Crossing The Line (Daddy’s Best Friend)

I was eighteen when I discovered I had the hots for Damien Brock—my father’s best friend.

A man I’d always called uncle.

He was my dad’s best friend, his business partner, and practically family. And now, he was turning forty.

As I checked my reflection in the mirror, I smiled in satisfaction.

Tonight’s mission?

To make Damien notice me.

Every night when I closed my eyes, he found his way into my dreams—those grey eyes, those long fingers, touching me in ways that left me breathless even after I woke up.

I knew it was wrong.

Improper.

But that didn’t stop me.

When I was alone, I let myself imagine it—his hands all over my body, gripping my hips, his face buried between my legs.

A fantasy I wanted to make real.

I slipped into my red, sleeveless dress, the fabric hugging every curve.

Red was Damien’s favorite color.

And yes—I knew that for a reason.

I’d asked around. Paid attention. Listened.

Every woman who’d been with him said the same thing.

He noticed red.

Tonight, I wanted him to notice me.

Not as a child.

Not as his best friend’s daughter.

But as a woman. A full grown woman.

I was twenty years old now.

I wasn’t innocent.

I wasn’t inexperienced, either.

And I was done being treated like I was.

***

Damien’s birthday party was exactly what I expected.

Expensive.

Loud.

Full of powerful men and women dressed to impress.

I walked in with my parents, but my eyes found him immediately.

Before anyone else.

He stood across the room, talking to two men, a woman clinging to his side. He laughed at something they said, and God—

He looked good.

Too good.

I caught myself staring at his mouth, wondering what that tongue could do.

As we moved closer, I couldn’t look away.

His tux fit him perfectly, outlining the broadness of his shoulders, the strength in his frame.

Tall.

Well over six feet.

Golden skin.

Dark, thick hair.

He was everything.

Everything I wanted.

The woman beside him leaned in too close, her hand resting on his arm like she belonged there.

I hated her instantly.

She was probably one of the many women he kept around—waiting, hoping for something more.

Pathetic.

My gaze stayed on her until my parents stopped in front of him.

The men he was talking to greeted my parents and stepped away, and the woman followed soon after.

Good.

“Happy birthday, Damien,” my mother said, smiling as she hugged him.

“Thank you, Susan,” he replied warmly.

“Happy birthday, my friend,” my father added, pulling him into a quick embrace. “A new glow for a new age.”

“Thank you,” Damien said, smiling.

Then—

His eyes found me.

And his expression shifted.

Surprise.

I held his gaze.

I knew what he was seeing.

I’d always had curves—hips, breasts, a body that refused to be ignored.

And tonight?

The dress made sure of it.

Exactly what I wanted.

For him to finally see me as a woman.

Not his best friend’s little girl.

“Camilla?” he asked, still surprised.

“Happy birthday, Damien.”

“Thank you…” His voice trailed off.

His eyes moved slowly—from mine, to my lips, then down to my chest.

And stayed there.

A little too long.

I swear I heard him curse under his breath.

“They grow fast, don’t they?” my mother laughed, completely unaware.

“Yeah,” Damien said, letting out a short, awkward laugh as he forced his gaze away from me and back to my parents.

“Thank you so much for coming, Mark. And I’m surprised to see you, Camilla. Weren’t you in college?” he asked, turning back to me again.

His eyes dragged down my body for the second time.

Slower.

More deliberate.

“Yeah,” I said. “And I got you something for your birthday.”

That caught his attention.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Well… we’ll leave you two to talk,” my father said, turning to my mom. “Want to grab a drink?”

“Of course.”

And just like that—they were gone.

Leaving us alone.

I turned back to Damien.

And caught him staring.

Right at my chest.

Like he couldn’t help himself.

“A red dress, huh?” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Trying to hide something.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “You’ve always liked red.”

His eyes flicked back up to mine.

“Is this your birthday present for me?” he asked, that smirk still there.

My pulse quickened.

Was he flirting?

I bit my lip and stepped closer.

“Maybe,” I whispered. “And something more.”

He swallowed.

Hard.

His gaze shifted around the room briefly before settling back on me.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice lower now. “In private.”

I smiled.

“I’ll be in your bedroom. Waiting.”

I turned before he could respond, swaying my hips just enough.

I didn’t have to look back to know he was watching.

I felt it.

Good.

Mission accomplished.

—

I stepped into his room and shut the door behind me.

My purse landed on his bed as I moved toward the mirror, taking myself in slowly.

Then I lifted my dress, letting it bunch around my waist as I turned slightly.

A red lace thong.

Just enough.

I smiled to myself and dropped the dress back into place.

Right on time—

The door opened.

Damien stepped in.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked immediately.

No greeting.

No pretense.

Just tension.

I turned and walked toward him, stopping just close enough to feel the heat between us.

“Tell me you don’t find me attractive,” I whispered, my fingers trailing over his chest.

His body went still beneath my touch.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about me,” I continued softly, my voice dropping. “Never imagined me on my knees for you…”

“Fuck,” he growled, his eyes darkening as he stared at me.

“I’m not the girl you used to know,” I murmured.

My hand slipped lower.

Inside his pants.

Past his boxers.

I wrapped my fingers around him.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“I want you to fuck me, Damien.”

“Fuck…” he breathed again, his restraint cracking.

I squeezed him slowly, watching his reaction.

“I want you to stop pretending,” I whispered. “Stop holding back.”

“Camilla—” he warned, but it came out strained.

“Yeah,” I said softly, stepping closer. “Say my name like that.”

I dropped to my knees and reached for his belt, undoing it quickly. I pulled down his zipper and dragged his pants and boxers down his thighs.

God.

He was big.

So big it made my stomach tighten.

I wrapped my hand around him, slowly stroking, watching the way his body reacted.

He groaned, his eyes falling shut as his head tilted back slightly.

I smiled.

Satisfied.

My thumb brushed over his tip, already slick with precum.

“Fuck, Camilla… take it already,” he groaned, his hand fisting in my hair.

I didn’t rush.

I leaned in, dragging my tongue slowly over the sensitive head before taking him into my mouth.

It was a stretch.

But I took him anyway.

Slow at first.

Then deeper.

His grip tightened instantly.

“Fuck—” he cursed, his fingers tightening in my hair.

I worked him with my hand and my mouth, pushing further until he hit the back of my throat.

I gagged.

But didn’t stop.

That only made him lose it.

His hips started moving, pushing into my mouth, faster now, rougher, his control slipping completely as broken curses fell from his lips.

His free hand slipped inside my dress, pulling my breasts free.

He cupped one, squeezing hard, his fingers finding my nipple and twisting.

A sharp moan escaped me around him.

I kept going, my hand still moving along the base as he used my mouth the way he wanted.

My other hand slid down my body, slipping beneath my panties as I pushed two fingers inside myself.

I was already wet.

Too wet.

I whimpered softly as he pinched my nipple harder.

“I’m close, Camilla,” he groaned.

God.

Me too.

I pulled my fingers out and brought them to my clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles as I tried to keep up with the pace he was setting.

His thrusts grew sharper.

Faster.

More urgent.

It didn’t take long.

I came hard, my body tightening as a muffled moan escaped me, my vision blurring as the pleasure hit all at once.

He groaned louder, his hands cradling my head as his pace became relentless.

Then—

He came.

Deep.

Warm.

Filling my mouth as he pushed himself all the way in.

“Swallow,” he muttered, low and rough.

I did.

Every drop.

He pulled out slowly, his breath still uneven.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

My cheeks ached, my lips swollen, but I didn’t care.

That was the best I’d ever done.

The best I’d ever felt.

“That was…,” he breathed.

I pushed myself up to my feet, smoothing my dress, adjusting my panties.

“The next time…” I said, meeting his eyes, “I want you inside me.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

Just watched me.

Then he turned, pulling his clothes back into place, fixing himself like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just lost control.

“This can’t happen again, Camilla.”

I stared at him.

Seriously?