On My Knees for my Best Friend's Daddy

IVY

“You better cut off your old perverted dick and shove it up your ass, because there’s NO WAY IN HELL I’m marrying you!”

The words are out of my mouth, laced with all the anger in my heart before I can stop them—not that I intended too.

Harold Grant, who is fifty-eight years old, and a three-time divorcé—also the CEO of Grant Corporations, one of the biggest companies in my home state—goes very still.

The phone in his hand is still playing my sex tape, the one my stupid ex-boyfriend, Theodore, posted this morning!

I had no clue the video was ever recorded, or that Theodore would be cruel enough to do something like this to me. But for this old creep to come into my home and threaten me? That, I refuse to accept.

His eyes narrow into slits. “You little—”

Aunt Linda’s hand cracks across my face, sending me to the floor with a resounding slap.

“How dare you speak to him like that? You are an ungrateful girl! Do you have ANY idea what he’s done for us? Who do you think helps us run this house? Pays for Gabriel’s school? Your college tuition?”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I press my palm against my bruised cheek, hot tears streaming down my face.

What does she mean he takes care of me? I work. I work really hard on all my three jobs. All the money goes to her, since she’s my official guardian, until I turned 20 three days ago.

“All you had to do was keep your fucking legs closed till you’re married to him, but you’re too much of a slut, just like your dead mother!”

My blood runs cold. My tears freeze against my cheeks. I’m not sure what it is: my anger or my confusion. But I turn my gaze to Uncle Marcus, my mum’s younger brother.

He’s standing by the bookshelf with his arms crossed, staring at the floor like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the whole fucking world. He wouldn’t look up at me. It was his plan to get me married to this old man in the first place.

“Uncle Marcus?” My voice cracks.

“What is she talking about? How is this man…? What about my money?”

He doesn’t even look up.

Aunt Linda scoffs bitterly.

“Your money? You’re delusional if you think your chicken scraps are enough to do shit. It can’t even handle the electricity bill!”

I blink as my mouth goes dry.

“What are you talking about? I worked really hard, and I made sure…”

“I’m sick of this shit.”

Harold Grant steps forward, and I flinch.

He holds up his phone, and my stomach drops to the floor again. I can’t get used to the video no matter how many times I’ve been forced to look at it.

There I am on the screen, my ass to the camera as Theodore fucks me from behind.

“This,” Harold says, his voice cold and sharp as he drags his gaze over me. “is what you do to me. After everything I’ve done for you and your fucking family.”

I want to disappear. I want to die right here on this carpet.

“Well, here’s what’s going to happen.” He taps the screen, and the video pauses on my face. “Our engagement is off.”

For half a second, one stupid, hopeful second, I feel relief crash through me.

Then Aunt Linda screams.

“NO!” She drops to her knees in front of him and bows at his feet.

“Mr. Grant, please, please, we can fix this. She made a mistake. She’s just a stupid girl, she didn’t know…”

“Get off me.” He takes a step back, and when she grabs at his leg, he kicks her hand away.

She falls backward with a gasp, and Uncle Marcus finally moves to help her. His darling wife who runs their home.

Harold looks down at me like I’m trash on the bottom of his shoe.

“You will return every dime I’ve spent on you and your family. Every. Single. Cent.”

My throat closes up.

“And if you can’t…” He smiles, and it’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever seen. “I’ll seize every property your uncle owns. Most of it is mine anyway.”

“Please…”

“And you can forget about college. Your funding is terminated. Effective immediately.”

The words hit me like another slap.

College. My art degree. The only thing I’ve ever wanted. The only dream I had left after Mom died.

She was an artist too, and I just wanted to be like her, to keep her memories alive. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Harold turns and walks out with his bodyguards behind him.

The room suddenly starts to spin. Is this really happening to me?

It’s bad enough that my boyfriend betrayed me like this, and now…I am losing everything.

When aunt Linda’s eyes lock onto mine, it’s with an anger I’ve never seen before.

Without a word disappears into my room. I hurry behind her, but she doesn’t care.

She throws it all out. All my clothes in the wardrobe, my artwork on the walls, my toiletries, pictures, portraits, everything that belongs to me.

“GET OUT!” She hurls my duffel bag at me and it hits my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. “Get OUT of my house!”

“Please, I don’t have anywhere to…”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?!” She screams at me.

“You’ve RUINED us! You’ve ruined EVERYTHING! We kept you in this house and fed you for years. And you couldn’t do this one thing for us.”

But that isn’t true. She made me work once I turned fifteen. I never got a free meal from her.

“Please, Aunt Linda, I’m sorry…”

“You don’t come back here until you’ve fixed this!” She throws another bag outside. “Do you hear me? Never!”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“You should have thought about that before you spread your legs for a loser! You’re just like your whore mother. Get out!”

I turn to Uncle Marcus, tears streaming down my face. “Uncle Marcus, please don’t let her do this.”

He looks at me, and there’s a sad look in his eyes as he shakes his head.

“I’m just glad your mother isn’t here to see this.”

That’s it. That’s all he says before the door slams against my face.

I don’t know how long I stand there, hoping that I’ll wake up and it’ll just be a bad dream. But the longer I stand there, the more it dawns on me that this is real.

My life has really blown up into pieces, shards of absolute fuckery.

None of this would have happened if mother was alive, if I had someone in this world that cared about me.

I run my hands down my hair, frustration tearing through my teeth.

What the fuck am I going to do now?

As if on cue, my phone rings in my left pocket. I take it out and look at the caller ID.

Sierra, my best friend.

“Ivy? Oh my God, I’ve been trying to reach you…are you okay? I saw…”

“Can I stay with you?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “My aunt kicked me out and I don’t have anywhere to go and I know it’s a lot to ask but—”

“Yes. Obviously yes. Come right now.”

I could collapse from relief.

“Are you at home?”

“Not really. I flew over to Pristine. I’m spending the holidays with my dad, my biological dad.”

My heart drops. She did mention that.

Fuck me.

“But that doesn’t matter,” she continues. “I’m sending you some money right now. Check your phone. Book the next flight to Pristine and text me when you land.”

“Sierra, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will. I’ll see you in Pristine.”

Eight hours, and one long flight later, I’m standing in front of a mansion.

It looks like something from a movie.

I take out my phone and stare at Sierra’s text.

“Code is 4572! Let yourself in, there’s no one home. I’m running late but I’ll be home soon. Make yourself comfortable”

I punch in the numbers and the door slides open.

I drop my bags by the door because I’m scared to drag them across these perfect floors.

Her biological father must be extremely wealthy. Why does she never speak about him? Her step father, Tom, is a fucking douche.

I make my way to the spiral staircase and slowly climb my way up. There are no pictures on the wall, almost as if no one has ever lived here.

Then again, her father must have spent a lot of time alone if he never remarried and doesn’t have any kids, like she said.

The staircase leads me to a dark corridor. There are about seven doors on each end. Only one door is opened, with faint sounds echoing down the hallway.

I swallow hard, my hands fold into tight fists.

Sierra said no one would be here.

Who could it be inside this room?

The closer I get, the more evident the sounds become.

I can hear it loud and clear now. The moaning, the screaming.

A large ball forms in my throat. The voice is familiar, too familiar.

“Fuck me, baby! Yes, harder!”

The words ring in my ears as my eyes widen.

It’s me. It’s my voice. That’s my video.

Whoever is in that room…is watching my tape!

“Look at you, Ivy, creaming all over my huge dick.”

“Yes, baby! Harder!”

The images are as clear as day.

My pace quickens. Is this some kind of joke? Is Sierra playing a prank on me?

I hurry towards the door.

“Sierra, if you think this is funny…”

The rest of my words die in my throat once my eyes catch him.

HIM.

Silver hair that runs down his shoulders, long legs spread out on an exquisite office chair. His tattooed fingers are wrapped around the biggest, most veiny cock I’ve ever seen.

His eyes meet mine, and I freeze on the spot with my mouth open. He has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, filled with sin and every filthy promise I can ever think of. His sharp nose twitches when he sees me, and his lips…as red as blood. His tongue runs over it slowly.

Confusion at first, then recognition flickers in his eyes. Soon, he looks away from the TV where I’m screaming at Theodore to fuck my ass, and turns to me.

I shouldn’t be here. If he’s here, if he’s seen this…I should turn, run, and never return.

So why can’t I move? Why are my nipples as hard as pebbles and peeking through my tank top? Why is my clit throbbing, like I want that eight-inch cock he’s stroking buried inside my pussy?