All Chapters of Daddy's filthy little pet : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Rae’s POVThe resort kitchen was dark except for the soft under-cabinet lights and the blue glow from the electric kettle Killian had just flicked on. It was past midnight. Zara had been asleep for hours back home, we’d checked in via text—she was fine, binge-watching something mindless, and the suite felt like our own private universe: ocean breeze drifting through the cracked balcony doors, distant waves crashing, the faint scent of salt and coconut sunscreen still clinging to our skin.I’d slipped out of bed wearing nothing but one of his oversized resort T-shirts—white, thin, barely hitting mid-thigh. No panties. Again.He was standing at the counter in nothing but low-slung gray sweats, back to me, broad shoulders flexing as he dropped a tea bag into a mug. The muscles in his back shifted with every movement; the tattoos curling over his shoulder blades caught the light like they were moving.I padded barefoot across the cool tile, silent until I was right behind him.My

Rae’s POVThe guest room smelled like him.Not the whole house—him. The door clicked shut behind us, softer than a whisper, and the world narrowed to just this room, this bed, this man.Killian hadn’t said a word since he’d taken my hand and led me down the hall. He didn’t need to. The grip on my wrist was firm enough to remind me who was in charge, gentle enough to make my pulse race with anticipation instead of fear.He stopped at the foot of the bed. Moonlight sliced through the half-open blinds, painting silver stripes across the dark sheets. Zara was still asleep in the room at the far end of the hall—snoring softly, oblivious. The risk of her waking up, wandering out for water, hearing something she shouldn’t… it hung between us like smoke.“On the bed, kitten,” he said finally, voice low and velvet-rough. “On your back.”I obeyed without hesitation. The mattress dipped under my knees, cool against my heated skin.I’d lost the silk slip somewhere between the balcony and here—

Rae’s POVI barely made it through the front door before the exhaustion hit like a wall.My bag slipped from my shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. Shoes kicked off halfway across the entryway. Coat shrugged off and left draped over the banister. Every step toward the living room felt like wading through molasses. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache—shoulders knotted from hunching over charts, lower back screaming from twelve hours on my feet, head throbbing behind my eyes like someone had parked a truck there.Killian was already up from the couch the second he heard the door.“Angel?” His voice was soft, careful. He crossed the room in three long strides, reaching for me.I turned my face away. Not mean—just… too tired to be touched yet. Too tired to speak. Too tired for anything.He froze mid-reach. I felt his confusion without looking.“Rae? Baby, what’s wrong?”I shook my head once. Small. Barely there.He tried again, gentler. “Hey. Talk to me. Did someth

Rae’s POVI woke up feeling… better. Not great, not even close to normal, but the room didn’t spin anymore when I sat up, and the nausea had dulled to a low, annoying hum instead of sharp waves. Progress. Enough that I could convince myself—and hopefully Killian—that I was fine.I needed to be fine.Zara’s transfer to step-down had happened yesterday afternoon; Killian had texted me the update with a photo of her giving a weak thumbs-up from her new bed. She looked pale but awake, eyes brighter than they’d been in days. The doctors were talking discharge in forty-eight hours if her numbers kept climbing. That meant visitors soon. Real ones. Me sitting beside her bed, holding her hand, making stupid jokes until she laughed so hard the nurses shushed us.I couldn’t show up looking like a ghost. Not when she’d spent the last week thinking she might not make it.So I dragged myself out of bed.Showered—slow, leaning against the tile when my knees wobbled. Brushed my teeth without gagging

Rae’s POVThe cramps started around noon—low, dull at first, like a warning. By evening they were sharp, twisting knives that made me curl tighter on the couch. The resort suite felt too big suddenly, too quiet except for the distant roll of waves and Zara’s soft breathing from the video call we’d ended an hour ago she was stable, laughing about her new wig options, but I could barely focus through the pain.I tried to hide it. I always try to hide it. But Killian notices everything.I slipped away while he was on the balcony checking emails, thinking a hot bath might help. The bathroom was huge—marble floors, rainfall shower, deep soaking tub with jets. I ran the water scalding hot, added the lavender bath salts the hotel left, and sank in slowly, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around my middle like that could hold the cramps at bay.The heat helped a little. Not enough.I stayed until the water cooled, skin pruned, head pounding, lower back throbbing in time with my pulse. Whe