All Chapters of My dad's bestfriend: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The return home unfolded in an apparently joyful atmosphere. Javier couldn't stop talking about the activity, thrilled to have managed to bring everyone together. Diego recounted his jet-ski exploits with exaggeration, making Ellie laugh who, for once, seemed relaxed. Sofia smiled, joined the conversations, but her mind was elsewhere. Pedro drove in silence, hands clenched on the wheel, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror toward her. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, charged with promises and tension.Once home, dinner was prepared quickly: grilled meats, fresh salads, toasted bread, and chilled wine. The table was lively, laughter burst out, but between Sofia and Pedro, the air was electric. Every time she passed him a dish, their fingers brushed. Every glance was a secret. Sofia could still feel the ocean water on her skin, but above all, she felt Pedro's new resolve. He had accepted. He was going to give her what she wanted. Harder. More brutal.The meal lasted a

Pedro remained buried inside her, motionless, his hot breath against the back of her neck. The counter still trembled slightly under the force of his final thrusts. Sofia was panting, her palms pressed flat against the cold, damp surface, her legs shaking. She could feel every pulse of his cock deep inside her, as if it refused to leave her. But a creak from upstairs froze them both.“We can’t stay here,” Pedro murmured in a rough voice, almost inaudible. “Too risky.”Without pulling out completely, he withdrew slowly, drawing a muffled moan from Sofia. He quickly pulled his shorts back up, then grabbed hers and her panties from the floor. With a firm hand on her waist, he guided her toward the back of the kitchen, to the small door that led to the laundry room. Sofia followed him on unsteady legs, her body still vibrating with unfinished pleasure.The laundry room was a narrow little space, barely lit by the moonlight filtering through a tiny high window. The smell of clean laundry a

Sofia and Pedro went up the stairs on tiptoe, carefully avoiding the steps that creaked the most. The house was plunged into absolute silence, disturbed only by the distant sound of waves dying on the beach below. Pedro walked ahead, his broad, reassuring silhouette in the dim hallway. From time to time, he turned around, a knowing smile on his lips, and pressed a finger to his mouth to remind her of the silence. Sofia held back a silent laugh, her body still coursing with shivers after what they'd just done in the laundry room.They parted at the door to Pedro's room. He paused for a moment, leaned toward her, and placed a quick kiss on her lips—almost tender after the brutality of their embraces. Then he disappeared inside his room. Sofia continued to hers, closing the door softly behind her. She leaned against it, closed her eyes, and let out a small, stifled laugh, almost incredulous. Her heart was still pounding. Her legs trembled slightly. She could still feel the marks of his h

The afternoon was drawing to a close, the sun slowly descending toward the horizon, painting the sky in a warm golden light that filtered through the windows of the house. Sofia was in her room, standing in front of the mirror, getting ready for the evening. She'd chosen a light, flowing dress in midnight blue that highlighted her figure, with a discreet neckline and a length that stopped just above the knee. She was applying her makeup carefully, putting on a nude lipstick and a little mascara, all while trying to calm the beating of her heart. Jonathan's party awaited her, but her mind was still filled with images from the night before in the laundry room.She came down the stairs, sandals in hand so as not to make noise. Javier was in the living room, reading a newspaper, a glass of fresh water beside him. He looked up when he saw her."Where are you off to like that, *hija*?" he asked with a curious smile.Sofia stopped at the bottom of the steps, adjusting the strap of her dress.

And then there was Sofia.She was sitting almost across from him, separated by the roundness of the table and the flickering flame of the candles. She was smiling, laughing at Javier's anecdotes, listening attentively as Maria told her about Machu Picchu, tilting her head with that natural grace that made her so captivating. But Pedro, in his moments of silence, watched her not with crude insistence, but with an acuity the others couldn't suspect. He saw beyond her polite smile, beyond her participation in the conversations. He saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers mechanically turned the stem of her glass, the secret gleam that passed through her eyes every time they met his.Those exchanged glances, furtive as the wingbeats of a moth, were flashes of silence in the tumult of conversation. They lasted barely a second, sometimes less, but in that tiny interval, a message passed an electric, burning current that ran down both their spines and made them forget the existe