All Chapters of Daddy's Forbidden Little Pet: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

I stared at the flickering screen of my monitor, the numbers blurring because my eyes kept drifting to the empty space across the aisle. His desk. Or rather, the space where his desk used to be before he moved it closer to mine three weeks ago. I hated how perfectly it fit now. Hated how the fluorescent light caught the sharp line of his jaw every time he leaned over to grab a file. Hated that my stomach still flipped every single time our shoulders brushed in the supply closet.We weren’t even supposed to be in the building together after seven. The night shift cleaning crew was supposed to finish at six, but they’d been running behind again because of the stupid event space on the twenty-third floor. The kind of event where rich clients showed up in heels that clicked like gunshots down the marble hallway. I’d stayed late because my presentation was due tomorrow and I refused to let the new intern, that cocky little shit named Marcus, steal the credit like he always tried.The f

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My body had gone completely still, every nerve screaming at once while my brain was screaming louder. His fingers were still splayed wide on my hip, thumb stroking that slow, deliberate line right above the waistband of my skirt like he was memorizing the exact spot where skin met fabric. Heat poured off his palm in waves, soaking straight through the thin cotton of my blouse and into my bra. My nipples had tightened into painful peaks, rubbing against the lace with every shallow breath I forced myself to take.“You’re shaking,” he said again, voice rougher this time, like the words were being dragged out of his throat. His thumb kept moving, inch by inch, never quite reaching the edge of my skirt but close enough that I felt the ghost of the pressure. “I can feel it through your whole body, Harper.”I hated how small my voice sounded. “Let go.”“No.” The single word came out flat, final, and he didn’t move his hand. Instead his fingers curled just a fracti

The orgasm was still rolling through me in slow, heavy waves when I heard it — the soft click of the building’s main door downstairs. The cleaning crew. They were early tonight. The kind of early that meant they’d be on the elevator in under ten minutes, pushing carts down the long hallway, their boots echoing off the marble while they shouted something about “last floor tonight.” I froze, chest still pressed to the cool desk, skirt shoved all the way up around my waist, panties dangling from one ankle, and his cock buried deep inside me like it belonged there.His hips were still moving, slow and lazy, dragging every inch of him through my slick heat. The wet sounds were louder now, obscene little squelches with every thrust. My walls were fluttering around him, still pulsing from the first one, and I felt him twitch inside me when my pussy clenched.“Fuck,” he rasped against the back of my neck, voice wrecked and low. “They’re coming. You have to stay still.”I couldn’t. My legs w

The after-party was in the rooftop bar on the thirty-second floor — all glass walls, city lights sparkling like they were mocking us, and the kind of expensive champagne that cost more than most people’s rent. I stood at the edge of the dance floor in my crumpled blouse and the skirt that still had faint wet spots where his cum had dried on the hem. My thighs felt sticky every time I shifted, his release from the elevator still leaking out of me in slow, warm trails. Every single person in the room had no idea that the man standing across from me the one the board was already calling “the new king” had just spent the last forty minutes railing me on an elevator while it was still moving.He caught my eye from the bar and smiled that slow, dangerous smile. The one that said he was already thinking about round two. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, and his cock was outlined against his slacks in a way that made my pussy clench all over again. I hated how badly I still wanted

I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, my cock still throbbing and leaking precum against my thigh hours after the movie. Sophia’s soft moan when I squeezed her massive tit still replayed in my head. My step-mom. My mom. The woman who had just let me touch her huge, bare breasts and stroke my cock through my sweats without stopping me once.I had jerked off twice that night thinking about how heavy her tits felt in my hands, how her nipple had hardened into a thick, sensitive peak begging for more. But I didn’t sleep. I kept replaying every second — the way she had guided my hands, the low “mmm” she made when I kneaded her right breast, the way her breath hitched when I pinched her nipple.By the time I finally dozed off, I was already hard again.The next morning Sophia made coffee exactly like always, strong, with extra cream, sitting on the counter with a little note that just said “For my good boy ”. I drank it slow, heart racing, replaying the way her tank top had slipped off