Fucking My Best Friends Dad Mga Nobela at Kwento

My dad’s best friend, who I had a forbidden thing with, who is now engaged to my ex-boyfriend’s mother, runs that company and I think he’s playing mind games with me? I sounded insane. “Okay” the words came out before I could stop them.

I step into the hug without hesitation and wrap my arms around him. I’m smiling and blushing like a teenager and I can’t even help it. “What are you doing here? Is this where I should be worried about you stalking me?” I tease, narrowing my eyes. He laughs, then pins me with a pointed look. “You left me waiting for you that day. Your friend’s father came out later and told me you’d left.” My brows pull together and I tilt my head back. “Norman… my best friend’s father told you that? When?”

By evening, I was bored out of my mind. So, I did what any sane girl in my position would—I called Levi. “Finally,” she said the second her voice hit the speaker. “I thought you’d vanished into some sugar-daddy dungeon or something.” I laughed, curling up on the couch with my knees tucked under me. “Not sugar daddy. He’s my dad’s best friend, remember?” “Oh my God, you’re saying it like that makes it better.” Her laugh was loud, scandalized. “Babe, you’re playing with pure fire.”

"Tessa, meet my dad, Julian Anderson, and dad, meet Tessa, the best friend I wouldn't stop blabbering about." She smiled, gesturing between her best friend and her father. Her dad? Tessa's brows pulled together in confusion. A million questions swarmed her thoughts. There was no way this Greek god in front of her was Maribel's father. No way. She was still wallowing in doubt when the myth about him struck her, and she instantly believed it.

He grabbed one of my legs, hooked it higher over his arm, opening me up even more. The new angle let him slam in deeper, grinding against my clit with every stroke. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, eyes locked on mine, dark and intense. “So tight… so wet… taking your dad’s best friend’s cock like you were made for it. Been wanting this little pussy for years.” His words sent a shiver through me. The guilt, the thrill, the pure filth of it all mixed together and made everything ten times hotter. My best friend’s dad was fucking me raw in my own bedroom while his wife was next door, and I was loving every second.

I am even more disappointed in myself. “God, I hate this,” I whispered brokenly. The room fell into heavy silence. Neither Marcus nor the doctor knew what to say. They both stare, not knowing what to do or what to say. What could they say? I was in love with my best friend’s father. There was no neat solution. No magical fix.

my voice came out nervously, and I prayed she wouldn't notice the lies in my voice. "Come on, Scarlett. Don't make it look like a big deal. If my dad had such a hot man as a friend, I wouldn't mind going over to stay with him for some time whenever my parents travel..." she paused and rolled her eyes before she continued. "Sadly, my dad gathered a bunch of obesed men for friends. The sight of them even makes my skin crawl. Gosh!" I burst into laughter. "It's not funny, girl. Sometimes I wonder why my dad would be friends with such people. It's sad," she rubbed her temple, and I laughed.

and Holland's relationship? That's almost the same as saying you guys want to be with my dad. See? You don't even see him as anything other than dad-ish, right?" That earned a string of shaky chuckles from them, the three of them avoiding my gaze. "Oh my god! Don't tell me you guys think of my dad like that," I cried, eyeing them accusingly. Seriously, how many times would a girl get betrayed by her friends in a day? "Ok," Juliette gave in, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Not like we think of him like that, like that. But you gotta admit, your dad's pretty hot." Was there anyway one could unhear something? Because I'd do anything to unhear that. "He's basically every girl's kinky dadd

Get into Dad’s car, point it out of town and drive until it ran out of gas. But this was Bobby. My best friend. He’d always been there for me. Had listened to all my bitching over the years about school, asshole jocks, preppies, stoners and slutty cheerleaders. Listened to all my complaints about Dad, his religion, the church and my legs and how much they always hurt . . .

“We regroup. We need Thiago. And we need to find a way to beat Lucas at his own game.” As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Charging blindly into Lucas’s trap would only end in disaster. But every second we hesitated, my father was in danger. My phone buzzed again. I snatched it up, my breath catching when I saw a video message from an unknown number. My hands shook as I clicked to play it. The screen flickered to life, and my worst nightmare unfolded before my eyes. My father was slumped in a chair, his face pale and gaunt, dark rings under his eyes. He looked weak—frail—nothing like the proud, formidable man I grew up with. Lucas’s voice came through the video, smooth and mocking.