Best Friend’s Dad (5)

Sara

It had only been two days.

Two days since I let a line blur that was never supposed to even exist.

Now I was sneaking out of my best friend's room at night like a thief—tiptoeing past creaky floorboards and holding my breath just to feel his hands on me again.

Mr. Carson.

No—Carson.

I'd stopped calling him Layla's dad in my head the moment he made me beg for his touch.

It felt dangerous. Shameful. Addictive. And I couldn't stop. Not when he looked at me like that.

Not when he whispered things in my ear that made my knees weak and my heart race.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew if Layla ever found out, she'd never forgive me. But that didn't stop the way my body moved on its own whenever he was near.

I didn't knock when I reached his room. I didn't need to. I opened the door. His eyes met mine as he lay on his bed like he'd been waiting for me.

I knew he had.

"She asleep?" he asked. I nodded, shutting the door behind me.

"Out cold."

A lazy smirk curved his mouth.

"And you?"

I stepped closer.

"Awake. Restless."

"Then come here," he said, leaning back. "Let me help with that."

Crawling onto the bed, my pulse already picking up. It wasn't fear. Not anymore. It was habit. Craving. This had become a routine neither of us dared speak aloud.

He looked up at me like I was something he owned—something that had chosen him willingly.

"You know what to do to make Daddy feel better," he murmured, his voice like velvet soaked in sin.

He knew exactly what those words did to me. He knew how easily I melted under that commanding tone.

I reached for his zipper, eyes locked on his, testing the power I seemed to hold over him now.

"Do I?" I asked, my voice soft, almost playful.

His jaw tensed, and something shifted behind his eyes—something dangerous, possessive.

"You do," he said. "So don't waste time acting innocent now."

He spread his legs slightly, leaning back against the couch, watching me with that look—the one that made me feel like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

"Show me," he added, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Show me how much you missed me."

With my eyes locked on his dark ones, I undid the button and slowly pulled out his rock-hard cock that was ready to be taken into my mouth. Just the sight was enough to make my pussy drip. I started by massaging it, my hand rolling up and down the six-inch cock.

A hiss left his lips and his grip on my hair tightened.

"Stop teasing me and take the damn cock," he grunted.

For some reason, I liked testing his limits. So even after taking the damn cock, as he said, into my mouth, I made sure I played with the tip by rolling my tongue over it.

I did that for a few minutes before pushing the whole length inside my mouth. His cock was too big for my mouth—but still crazily good. I pushed it in deeper, down my throat. My eyes rolled back as I felt the sensation building up. Carson's nails dug into my scalp as he lifted up his hips to push it more down my throat.

I made an incoherent sound at the back of my throat before taking it out to gasp for some air. I coated my saliva over the tip and continued massaging it.

"Fuck! You know how to make one feel good, you little slut," he growled, and I continued to make him feel better by massaging and sucking his cock.

His hand reached out and grabbed my breast over the top I was wearing, with nothing underneath. I was turned on myself, but pleasuring him came first, because when it came to him doing vice versa, I forgot the existence of my friend or the fact that I was doing the forbidden with her father.

"Go faster!" he grumbled, pushing my head down more.

And I did.

I fastened my pace and sucked his cock. When he finally came, I licked the cum off the tip. His hand circled the back of my head and covered my mouth with his. He kissed me roughly, tasting his own cum.

When he pulled away, we were both breathless. He got off the bed, his cock dangling between his legs.

"Take off your clothes, get on the bed, and spread your legs."

I didn't even waste time doing what I was being ordered to do. After all, my core was throbbing.

I swiftly took off my top and was left in nothing but my panties, which were soaked. I hopped back into the center of the bed and parted my legs.

He took in the sight of me—his eyes locked on my center. "You're so wet for me, I see."

I muttered, a smirk curving up his lips. He knew the effect he had on me. I was also surprised at the effect I seemed to have on him.

He climbed on the bed and dragged my body towards him. Holding the waistband of my panties, he pulled them down in one move. I was now completely naked before him.

"Now Daddy will show you how much pleasure he can give you."

He didn't give me time to process or even react to his words when I felt a finger enter. A gasp subsequently left my lips, which I immediately covered with my palm. An evil smile formed on his lips. It was his turn to tease me.

He pulsed his finger in and out of my pussy.

"Do you like what I'm doing to you?" he asked.

I nodded, not having the strength to put it into words. But he pressed further. "Say it. What do you want?"

His hand grabbed one of my breasts and fumbled with the nipple. "I want... it," I breathed out, biting my lip.

"You want what?" he asked, his finger still deep inside me.

My whole body was shaking from the sensation. I could feel my orgasm building up.

"I want your finger inside me," I said.

"Good girl. I will finger your little pussy so deep, Sara."

And he did.

⸻

"Good morning, Sara."

A yawning Layla walked into the kitchen. I gave her a look. "Good morning, sleepyhead. You sleep like a corpse."

At some point, I was afraid Layla would wake up in the night. But even after sneaking back in around 4 AM, she was still sleeping like a log. Carson had made sure he exhausted every ounce of energy in my body. We didn't sleep throughout the night—going from one round to another, from one position to another. And so help me God, even if we went from night till morning, I don't think I'd get enough of how crazily good he was in bed.

He knows how to fuck a woman.

I was snapped back by Layla's smack on my back.

"What are you cooking for us today, by the way?" she asked, peeking into the pot of sauce I was making.

"Pita bread and meat sauce."

"Hmm... it smells nice. Let me go freshen up, then."

I slapped her ass as she walked away.

"Lazy ass."

She stopped by the door and glared at me.

"Why do I need to stress myself with cooking when I have you and my Dad to do the work?"

I shook my head with a smile as she left the kitchen.

If only she knew the kind of work her dad and I were doing behind closed doors, she'd be more than devastated. The pleasures had consumed me more than the guilt of sleeping with my best friend's father.

I didn't realize Carson had entered the kitchen until I heard the sound of a throat clearing. My breathing hitched when my eyes landed on his slightly visible chest. He was wearing a casual t-shirt.

"Good morning," I mumbled, dropping the spoon I was holding and moving toward him. I first checked behind me before holding his arm, but he caught me off guard when his hand slid around my waist and covered my mouth with his.

I didn't even waste time kissing him back. But the kiss lasted just a few seconds before he pulled away. My head spun from the aftermath of the kiss.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" he murmured, his hand sliding lower. He landed a spank on my ass.

"Looks like I haven't exhausted you much. You're up cooking."

"It was already morning and I couldn't sleep."

"Right. And I know you want more rounds." His lips curved into a smirk.

And he was right. Because the kiss had turned me on.

"Daddy knows how to turn me on," I said with a small smile.

Before I could attempt to do anything, we heard the sound of footsteps. I didn't even waste time pulling away from his hold, my heart pounding inside my chest as Layla walked into the kitchen.

"You're back, Layla," I said in one heavy breath. But her eyes went between her dad and me, suspiciously.