روايات وقصص ضمن My Dads Best Friend Is My Lover

"So it’d be fine if it were anyone else. Anyone — just not me?" He threw me a look heavy with pain. A father who perhaps still wanted his daughter untouched, preserved for some domestic altar he’d built in his mind. Untouchable. Unreachable. And there I was — the name he trusted, becoming the verb he feared most. "You’re the only friend who really knows me, Alex. We’ve been together so long, I can’t even picture myself without you. I don’t know... I couldn’t bear losing you because of my daughter." "Sounds like a love confession," I joked.

She was my late best friend’s daughter who was only nineteen and I was twice the age of hers. I was her uncle. Lastly, my eyes dropped to the mess she created in between her legs and I closed my eyes, gulping down the lump formed in my throat. I was Lucian Morelli. A man who was aware of his needs and wants. Who knew when to control himself but at this moment, It was getting hard. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before feeling my cock twitching inside my pants. I knew she was not in a good state of mind. It was her father’s second death anniversary and I was aware she would not handle it well knowing how madly she loved and cared for her daughter.

"Dad, I have to go to work. You can’t expect me to stay locked in here for the rest of my life." His jaw tightens. "I should have done it a long time ago. If I had, you wouldn’t have brought disgrace to this family." The word disgrace slams into me like a slap. I laugh, but it’s hollow, bitter. "What disgrace? “You think this is funny?” “No, but I don’t know why loving someone is a disgrace now?” His nostrils flare. "It wasn’t just anyone, Astrid!" His voice rises. "It was Jordan! My fucking best friend!"

my father replied, eyebrow raised but somewhat sarcastically. Adrien just smiled, casual as ever, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. “Most young girls her age would rather choose to be with their boyfriends than return to their fathers who made their lives miserable. I’m sure Rochelle is with her lover.” The word ‘lover’ fluttered through the air, mixing with my emotions. I couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or flattered. I smiled slightly, amused at how Adrien always painted a picture that made me feel loved and cared for, even in my father’s critical absence.

’ I muttered, sniffing while wiping my tears with my thumb. His handsome, flawless face flashed into my mind, as he stood in the kitchen, oblivious to the turmoil he'd unleashed inside me. My anger melted away instantly, leaving me vulnerable to the inescapable truth. ‘I was hopelessly ensnared in a love that defied all conventions, a love for the man I shouldn't desire - my father's best friend. But if he decides to choose his secretary over me— his goddaughter then so be it. “Ma'am, we are here.” Came the driver's voice, tugging me out of the haze of my thoughts.

They want his house address. “Give Mellow the house address, Nectar,” Dad says softly, now gently kneading my shoulder. I shrug his hand off. “That would be betraying Blank,” I mutter while looking down. Dad sighs. “They are friends.” “Friends?” I can’t help but scoff, looking up at dad while shifting back more. “You really believe that? Those two were lovers, dad. Like it or not.” “Who made you angry, baby?” dad asks softly, but that doesn’t quell my anger.

Tonight, I was just someone trying to drown the sound of my lesbian girlfriend walking away. With one last shred of hope, I dialed again, thumb hovering over the screen like it might burn me. It rang twice. Then clicked. “Hey,” a deep, familiar voice answered. “I don’t know why you keep calling or who the hell you are, but she’s not available right now. Bye.” The line went dead. I froze, phone still pressed to my ear, heart slamming against my ribs. That voice. I’d know it anywhere. My father. Duncan Blackwood.

I was sprawled on my bed, scrolling through my phone, trying to ignore the fact that my brain was, as usual, replaying the latest Gabriel dream. Yeah, that Gabriel. My dad's best friend. The one who haunted my sleep with those ridiculously handsome smiles and touches that felt so real, I'd wake up all flustered and confused. He was, like, thirty-something, noble, always dressed sharp, and totally off-limits. My forbidden fantasy. My secret obsession since I was, like, fifteen. "Coming!" I yelled back, shoving the embarrassing thoughts away. Gotta act normal. Always normal. I trudged downstairs. Dad was already there, looking a bit nervous, which was weird. Mom was practically bouncing. "Sit

“And yet you were ready to climb it like a mountain goat.” I laughed awkwardly, fingers brushing his as I took the jar. Mistake. Fire bloomed up my arm at the contact. “Thank you,” I said, trying not to sound breathless. “Um… not to be weird but… do I know you?” His eyes flickered with amusement. “You should.” He took a step closer. “I’m Dean Maddox.” My stomach dropped. Wait…no. NO. Dean Maddox? The name my dad never stopped mentioning? His best friend? The one he “trusted more than anyone on earth”? My crush is my dad's best friend?

“It’s like when he’s around you, he changes. He’s quieter. More careful. Almost like he’s waiting for you to approve of something.” Damian chuckled lightly, warm but measured. “Approval, huh? I guess he wants to make a good impression. I am his girlfriend’s father.” “Dad,” she said sharply, cutting through the charm. “I’m serious. Are you pressuring him? Maybe without realizing it?”