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2025-12-26 14:40:48
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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
Rae’s POVMy hands wouldn’t stop shaking even after I left the house.The DNA report was still seared into my brain—those cold black words on the crisp white paper: “Paternity Probability: 99.9998%.” Killian was the father. Bianca’s baby was his. I had stared at the page so long the letters started to blur, but the truth refused to blur with them.I couldn’t look at him. Not when his face had drained of color beneath the ink of his tattoos, not when his mouth had opened and my name had come out in that low, rough voice that used to make every part of me soften. “Kitten—” he had started, reaching for me. I had spun away before his fingers could close around my wrist, tears already burning tracks down my cheeks.Betrayed didn’t even begin to cover it.After everything we had done— after the way he had claimed me so completely that first night without even knowing my real name, after every hidden moment in the pool house, every whispered promise against my skin while the rest of the fa
Daddy's filthy little pet It has to be fake!
Killian’s POVThe pool house felt smaller than usual that afternoon. The air was thick with the scent of Rae’s vanilla lotion and the faint motor oil that always clung to my skin after tinkering in the garage. Sunlight sliced through the half-closed blinds in thin, dusty bars across the bed where we sat—side by side, thighs touching, her small hand swallowed up in mine. She hadn’t let go since we’d woken up tangled together hours ago. Every few minutes her thumb would stroke the back of my knuckles like she was reminding herself I was real.Three days.Three fucking days of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Bianca had played her part perfectly—booked the test at some fancy private lab, sent the appointment link to the family group chat with a passive-aggressive “For transparency ”, even suggested we all join a video call to “witness the results together as a family.”Lisa had cried happy tears in the chat. Victor had sent a thumbs-up emoji. Rae had stared at her phone like it was
Daddy's filthy little pet Threatening the doctor
Bianca’s POVThe clinic smelled like antiseptic and old money—sharp, clinical, expensive. I’d chosen this place deliberately: forty minutes outside the city, tucked behind a row of tasteful evergreens, the kind of private lab that catered to celebrities who didn’t want their paternity scandals splashed across tabloids. No neon signs, no crowded waiting rooms full of sniffly kids. Just polished marble floors, soft leather chairs, and a receptionist who didn’t ask questions when I handed her my black card.I paced the length of the small private waiting area, heels clicking too loudly against the stone. My hand rested automatically on the curve of my belly—habit now, part performance, part genuine anxiety. The baby kicked once, a lazy roll that made me pause and press my palm harder. Not yours, little one. Not his. Not anyone who matters. Just leverage.Three days. Killian had given me three fucking days.I could still see his face when he’d stormed into the living room after Rae ra
Daddy's filthy little pet In Just three days
Rae’s POVThe afternoon light had shifted by the time I stirred again, slanting through the curtains in lazy golden beams that danced across the rumpled sheets. Killian’s arms were still wrapped around me, his breath warm and steady against the back of my neck. I could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers occasionally twitched against my hip, like even in his half-sleep he was holding on to make sure I didn’t slip away. For a moment, I let myself linger in that peace, tracing the veins on his forearm with my fingertip, memorizing the warmth of his skin.But reality had a way of creeping back in. My mind replayed the morning’s nightmare: Bianca’s dramatic gasp, the shattered glass, the accusation hanging in the air like smoke. “Poison.” The word resounded, absurd and vicious. And then Killian storming out to “handle it,” his jaw set like he was going to war. What had he done? What had he said?I shifted slightly, turning in his arms to face him. His eyes
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