Forbidden Roommate: Her Dad's Best Friend Series Set

by Penny Wylder

  I walk that way. Whatever she’s looking at has her full attention. She doesn’t hear me approach and startles when I come up beside her.

  “Sorry,” I say, chuckling, as she laughs and puts her hand to her heart. She looks incredible in short shorts and a tank top. Her skin looks so smooth. I’m dying to touch it.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say.

  “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings. My parents are always giving me lectures about being careful so I don’t get kidnapped in a foreign land.” She rolls her eyes and laughs.

  “What has you so mesmerized? Some handsome French boy have your attention? Should I be jealous?” I ask.

  Her cheeks are ablaze with embarrassment and she giggles. I love the sound of it.

  “Boys my age don’t really do anything for me.” My heart stops a moment before she points to the bookstore window and continues. “It’s my favorite book,” she says, changing the subject. I’m slowly able to breathe again. “It’s funny to see the French version. It’s beautiful. The cover is so different.”

  The cover is simple: a black background and a shadowed couple embraced in a passionate kiss. The font is what stands out the most, very elegant with gold filigree. I never thought to analyze a book cover, but now that I see how taken by it Cleo is, I find myself interested.

  I open the door to the bookstore and motion her inside. She walks past me, into the store. I grab a copy of the book she was admiring. I look at the back to see if I understand any of it, but it’s all in French. I’m not sure what the cover says or how Cleo knew it was her favorite book since it has a different cover than the American version. But then I remember she took French in school with my daughter in preparation for going to school abroad.

  I place the book on the counter.

  “You don’t have to buy that for me,” Cleo says as I start to pay.

  “I want to. Anything that makes you smile like that is worth it.”

  Again her face brightens and her cheeks burn red.

  The store clerk wraps the book in tissue paper and hands it to Cleo. She holds the book to her chest as if it’s some kind of treasure. I can’t help but think about all those times I bought my ex-wife gifts—expensive gifts like cars, designer handbags, exotic trips—and she never acted as grateful as Cleo is acting over a simple book.

  “Thank you,” she says, glowing. “I love it so much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We leave the store and walk down the street. “Ice cream?” I suggest.

  Her eyes light up again. Making her happy is so easy. If only it were that easy with everyone.

  “Absolutely,” she says.

  I’m tempted to take her hand as we walk. I have to distract myself. “Why aren’t you at the movie with everyone else?” I ask.

  “It’s a tear-jerker. I’m not really into those. Life can be sad enough without finding pretend reasons to cry. I’m more into historical romances.”

  “Like the books you read.”

  She perks up. “Exactly. They’re so lovely. Times were different. There was no Netflix and chill, or random guys sending dick-pics.” She seems to cringe at the thought of it. “Men would take their time to woo the women they cared about. They went out of their way to make them feel special and wanted.” She holds her book closer to her chest.

  “I can see now why you don’t like boys your age. Things were very different even from when I was your age—you know, back in the olden days.” I nudge her playfully. Her laughter is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

  We get our ice cream. I get pistachio and she gets butter praline. We leave the ice cream parlor and she walks ahead of me to toss her napkin in the trash bin. I take that time to admire her. She has the cutest little walk, so feminine and subtly sexy. She has a curvy, hourglass figure. Her shorts are the perfect length, short but not vulgar, showing off long tan legs. She’s gorgeous. Her hair drapes down her back like a chocolate waterfall.

  I look away before she catches me staring. I want to ask her why she was peeking at me while I was changing my clothes in the closet, and why she was rubbing against me during the dance lessons. What does it mean?

  But I don’t want to ruin the moment if it embarrasses her, so I let it go. For now.

  “It’s still hot outside,” I muse. The sun has set for the most part, but you wouldn’t know it by the heat.

  She wipes the sweat from her brow in acknowledgment. “Humid too. Surprising for this time in the evening. It’s going to be a hot summer but I don’t mind. All my favorite books are set during the hot summers in faraway lands. I kind of love it.”

  I notice as she talks that she’s inching closer and closer to me until we’re close enough to touch. I take a deep breath and decide to make a brave move, see what happens.

  I let my breath out slowly and lean into her, whispering, “So you like things hot and sticky?”

  She lets out a small gasp and covers her smile with her hand. “That’s a very bold question,” she says.

  “No,” I say, bringing my body closer to hers until her shoulder rubs against my chest. “This one is …” She looks up at me, curious. “Were you intentionally grinding against me during the dance lessons?”

  Cleo gets flustered, fumbling with her words, starting and stopping as she struggles to think of what to say. It’s endearing to watch. I keep a straight face, even though I want to laugh at how adorable she’s being.

  “Unless I’m crazy and imagining things, you’re giving me every sign that you want me. That’s a dangerous game to play if you’re not serious.”

  Suddenly her demeanor changes. She stops fumbling with her words. She stands taller, chin raised, and a cocky smile tilting just one corner of her pretty little mouth into a mischievous grin. “If you were paying attention, you would’ve realized I was always serious.”

  She licks her ice cream cone suggestively and walks ahead of me. My dick responds immediately as I watch her ass sway. I jog to catch up with her, admiring the way she finishes off her ice cream, intently watching how her tongue works until there’s nothing left.

  I take her by the hand. She looks at our intertwined fingers, then up at me. I feel her pulse quicken. Her palms are sweaty.

  “I must be insane,” I say.

  “Why? We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

  I don’t say anything at first, shocked into silence. I’m speechless.

  I stop walking and she stops, too. She turns to face me. I pull her toward me, cupping her chin in my hand and raising her face to meet mine. Then I kiss her. Her lips are soft, and she tastes sweet like the ice cream she was eating. When I wrap my arms around her waist and press my throbbing cock against her hips, she lets out a gasping moan into my mouth.

  I want to do so much more than just kiss her right now, but I restrain myself since we’re in public. Instead, I focus on the way her mouth moves against mine and the feel of her warm body. I think about what it would be like to rip those little shorts right off of her soft figure and kiss every inch of her smooth skin.

  I pull away from the kiss, struggling to catch my breath. “Do you think this is wrong?” I ask.

  She’s just as breathless as me when she whispers, “How can it be when it feels this good?”

  She raises up on her toes to kiss me this time. Her arms wrap around my neck and she holds me tight. I groan as her tongue slides against mine. My cock throbs and I want so badly to take her right here and now.

  I can’t help myself. I touch her breast, rub my thumb against her hard nipple. Her breasts are firm and perky—the perfect handful (mouthful when I get the chance). The thought of taking her completely is overwhelming.

  “We shouldn’t do this in public,” I say against her eager mouth.

  “No one can see us,” Cleo insists.

  I glance around. She’s right. We’re blocked from the street by a wall that hides the trash bins. But I’m struggling to accept it more tha
n Cleo seems to be. I’m about to give into her—I can’t hold back anymore—when I hear a voice I recognize all too well.

  Cleo’s dad.

  He’s talking to someone and he’s close by. Even though we can’t see him, we jump away from each other. She must have heard it too. She looks just as terrified as I do. We’re both obviously aware of what the repercussions will be if we’re caught by her father.

  A look passes between us, a look full of regret. We step out from behind the wall and walk casually as if we just ran into each other on the street, a safe distance apart so it doesn’t look as though there is anything between us.

  Ted waves at us in the distance. As he approaches, he gives Cleo a stern look. “I’ve been texting you for an hour. I was worried. Young girl in a foreign country. You could be trafficked if you’re not careful. You could’ve told me you were with Nicholas so I didn’t have to worry,” he reprimands.

  The way he’s talking, it’s obvious that he doesn’t suspect anything and the tension leaves my shoulders.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Cleo says. “I promise I’ll check my texts more often. Next time I go out, I’ll make sure Nicholas comes with me.” She slides me a sly grin and thank God her dad doesn’t see it. She hugs him and he softens, his anger defused.

  “I’m going to go find your mother,” Ted says. He looks at me. “You mind walking her back to the hotel?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  When he’s a safe enough distance ahead of us, I lean in to whisper to Cleo. “Next time, if we get this close, I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

  Cleo reaches over, brushing her hand against my hard-on through my pants. My dick twitches and becomes so hard it hurts. I’m so worked up I could cum right now.

  “Then don’t stop next time.”

  I watch in shock as she hops up the steps of the hotel and disappears inside.

  4

  Cleo

  I wake up early the next morning. Everyone is asleep still. The sun has barely risen, just a hint of light on the horizon. I’m not sleepy at all after my encounter with Nicholas yesterday at the bookstore. I can’t think about anything else. I know he likes me. And I definitely know I turn him on now. This has been a fantasy of mine for so long. I can’t believe it’s actually coming true.

  I know there’s no way I’m going to be able to go back to sleep. I slip out of my room quietly, so I don’t wake up Tara, and I head for the bathroom. When I get to the main room and see Nicholas sleeping on the couch, I can’t help but stare. He’s sound asleep, his breathing is deep and steady. He looks so peaceful.

  A sinful idea comes to me as I watch him sleeping. I tip-toe over to him, making sure to keep an ear out for any noises or signs that someone might be up. I kneel down beside the fold up couch and start to rub the area over the blanket where his dick is. When he begins to get hard under my hand, I know I’m in the right spot.

  He moans and sleepily thrusts his hips into my eager hand. I get excited and feel the wetness between my legs start to soak through my panties.

  I slip my free hand into my underwear and start to rub myself. The faster I rub Nicholas’s dick, the faster I rub myself. I push two fingers inside the warm, soaking wet depths of my pussy and bite my lip to stay quiet. It feels incredible. I’m far more turned on than I ever have been just masturbating alone in my room. Eyes closed, I imagine what it would be like to have Nicholas inside me, his large body pressed against mine, moving with me in perfect rhythm.

  I open my eyes, and when I do, I see that Nicholas is awake and staring right at me. I startle, but don’t stop touching him or myself as he stares into my eyes. His mouth is barely open and he looks so intense and turned on. He takes my hand and guides it under the blanket. I get even more excited as he lifts the waistband of his boxers and I feel the warmth of his bare skin in my palm. I wrap my hand around the silky warm shaft. He’s much larger than I realized. I’m barely able to get my fingers around him.

  I start to get nervous. I’m a virgin and have always heard that sex hurts the first time and that the pain could be worse when the man is well-endowed. But right now I’m too turned on to worry about the consequences of any of it. I’m too excited to be concerned about anything, really. I have to keep reminding myself it’s not just the two of us in here. I have to worry about getting caught and not getting lost in the moment.

  I try to jerk him off, but I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure I’m doing it right and I start to feel a little self-conscious.

  The way he arches his back upward, pushing his hips harder against my hand, eyes fluttering closed, it seems like he’s enjoying what I’m doing.

  I can tell by the way his breathing changes, growing more rapid, he’s close. I rub myself harder. I’m right on the edge. The pressure of my orgasm builds.

  He lets out a deep groan. It’s quiet enough to keep from waking anyone but I feel the bass in his voice echoing through me. Soon I feel the hot, sticky liquid coating my hand and my own orgasm strikes with sudden force. I lay my head on his chest, my body trembling as it ripples through me.

  I don’t have any time to recover or enjoy the aftermath of what just happened before I hear footsteps in the hallway.

  I jump away from him and pad quickly into the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot. My mom appears moments later in her robe.

  “Hey Mom, you’re up early,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the fear in my voice.

  She puts her finger to her mouth to shush me, and points to Nicholas. “He’s still asleep.”

  I look over at Nicholas. His eyes are closed. He’s good at pretending. I try not to giggle.

  My mom comes into the kitchen and whispers, “You can’t sleep?”

  “Not really. First night in Paris. I think the excitement got to me. I decided to get up and make coffee for everyone.”

  “Smells good,” she says as the coffee starts to brew. “It will get easier to sleep once you get used to being here. You probably have a bit of jet lag.”

  My heart is still pounding. We came so close to getting caught. If I had stayed next to him a moment longer, my mom would’ve caught us. That was too close for comfort. But it was also strangely exciting at the same time. It was a huge risk that I can’t afford to take again. My parents would no doubt kick Nicholas out of our hotel suite. Everyone’s vacation would be ruined … Oh God, and Tara. She would hate me!

  I don’t even want to think about that. Nicholas and I will just have to be more careful next time. And there definitely will be a next time.

  I smile to myself as I pour my mom a cup of coffee. I still can’t believe I touched Nicholas and made him cum! That’s the first time I ever touched anyone like that. I was so nervous, but extremely turned on. My thighs are sticky from my orgasm.

  I glance over as Nicholas stands up from the couch and makes his way to the bathroom—more than likely to clean the mess he made all over himself. After a few minutes, he comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of pajama bottoms instead of boxers.

  I sip my coffee and watch through the steam coming out of the cup as he walks toward us. He stretches and yawns as if he’s just woken up. He winks and smiles at me before my mom turns to see him,

  “Coffee?” my mom asks him.

  “Yes please.” He takes the cup from her and loads it with cream.

  “How’d you sleep?” she asks him.

  He glances at me with a smirk. “Like a baby.”

  “How’s the couch?”

  “Better than I thought it would be.”

  “Well good,” my mom says. “I’m going to wake everyone up so we can go down to breakfast and get the day started.”

  My mom heads down the hallway. I want to kiss Nicholas so bad and talk about what just happened between us, but it’s too risky to do that so we sip our coffee and stare at each other wordlessly behind our cups. I wonder if I can keep up this secret with him this whole vacation or if we should stop now before things get too far out of han
d. But, by the way he’s staring me down with a hunger in his eyes, I already know things have gone too far. There’s no going back now. I want him more. I’ve had a taste and now I’m addicted. I won’t be able to get enough of Nicholas until I’ve had all of him.

  5

  Cleo

  Everyone decides they want to go see the Eiffel Tower today. I spent my whole morning daydreaming about what happened between me and Nicholas. I missed my opportunity to get in the shower before everyone else, and now I’m running late. I have to rush to get ready.

  Everyone leaves ahead of me. I tell them I’ll catch up. They have a several minute head start on me by the time I’m done getting ready. When I finally make it out of the hotel room, I have to run to catch up.

  I see them up ahead, I’m almost there, running as fast as my legs will take me, when a bike messenger rides right in front of me, cutting me off. My knee clips his back tire and I fall right into the gutter with a loud yelp as I hit the ground.

  The guy barely even acknowledges me as he rides off with a glance behind him. My family and friends turn around at the sound of my yelp.

  “Oh my God, Cleo!” Tara yells with sheer terror in her voice.

  They all run toward me, even my little brother who rarely seems to notice anyone exists outside of his iPad or video games. Nicholas is faster than everyone. He’s even faster than Charlie who is captain of the track team.

  “Are you okay?” Nicholas asks me, already assessing the damage to my body. The skin between his eyes creases with concern when he sees that my knee is skinned. But it’s not my knee that hurts.

  “I think I sprained my ankle.”

  Charlie is the second fastest and kneels beside me, out of breath. “Want me to chase down that guy on the bike?” he says playfully when he realizes I’m not seriously injured.

  Nicholas isn’t so playful and sounds dead-serious when he says, “Yeah, bring him back to me so I can beat him senseless.”