My best friend’s dad

I always knew Mr. Callahan was too handsome for his age. He wasn’t just attractive, he was arresting. Tall, broad-shouldered, with streaks of silver in his dark hair that made him look more distinguished than old. His eyes were this impossible gray-blue, like smoke meeting ice, and his jaw looked carved by some god with an obsession for dominance.

Every time I visited Ava’s house, I caught myself watching him in secret. In the kitchen. In the yard. In the gym downstairs, where I definitely wasn’t supposed to be.

I tried to ignore it. I really did, but then Ava left for college three weeks before me. Her early internship in D.C. had her flying out while I stayed back to finish summer classes. Which meant, I was the only one around when I stopped by to pick up a box I had left in her room.

“Emma?” Mr. Callahan’s voice stopped me in the hallway, low and deep like it always was. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.”

He was shirtless.

God help me. . . He was fucking shirtless.

He had a towel slung low on his hips, wet hair tousled from the shower, chest glistening slightly with droplets that hadn’t dried yet.

I tried not to stare. I failed.

“I. . . I just came to get my textbooks from Ava’s room,” I said quickly, eyes darting everywhere but at him. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your… whatever you were doing.”

His lips curved. Slow. Dangerous. “I was showering.”

Damn! That was a little too much information.

He leaned against the wall with one arm, towel barely hanging on, muscles shifting with every small movement. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. I’m making steaks. Unless you’ve got other plans?”

I should’ve said yes. I should have run. But I didn’t. “I. . . I can stay.”

That night, everything changed.

Dinner was innocent, at first. We ate on the patio, wine poured freely, conversation easy. I was more relaxed than I should’ve been.

It wasn’t until he cleared the plates and poured me another glass that the air between us turned electric.

“You’ve grown up a lot,” he said, voice smooth, watching me from across the table.

I swallowed. “So have you.”

He chuckled. “Have I?”

“Not… older. Just…”

“Say it,” he said, eyes narrowing with interest.

“Hotter,” I said quietly, cheeks burning.

He stood, walked over, and didn’t stop until he was behind me, his fingers sliding over my bare shoulders. “You’ve been looking at me for years, haven’t you?”

My body locked. “What?”

“Don’t play innocent now, sweetheart. I’ve seen the way your eyes follow me. And you think I haven’t noticed the way you breathe faster when I walk into the room?”

I turned to look at him, and made the mistake of looking too long. There was heat in his eyes. Hunger.

“You’re Ava’s dad,” I whispered, but even I didn’t sound convinced anymore.

“I’m also a man,” he said, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “And I know when someone wants me.”

He tilted my chin up, his breath hot on my face.

“You want me, don’t you, Emma?”

I should’ve denied it. I didn’t. “. . . yes.”

The word was barely a breath. And then he kissed me.

No, he didn't just kiss me, he claimed me.

His mouth slanted over mine with no hesitation, tongue parting my lips as his hands tangled in my hair. I moaned against him, melting into the kiss. My body had wanted this longer than I realized. The age gap, the taboo, none of it mattered.

His hands were everywhere. Down my back, under my shirt, gripping my ass, pulling me against his solid body. I could feel the hardness pressed against me through his jeans.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled.

“I can’t,” I gasped.

“Good.”

He picked me up without warning, strong arms lifting me like I weighed nothing, and carried me straight through the house to his bedroom.

The door shut behind us with a soft click.

He laid me down on the massive bed, eyes roaming over me as I sat up, cheeks flushed, hair wild.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he murmured, pulling his shirt over his head. “But fuck, I do.”

I sat up and tugged my own shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes darkened.

“No bra?” he asked, voice thick.

“Wasn’t planning to be seduced by my best friend’s dad tonight.”

He growled and came down over me, pinning me to the mattress as his mouth moved to my neck. His stubble scraped my skin in the best way, and his hands palmed my breasts, fingers teasing my nipples until they peaked.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered.

He kissed lower. Down my chest, down my stomach. Until he reached the button of my shorts.

He unfastened them slowly and deliberately, never breaking eye contact.

“No panties, either?” he smirked. “You came to this house ready to sin.”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t know I’d end up in your bed.”

He slid his fingers between my thighs. “Liar.”

I gasped as he found how wet I already was.

“Fuck, Emma.” Then he went down on me.

His mouth was skilled. Too skilled. He licked and sucked like he had all night, all year, all my life to make me come apart. I gripped the sheets as his tongue flicked over my clit, again and again, his fingers pumping inside me, curling just right.

I shattered in seconds.

The orgasm hit me so hard I cried out, back arching, legs trembling. But he didn’t stop.

He pulled back only to kiss me again, deep and filthy, letting me taste myself on his lips.

Then he unzipped his jeans.

My eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”

Mr. Callahan, Ava’s dad, was huge. Thick, hard and veined. My mouth watered just looking at it.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

I grabbed his cock in both hands and stroked it slowly. “Does that answer your question?”

He groaned low in his throat. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He lined himself up and pushed into my moist pussy. The stretch was intense. My walls ached as he filled me, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside me.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed. “You feel like heaven.”

He moved, slow at first. Then deep, measured, every thrust made me see the fucking stars.

“You were made for this,” he growled, pounding into me harder now. “Made for me.”

I clung to him, moaning, begging, more, harder, don’t stop, until he flipped me onto my hands and knees.

He slammed into me from behind, one hand on my hip, the other tangled in my hair.

“You like being used like this?” he grunted.

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, sir, please, don’t stop, argghh”

He slapped my ass hard, then rubbed it gently.

“Dirty girl.”

His cock hit deep, over and over, until I was right there again. “Come for me, Emma,” he growled in my ear. “Soak my cock with your juices.” And I did.

The orgasm ripped through me, intense and wild and endless. My vision blurred, my thighs shook, and my scream was muffled by the sheets.

He came seconds later, hips slamming against me as he filled me.

We collapsed in a tangled heap on the bed, panting. The silence stretched.

And then he says to me “I’m never letting you near another boy again.”

I laughed weakly. “Too late for that.”