CHAPTER 2: I'M SLEEPING WITH MY BEST FRIEND'S DAD [II]

CHAPTER 2

AVA'S POV 

I meet Lisa near the campus gate after my shift.

She’s already waiting with two iced coffees, one in each hand, phone tucked under her arm. When she sees me her whole face lights up, like I’m actually someone worth being happy about. The smile is real. Warm. It makes my stomach twist so hard I almost look away. I’m still walking around with her boyfriend’s cum dried on my thighs, the sticky reminder of what I let him do to me in that storage room, and all she’s doing is smiling at me like a good friend.

“There you are,” she says, holding my coffee out. “Extra ice, just how you like it. I had them add a bit of vanilla too.”

I take it. The cup is sweating in my hand. “Thanks.”

We start walking with no real destination, just the usual slow loop we always take when we need to talk. Lisa launches into her day — a boring lecture where the professor droned on for an hour, group project drama with a girl who still hasn’t done her part, how she’s already sick of the semester and wants to drop half her classes. Normal shit. Sweet shit. The kind of easy conversation we’ve had a hundred times.

I’m only half listening.

Every step I take makes me feel the sticky mess Ryan left between my legs. I had pressed my thighs together in the storage room afterward, trying to keep it from running down, but some of it still dried in a thin film on my skin. I can feel it pull slightly when I walk. The sensation is filthy. It makes me wet all over again, a fresh pulse of heat that soaks into my already ruined panties. I shift my weight and pretend I’m just adjusting my bag.

I am such a fucking slut.

Lisa glances at me after a few minutes, eyes narrowing the way they always do when she can tell something’s wrong. “You’ve been quiet. Quieter than usual. Is it your mum?”

I shrug and take a sip of the coffee to buy myself a second. “She got bad last night. Came home already drunk. Broke a plate, then a glass. Started screaming at nothing. I locked myself in my room until she passed out.”

Lisa’s expression softens immediately. No judgment. No awkward pity. Just real worry. She stops walking so she can look at me properly.

“You’re staying at mine tonight,” she says. “I’m not asking.”

“Lisa—”

“No.” Her voice is firm but gentle. “Ryan’s taking me out later. Dinner and drinks. He’s been trying lately, so I said yes. We’ll be gone for hours. The house will be empty. You already have the key. Just go over, shower, eat whatever you want, sleep in my bed if it makes you feel better. I don’t want you going back there when she’s like this.”

I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste metal. The second she said “the house will be empty,” my mind went straight to Marcus. His hands. The way he looks at me across the room like he already knows I’d drop to my knees if he told me to. The low voice. The size of him. My pussy clenches around nothing just from the thought, and I feel a fresh pulse of wetness mix with what Ryan left inside me earlier.

I’m standing here with my best friend while her boyfriend’s cum is still smeared on my thighs, getting turned on by the idea of her dad. The guilt is sharp, but the heat is stronger.

“My dad’s been working late all week,” Lisa continues, already planning it out in her head like she always does when she’s trying to take care of me. “He’s probably not even going to be home. You’ll have the place to yourself. You can even stay the whole weekend if you need to. I don’t mind.”

The words go straight to my cunt.

“Okay,” I say, trying to sound normal, like my heart isn’t beating in my pussy. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

She looks so relieved it almost makes me feel sick. Almost. The other part of me — the worse part — is already thinking about walking into that house, hoping Marcus is there, hoping he can smell the sex on me the second I step through the door. Hoping he does something about it.

Lisa pulls me into a hug without warning. She smells clean and sweet, like the vanilla lotion she’s used since we were sixteen. I stand there stiffly for a second before hugging her back, the coffee still in one hand. I wonder if she can smell me — the faint sweat, the sex, the way I’m already soaked again just from standing this close to the idea of her father. The thought makes my nipples tighten against my bra.

“Text me when you get there, okay?” she says when she pulls back. Her hands stay on my shoulders for a second. “And eat something. You look like you haven’t all day. There’s leftover pasta in the fridge. Just heat it up.”

“I will.”

She squeezes my hand one more time, then checks her phone and makes a face. “I have to go meet Ryan. He’s picking me up in twenty.” She gives me another quick smile, the soft one that used to make me feel safe, and heads off toward the parking lot.

I watch her go, smiling and waving like the good friend she thinks I am.

The second she’s out of sight, I step to the side of the path, slip my hand between my thighs, and press two fingers against my pussy through my skirt. Right there on the sidewalk. Just for a second. Just to feel how wet I am. The pressure makes my breath catch. I’m swollen and slick and disgusting.

I am so fucking wet.

I start walking toward her house with the spare key already in my hand, heart beating too fast, thighs rubbing together with every step. My mind is full of every filthy thing I want her father to do to me. I think about him pushing me to my knees in the hallway. I think about him bending me over the same kitchen counter Lisa and I have eaten at a hundred times. I think about how much thicker he might be than Ryan, and the thought alone makes my pussy throb hard enough that I have to slow down and breathe through it.

By the time I reach their street, the sun is starting to drop and I’m aching. My panties are a mess. I haven’t even gone inside yet and I’m already soaked again.

I unlock the front door and step inside.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

I close the door behind me and stand still in the hallway, listening, the key still digging into my palm.

Then I hear it — a soft creak from deeper inside the house. A cupboard. O

r a footstep.

Someone is home.

And I already know I’m not leaving.