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Tonight is all about torture

Author: Authoress Kemira
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-12-09 02:46:26

Rae’s POV

His hands were under the water before I could finish my next breath.

One palm slid between my thighs, cupping me possessively through the soaked lace. Two fingers traced my slit, slow, deliberate, maddening, pressing the fabric against my clit and circling once, twice, just enough to make my hips jerk.

“Still mad, kitten?” he murmured against my ear, voice dark silk.

I couldn’t answer. My head fell back against his shoulder as he kept teasing, never pushing inside, just stroking, pe
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  • Daddy's filthy little pet    You're thinking about him

    Rae’s POV A full week had passed since I’d stormed out of the pool house, and somehow the days had started to blur into something that almost felt like normal.Almost.Zara and I had fallen into a rhythm that was equal parts comfort and deliberate distraction. We cooked dinner together every night—nothing fancy, just whatever was in the fridge and whatever mood we were in. Tonight it was pasta: over-salted water, a jar of marinara we doctored with too much garlic and red pepper flakes, and a mountain of shredded cheese that we kept stealing straight from the bag. The kitchen smelled like home—burnt edges of garlic, bubbling tomato sauce, the faint sweetness of the cheap red wine we were drinking straight from mismatched mugs because neither of us could be bothered to find real wine glasses.We ate standing at the counter at first, forks twirling spaghetti while we laughed about nothing. Then we carried our plates to the living room, dropped onto the couch, and let an old playlist

  • Daddy's filthy little pet    That's my girl

    Rae’s POVI woke up on the couch around noon with puffy eyes and a headache that pulsed behind my temples like a second heartbeat. Zara was already in the kitchen, humming off-key to some pop song from our high-school playlist while she microwaved leftover pizza for “breakfast.” She took one look at my face and didn’t say a word about Killian. She just handed me a mug of coffee with extra cream and said, “Rule one of heartbreak headquarters: no crying before caffeine. Rule two: no thinking about him until at least episode three.”I managed a weak smile. “What’s rule three?”“Rule three is we pretend we’re in a cheesy rom-com montage until the pain stops being sharp and starts being dull. Now get up. We’re raiding the freezer.”We didn’t bother getting properly dressed. I stayed in her oversized band tee and a pair of her soft sleep shorts; she kept her tie-dye sleep shirt and added mismatched fuzzy socks. The apartment was small enough that everything felt cozy instead of cramped—t

  • Daddy's filthy little pet    Not done fighting for us

    Killian’s POVI paced.From the sliding glass doors that overlooked the dark pool to the leather couch where I’d had her thighs wrapped around my waist less than forty-eight hours earlier, back to the kitchen island where she’d perched giggling while I fed her bites of cold pizza at 3 a.m. Every surface carried a memory. Every fucking surface mocked me.The DNA report sat crumpled on the coffee table like a murder weapon. I knew it was bullshit. I hadn’t touched Bianca in over four years—not since the night I ended things for good, long before Rae ever walked into my life wearing that innocent smile and those too-short sundresses that drove me insane. But knowing the truth didn’t change the fact that Rae had seen the paper, believed it, and chosen to run.I pulled my phone out for the hundredth time. No new messages. Just the blue bubble chain of my own desperation staring back at me.Me, 7:42 PM: Kitten, please. It’s fake. I swear on my life I didn’t touch her. Call me. Me, 7:45

  • Daddy's filthy little pet    Want me to block him?

    Rae’s POV I drew my knees up under the blanket and hugged them to my chest. The hoodie sleeve brushed my cheek and his scent hit me again—sandalwood, leather, him. I pressed my face into the fabric for one long, aching second before I forced myself to pull away.“I keep replaying it all,” I whispered. “The night at Obsidian when he didn’t even ask my real name but still made me feel owned in the best way. The morning after when he cornered me in the hallway and told me one night wasn’t enough. Every stolen second by the pool—his hand slipping under my bikini bottom while everyone else was inside, his mouth at my ear promising I was his and only his. He called me his filthy little pet. He said no one else would ever touch me. And I believed every word, Zara. Every single one.”She didn’t interrupt. She just listened—the way only someone who had held me through every heartbreak since tenth grade could.“Then Bianca appears with a positive pregnancy test and suddenly the timeline doesn

  • Daddy's filthy little pet    Evidence is right there

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  • Daddy's filthy little pet    It has to be fake!

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