Page 41 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

Sheila

Noooo. I snapped back, irritated. This man was obviously surveilling me.

Take care of yourself, Sheila. For those you want to protect.

The phone screen's glow flickered in the darkness as I lay on my narrow bed, staring at that line: "For those you want to protect."

The anger at being controlled melted away, leaving behind something warm.

This stranger—whoever he was—had struck straight at the softest corner of my heart with surgical precision.

That night's earnings were enough to get Leon admitted to the hospital, but the ongoing treatment costs remained a bottomless pit, crushing the air from my lungs.

"Who the hell are you?" I whispered to myself, but my mind involuntarily conjured that tall, cold figure and his soul-piercing gaze from that party. Could it be him?

I turned off the screen and rolled over to stare at the ceiling, trying to ignore that inexplicable flutter in my chest. He called me "stellina"—the nickname was like a drop of honey, sweet enough to drown in, but I feared it might be poisoned.

I'd never dated anyone. My life held only responsibility and survival. This man made me feel seen for the first time. Desired.

"Sheila, don't be stupid," I muttered to myself, forcing my eyes closed.

He was probably just some rich regular at the club, playing his little hunting games.

Tomorrow I'd still have to wait tables at the club.

Life wouldn't change because of a few texts, and a waitress's wages could never cover Leon's medical bills.

But that man wouldn't leave my mind. The mysterious texter kept making me think of him.

The texter had been checking on me these past few days, and strangely, I found myself actually wanting to share with him. This stranger, this man I'd never met, had become my only confidant.

How was today? His most frequent question.

Before, I'd always say fine. But today, for some reason, I suddenly wanted to tell him the truth.

Exhausted, I answered honestly.

Tell me.

That fat guy who stared at me when I danced? Turns out he's the club owner. I want to quit so badly, but I can't. I need this job.

Did he hurt you? The reply came fast, and I could actually feel the dangerous chill in his tone.

Not yet.

If he dares come near you, tell me.

What would u do? I asked, a strange sense of safety washing over me.

I'd make him regret ever looking at you.

Those words made me shiver—not from fear, but from some indescribable thrill. Someone willing to stand up for me. Someone willing to protect me. The feeling was so foreign.

Why do u even care?

Because you deserve to be cared for. You're stronger than you think, stellina.

Tears blurred my vision. For the first time, someone saw through my fragility.

He didn't wait for me to reply and sent another message. Imagine me there with you. Could that make you forget your troubles?

His words burned like liquor, sending waves of heat through my core. I typed back: How would u make me forget?

Imagine yourself in my arms, skin against mine, belonging only to me. His reply was bold and direct.

My heart slammed against my ribs—he'd never been this explicit before. My face burned like it might catch fire as I read on.

And another one came. Your nightgown slipping off your shoulder, me kissing your collarbone, slowly.

I held my breath. His words were fire, awakening desires I'd never known. I typed: What else?

I want to see you, he replied quickly. Send me a photo, let me see my stellina.

I froze, my heart threatening to explode. A photo? Too risky. But his words held some kind of magic that made refusal impossible. I opened the camera, hesitated, then took a blurry side profile shot in my oversized nightgown, showing just my collarbone and a strand of chestnut hair.

I hit send.

Not clear enough, he responded quickly. Unbutton it. Smile.

I bit my lip, thoroughly annoyed. ur pushing it.

But my fingers trembled, honestly unbuttoning the top button of my nightgown.

Face burning, I deliberated a moment, then undid two more buttons, tugging the fabric down to reveal the curve of one breast.

After sending it, I immediately regretted it, my heart pounding like a war drum.

Perfect. He was clearly pleased. Now imagine me kissing you, moving down, my fingers sliding behind your ear. Would you tremble?

My face burned so hot I thought I might combust, my mind in complete chaos.

His words had completely awakened my suppressed emotions and desires.

I was shaking too hard to type a coherent sentence, but he continued. I want you lying beside me, breathing hard, fingers clutching my shirt, moaning softly. Now tell me what you want.

His words sent heat flooding through my body, this feeling so intoxicating. But I couldn't let him win so easily.

I want u to stop bothering me.

Liar. The reply was almost instant. He saw right through me. Your photo tells me you want more.

I felt myself melting under his words, burning in his desire.

I want u. I couldn't help but send.

As you wish.

I closed my eyes. Though he was a stranger, my mind conjured the man from the VIP section that night.

His impossible handsomeness, those burning eyes that seemed to pierce through the crowd straight into my soul.

That expression held a touch of cynical amusement but hid an irresistible possessiveness, like a hunter locking onto prey.

My breathing quickened, chest rising and falling.

The cotton fabric of my nightgown rubbed against my skin, sending little sparks of sensation.

Another text arrived. Stellina, tell me, where are your hands now?

I bit my lower lip hard, hesitated, then typed: Collarbone.

Good, he replied. Move lower. Touch yourself. Tell me how it feels.

My face burned like it would ignite, but his words held magic. My right hand unconsciously slid to my neck, fingertips lightly touching my collarbone.

Suddenly, the nightgown felt like an obstacle. I simply pulled it off.

Cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps.

I replied, A little cold. but my skin is hot.

Perfect, stellina. His response carried satisfaction. Continue. That's me kissing you. I'd move to your breasts. Tell me how you feel now.

My breathing grew heavier. What filled my mind was how he'd look kissing me—eyebrows slightly raised, eyes half-lidded, savoring every reaction. My fingertips moved slowly, sliding from collarbone to shoulder, then to my breast, fingers gently touching the peak.

A light press sent electric pleasure shooting from my chest through my whole body. I couldn't help arching my back, a suppressed moan escaping my throat.

I typed shakily, Tingling and sensitive. I can barely breathe.

La mia stellina, you're beautiful. His texts kept igniting my desire. Now I'm kissing your stomach.

I obediently moved lower, stopping at my flat stomach. My fingers brushed the soft skin of my inner thigh, warm and sensitive.

My legs parted unconsciously, but there was an emptiness, as if craving something.

I typed, So hot... I want more.

More? he replied, as if murmuring in my ear. Then go lower. Touch your most sensitive place.

I complied, touching the wetness between my legs, fingers slowly rubbing along the sensitive folds. Each touch brought shivers. I clenched my teeth, suppressing a gasp. My mind was full of his deep eyes and his whispers from my imagination.

Finally, I managed a complete sentence. I'm doing what you said.

Good girl. He must be so pleased. Go faster. Touch your breasts too. Let me hear you, stellina.

Pleasure built like a tide. My thighs trembled slightly, hips lifting unconsciously, meeting my own rhythm. As if he were leaning close, eyes locked on mine, breath on my ear, lips parted, murmuring promises I couldn't quite hear.

I sped up, middle and index fingers sliding in and out of my slick center, other hand pinching my nipple. Sharp pleasure made me arch, finally unable to suppress the moan.

At the same time, my phone vibrated again. Stellina, show me how beautiful you are.

My heart slammed. Shame flooded through me, immediately drowned by excitement and desire. Show him this? Was he out of his mind?

But his words were poison I couldn't resist—didn't want to resist. I picked up the phone, trembling as I opened the camera, adjusting the angle.

In the lens: my body naked and trembling with pleasure, legs spread wide, fingers working between my thighs. After a long hesitation, I hit record.

Ten seconds of video.

After sending, I immediately regretted it, my mind ready to explode.

You truly are my angel. His response was instant. You're so beautiful. I can't breathe. I want to kiss every inch of your skin. I want to thrust deep inside you, possess you.

How could he be so intensely direct?

My abdomen clenched, heat building inside. My mind filled with his commanding gaze, as if he were pressing me into the mattress right now, doing the most intimate things.

Finally, intense pleasure crashed over me like a wave. I shuddered violently, hips lifting, thighs clenching around my fingers, unable to hold back my moans.

As the pleasure receded, I collapsed on the bed, chest heaving, sweat soaking my sheets, hair sticking to my forehead.

Shame and satisfaction intertwined. I curled into the blankets, burying my face in the pillow, heart refusing to calm.

I didn't reply to him again.

I knew this secret descent was just beginning, and he had already lit a fire in me that couldn't be extinguished.

"Sheila, you've been distracted lately." Madeline reminded me after I'd zoned out yet again.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about Leon." Leon's surgery costs had no solution, and this thing with that texter was driving me to distraction.

"I know, but you need to be careful." Madeline pulled me aside, worry etched on her face. "Connor's been watching you. His men keep showing up near where you work."

"What do you think he wants?"

"I don't know. With Connor's personality, when he wants something, he doesn't wait until tomorrow." Madeline stared straight at me. "Strange thing is he hasn't made a move. Maybe waiting for an opportunity, or planning something."

A chill ran through me.

I thought of Olivia again.

Two months ago, she'd been dragged into the club's back room by several men, couldn't even scream for help.

"Sheila, why do you look so pale?" Madeline asked with concern.

"Olivia." My voice shook. "It must have been Connor. If I'm also... what would I do? Mom couldn't make it alone."

"You need to be done with this job." Madeline gripped my hands tightly. "I'll try to think of something for Leon, but you need to leave soon."

I nodded.

I knew too well that in this city, when a pretty girl caught the attention of someone like Connor, there was almost never a happy ending.

That night, anxiety clung to me. I dreamed I was being dragged into those terrible rooms, too, Connor and several men just smiling at me before coming to tear at my clothes.

I woke up drenched in sweat.

I wanna see u. I gripped my phone. Could this mysterious texter help me?

You don't seem well, he replied quickly.

Connor, my boss, I think he's really going to make a move on me.

Tomorrow after your shift, I'll be waiting outside the club.

still don't know ur name.

Tomorrow you'll know everything.

Setting down the phone, I felt a sliver of comfort. I decided to work just one more day.

Connor came to the club today too. Ironically, before that night, I'd never even seen him.

Feeling his gaze constantly roaming over me, I just felt sick.

After finally making it to the end of my shift, my heart pounded hard. I was about to meet him—my mysterious texter.

I straightened my clothes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the club entrance.

The night air was still sweltering, not many people on the street.

I'd barely stepped outside when several burly figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding me.

"Miss Stella," the lead man smiled, making an inviting gesture. "Our boss wants to see you."