All Chapters of Daddies And Their Naughty Angel: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

ANGEL Amusement flickered in his expression. A challenge and a dare. “You think you can make me?” “I think you want to let me.” I climbed onto him, straddling his hips, feeling him press against me. Hard. Hot and straining. “I think the big scary monster wants to be good for once. Doesn’t it want to let someone else drive?” I said teasingly. His hands went to my hips automatically, his strong fingers digging in like he couldn’t help himself. “Ah-ah.” I caught his wrists, and pushed them above his head, pinning them against the pillow. He could break my hold easily—we both knew that. He was stronger, faster, more dangerous in every way. But he let me pin him while his breath came faster, his chest rising and falling, his eyes never leaving my face. “Hands stay here. You don’t touch unless I say you can. Understood?” “Angel.” His voice was strained. A warning and a plea wrapped in the same ragged breath. “What’s the matter, Daddy?” I ground down against him, and watched his

ANGELI didn’t think it would feel like this.Seeing Daddy.His face.His eyes.The pain in them. The fury and love all tangled together—everything I’d buried came rushing back like a wave I couldn’t outrun.He was here.It had worked.The final guest I’d whispered to Tianna about. I’d taken the risk in that resort bathroom while Daniel’s guard was down, he’d thought it was simply a jealousy confrontation. He never could have guessed that I’d told Tianna to contact that number. I told Tianna that I wanted to surprise my fiancé by inviting an old friend of his and threatened her not to tell Daniel about it and ruin the surprise.I’d done it. Betrayed Daniel with a smile on my face and his ring on my finger. I used every scrap of trust he’d given me—this beach trip, and the lowered defenses of a man drunk on love—and I’d weaponized it against him.But I didn’t expect this.I didn’t expect to feel like I was being ripped in half.Vincent looked older. Harder. The lines around his eyes w

VINCENT She looked like she was sleeping. That’s what I told myself as I sat beside her hospital bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Just sleeping. She was only resting after a long journey. Any moment now, she’d open her eyes and smile at me and everything would be okay. It was easier than the truth. The truth was that I’d watched my daughter put a gun to her head. I’d had a split second to make an impossible choice—and I’d made it. I’d shot my own daughter to save her life. My bullet through her hand instead of hers through her skull. Her hand was bandaged now, wrapped in white gauze that was too clean for the violence it concealed. The bullet had gone clean through, the doctors said, but there’d been no permanent damage. She’d heal. She’d be fine. She’d be fine. I kept telling myself that, over and over, like a desperate incantation against the darkness that kept threatening to swallow me whole. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again. Her face,

ANGELThe doctor finally approved my discharge.I was healed to some reasonable extent, at least from the bullet wound. The stitches in my palm had dissolved, leaving behind a scar that would fade with time—a permanent souvenir of my own stupidity. But I was far from fine.Something was wrong. It had been eating at my sanity for the past days, gnawing at the edges of my mind like a rat trapped inside my skull.Physically and psychologically.One of my concerns was that something was wrong with the baby.It should have been easier to ask the nurses—they came and went often enough, checking vitals, adjusting my pillows, and giving me their usual professional smiles. The problem was that I didn’t want to say anything with Daddy nearby.And Daddy was always nearby.He hadn't left the room since we arrived. Sleeping in that uncomfortable chair by my bed when he slept at all, which wasn’t often. Watching me with those dark, intense eyes that tracked my every movement like I was prey that

ANGELThe mansion looked exactly the way it did before I left.But it felt different.Or maybe I was different.Vincent carried me through the front doors despite my protests and didn’t set me down until we reached his bedroom.“Rest,” he said, lowering me onto the bed like I was made of porcelain. “I need to handle some things. I’ll be in my study.”His study was just the next door.“What things?”“Business stuff.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips warm against my skin, “It’s just a few calls. Nothing you need to worry about.”He left. I looked around Daddy’s room. The massive bed with its dark sheets. The heavy curtains blocking out the late evening sun. It sort of felt like a dream, all those times I dreamt about being back here, surrounded by the familiar scent of Daddy’s cologne soaked into every surface.I snooped around a bit, I just wanted to see what Daddy had been up to while I’d been away. My things were still here. My pajamas in his wardrobe, folded neatly on t