All Chapters of Daddy's Forbidden Little Pet: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

The last box was lighter than it should have been.Cole’s hoodie. A charger that wasn’t mine. A paperback he had sworn he would finish and never did. I had kept them in my hall closet for two months after the breakup like they might metabolize on their own. They didn’t.On a wet Saturday I put them in a grocery bag and drove to the house on Binder Street because leaving them on his new apartment stoop felt like a performance I was too tired to give.I expected his mother. Or a note on the door. Or the kind of polite absence families invent when they do not want to look at the leftover girl.Barrett Kane opened the door instead.Cole’s uncle. The one who had never moved out. The one who lived in the converted downstairs suite and fixed the roof and sat at the far end of holiday tables with a beer and a look that always seemed slightly amused by the rest of them. Forty-six. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair cropped short, a little gray at the sides. He had on a faded black T-shirt and jeans a

I used the side door the next afternoon.Barrett opened it before I finished knocking, like he had been standing in the converted suite listening for my car. The rain had stopped.The house on Binder Street looked ordinary from the street. Inside his rooms it did not. He pulled me in, locked the door, and had my back against it in the same breath.“You came back,” he said against my mouth.“You told me to use this door.”“I told you the front was for boxes.” He kissed me hard, hands already under my dress. “This door is for the part where I fuck you while my sister’s house sits empty upstairs.”He found me bare underneath. The sound he made was low and pleased and slightly dangerous. Two fingers pushed into me without warning. I was already wet from the drive. Barrett worked me against the door until my thighs shook, then dropped to his knees, hooked one of my legs over his shoulder, and put his mouth on me. He licked me like he had been thinking about it since I left — slow, then gre

Thursday the house went quiet at 8:40.Barrett’s text was one line. Now. Side. I parked a block away and walked. The upstairs windows were dark. The converted suite was not. He opened the door, pulled me in, and had my dress over my head before the lock finished turning.“Twenty-five minutes,” he said. “Sister’s book club. Cole asked if he could come for the bag Saturday morning. You will not be anywhere near Binder Street in daylight.”“I know.”“Good. On the bed. Face down.”I went. Barrett shoved my knees apart, dragged his tongue through me from behind until I was shaking, then mounted me and pushed in with one hard thrust. The suite stayed quiet. He did not. Not with words — with the way he fucked, deep and claiming, one hand fisted in my hair, the other under me rubbing my clit until I came into the quilt with a broken, swallowed sound. He kept going until he finished inside me, held me there, and pushed it back in with two fingers.“Leave it. That’s the whole visit.”I left thr

I lasted through the toasts.Barely. Nathan gave a short, charming one that made the room melt. Harlan did not speak. He sat at the family table with a whiskey he barely touched and looked at me once across the dance floor — not long enough for his sister to notice, long enough for my body to understand the rest of the night.When the band started the loud songs I left.The hotel corridor on the third floor was hushed after the vineyard noise. I stopped outside 308 with my key card for 214 still in my fist like a moral argument. Then I knocked once.Harlan opened the door in the same shirt, tie gone, sleeves rolled. He looked at me for a second like he was giving the last clean version of the evening a chance to survive.It didn’t.He pulled me in. The door shut. The lock turned. Then his mouth was on mine, hungry and controlled at the same time, the kiss of a man who had watched a wedding all night and decided he was done watching. I opened for him immediately. Harlan made a low soun

Thursday I wore the dress and nothing under it.Harlan opened the door at 7:30, looked down at my bare legs, and said, “Good girl,” like it was a diagnosis. Then he had me on my knees in the entryway before the lock finished turning. I took him into my mouth until my eyes watered. He held my hair and watched me with that same contained face he used at brunch, except now it was wrecked at the edges. When he pulled me off he was slick and hard.“Bedroom. On your back. Knees to your chest.”He fucked me like that — folded, open, the position shameless — and rubbed my clit until I came with a broken sound that the thin apartment walls had not earned. Harlan didn’t slow. He kept the same deep rhythm until I clenched around him a second time, oversensitive, and then he buried himself to the hilt and flooded me.“Leave it.”He pushed it back in with two fingers and licked them.We didn’t talk about the wedding anymore. We talked about times. Tuesday. Thursday. Once a Sunday morning when he t