All Chapters of Is It My Fault I Have Daddy Issues?: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

ROXETTEChandler’s hands never stopped their expert massage on my breasts, kneading them with deep, rhythmic pressure that made my toes curl in the warm water. I was panting, moaning softly, completely lost in the feeling of his strong fingers working my sensitive flesh while his thick cock rested hot and heavy between my thighs.But the deep soreness in my pussy still lingered.Chandler seemed to read my body perfectly.His right hand slowly trailed downward from my breast, gliding over my stomach and slipping beneath the surface of the water. I tensed for a moment as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.“Wait..”“Easy, baby girl,” he whispered against my ear, voice low and gentle. “I’ve got you.”Two thick fingers pressed lightly against my swollen folds, not pushing inside, not trying to penetrate me, just resting there with warm, steady pressure. Then he began to move.It wasn’t fingering in the usual sense. It felt more like a careful, intimate massage.His

ROXETTEThe gentle massage between my legs had left me feeling much softer and less sore, though my body still carried the pleasant ache of last night. Chandler and I had just stepped out of the bathtub when a soft knock echoed through the master bedroom door.“Sir? It’s Cecil,” came the head maid’s calm, professional voice from the other side.I froze, eyes widening in alarm.Chandler wrapped a towel around his waist casually and called out, “Come in.”The door opened quietly. Cecil stepped inside, keeping her gaze politely lowered. My heart slammed against my ribs. I was standing there in nothing but a white silk bathrobe, my hair still damp, lips swollen from Chandler’s kisses, and multiple dark hickeys clearly visible on my neck and collarbone. Chandler stood right beside me, also freshly out of the bath, droplets of water still clinging to his broad chest.Cecil didn’t even blink.“Sir,” she said evenly, “Miss Diana has woken up and was looking for Miss DeLacour.”The moment I he

ROXETTEAfter almost an hour of Diana complaining about everything from the soup to the lighting in the room, her hangover finally started to loosen its grip. The scowl on her face softened a little, and she stopped snapping at every small thing. She even managed a weak laugh when I joked about how dramatic she looked.“Alright, enough sulking,” I said, standing up. “Let’s find your phone. It has to be somewhere in this house.”We spent the next twenty minutes turning the guest room upside down — checking under the pillows, inside the drawers, even crawling on the floor to look under the bed. Nothing. Diana’s phone was nowhere to be found.“Ugh, this is hopeless,” she groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “I must’ve left it at the bar last night.”She grabbed the landline phone on the nightstand and called Calvin. I sat quietly beside her, listening to the one-sided conversation.“Hey, babe… yeah, I’m alive, barely. Listen, did you see my phone anywhere after I passed out? …No? Damn. O

ROXETTEMonday came too quickly.I dragged myself to campus after restless nights, still feeling the faint ache between my legs and the ghost of Chandler’s touch on my skin. The turtleneck from yesterday had been swapped for a light scarf wrapped high around my neck to hide the fading hickeys. Diana had ditched me the moment we arrived—something about meeting Calvin during his free period—so I found myself alone on a bench near the football field, watching the cheerleaders practice their routines while the players ran drills on the grass.The sun was warm, the air filled with the distant sound of whistles and shouting. I tried to focus on my notes, but my mind kept drifting back to the weekend. To Chandler. To the way he had looked in that suit before he left.I didn’t notice the three girls approaching until their shadows fell over me.I looked up.Three of the most popular girls on campus stood in front of me, arms crossed, staring down with matching expressions of disdain. I recog

ROXETTEI didn’t feel safe.Even locked inside the bathroom stall, the walls felt too thin, the air too heavy. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my phone. The three cruel messages glowed on the screen like accusations I couldn’t escape.[Little slut.][Fucking your bestfriend’s father, shamelessly calling him your daddy?] [All I’m thinking right now is my cock inside you, not his.]My thumbs hovered, trembling, before I forced myself to type back.[Who are you?]I hit send.No reply.I stared at the screen, willing those three dots to appear. Nothing. The message sat there, delivered but unread. Minutes crawled by. Five. Ten. Fifteen. My breathing grew shallower, my chest tight. The silence from the unknown number felt louder than any scream.Tears spilled over without warning. Hot, ugly sobs broke out of me as I curled forward on the toilet seat, arms wrapped around my knees. I cried like I had just been caught committing a crime red-handed—guilty, exposed, terrified. Bec