Todos los capítulos de Daddy's Forbidden Little Pet: Capítulo 281 - Capítulo 290

Thursday I wore the skirt and nothing under it.The culture working group was a ninety-minute performance about values neither logo had earned. Cade sat across the table and did not look at my legs. I talked about onboarding like my cunt was not bare against the chair. At 7:26 the last HR partner left with a smile and a tote bag.Cade locked 30B.“Show me.”I stood, lifted the hem. He exhaled through his teeth, backed me into the whiteboard, and dropped to his knees. He put his mouth on me standing up, two fingers pumping, until I came with my palm over my own mouth and my other hand smearing our timeline.He stood, turned me, bent me over the table, and shoved in with one thrust. No patience. He fucked me hard and quiet, one hand on the back of my neck, the other reaching around to rub my clit.“You sat through values like this,” he muttered. “Talked about respect. I thought about bending you over this exact sentence.”I came first, shaking. Cade followed, flooding me, staying deep w

Wednesday he was in the chair at 6:15 exactly.I locked the door. Dropped my bag. Sat on the desk.“Knees. Hands on your thighs. Mouth only. You don’t come. If you get close, you tap my knee and you wait.”“Yes, Isolde.”He put his mouth on me like the instruction had been living in him since Monday. I held his hair and used him — slow circles, then my hips rolling against his tongue, then pulling him back when he got too eager. He tapped once. I made him sit back on his heels, breathing hard, cock straining against his trousers, until I said again.I came on his tongue with my heel in his shoulder. He stayed down, chin wet, eyes up, waiting.“Good. Stand. Clothes off.”He stripped. I pointed at the sofa.“Sit. Hands on the back cushions. Don’t move them.”I climbed into his lap and sank down onto him in one motion. He groaned through his teeth. I rode him at a pace designed to ruin him — deep, unhurried, stopping whenever his hips tried to lift. My nails bit his chest.“This office i

The printer spat the folio like it was bored of him.Sienna slid the paper across the marble without looking up. “Room 1104. Extended through Thursday. Incidentals still open.”Adrian didn’t take it. His fingers rested on the edge of the desk, close enough that she felt the heat of his hand without being touched.“You’re always here,” he said.“That’s the job.”“I meant after midnight.” A pause. “You don’t look like you sleep.”She looked up then. Dark shirt, no tie, the kind of tired that still had money in it. The lobby lights were low. The fountain had been switched off an hour ago. The only sound was the soft tick of the clock above the elevators.“I sleep,” she said. “Just not when you’re checking out in your head and staying in the system.”His mouth almost smiled. “Guilty.”“Is there something wrong with the room?”“No.” He turned the folio toward himself, didn’t read it. “The room is fine. The bed is large. The city is loud through the glass. I keep thinking if I stay one more

Morning arrived the rude way: a seam of pale sun through rain-streaked glass, the river looking freshly washed, and Adrian already awake with his mouth on the inside of Sienna’s thigh.She made a sound that was half protest, half permission. Her body was a catalog of last night — tender between her legs, a faint bruise at her hip from the desk, his teeth ghosted at her shoulder. He didn’t seem interested in mercy.“You said eleven,” he murmured against her skin. “It’s eight-forty. I’m being generous.”“You’re being greedy.”“Yes.”He hooked her knee over his shoulder the way he had at the window and put his mouth on her again, slower than midnight, filthy in a daylight way that made her cover her face with the sheet. He pulled the sheet down.Watched her. Licked her open like breakfast was a position. When she tried to wriggle back he held her hips and hummed, the vibration punching a moan out of her that the double-glazing luckily kept from the corridor.“Adrian— I have to shower— I

The last ferry was supposed to leave at 11:10.At 11:04 the board flipped from ON TIME to CANCELLED in tired orange letters, and the waiting room made the sound a room makes when twenty strangers realize the water has won.Wind hammered the glass. The channel was a black sheet with teeth. The loudspeaker coughed something about mechanical failure and the first crossing at dawn. People swore, called rides that wouldn’t come, started arguing with a kid in a company jacket who had no authority and less hope.Nora Quinn had a backpack, a dead phone battery, and a Monday meeting on the other shore that did not care about weather. She was thirty-one, still in the black coat she’d worn to a funeral that wasn’t hers — a colleague’s father, a train, a day that had already been too long. She just wanted a bed that didn’t rock.The ticket clerk had the expression of a man selling the last parachute.“We’ve got overflow lodging at the channel inn,” he said. “Most of it’s gone. There’s one cabin l