บททั้งหมดของ Daddy's filthy little pet : บทที่ 261 - บทที่ 270

Rae’s POVThe suite door clicked shut behind us with a soft, decisive sound — the kind that felt like the rest of the world had been gently but firmly locked out. No more hallways. No more eyes. No more waiting. Just this space. Just us.Killian’s hands were already on me — one low on my waist, the other cradling the back of my neck — as he walked me backward through the entryway. My pulse thundered in my ears, louder than the distant roll of waves beyond the open balcony doors. The air inside smelled like clean linen, sea salt, and the faint citrus of whatever candle they’d lit before our arrival. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows in wide golden beams, catching on the crisp white linens of the massive king bed, the gauzy curtains shifting lazily in the breeze.I stopped in the middle of the room, breath catching hard enough that it almost hurt.The bed was enormous — a sea of white sheets and pillows stacked high, four-poster frame draped in sheer fabric that mov

Rae’s POVKillian stayed buried inside me for what felt like forever — long after the last tremor faded, long after our breathing slowed from ragged gasps to soft, shared sighs. His forehead rested against mine, sweat-damp hair sticking to my skin, chest rising and falling in time with my own. I could feel every tiny aftershock: the faint twitch of his cock still deep inside, the warmth of his release slowly seeping out around him, the gentle flutter of my walls trying to hold him even as my body relaxed.He didn’t speak at first. Just kissed me — slow, reverent — lips brushing my eyelids, my cheeks, the corner of my mouth, tasting the salt of my tears. His hand stroked my hair back from my face, thumb tracing the line of my jaw like I was something fragile and infinitely precious.When he finally eased out, we both made the same small, involuntary sound — a soft, shared whimper at the loss. Slick warmth followed, trickling down my thighs in slow, sticky trails. He kissed my temple

Killian’s POVI woke before her — always do when the world is this quiet. The suite was bathed in that pale, early-morning coastal light that turns everything soft and golden, like the sun is still deciding whether to rise or just stay low and watch.Rae was curled into me the way she always ends up by dawn: face tucked against my throat, one leg slung over my hip, hand flat on my chest like she’s making sure my heart is still beating. Her breathing was slow and even, lips parted just enough that I could feel the warmth of every exhale against my collarbone.I didn’t move. Didn’t want to. Just watched her.Her hair was a dark spill across the white pillow, strands catching the light so they looked almost auburn at the edges. There was a faint mark on her neck — one I’d left last night — already softening from deep purple to a dusky rose. The curve of her cheek pressed against my skin was flushed from sleep, lashes dark and long, the tiniest crease between her brows like even in drea

Killian’s POVThe shopping bags were still scattered by the door like evidence of a small victory—tissue paper spilling out, logos peeking from matte black and cream packaging. My legs felt heavy in that good, earned way from hours of walking the strip, carrying every single thing she’d touched or looked at twice. My arms ached pleasantly from holding the weight so she didn’t have to lift a finger. Rae was draped half over me on the bed, head tucked under my chin, one leg hooked over my hip, fingers tracing absent little patterns on my shirt right above my heart. Her breathing was slow, soft puffs against my collarbone, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. Not yet.The room was bathed in that late-afternoon amber light that makes everything look warmer, softer—sunset bleeding through the gauzy curtains, turning her skin golden where it peeked from under the blanket. Her hair smelled like the resort shampoo—vanilla and something faintly floral—and the faint salt air drifting in from

Rae’s POV Late morning light poured through the open balcony doors in wide, lazy beams. I woke alone in the massive king bed, sheets twisted around my legs, body still humming from last night. The faint soreness between my thighs had softened to a pleasant ache, the skin on my ass carrying a warm, low throb where Killian’s hand had painted it red. My nipples were tender against the cool cotton sheet, and when I stretched, the movement sent a small, delicious shiver straight to my core.I could hear him outside—coffee mug clinking against the railing, the low rhythm of waves rolling in far below.I slipped from the bed naked, padded barefoot across the marble to the balcony threshold. He stood leaning against the glass railing—shirtless, only loose white linen shorts slung low on his hips, morning sun gilding every line of muscle across his back and shoulders. Coffee steam curled up from the mug in his hand. He turned when my shadow fell across the threshold.The look he gave me wa