All Chapters of DADDY'S LITTLE PLAYTHING : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Mark’s POVIt felt weird wearing real clothes again.I stood in front of the mirror, tugging my shirt down, running my fingers through my hair like that would magically fix the bags under my eyes or the faint scar still healing on my jaw. I didn’t recognize the guy staring back. He looked tired, lighter maybe….but definitely tired.“You look good,” Sage said from the bed, her legs curled under her, she had a book in her lap, something she had started doing lately, reading.I turned to her, she hadn’t even looked up. “You didn’t even see me.” I pointed out, I could tell she was trying so hard not to smile.She flipped a page. “I don’t need to. I can feel it.” She said and I nodded and grinned. “You’re full of it.” I chuckled. She finally glanced up, smile small but honest. “Still true though.” She replied.I walked over, bent down, and kissed her forehead. “Be back in an hour. Maybe two.” I said. She looked up at me like she wanted to say something—then just nodded and said, “Tex

Sage’s POVWaking up next to Mark felt like a dream I didn’t want to end. His arm was still draped over my waist, his breathing slow and steady, and for a second, I didn’t move. I just stared at his face, half-lit by morning sunlight, and let myself enjoy the silence.He looked younger in his sleep. Softer, less like the fierce man who ran a company and more like the man who held me like I was something precious.I traced a finger along his jawline. “You’re way too good-looking for a forty-year-old,” I whispered, smirking.His lips twitched. “I’m thirty-nine, I would be forty,” he mumbled.I rolled my eyes. “Still old.”His eyes opened, all sleepy and green. “Still hot.”“Unfortunately.” I leaned in and kissed him.We didn’t have anywhere to be, we didn't have to rush. so, one kiss turned into two, then five, and before I knew it, I was under him again, gasping against his mouth, my fingers tugging at his shirt.And he banged the hell outta me. Not that I was complaining.I was curled

Sage’s POVThe beach looked like something out of a postcard—soft waves brushed the shore, the sun was already setting, melting into the ocean like a candle, and there was not a single soul around. For once, it felt like the world wasn’t watching. For once, I could breathe.I slipped my sandals off and ran ahead, letting the sand sink between my toes. “Come on, grump,” I called over my shoulder, laughing as Mark followed behind me, shaking his head.“You’re seriously not tired of dragging me into trouble?” he muttered, though he didn’t sound mad.“I’m giving you peace,” I said, twirling around in my sundress. “God forbid we have one normal evening without bodyguards or paparazzi breathing down our necks.”Mark looked out at the ocean and sighed. His shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and even though he tried to act calm, his fingers wouldn’t stop twitching. Always alert, always prepared. But I knew he needed this, he just didn’t know how to admit it.I walked up and wrapped my arms a

Sage’s POVWhen I woke up the next morning, I felt sore in all the right places.The sheets still smelled like him. The balcony door was cracked open, and the city air drifted in like a soft reminder of last night. Of how we’d made love with the stars watching. Of how I finally saw the real Mark—the man who didn’t give a damn about expectations.For a second, everything felt right.Then my phone exploded.I blinked at the screen. Fifteen missed calls. A dozen texts. Two voicemails. Notifications popping up like popcorn.And then I saw it.MARK ARTHUR SPOTTED IN WILD BALCONY SEX WITH 24-YEAR-OLD ASSISTANT!The headline was in bold. The picture? Blurry, but unmistakable.His hands on my hips.My back arched.His mouth on my neck.Clear enough to ruin lives.“Shit,” I muttered, tossing the phone aside as the bathroom door opened and Mark stepped out, towel around his waist, hair damp, looking like every woman’s wet dream.Except right now, he looked pissed.He’d seen it too.“I told you,

My heels hit the marble floor, the sharp click echoing in the suddenly silent hallway. I didn't stop, didn't even look back at the chaos we’d left behind the curtain. The press could scream all they wanted. Mark had just stared down the world for me. He was right behind me, his hand settling heavy on the small of my back. Not controlling, just… there. A silent promise. “They’re going to be talking about that for weeks,” I finally said, pulling open the car door. The leather seat felt cool beneath my legs. Mark slid into the driver’s side, his chest still heaving from the adrenaline dump. He didn’t start the engine right away. He just ran a hand over his face, leaving a dark smudge of exhaustion beneath his eye. “Let them talk,” he growled, the rough sound vibrating deep in his throat. He looked devastatingly handsome, despite the clear signs of stress—the crisp suit rumpled, the tie completely gone. He was a beautiful disaster, and he was mine. “They called you a predator,” I whi