I don’t know how long we stay on the couch like that—me curled in his lap, naked except for the slip dress bunched around my waist, him fully clothed but holding me like I’m the only thing that matters in the world. His hand strokes slow circles on my back, his lips brush my temple every few minutes, and every time I start to drift, he whispers something soft: “You did so well,” or just my name.Eventually, he shifts. “We can’t stay here,” he murmurs against my hair. “Emily could wake up. She’s a light sleeper when she’s drunk.”I tense. “Where—”“My room.” He kisses my forehead. “Come on.”He helps me stand, my legs still shaky, my core still pulsing with aftershocks. He smooths the dress down over my hips, buttons his shirt halfway, and takes my hand. We move quietly down the hallway, past Emily’s closed door. My heart is in my throat the whole way, but he moves like this is routine, like sneaking his daughter’s best friend to his bedroom at 1:30 a.m. is just another Tuesday.His be
Last Updated : 2026-02-12 Read more