DADDY'S NAUGHTY PET

GANGBANG--Dirty Daddies

I thought one round with four men would satisfy the craving.

I was wrong. So f*****g wrong.

Because sitting there on that leather couch, c*m leaking down my thighs, watching these four gorgeous men stroke themselves back to hardness while they looked at me like I was their next meal—I realized one orgasm wasn't going to be enough. Not even close.

I'd spent five years with Derek thinking s*x was supposed to be quick and disappointing. Five years of missionary position and him finishing in three minutes while I faked it just to make him feel good about himself. Five years of my vibrator doing more for me than my fiancé ever had.

But now? Now that I'd felt what real f*****g was like? Now that Dante's thick c**k had stretched me open and made me c*m harder than I ever had in my life?

I wanted more. Needed more.

I wanted them to take me in ways Derek wouldn't even fantasize about. Wanted every hole claimed, every boundary shattered. I wanted to be their complete f**k toy, used and wrecked until I couldn't remember why I'd ever said yes to that boring proposal.

Gabriel—the silver-haired one who looked like he'd stepped out of a cologne ad—stood from where he'd been watching. He had to be in his early forties, distinguished in a way that made my p***y clench. His body was lean but muscular, and when he looked at me, his eyes held a darkness that promised he knew exactly how to hurt me in the best ways.

"My turn," he said, his voice carrying an authority that made me instinctively want to obey. "And I don't do gentle, little bride. I'm going to f**k you so hard you feel me for days. Every time you sit down, every time you move, you'll remember my c**k destroying this sweet cunt."

My breath caught. "Yes. Please."

"Please what?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Please f**k me, sir," I whispered, and I don't know where the 'sir' came from, but it felt right.

His smile was predatory. "Good girl. Dante, you got her all warmed up for me. Now I'm going to show her what rough really means."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up from the couch, spinning me around and bending me over the arm of it. My ass was in the air, my face pressed into the leather that still smelled like s*x and Dante's cologne. I could feel Dante's c*m still leaking out of me, dripping down my inner thighs.

Gabriel's hand cracked across my ass without warning, the sharp sting making me yelp.

"Count them," he ordered. "I want to hear you thank me for each one."

Another smack, harder this time, on the other cheek.

"One," I gasped. "Thank you, sir."

"Good girl."

He spanked me methodically, alternating cheeks, each strike harder than the last. My skin burned, tears gathering in my eyes, but my p***y was getting wetter with each impact. By the time he reached ten, I was sobbing and grinding against the couch arm, desperate for friction.

"Look at this," Gabriel said, and I felt his fingers stroke through my wetness. "You're f*****g soaked. You love being spanked like a bad girl, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I admitted, shame and arousal mixing into something overwhelming.

"Your fiancé ever spank you?" he asked, pushing two fingers inside me.

"No," I whimpered.

"Course not. He probably treats you like you're made of glass. Doesn't know you need to be handled rough." His fingers curled, hitting that perfect spot. "Doesn't know his pretty little bride fantasizes about being used like a whore."

"Please," I begged, not even sure what I was asking for anymore.

"Please what? Use your words."

"Please f**k me, sir. I need your c**k. I need it rough. Please—"

He slammed into me without warning, his c**k even thicker than Dante's, and I screamed into the leather. He gave me no time to adjust, just started pounding into me with brutal force that made the entire couch shake.

"That's it," he growled, one hand fisting in my hair and yanking my head back while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. "Take it. Take every f*****g inch like the desperate slut you are."

His pace was punishing, each thrust driving deeper, hitting places I didn't know existed. The angle had him dragging against my G-spot with every stroke, and I felt that coil of pleasure building embarrassingly fast.

"Already close again?" Gabriel noticed, his voice mocking. "f**k, you really are desperate. How many times has your fiancé made you c*m? Once? Twice in five years?"

"Never," I sobbed. "He's never made me cum."

"Jesus Christ." His thrusts got harder. "Never? And you were going to marry him?"

"I didn't know—didn't know it could feel like this—"

"Now you do." He released my hair and reached around to find my c**t, rubbing harsh circles. "Now you know what it feels like to be f****d by a real man. To have a c**k that actually knows what to do with this tight little p***y. c*m for me, Sophie. c*m on my c**k so I can fill you up like your fiancé never will."

His words pushed me over the edge. My second orgasm hit even harder than the first, my vision whiting out as pleasure consumed me. I felt myself gush around him, soaking both of us, my walls clamping down so hard he cursed.

"f**k, f**k—" Gabriel's rhythm faltered and then he was cumming too, hot spurts joining Dante's inside me, marking me, claiming me.

He pulled out and I collapsed against the couch, legs shaking, barely able to hold myself up. I could feel both men's c*m leaking out of me, dripping onto the leather.

"Jesus, she's perfect," someone said—Marcus, the tattooed one.

"My turn," another voice added. James, the athletic one built like a professional swimmer.

Strong hands lifted me off the couch and laid me on the plush carpet in the center of the room. I looked up to see all four men standing over me, stroking themselves, their c***s hard and ready again.

"You ever had two c***s at once, Sophie?" Dante asked, kneeling beside me.

I shook my head, unable to form words.