Quickie With My Best Friend's Daddy

The kiss was nothing like I'd imagined. It was harder, more desperate, years of suppressed want exploding between us. His hands cupped my face while mine fisted in his damp shirt, and when his tongue swept into my mouth, I made a sound that was probably too loud.

He walked me backward until my back hit his desk, his body pressing against mine, and I could feel how hard he was through his swim trunks.

"This is insane," he said against my mouth. "You're Harper's best friend. You're nineteen. I'm forty-two. This is—"

"I don't care," I interrupted, my hands sliding under his shirt to find warm skin and defined muscle. "I don't care about any of that. I just want you."

He groaned and lifted me onto the desk, stepping between my legs. His hands slid up my bare thighs, and the feeling of his callused palms on my skin after years of imagining it nearly undid me.

"We have to be quick," he said roughly, his fingers hooking into my bikini bottoms. "If someone comes looking—"

"Then don't waste time talking," I said, lifting my hips so he could pull them off.

The bikini bottoms hit the floor and suddenly his fingers were stroking through my wetness, and we both groaned.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he muttered. "How long have you been this wet?"

"Since this morning when you opened the door," I admitted breathlessly. "Since you looked at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you wanted to do exactly what you're doing right now."

He pushed two fingers inside me and I gasped, my head falling back. He worked me expertly, finding my G-spot almost immediately in a way no college boy ever had, and I realized with devastating clarity that this was the difference between a man and a boy.

James knew exactly what he was doing.

"You're so tight," he said, adding a third finger and stretching me. "When's the last time you—"

"Months," I interrupted. "And never like this. Never good like this."

Something possessive flashed in his eyes. "Never?"

"Never."

"Good." He pulled his fingers out and I whimpered at the loss. "Because I'm about to ruin you for anyone else."

He shoved his swim trunks down just enough to free his cock, and I got my first look at what I'd been dreaming about. Thick, long, perfect, and I wanted it immediately.

"Condom—" I started.

"In my wallet. Hold on." He fumbled for his wallet on the desk, cursing, managing to extract a condom and roll it on with shaking hands.

Then he was lining himself up at my entrance, one hand gripping my hip, the other braced on the desk beside me.

"Last chance," he said, looking at me intensely. "We can still stop."

I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer. "I don't want to stop."

He pushed inside in one hard thrust, and I had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. He was bigger than I'd anticipated, the stretch almost overwhelming, and he held still to let me adjust.

"Okay?" he asked roughly.

"Yes. God, yes. Move."

He started with slow, deep thrusts that had me gasping with each one. His rhythm was controlled, measured, completely different from the frantic fumbling I'd experienced before. This was a man who knew how to fuck, who paid attention to every reaction, who seemed determined to make this good for me despite the rushed circumstances.

"Harder," I begged after a minute of that torturous pace. "Please, James, I need—"

"I know what you need," he growled, and his pace increased.

He fucked me hard against that desk, the wood creaking with each thrust, papers scattering to the floor. One hand fisted in my hair while the other gripped my ass, holding me in place while he drove into me with devastating precision.

"So good," I gasped. "You feel so good. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Not stopping," he promised. "Gonna make you cum all over my cock. Gonna make you remember this every time you look at me."

His hand slid between us to find my clit, and the added stimulation combined with the angle of his thrusts had me climbing fast.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice rough in my ear. "I can feel you getting close. Cum for me, Mia. Let me feel it."

"Kiss me," I demanded. "I need—"

He kissed me as I came apart, swallowing my cries as pleasure crashed over me in waves. My pussy clenched around him rhythmically, and the sensation must have been too much because suddenly he was groaning into my mouth, his thrusts becoming erratic.

"Fuck—Mia—I'm—"

He buried himself deep and came with a sound that was half-groan, half-growl, his whole body going rigid as he filled the condom.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, both breathing hard, both processing what we'd just done.

Reality crashed back in when we heard voices from downstairs—someone calling for James.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling out carefully and dealing with the condom. "We need to—"

"I know." I slid off the desk on shaky legs and found my bikini bottoms, pulling them on quickly. My hands were trembling.

We straightened ourselves as best we could—he tucked his shirt back in, I fixed my hair—and tried to look like we hadn't just fucked on his desk while his daughter and half the neighborhood partied downstairs.

"Mia," he started, conflict written all over his face. "This was—"

"Amazing," I finished. "That's what it was."

"It can't happen again," he said, but it sounded hollow.

"Okay," I agreed, even though we both knew that was a lie.

He unlocked the door and slipped out first, leaving me to wait a few minutes before following. When I made my way back downstairs, Harper immediately grabbed my arm.

"There you are! Did you find the stuff?"

"No, sorry. Got distracted looking at your dad's architecture drawings. They're really cool."

She rolled her eyes. "Such a nerd. Come on, food's ready."

I joined everyone on the patio, hyperaware of James across the yard. Our eyes met once over the crowd, and the heat in his gaze told me everything I needed to know.

This wasn't over.

This was just the beginning.

And as the afternoon stretched into evening, as I laughed with Harper and pretended everything was normal, all I could think about was when I'd get to feel James inside me again.

Because now that I'd had a taste of him, I was completely, desperately addicted.

That night, lying in my own bed at home, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: We need to talk. Tomorrow. Alone. - James

I stared at that message for a long time, my heart racing, my body already responding to just seeing his name.

Me: Where?

James: I'll figure something out. Just... we need to talk about what this means.

Me: Okay.

But I already knew what it meant.

It meant I was going to betray my best friend in the worst possible way.

It meant I was going to pursue something forbidden and dangerous and wrong.

It meant I was going to do whatever it took to have James Sullivan, consequences be damned.