Page 29 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you two are having a cozy little morning coffee date." My voice dripped with sarcasm. "Did I interrupt something?"

Ginnie stood, gliding to his side, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Cassie, I know this might look bad, but I was just worried about Gennady."

"Enough," Gennady growled, his green eyes cutting to her like a blade. "Ginnie, we're done here."

I kept my face blank, but my heart sank into a pit of ice. "So, what was she doing here?" I asked, my voice flat.

Gennady took a deep breath, raking his fingers through his dark hair—a move I'd seen a thousand times when he was frustrated or pissed. "Some business needed handling," he said, dodging the question, his tone heavy.

"Yeah," Ginnie chimed in, a sly glint in her eyes quickly masked by innocence. "Some very important business." Her gaze flicked to me, loaded with meaning. "Between the two of us."

She leaned hard on those last words, twisting the knife.

I crossed my arms, forcing myself to stay calm. "Wow, aren't you just the perfect little helper, always ready to swoop in and fix Gennady's problems."

"I do what I can," she said, flashing a saccharine smile.

"Enough," Gennady roared, his voice like a lion's, shaking the room. He stepped between us, blocking Ginnie from my view. "Cassie, go to your room. I'll deal with this."

I stared at him, my anger boiling over. "You'll deal with it?" I repeated, each word cold and sharp, like ice falling from my lips.

His jaw clenched tighter. "Yes."

I held his gaze, searching his green eyes. They were hard, determined, but beneath it, I saw a flicker—not anger, not annoyance, but something protective. Like he wasn't mad at me but fighting the whole damn world to shield me from this mess.

Too late. The damage was done.

I gave a curt nod and turned, heading upstairs. "Cassie…" he called after me.

I didn't stop. Didn't look back.

Each step felt like walking on knives. When I reached my room and slammed the door, leaning against its cold surface, the tight coil inside me snapped. My hands balled into fists, my chest so tight I thought it'd explode.

Stupid! So fucking stupid!

Just minutes ago, I was sitting by the window, dreaming of honesty, of change, of a future together. I actually believed Mom's words—that a baby might shake his iron grip of control. I was ready to tell him about the secret that could tie me to him forever.

And reality? Reality slapped me across the face. The second I showed a hint of defiance, of not playing his perfect little doll, he had a replacement waiting in the wings.

Humiliation and betrayal burned through me. I shoved off the door, storming to the closet, my hands shaking with rage and hurt. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn't care. I had to get out—now. Out of this cage, away from the man who treated me like a possession.

I yanked clothes off hangers, tossing them into a suitcase in a crumpled heap, each move fueled by raw, destructive anger.

The door flew open. Gennady stood there, his face flashing with shock before darkening like a storm cloud. "What the hell are you doing?"

I didn't look up, shoving a sweater into the bag with force. "What's it look like? Packing. Getting the fuck out."

"You can't leave!" He strode toward me, his towering frame casting a shadow that felt like it could crush me. "It's dangerous out there!"

"Dangerous?" I snapped, whipping around to glare at him, my red-rimmed eyes burning. "More dangerous than staying here? At least the threats outside are ones I can see!"

"Cassie, let me explain," he said, reaching for my wrist.

"Explain what?" I jerked my arm free, my voice sharp. "Why you were cozying up with her? Why you didn't push her away? Or why you lied to my face?"

"I didn't lie!" he roared, veins bulging in his forehead.

"Oh, so I'm blind?" I shoved a shirt into the suitcase. "I imagined you two getting all touchy-feely? I made it up in my crazy little head?"

He grabbed my wrist again. "Stop it! I said stop!"

"Let go!" I fought, twisting with all my strength. "You don't get to tell me what to do!"

"I do!" His eyes blazed with a fury that screamed challenged authority, mixed with something deeper—panic. "You're my woman!"

"I'm not anyone's fucking property!" I shoved his chest, my nails scraping his shirt. "I'm not some toy you can toss aside and pick back up when you feel like it!"

My words lit a fuse. His jaw clenched so tight I thought it'd crack. "Then stop acting like a damn child!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the walls. "Seeing a woman near me and losing your shit like a lunatic! What is this? Your own fucking possessiveness?"

"Child?" The word was a poisoned dart, hitting my deepest wound, snapping my last thread of control. "You call me a child? What's it called when you're all over her? A mature man's rational choice?"

"We weren't all over each other!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with rage.

"Her hand was on you!" I screamed, pointing at his arm. "Right there! And you didn't push her away! You let it happen! You were soaking it up—her touch, her concern, enjoying how it fucking hurt me, weren't you?" My accusations were wild, sharp, fueled by raw anger and heartbreak.

His face wasn't just dark—it was a storm. "You're being fucking ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous?" My heart shattered, the sound echoing in my ears. "I was up all night hating myself for hurting you, trying to figure out how to fix this! And what were you doing? Getting cozy with her, handling your 'important private business'?"

"I'm not with anyone!" He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging in so hard I felt them in my bones, his eyes wild with a wounded animal's desperation. "It's you! You're the one pushing me away! Rejecting every touch, every moment I try to get close! What am I to you? A fucking plague?"

"Because—" The truth clawed at my throat, desperate to escape—because I'm pregnant! Because I'm scared! Because I'm terrified you'll use this baby to chain me down even tighter!—but at the last second, reason yanked me back from the edge.

I couldn't tell him.

Not after seeing Ginnie, seeing him not push her away. How could I trust him now? How could I bare my most vulnerable secret to a man who made me feel so betrayed, so unsafe? The risk was too great—he'd use this child to lock me up for good.

My voice cut off, like a blade had sliced through it.

That silence lit a fire in him. "Because what?" he roared, shaking my shoulders, his eyes like knives, trying to cut through to my secrets. "Say it, Cassie! Give me a reason! One fucking reason that makes sense! Stop torturing me with your silence!"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My throat felt sealed with molten lead. I couldn't say it. Not now, not like this.

My silence was like gasoline on his rage, proof of guilt in his eyes.

"See?" he sneered, his laugh cold, dripping with mockery and crushing disappointment.

"You've got nothing to say. Because you're just playing with me!

You love this push-and-pull bullshit, don't you?

Watching me suffer makes you feel powerful, huh? "

"I'm not playing anyone!" I screamed, the injustice of it drowning me.

"Then prove it!" His voice broke with a desperate, reckless edge as he yanked me into his arms, his grip so tight I could barely breathe.

His eyes burned with a dangerous mix of pain and need, like he was betting everything on this moment.

"If you feel even a shred of love for me, if you're not just screwing with my head, prove it! Show me with everything you've got!"

Before I could respond, his lips crashed onto mine, fierce and punishing, raw with desperation.

Wilder than last night, more reckless, like he was throwing everything into this one act.

I tried to push back, to fight the humiliating invasion, but my body betrayed me.

Even in this pit of anger and hurt, I felt him—his scent, his heat, the electric pull that set my nerves on fire.

That uncontrollable attraction made me hate myself even more.

It was like pouring oil on a flame.

I bit down hard, tasting blood, sharp pain exploding between us. He grunted but didn't pull away—instead, he deepened the kiss, like a beast unleashed, his desperation turning feral, a dance of destruction.

We were two wounded animals, clawing and thrashing in a tight space.

The kiss wasn't a kiss anymore—it was a bloody battle of conquest and defiance.

Anger, suppressed desire, bone-deep love, and the sting of betrayal collided, exploding into a dangerous, volatile mix.

Every tear of fabric, every ragged breath, carried the weight of destruction.

His hands gripped my hips, bruising, claiming, while mine clawed at his shoulders, leaving marks of my own.

Each move was a brand, each gasp a step toward ruin.

His rage was a living thing, coiled tight in his chest, a beast clawing to be unleashed.

I felt it in the way he pinned me against the wall, his hands iron bands around my wrists, his breath ragged and searing against my face.

The unspoken truth of my pregnancy burned inside me, a secret weight that forced me to temper the storm raging between us.

I pushed back against his chest, my palms flat against the furnace of his skin, trying to slow the hurricane of his fury.

But he was relentless, his eyes dark with a hunger that bordered on violence, a need to conquer, to claim, to break.