Best Friend’s Dad (2)

Sara

The bedroom door was cracked open. I knew I shouldn't be there. I told myself that as I crept down the hall, my bare feet silent against the floorboards. But it didn't matter. I wasn't thinking with my head.

I was thinking about the way he looked at me last night.

And the man I'd been aching for since I stepped into this house. He was lying in bed, shirtless, one arm behind his head. The TV was on, reflecting a soft blue glow across his chest and the sharp line of his jaw. His eyes shifted toward the door—and then to me. Neither of us said a word.

I slipped in, shut the door behind me, and took slow steps toward him in nothing but one of his flannel shirts I'd stolen from the laundry earlier. It barely reached the tops of my thighs.

He sat up slowly, eyes locked on me. Then his gaze dipped lower—down my legs, to the hem of his shirt brushing my thighs. He took his time taking it all in. I knew that look so well.

"You're late," he said, voice rough like gravel.

I bit my lip. "Had to make sure she was asleep."

His mouth twitched, almost a smirk. "You wore that on purpose?"

"Maybe," I said, sliding a little closer. "Figured you'd like your shirt better on me."

He didn't answer. Just leaned back against the headboard, watching me like he was deciding if he should let this happen. Or maybe he already had.

I crawled up the bed, slow and bold, letting the shirt ride higher with every move.

"So what now?" I whispered. "You gonna send me back to her room?"

He reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me right into his lap. His eyes dark.

"No," he muttered. "You're not leaving this bed till I'm done with you."

His hands gripped my thighs possessively, as he looked up at me like I was the one who started this—and now he was going to finish it, his way.

"You think you can just walk in here, dressed like that," he said, sliding his palms up under the flannel shirt, "And not pay for it?"

"I was hoping I could pay in kind," I murmured, rocking my hips slowly over his lap.

He hissed through his teeth when I did that. His fingers dug into my skin.

"Careful, sweetheart. You're playing with fire."

"I like the burn."

His eyes locked on mine, and that was it. He flipped me under him in one swift move, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, his knee parting my legs. My breath caught when I felt him—hard, thick c*ck right where I wanted him.

His mouth found my neck, hot and hungry, and I moaned without meaning to.

"You gonna keep teasing me," he growled against my skin, "Or are you ready to be taught a lesson?"

"I came for the lesson," I whispered. "Give it to me."

His hand came down hard on my ass—once, then again. He landed a spank on it. I gasped, the sting sharp and hot, but it only made me wetter.

"Louder," he said darkly. "I want to hear you say it like you mean it."

"I came for the lesson," I repeated, breathless.

"Good girl."

He grabbed my thighs, spreading them wider beneath him, and then he went down—until his mouth was on my throbbing and wet pussy where I needed it most.

And when his tongue slid over me, teasing and rough, I slapped a hand over my mouth.I couldn't moan. I couldn't cry out.

Not with her sleeping in the room next door. Not with the walls this thin. But he didn't make it easy.

He devoured me—slow at first, just enough to make me squirm. Then deeper, rougher, licking and sucking my p*ssy like he didn't care about anything else. Like this was his reward for playing the good dad all these years. And now he was getting what he wanted.

I arched against his mouth, fingers buried in his hair, thighs shaking as he pulled every sound from me—even the ones I tried to hold back.

And just when I was close to coming, when I was about to fall apart under his tongue, he looked up and growled, "Come for me, now. And keep quiet, or I'll make you scream louder."

My legs trembled. My eyes rolled back. And I came, teeth biting into my palm, body jerking under his hold.

A full, wrecked mess—and I'd only been in this house one day.

Just one damn day into summer break... and I was already fucking my best friend's father.

He pulled back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he'd just finished dessert.

"You taste like trouble," he whispered his voice still thick with desire.

I grinned, climbing over him without hesitation. "Then you better let me finish what you started." I needed more.

His back hit the pillows. I swung a leg over and straddled him, the flannel shirt falling open just enough to tease. His hands went straight to my thighs, gripping tight.

"Slow," he warned. "Or I won't last."

"Who said anything about slow?" I whispered.

I guided him in, biting my lip as I sank down into his c*ck inch by thick inch, feeling every stretch, every pulse of him deep inside me. God, he felt so good. Too good. Forbidden good.

His head fell back with a groan, and I began to move, grinding down with a roll of my hips that made his fingers dig deeper into my skin. I quickened my pace, bouncing on him as his hands slid under the shirt, up to my waist, then my chest.

"Fuck," he hissed. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"I think I do," I breathed, leaning down to kiss him. "And I'm just getting started."

He kissed me back, rough and hungry, his hips bucking up to meet mine, matching every thrust with a deeper one. The bed creaked beneath us. The steam in the room was thick—desperate, dirty, dangerous.

Fuck

And all I could think about was how good it felt to break every rule I swore I wouldn't. To ride him like I belonged to him.

Like I hadn't just arrived yesterday.Like I wasn't supposed to be the sweet, harmless girl staying with her best friend for the summer.

Because in that moment, I wasn't sweet. I wasn't harmless. I was his. And I was going to take everything he had to give.

His hands tightened on my waist as I rocked against him harder, chasing the edge. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed on mine, like he was holding back from losing control.

"Next time," he growled, spanking my ass. It stung but can't measure to the high pleasure I was getting by riding his thick c*ck "You better come to my room naked."

I gasped, biting down a moan as he hit that perfect spot again. "Next time?"

His lips curled into that wicked smirk. "You think this is the only night I'm having you? No, sweetheart. You started something. And now you're mine."

My body trembled from the way he said mine, like it wasn't a question, like he meant it. Still, I had to ask.

"What about your daughter?" I whispered, slowing my hips just enough to tease. "She's next door."

He sat up, one hand sliding up my back, tangling in my hair. "She doesn't have to know a thing. As long as you stay quiet—" His hips thrust up hard, stealing my breath. "—and behave."

"Behave?" I echoed, smiling through a breathless moan.

"Mm-hmm." He nipped my jaw, voice hot against my skin. "Don't tease me at breakfast. Don't wear my shirts. And don't bend over in front of me unless you want to be bent over something."

I laughed softly, circling my hips. "That's a lot of rules for a girl who just broke the biggest one."

His grip on my hair tightened. "You think this was breaking the rule, baby?"

He kissed me hard—deep, possessive—and pulled back just enough to say: "We haven't even started breaking rules yet.