Chapter 11: My Best Friend's Father

MY BEST FRIEND'S FATHER - STORY 2

~Jamie's POV~

I shouldn't have been looking.

That's what I told myself as I stood in the backyard of the Donovan house at two in the morning, staring up at the second-floor window where a light had just turned on.

I was supposed to be crashing in the guest room. My best friend Ethan had invited me to stay for winter break since my own family was overseas and I had nowhere else to go.

I met Ethan during my freshman year of college. We had been roommates, then best friends. He talked about his dad sometimes—Marcus Donovan, a big-shot architect who traveled a lot for work.

I had seen pictures. Knew he was a single dad, and that Ethan's mom had left when Ethan was ten.

But I had never actually met him. Until tonight.

I arrived at the house around dinner time. Ethan had warned me his dad was home for once, which was rare. He even told me to be on my best behavior.

I had promised I would be.

But when Mr. Donovan opened the front door and every coherent thought in my head evaporated.

He was tall. Over six feet. Broad shoulders. Salt and pepper hair that was mostly dark still. Sharp jawline with eyes the color of whiskey. Mid-forties probably, but he wore it well.

Really well if I should say so myself.

"You must be Jamie," he had said, his voice a smooth deep baritone that sent shivers down my spine. "Ethan's told me a lot about you."

I had shaken his hand. Felt the calluses and the strength. I tried not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his chest but even that had been difficult to do.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan."

"Call me Marcus."

Well, that was eight hours ago.

Now I was standing in the backyard like a creep, unable to sleep, when I noticed his bedroom light turned on.

The curtains were open. I could see into the room clearly. I wish I had not but I saw him.

Marcus was shirtless. Walking past the window. At that moment, I should have looked away and gone back inside but I didn't.

Instead, I stood there. Frozen. Watching.

He moved around the room, doing normal things. Checking his phone. Setting it on the nightstand. Running a hand through his hair.

But suddenly, he started unbuttoning his jeans. My breath caught. He pushed them down his hips. Then his boxers followed until he was completely naked.

Holy shit! I have never seen a man built like that. All muscle and tan skin and…

He turned toward the window. He looked directly down at where I was standing. Fuck, I have been caught.

Our eyes met.

I should have run and pretended I wasn't there. That I hadn't been watching him undress like some pervert.

But I couldn't move.

Marcus didn't close the curtains nor did he look away. He just stood there, completely naked, staring down at me with an expression I couldn't read.

Then he did something that made my heart stop.

His lips curved into a slow dangerous smile. And he wrapped his hand around his cock.

Oh my God.

He started stroking himself. Slowly at first. His eyes never left mine. Like he was putting on a show.

For me.

I knew I should leave. I knew so badly that this was wrong on every possible level and he was my best friend's father.

I was a guest in his house. I was twenty-two years old and he was… every thought in my head vanished as he brought his second hand to his ass.

He was stroking faster now. His head fell back slightly. His mouth opened in a stifled moan.

I was so hard. Painfully hard and I could feel my sack become suddenly heavy. My hand moved to my own cock through my sweatpants without any conscious thought.

Marcus saw this and his smile widened.

He mouthed something. I couldn't hear him through the glass but I could read his lips.

"Touch yourself."

This was insane. But I wanted to. I forced myself to think about Ethan and I shook my head. I tried to take a step back.

He raised an eyebrow. Then he did something even more insane. He turned and walked to his bedroom door. He opened it and disappeared for a moment.

I saw the back door of the house open. Marcus stood there. Still completely naked and very hard.

"Get inside," he ordered calmly. "Now."

I should have said no and even apologized and run. But I didn't. Instead, I walked toward him like he had put me under a spell.

He grabbed my wrist the second I was close enough and pulled me inside. The door closed behind me.

We stood in his kitchen. Him naked. I was fully clothed and terrified.

"Mr. Donovan…"

"I told you to call me Marcus." His hand was still wrapped around my wrist. "And you've been staring at me like you want to eat me alive since the moment we met."

"I wasn't…"

"Don't lie." He pulled me closer. "I saw you watching from the window. I saw the way you looked at me at dinner. The way you couldn't stop staring."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"No. You shouldn't have." His free hand came up to cup my jaw. "But you did. So now we have a problem."

"What problem?"

"I want you," he said simply. "And you want me. But you're my son's best friend. Which means this—whatever this is—can't happen."

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode. "Then why did you…"

"Because I wanted to see if you would run." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. "You didn't."

"I should go," I whispered.

"Yes. You should."

Neither of us moved.

"Marcus…"

He kissed me, shutting whatever I wanted to say. His tongue was demanding, pushing past my teeth, as he shoved his tongue down my throat.

I wanted more. It felt like it was his cock in my mouth. This was wrong. So wrong. But I couldn't stop kissing him back.

His hands were fucking everywhere—fisting in my hair, squeezing my neck, shoving under my shirt to grope and pinch my nipples that sent sensation everywhere.

I had never been with a man. Never even let the thought cross my mind without shutting it down. But Marcus? This older, rugged bastard with his deep voice and those whiskey-colored eyes had me aching for shit I had never craved before.

He yanked his mouth off mine, both of us panting like animals. He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath hot and ragged.

“Last chance, boy,” he growled, voice low and rough. “You stay, and I’m burying my fucking cock balls-deep in that virgin ass right here, right now. We both know Ethan can’t ever find out. So make up your mind—are you gonna be a good little secret slut for me, or are you gonna run like a scareddy cat?”

I stared into those hungry amber eyes, my heart slamming against my ribs. I should run, a tiny voice whispered in my mind.

But my cock was leaking and my asshole was already twitching with need and anticipation.

“I’m not running,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

His grin was wide. “That’s my good boy.”

Marcus dropped to his knees so fast it made my head spin. His rough hands ripped my sweatpants and boxers down in one brutal tug, letting them bunch around my ankles.

My cock sprang free, slapping against my stomach, already dripping pre-cum like a desperate whore.

He spun me around roughly, slamming my chest against the wall and kicking my legs wider apart.

Then he spread my ass cheeks wide open with both big hands, exposing my tight hole completely.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, voice thick with lust. “Look at this pretty little pink hole. I guess it has never been eaten before, has it? I am going to change that right fucking now.”

Before I could even breathe, Marcus buried his face between my cheeks.

The first long, sloppy drag of his hot, wet tongue across my asshole made my eyes roll back.

“Oh fuuuck…” I moaned, hips jerking.

He didn’t tease. He devoured me like a starving animal. His tongue lapped hungrily at my hole, licking broad, messy stripes from my taint all the way up, swirling around the tight ring before spearing inside.

Wet, obscene sounds filled the room—loud with slurping, sucking, and growling as he ate my ass with zero shame.

“Mmmpfh—taste so fucking good,” he mumbled against my skin, beard scraping roughly against my sensitive cheeks.

“Sweet good boy. I am going to tongue-fuck this tight hole open until you’re begging for my cock.”

He pushed his tongue deeper, fucking it in and out of my hole in slick, relentless thrusts.

One of his hands reached around to grab my throbbing cock, stroking it rough and fast, smearing my leaking pre-cum all over the shaft while his other hand kept my cheeks spread wide so he could bury his face even deeper.

I was shaking, whimpering, pushing my ass back onto his tongue like a needy slut. Every filthy lick sent sparks shooting up my spine.

He sucked hard on my hole, then spit on it and dove back in, making everything, nastier.

“Fuck, Marcus—your tongue… " It’s so deep,” I gasped, forehead pressed against the wall, drool slipping from my lips.

He pulled back just enough to growl, “That’s right, boy. Daddy’s eating this greedy little ass. I will loosen you up nice and sloppy so I can slide my cock in and breed you raw. You want that? Want me to turn this hole into a cum-dump?”

All I could do was moan and nod as he dove back in, tongue-fucking me harder, and even faster, his beard burning my skin while his hand jerked my cock.

My legs were trembling. My hole was suddenly pulsing and clenching around his invading tongue.

His tongue drove deeper, relentless. Pleasure slammed through me like an electric buzz.

And I came hard—thick ropes of cum splattered the wall, my hole clenched wildly around his thrusting tongue.

My whole body shook violently, knees buckling as waves washed over me.

Marcus rose, his strong arms wrapping tight around my trembling frame, holding me steady against his chest.

“Easy, boy. I got you,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Go rest now. We’ll meet tomorrow.”