In Love With My Father Best Friend

Sorcha’s fingers trembled as she slid them between her thighs, heat pooling in her belly as she imagined him—his rough hands, his deep voice, the way he would whisper filthy things in her ear.

Her body shuddered as she fingered herself deeper, her other hand gripping the pillow beneath her. She bit her bottom lip, muffling the moan threatening to escape.

Daddy…

The word alone nearly pushed her over the edge.

Her toes curled, her stomach tightened, and with one last stroke, pleasure crashed over her, sending violent shudders through her body.

But it wasn’t enough.

It never was.

Her breath came in uneven gasps, her heart pounding from the orgasm that had just rocked through her. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes falling on the framed photo on her nightstand.

It was an old picture of her father and Karios, standing side by side, smiling into the camera. Back when her mother was still alive.

And back when she was thirteen.

That was when she first started seeing Karios in a new light.

Her throat tightened.

She could barely remember her mother’s face anymore. It had been years since she passed, leaving only faded photographs and the lingering scent of her old clothes, still hanging untouched in the closets.

The house hadn’t felt like home since.

It was merely a place to sleep. A place where her father barely paid her any attention.

Sorcha let out a slow breath, forcing herself to sit up.

She couldn't afford to let old memories distract her. Not tonight.

Karios was coming for dinner.

He wasn’t coming alone, though she wished he was.

Elena would be with him.

Sorcha’s stomach twisted with hatred. That woman had stolen him. Stolen what was meant to be hers.

Sorcha had spent years yearning for him. Watching him from across rooms. Aching for just a glance. But to him, she was nothing more than his best friend’s little girl.

She wasn’t a child anymore. At twenty, she was a woman. And he needed to realize that.

---

The smell of roasted lamb and buttered vegetables filled the dining room as Sorcha descended the stairs. She was dressed up for dinner—or more like for him. She was dressed in a tight, short gown, hugging every inch of her body.

Her eyes locked onto Karios as she slid into her seat, hoping he’d look at her, notice her, maybe even compliment her.

Karios swirled the whiskey in his glass, gaze fixed on the amber liquid, as if the conversation around him barely registered. As if he didn’t see her.

"Good evening, Daddy," she murmured in a soft, sultry voice.

Karios didn’t even react.

Instead, it was her father who spoke.

"You’re late. What were you doing upstairs?" His voice carried the usual mix of authority and affection.

Sorcha forced herself to look away from Karios. "I was getting ready," she mumbled.

Her father chuckled. "Girls. Always taking their time."

The dining table was covered in a feast—every possible delicacy, prepared by their housemaid, Matina. But Sorcha barely touched her food.

She wasn’t hungry for food. She was starving for him.

Her eyes stayed fixed on Karios, watching the way his fingers curled around his whiskey glass. The way the muscles in his forearm flexed when he lifted it to his lips.

Heat pooled between her thighs.

Every move he made was effortless. Dominant. Unaware of how painfully she ached for him.

But then, her stomach twisted.

Because Elena couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him.

That woman had spent the entire evening touching him. Brushing her fingers over his wrist. Leaning in to whisper in his ear. Smiling like she owned him.

It was unbearable.

Sorcha gripped her fork tighter.

She stabbed into her steak, imagining it was Elena’s hand.

That should be her touching him. Sitting in his lap. Feeling his hands on her waist, his breath hot against her neck.

Her thighs clenched beneath the table. The slow pulse of pleasure between her legs was frustrating because he hadn’t even looked at her. Not even once.

"You’re quiet tonight," her father noted. "Is something wrong?"

Sorcha blinked, shaking herself from her thoughts.

"I’m fine, Dad. Just tired," she lied.

Elena laughed softly, swirling the wine in her glass. "You’ve been tired a lot lately," she mused. "What exactly are you doing at night, Sorcha?"

Sorcha’s stomach churned at the condescension in her voice.

That bitch.

She swallowed down the malice threatening to slip into her voice.

"Nothing you’d understand," she murmured, stabbing into her food again.

Elena smirked. But she didn’t push further.

She kept stealing glances at Karios, but he didn’t even look at her. No matter how much she shifted in her seat or spoke in a soft tone.

Her father sighed, rubbing his temples. "Two more weeks before I leave for my business trip. There’s still so much to prepare."

Sorcha’s heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, she turned to him.

"What business trip?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat. "And why am I just hearing about this?"

Her father barely looked up. "I’ve been busy, sweetheart. I forgot to mention it. I’ll be traveling to the U.S. for work." He glanced at Karios. "Elena will be coming with me since she’s my secretary."

Sorcha barely heard the rest.

Because then her father added, "While I’m gone, I want Sorcha to stay with you, Karios. She shouldn’t be alone in this house."

Karios just gave a short nod, focusing on his dinner.

The air shifted.

Sorcha’s pulse raced.

Her lips parted slightly as the realization sank in.

Two weeks.

No Elena. No Dad.

Just her and Karios.

Alone.

Sorcha had never felt happier in her entire life.

Oh, the things that could happen in two weeks.

Karios, maybe you don’t see me now…

But trust me.

You will soon.

With a small smile, she excused herself from the table. "I’m tired. I think I’ll sleep early tonight."

She practically floated up the stairs.

---

Sorcha slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Her pulse was still racing.

Karios didn’t see her yet.

But she would change that.

She would make him notice her.

Slowly, she reached behind her back, tugging the zipper of her dress down.

The fabric slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

In nothing but lace panties, she walked toward the mirror, her fingers skimming over the soft curves of her body.

One hand cupped her breast.

The other slid between her thighs.

She was soaked.

Just the thought of Karios and what was coming had her dripping.

She pulled down her panties, reached for her dildo from her bedside drawer, and climbed onto the bed.

She needed this.

She needed him.

---

Meanwhile, Karios excused himself to use the restroom.

Unfamiliar with the house’s layout, he pushed open what he thought was a guest room.

But when he stepped inside

He froze.

His eyes widened.

Because the sight before him was something he never expected.