Please Me, Daddy
Elija · Ongoing · 148.0k Words
Introduction
"I want to be fd, ruined, choked, and marked until I'm a moaning, crying mess, leaking all over your sheets, daddy."
Grace's world shattered the night she found out her fiancé was gay. Drunk, devastated, and desperate to forget, she stumbled into the wrong hotel room, and into the arms of Apollo Reed. He is a sinfully hot, cold-hearted forty-year-old man, twice her age. He's everything she was never supposed to want. And everything she never knew she needed. But reality hits hard the next morning when she realizes the man who gave her the first orgasm of her life is her new boss.
Will she let him take her again? Please her until she's trembling, begging, and utterly his? Or will she finally learn that wanting a man like him always comes with a price?
Chapter 1
Gracie
My fiancé is gay.
That was the thought echoing through my head as I stood there frozen, watching a scene I could never unsee. I stared at the man thrusting into my fiancé's ass, and at Charles moaning like a goddamn whore in heat.
This was my fiance, the man I was supposed to marry in five days. The man I had shared a bed, a future, a life with for five whole years. But he was there, legs spread wide, eyes rolled back in bliss I had never seen cross his face when he was with me.
I couldn't breathe anymore, everywhere felt like it was spinning. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. My eyes stayed locked, watching as if my brain couldn't register that this was real.
"Ah, fuck, Mark... yes, I love this... fuck... you're so big." Charles moaned, and the words hit me like punches to the gut.
My hand flew to my mouth, pressing hard to keep the nausea down. My heart felt like it had been torn from my chest and shoved down a garbage disposal. Was this a nightmare? Was I going to wake up in our apartment, beside him, with his arms around me and none of this real?
"Fuck yeah, Charles, baby," the man grunted. "Take my big boy. Take him good."
"Ah, daddy! Give me your big boy!!!"
Tears burned the back of my eyes. My knees buckled slightly, and I reached out to the doorframe for support. Daddy? He had never called me anything in bed. What was I saying? He had never seemed that interested in sex with me. Two minutes. That was the amount of minutes he took before he came. Anytime I asked him for more, he would say he was tired or he would just give me a disgusted look before leaving.
My mind raced, spiraling out of control.
Is he gay? Bisexual? Has he always been like this? Had he been faking it with me? All these years? Every kiss, every time he said I love you, every plan we made for the future, was it all a lie?
I felt humiliated, sick, and like a goddamn fool.
How do women process this? How do they act when they find out their supposedly straight fiancé is getting his back blown out by another man days before the wedding? But what was I saying? Most women haven't caught their future husband mid-thrust with another man.
I felt something wet on my cheeks. My hand lifted, brushing my skin. I hadn't even realized I was crying.
"Fuck, yes, I'm close!!" Charles moaned from the bed.
I shook my head slowly, like maybe if I shook hard enough, I could wake up from this twisted reality. But the sound of him panting, the sight of them tangled together was still there.
I laughed bitterly. "You know what?" I said, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. "You're really fucking shameless, Charles."
They froze and Charles's head whipped toward me. His eyes stretched wide in panic. He scrambled away from the man between his legs, grabbing at the nearest blanket and yanking it over himself like that could somehow undo what I'd just seen.
"G-Gracie..." he stammered, his voice cracking. "What... what are you doing here?"
I pressed harder against the wall, still wiping at the tears with the back of my shaking hand, trying to stay on my feet.
"What am I doing here?" I repeated slowly, meeting his eyes. "That's the first thing you have to say? After I walk in on this?"
He shook his head, still clutching the blanket. "No. No, it's not— it's not what it looks like."
"Not what it looks like? Not what it looks like?!"
I pushed off the wall, legs wobbling, hands balled into fists. "Charles, you're cheating on me with a fucking man. In our bed. In the house we brought to live together after our wedding. You are spreading your ass for someone else, moaning his name like you have never been fucked before, and you have the audacity to tell me it's not what it looks like? What exactly does it look like, then?
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His face crumpled as he looked at me with shame, guilt, and mostly fear.
"You're a bastard," I hissed. "After everything I've done for you. After five years of loyalty, patience, planning our goddamn future together, this is what I get in return? This is who you are when I'm not looking? How dare you do this to me!"
The man who had been inside him only moments ago rolled his eyes and sat up. "Jesus," he muttered. "How dramatic."
He started pulling on his clothes, unbothered. "I don't want to be caught up in this mess, Charles. I'm out."
Charles turned to him, panicked. "Mark, wait— I'm sorry. I didn't know—"
Mark cut him off with a dismissive wave. "It's fine. You were right about her, though. She is dramatic."
That did it. Something inside me snapped. My whole body shook with rage. Why were they acting like this was normal? Why were they not on their knees begging? Why was no one crying but me? He didn't even look surprised, that meant he knew Charles was already in a relationship and still went ahead and fucked him on our bed.
"You fucking asshole!"
I stormed toward him, hand raised, ready to deliver the slap he damn well deserved, but before I could reach him, Charles moved fast.
"Stop it, Gracie!" he shouted, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back. His grip was tight, fingers digging into my skin. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"What am I doing?" I spat, eyes blazing. "Stay out of it, bastard! Wait for your fucking turn."
I jerked toward Mark, but Charles stepped in front of me again, blocking my path. "Don't be delusional," he said coldly. "I won't let you touch him. Don't even dare."
My heart dropped. He sounded so... protective of him.
The man he cheated with. The man who had just mocked me, smirked at me, and walked out of bed with my fiancé like this was some goddamn sitcom.
"Why?" I whispered, stunned. "Why are you protecting him? Are you seriously defending him? After what you did to me? Shouldn't you be on your knees right now?"
Behind Charles, Mark straightened his shirt, not even trying to hide the smugness on his face. Then he looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
"Why are you surprised?" he said, shrugging casually. "Did you honestly think he ever liked you in the first place? Use your brain, girl."
My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"If it weren't for your families being involved," Mark continued, "do you really think he'd even look at someone like you?"
My vision blurred with anger. I could feel the blood roaring in my ears. "Let me go," I growled through gritted teeth, yanking at my arm. "Let me go this instant, Charles!"
"No!" he barked. "Stop it, Gracie!"
I shoved him hard enough to make him stumble back a step. I charged toward Mark, ready to slap the smug off his goddamn face but Charles lunged between us and in a flash, his hand shot out and slapped me hard.
My head jerked to the side, cheek burning at the sudden impact.
"Don't you fucking dare lay a hand on Mark!"
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