Todos los capítulos de Daddy's Forbidden Little Pet: Capítulo 181 - Capítulo 190

Thursday arrived with the low, metallic smell of rain that had not yet decided to fall.I spent most of the afternoon standing in front of my closet telling myself the dinner was only dinner — a civil gesture from a man who had once been something like family and was now simply being careful in public.By the time I pulled the dark green dress over my head the argument had thinned to almost nothing. The fabric sat against my skin like a decision I had already made and was only now dressing for.Callum’s address was a converted warehouse loft on the river side of town, the kind of place that had been industrial until money decided it should be quiet instead. I parked on the street and sat in the car for a full minute before walking to the entrance. He buzzed me up without speaking.The elevator was mirrored and slow. I watched my own reflection rise through the floors and tried to remember the last time I had seen him without Julian somewhere in the frame.He opened the door in a black

He called two days later, mid-afternoon, while I was standing in my mother’s kitchen staring at a grocery list I had no intention of following.“Are you free this evening?”No greeting. No unnecessary softness. Just the question and the low, measured voice that still made the air in the room feel tighter.“Yes.”“Come at seven. Use the side entrance. The front of the building is more visible from the street.”He hung up without waiting for confirmation. I stood with the phone still against my ear for a moment longer than necessary, then set it down and went to change.The side entrance of the converted warehouse opened into a narrow stairwell that smelled of concrete and rain. Callum was waiting at the top of the stairs.He stepped aside to let me in, closed the door, and locked it with a deliberateness that made the ordinary gesture feel like the drawing of a curtain.We did not speak at first. He walked me backward until my hips met the edge of the long kitchen counter, braced his h

Mara left the chain off.She told herself she might lock it later. She told herself she was only sitting on the couch because the house was quiet. She told herself the shirt was just a shirt.It was the same white one. Still his. Still too short. Nothing underneath.She had showered twice. Washed his fingers off her. Then she had touched herself in the bathroom and come with her forehead on the mirror, furious that it wasn’t enough.The clock on the wall kept moving.Every sound outside made her pussy clench.A car door. Footsteps. Nothing.She pressed her thighs together and felt how wet she already was. From waiting. From remembering his mouth on her nipple. From the way he had sucked his fingers clean like her taste belonged to him.The key turned.Mara’s breath caught.The door opened.Daniel stepped in and shut it behind him without looking away from her. No folder this time. No excuse. Just him, in a dark shirt, jaw tight, eyes already on her bare legs.“You left it unlocked,” h

The bed still smelled like a marriage.Mara had changed the sheets two days ago and it didn’t matter. The room remembered him. The photo on the nightstand remembered him. The dent on the left side of the mattress remembered him.She lay on the right side anyway, shirt on, legs open, pussy already wet from waiting.The lamp was on. She wanted Daniel to see everything when he walked in. The spread of her thighs. The shine on her. The way she had put herself in another man’s bed like an offering.Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand.Sister: Daniel said he’ll stop by later. Love you. Don’t stay up in that house overthinking.Mara locked the screen and left the phone face down beside the wedding photo.Overthinking wasn’t the problem.The key turned.She didn’t cover herself.The bedroom door opened and Daniel stopped on the threshold like the sight of her on that bed physically hit him.“You listened,” he said.“You told me to.”He shut the door. Locked it. Took off his watch and set

The shop closed at nine.Ivy always took the last slot anyway. Friday. 8:50. One chair left lit. The rest of the salon dark, chairs sleeping under their capes, the smell of shampoo and hot metal still hanging in the air.She knew who it would be.It was always him.Roman Vale.He had been coming every Friday for two months. First it was a trim. Then a beard shape. Then “just clean the neck.” Then he stopped pretending he needed hair on his head touched at all.He booked the last appointment and paid in cash and looked at her mouth while she worked.Ivy told herself she needed the money.That was a lie she could still say out loud.She was locking the front door when his car lights swept the glass.Her stomach dropped straight between her legs.Roman got out in a black shirt and dark slacks, sleeves rolled, watch catching the streetlight. He looked like money that didn’t have to rush. He looked like a man who knew the shop would open for him even after the sign said closed.Ivy let him