. I heard urgent footsteps. Thick warm arms engulfed me, familiar cologne drifted into my nostrils and all of a sudden, the pain, the ache in my muscles. Everything was worth it. Cut. Fade out. . .To my lovely readers, I see your comments — thank you for sharing what you think. I love you all from the bottom of my dark, twisted, romance-obsessed heart. I know some of you are thinking ‘sequel, sequel, sequel’ I see you. I love you. But I need to be honest with you — I don't have plans to write one immediately or any time soon. This was always Angel's story. A story about a girl who was broken apart by one man and put back together by another. Her story ends where it should — in Daddy's arms, with his heartbeat under her ear, his ring on her finger and their son sleeping a few feet away. As for Daniel… I left that door open on purpose. Some of you are Team Vincent. You want that door between Angel and Daniel sealed shut. I respect that. Daddy earned his girl. He earned every inch of that ending. And some of you — you beautiful, crazy, morally complex readers — felt something when those grey eyes appeared. You read “Hello wife” and your heart did something it shouldn't hav
ANGEL Oops, once again I’d digress from the main topic. Now, without distraction, back to my family. “Who is happy to turn one!” I gathered Evren from his cradle. He blinked up at me with wide eyes framed by lashes so long they touched his cheeks—and then he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back as his little face scrunched up into that gummy, drooly, smile that turned me into a puddle of useless maternal emotion every single time. I heard Vincent’s footsteps before I saw him. He was dressed in pants now, his chest still bare. He took Evren from my arms. I laughed when Evren immediately grabbed a fistful of chest hair and yanked. “See, payback for depriving him his mother,” I gloated. Vincent winced. “Good morning to you too. Bud,” Together we both readied the star of today’s show for his birthday. Daddy changed him—a process that involved Evren kicking both legs like a furious frog while Vincent wrestled him into the tiny suit. I did his hair—what little of it there
EPILOGUEANGELA year and four months later.Daddy tasted like cream and sin at seven in the morning.I kissed the head of his cock—one last, slow press of my lips—after he’d just emptied his balls into my mouth. His hand was still in my hair, his strong fingers loose now, the grip that had been guiding my head gone slack with the boneless aftermath.I swallowed. Licked my lips, and looked up at him from between his legs with what I knew was a combination of innocent eyes and swollen mouth.“Good morning, Daddy!”He stared down at me with that half-lidded look I’d become addicted to.“Get up here, Angel.”“No,” I smacked my lips, wiping them completely clean, “We have so much to do today Daddy,” I smiled.Here’s what he didn’t know. The blowjob wasn’t generosity—it was all a plan.Because I knew this man. I’d been married to him for over a year now—Mrs. Angel Hale, with his ring on my finger.His last name on every document and his cum still warm in my stomach—and I knew exactly what
ANGEL I woke to soreness. Everything stung. My thighs ached with a deep, satisfying burn. There were hickeys on my neck, my shoulders, and stubble marks on my breasts that I could feel every time I shifted against the sheets. I loved it. Every ache, every sting, every delicious reminder of what we’d done. I could still feel Vincent inside me—a phantom fullness, a pleasant emptiness that throbbed with the memory of being stretched, filled, claimed. My body was no longer just my own. It belonged to him now. Completely. Irrevocably. Morning light streamed through the curtains. Vincent was still sleeping beside me, one arm thrown possessively across my waist even in unconsciousness like he couldn’t bear to let me go, even in dreams. I turned my head to study his face. He looked younger in sleep. More peaceful. The constant tension he carried—the weight of his empire, the darkness that lurked behind his eyes—was smoothed away. In its place was something almost boyish. I reached
ANGEL “Day two.” “Ah! Daddy.” Out. In. Harder. The headboard cracked against the wall. “Day three!” He grunted. “Oh God—” I was fucking going to explode. Each thrust was a detonation—his cock hitting the deepest part of me, his hips slamming against mine, the force of it rocking my whole body up the mattress until my head was bumping the pillows. Out. In. Then he thrust so deep I felt him in my lungs. “And day four.” He bottomed out and stayed. Grinding. Circling his hips while buried to the root, pressing against something deep inside me that turned my vision into a white-hot scream. “Four days. You’re paying for all of them now.” “Daddy—” The word came out as a sob when he thrust deeper, and his response was immediate—his hips stuttering before finding their rhythm again, harder, sharper. “Say it again.” His teeth found my earlobe. “Don’t stop saying it.” “Daddy—Daddy—” Each repetition was rewarded with a thrust that made my spine arch and my vision blur. He was hitting
ANGEL“You want this cock?”“Yes—feed it to my pussy.”“Say that again.”“Please, Daddy. Feed your cock to my hungry wet cunt!”I could feel him grinding against me through his pants. Hard. Hot. Thick. The ridge of him pressing against my bare, swollen folds and the rough drag of his pants fabric was making me lose my mind one slow grind at a time.“Patience, you’ll have all of my cock soon. Every inch.” Daddy said.He wasn’t giving it to me yet?A half-sob caught in my throat. “But I want your cock now,” I whined.He looked at me, his eyes devouring. “When you look like a meal, there’s still a lot of things I want to do.”His mouth wasted no time moving down. Over my ribs. Across the swell of my belly, he pressed kisses into the taut skin—open-mouthed. His lips were warm against the stretched skin, lingering over the places where our baby kicked hardest.He found the faint darker line that divided my stomach. And he traced it with his tongue, following the path from my navel dow
VINCENT The next morning, I prepared breakfast, grateful for the routine. The eggs were scrambled exactly how she used to like them. The toast cut diagonally. Fresh fruit arranged on the plate. A glass of milk because she needed the calcium. Normal things that a father would do for his daughter.
ANGEL“You won’t do it,” I challenged, sitting up slowly. My shirt had ridden up, exposing the strip of stomach above my shorts. I didn’t fix it. “You’re not like Daddy.”I was using Daniel’s ghost like a blade. “Daddy wouldn’t give warnings like you, he’d have already spread me open with his bare
ANGEL He extended his hand like he expected me to simply take it. I stood frozen, staring at his palm like it was a venomous snake coiled to strike. I couldn’t take it. Taking his hand would mean leaving. Abandoning Daniel. I couldn’t betray the one person who’d ever truly wanted me. I shook my
ANGELDaniel finally let me out of the red room.All I could say was that I couldn’t stand the others. Kayla and Lona were less hateable, tolerable because they’d been nice to me, but I still couldn’t bear the idea that all the girls here belonged to Daniel.They touched what was mine. They kissed







