Forbidden Fantasy with my Best Friend’s Dad
And every single thought and anger vanished.
Jackson stood under the open sky, shirtless, lifting wooden planks like they weighed nothing.
His skin glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing with every precise movement. The tension in his back, the raw strength in his arms… God help me, he looked like some untamed s*x god, sculpted to ruin me.
I couldn’t move. He was a perfect work of art.
The more I stood there and watched, the more I found it hard to breathe. I was losing my breath by the second, but I still didn’t leave. I was staring shamelessly, helplessly, drinking in the sight of him like I was starving.