Revenge With My Ex’s Dad – Delicious Taboos Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Taboo Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)

Revenge is a dish best served steamy.

When I break things off with my boyfriend, I hope it will be peaceful. The truth is, I’ve been crushing on his dad ever since our so-called relationship began—not that I’ve told anybody.
Ryan gets vicious and cruel with me when I end things. He tears down my self-esteem like he enjoys it. So when I’m out with my bestie, and we see his dad, Duke Harrow, we have an idea.
Date him for revenge. Try to seduce him. It seems ridiculous at first. I’m half his age, inexperienced, on the curvier side. Seduction? Heck, I’m a virgin.
He screams out of my league. I’m shocked when he seems interested in me—more than interested: obsessed, jealous, possessive.
The problem is, he doesn’t know who I am. I haven’t told him I’m his son’s ex. When he finds out, he’s going to hate me. And the longer I leave it, the worse it’s going to get.

What happens when Duke learns the truth? Will he choose me over his son? And even if we somehow make it work, can I really be around my ex-boyfriend for the rest of my life?

* Revenge With My Ex’s Dad is an insta-everything standalone romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“So you’re saying you never had any feelings for me,” Ryan says, glaring at me over the video chat. Even through the laptop, I feel a tickle of fear, way more than I should while talking to my boyfriend. His lips are twisted in disgust. Ryan has a way of looking at people that shrinks them, making them feel meaningless and pathetic. It hurts, and I’m sick of it. “Molly, how are we supposed to have a conversation if you’re ignoring me?”

I take a deep breath, glancing behind the laptop, where Rachael sits on the beanbag in my college dorm. She’s leaning forward, staring at me firmly, giving me the support I need.

“I’m not trying to ignore you,” I say, “but this isn’t a conversation. We’re breaking up.”

He’s already shaking his head before I finish speaking. “Okay, could I be so bold as to ask why?”

I can only tell him part of the truth here. I won’t mention the feelings that flurried into me when he showed me family photos last week. He, his dad, and his uncles were on a fishing trip, with his dad standing over six feet tall, shirtless, sunlight glistening in his silver hair and down his ripped body. I won’t talk about the fantasies swelling in my mind and body, tempting me.

“I’m leaving for South Korea in a month,” I tell him. I’m going to teach English as a foreign language for my final summer break before my last year in college.

“Are you saying that’s the reason?” he asks, with that condescending smirk on his lips.

Nothing like his dad’s smirk in the photo… No, I can’t let myself go there.

“Hello? Molly?”

Behind the laptop, Rachael stands from the beanbag. We agreed she was here for moral support only, but I can tell she wants to get involved. She paces up and down, shaking her head in anger.

“You don’t have to keep talking to me like I’m your pet,” I snap. “Listen,


“No, why don’t you listen?” he laughs cruelly. “Do you really think you’ll get somebody better than me?”

I sit up, trying not to let his tone hurt me. After we began dating four months ago, I noticed this tone creeping into his nice-guy routine. It slithered into his voice. Or there would be a nasty glint in his eyes when he looked at me. Plus, he started to pressure me, not that I can blame him there. We barely even kissed.

“Because you won’t,” he goes on. “Would you like to hear the reasons why?”

Rachael walks toward the camera, but I raise my hand, letting her know I can handle this alone, even if it hurts.

“One, you’re overweight. Two, you’re pathetically shy and withdrawn. Three, you’re not funny, interesting, or unique in any way—”

“Then why the hell would you want to be with me?” I yell, breaking the promise I made to myself that I wouldn’t lose my cool. “If you believe all that, I should be beneath you, right? So why, Ryan?”

I sit forward, squeezing the laptop, tempted to snap it clean in half. “I’ve got an idea,” I hiss.

“Oh, yeah?” He’s trying to maintain his douchebag smirk, but I can see a flicker of uncertainty. “Enlighten me, please. English lit majors always have the most profound insights.”

This is something else he likes to do: subtly put down my major or ridicule the fact I want to be a teacher. Those who can’t do, teach—one of his favorite sayings.

“You want me,” I say fiercely, “because it makes you feel big and tough having somebody you feel is beneath you. You’re so insecure that the only way you can feel like you’re worth something is to put me down. If we stayed together, you’d turn into even more of an abusive freak. So whatever, Ryan. Call me names if you want. We’re over.”