Todos los capítulos de Daddy's filthy little pet : Capítulo 241 - Capítulo 250

Rae’s POVThe bedroom felt softer in the late afternoon light, like the whole house was holding its breath. Zara’s favorite vanilla candle burned low on the dresser, sending lazy swirls of sweetness into the air, mixing with the clean scent of the fresh sheets Killian had changed this morning while I was still half-asleep. I stood barefoot in front of the tall mirror in her walk-in closet, the one framed in distressed white wood that Zara had found at some flea market years ago and insisted on dragging home herself. The reflection looking back at me seemed almost like a stranger—brighter eyes, color back in my cheeks, no more of that pinched, exhausted look I’d worn for days.I smoothed my hands down the front of the dress again. Sage green, soft cotton-blend that draped just right over my hips, with thin straps and a modest neckline that still managed to feel a little daring because of how it clung in all the places Killian liked to stare. Zara would approve; she always said I loo

Rae’s POV“Awww, baby…”The words slipped out of me like a sigh, soft and full of everything I couldn’t quite name yet. I was still straddling Killian’s lap in the driver’s seat, legs draped over his thighs, arms looped loosely around his neck, forehead resting against his. The café parking lot felt miles away from the rest of the world—quiet, shaded, ours. His hands were steady on my hips, thumbs stroking slow arcs through the thin fabric of my dress, and his eyes… God, those eyes were locked on mine like I was the only thing that existed.He’d just told me he got food. Not just any food—my food. The latte I liked, the sandwich that always made me hum happily, the croissant I pretended not to want but devoured anyway. He’d remembered. He always remembered.My heart felt too big for my chest.“You’re too good to me,” I whispered, voice catching a little.Killian’s mouth curved—slow, tender, the kind of smile he only gave when we were alone like this. “Nah, kitten. You’re the one who

Rae’s POVThe elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, spilling us into the familiar hush of the fifth-floor oncology ward. That sharp, clean smell hit me first—antiseptic mixed with the faint bitterness of hospital coffee brewing somewhere down the hall, undercut by the low, rhythmic beeps of monitors that never quite stopped. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright after the dim parking garage, and my hand tightened around Killian’s without thinking. His thumb swept once across my knuckles—slow, steady, like he could feel the sudden knot of nerves twisting in my stomach.We paused just outside the double doors to the ward. The sign above read “Oncology – Visitors Please Check In,” the letters worn from years of fingers brushing them. I stared at it a second too long.Killian stopped with me. He turned, stepping close enough that his body blocked most of the hallway light, creating a small pocket of shadow just for us. Both hands came up to cup my face—gentle, thumbs stro

Killian’s POVThe hospital doors hissed shut behind us, sealing away the antiseptic chill and the steady beep of monitors. Visiting hours had ended ten minutes ago, but the nurse on duty had given us that small, knowing smile when we lingered—probably used to families who couldn’t quite let go yet. Zara was asleep again, peonies drooping slightly in their vase, her breathing even under the thin blanket I’d tucked around her shoulders before we left. Rae had kissed her forehead last, whispering something I couldn’t quite catch, her voice cracking just enough to twist something in my chest.Now the hallway stretched long and quiet in front of us. Fluorescent lights cast pale shadows, turning everything a little too clinical, a little too real. Rae’s hand was in mine—small fingers laced tight, thumb brushing my knuckles every few steps like she needed the reminder I was still there. Her steps were lighter than they’d been going in. Shoulders softer. The pinched worry that had lived b

Rae’s POVKillian’s mouth was still on mine—deep, slow, tasting like every filthy thing he’d just done between my legs. My body felt liquid, oversensitive, every nerve ending buzzing from the orgasm that had torn through me only minutes ago. But the ache hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had grown sharper, hungrier, pooling hot and insistent between my thighs. I was dripping onto the sheets; I could feel it every time I shifted.He broke the kiss just enough to speak against my lips, voice low and wrecked. “You’re shaking, Angel. Still so needy after coming all over my tongue.”I whimpered—couldn’t help it. My hips lifted toward him on instinct, seeking something, anything. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through my chest, and slid one hand down my body—slow, deliberate—until his fingers brushed my soaked entrance.He circled the slick opening first, gathering wetness on his fingertips, spreading it over my folds in lazy strokes. No pressure, no penetration—just teasing ci