Forbidden Roommate: Her Dad's Best Friend Series Set

by Penny Wylder

  “I can tell you’re eager.” He’s grinning, enjoying watching me.

  I understand, because I can’t get enough of watching him right back. The salt and pepper in his hair just accentuates how sharp his jawline is, the hot fire in his eyes. I’m not exactly a virgin, but I’ve never had sex with someone like him. Someone older, a man who really knows what he’s doing. My few experiences have been with guys my own age, fumbling in the back seats of cars. Nothing like this, here.

  Here, in the middle of the hospital where we both work. For a second the rest of the world floods back in, and I dart a worried glance around us. But the stairwell is still quiet, still empty.

  Russ grins. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his finger stroking along the full length of my slit, from back to front, and then slowly gliding back again. A groan escapes my throat, because fuck it feels good. And I can already feel the way my juices are coating him, slicking his fingertip.

  He adds a second finger to part my lips wider, and then I feel his index finger move to my entrance. Pressing lightly.

  “As long as you can stay quiet, I’m sure no one will find us in here,” he murmurs, his eyes bright with the challenge.

  I bite my lower lip, especially because I was just about to moan again. It takes all of my concentration and effort to hold back a gasp, as he presses his fingertip inside me, slowly, slowly. Inch by inch, the deeper he goes, the more my toes curl and my hips arch up into him. “Fuck, yes, right there…” I breathe, trying to arch my whole body toward his, away from the wall. But his free hand is still pinning both of mine over my head, so try as I might, I can’t bring myself as close to him as I want to be.

  Luckily, he reads my desire on my face, and steps closer. I feel the hard press of his cock against my belly, and shift back and forth against him, even as his finger pushes deeper inside of me. He reaches the end, and I expect him to draw his finger out. Instead, he adds a second, stretching my pussy just enough to make me shudder with pleasure.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” Russ murmurs with obvious appreciation, his gaze aflame. He dips his head to kiss the edge of my jaw, the spot below my ear. His beard grazes my skin, leaves tiny sparks wherever it touches. “I can’t wait to fuck you properly, Maggie Owens.”

  The sound of my full name in his mouth makes me shiver again, especially when he draws his fingertips back out of my pussy, then drives them in again, hard enough to make me rock my hips with him, trying to build up a motion. “Yes, yes, just like…”

  A door slams somewhere overhead, and we both freeze, Russ’s fingers still deep in my pussy. I hold my breath, my heart hammering against my ribcage. For his part, Russ doesn’t seem worried at all, still wearing that sly smile of his, completely confident that we’re fine. I don’t know how he can be. I hear footsteps, and my pussy muscles tighten involuntarily around Russ’s fingers, afraid someone might find us here like this.

  But he just looks even more turned on by the idea. He leans down, his breath white hot where he whispers in my ear. “Be very, very quiet…” He starts to move his fingers again, faster now, so they make little wet noises every time he withdraws them to push them back into me.

  It takes every ounce of my willpower and self-control to keep my mouth clamped shut, as my whole body starts to shake, building toward a peak. Finally, we hear another door slam, the footsteps above us fading, whoever it was off to some other business elsewhere. Probably just one of the few smokers who knows about the stairwell, using it to sneak up to the roof for a cigarette.

  Still, the experience sends adrenaline coursing through me, leaves me feeling wild and excited and a little worried all at once. Russ reads the expression on my face, and his hand slows, stills inside me.

  “Don’t stop,” I gasp in protest, still trying to rock my hips against his, to grind my already swollen clit against the bulge of his palm for release.

  But he draws his hand out, away from me, and I bite back a groan. As I watch him, he raises his hand to his lips. Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he licks me from his fingertips, one by one. “Fuck, you taste incredible,” he murmurs, and it does something wild to my nerves, watching him taste me, enjoy me. He winks. “Next time, I’ll have to eat you out.”

  Next time. A rock sinks in my stomach. I worry he’s about to leave me here like this, unfinished, aching for release. I seriously think it might kill me not to come right now. But before I can freak out too badly, Russ drops his grip on my hands and grasps me by both hips.

  “For now, though.” He leans in to kiss me, hard and full on the mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips again. I taste him once more, and my own juices mingled on his tongue, salty and sweet all at once. When we break apart, he’s grinning. “I think we’d better speed things up, don’t you?” His eyebrow arches, filled with amusement and want all at once.

  My knees nearly give out with release. “Yes, please,” I manage.

  It’s all the invitation he needs. A second later, he’s spinning me around to bend me forward over the waist-high railing of the stairwell. I grip it with both hands as he pushes my scrubs down around my ankles. Behind me, I can feel him doing the same, and I dare a glance back while he’s pushing his boxers off. My eyes go wide at the sight of him.

  He grins, catching me looking. “See how hard you make me, Maggie?”

  Fuck. I could tell his cock was big, when he had me pinned up against the wall, and I could feel it through the fabric of his scrubs. But he’s even larger than I imagined, and thicker, too. A vein runs along one side of it, and the tip is fat, swollen and flushed, with a bead of precum dangling from the spongy tip, that makes me long to drop to my knees right here and lick it clean.

  I resist the urge because Russ has his hands on my hips again, pulling my hips back, pinning me forward, bent over the railing. Behind me, I feel him slide one hand down to part my thighs, and then ease the tip of his cock between my pussy lips, teasing, stroking. He runs himself up and down the length of my slit, coating himself in my juices, until I’m quivering with anticipation.

  “Ask me again,” he murmurs, and I can feel the vibration of his chest against me, that’s how close he’s pressed to me, all while his cock continues to stroke, up and down, along my slit.

  “Please fuck me, Russ. Please,” I lean on the last word, not even caring if it sounds like begging, because I want this, I need this, and he’s right here, finally. So close.

  The tip of his cock finds my entrance. With a slow, steady pressure, he eases inside, until the tip pushes into my pussy. I gasp, but he just keeps coming, slow and smooth, never letting up. His cock practically glides into me, but there’s a sweet, distant ache as my pussy stretches to fit him, my walls aching pleasantly on every side.

  “I love how fucking wet you are, little one,” he murmurs, the vibration of his voice shivering through my entire body. My toes curl in my work shoes, and my hands tighten around the stairwell railing I’m gripping, my palms slick with sweat.

  Finally, with one last little thrust, he’s fully inside me, his cock filling me completely, stretching me wide. Then, only then, does he start to pull back out again, and I whimper a little at how empty I feel when he’s not inside me anymore.

  Luckily, it’s only for a second. He pulls all the way back, almost out of me entirely, and then in a smoother, faster motion this time, drives back in. With every thrust, he makes me arch back against him, every stroke of his cock coaxing more and more pleasure from me.

  I moan, and he reaches down to clasp a free hand over my mouth, while the other remains clamped tightly around my hip. “While I love hearing you moan for me,” he whispers, “we have to keep it muffled this time.” As he speaks, he bends down to kiss the nape of my neck, before he starts to speed up, moving faster inside me, harder. “You wanted it rough, didn’t you, little one?”

  “Fuck yes,” I moan into his palm, and he chuckles faintly, slides his hand down to my shoulder to brace himself.

  Before long, he’s fucking
me full out, his hips slapping against my ass, his balls hitting my pussy lips softly every time he thrusts his cock inside me. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to cry out, because fuck, this is everything I ever wanted. Russ, taking control, dominating me. Showing me how fucking good this can feel.

  Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, his hand trails down my back, tracing over each vertebra, until he slips around the arch of my hip and down over my mound. His fingertips graze my clit, which is already so swollen with desire it feels ready to burst. I suck in a sharp, startled breath, and he chuckles softly.

  “Come for me,” he murmurs. “I want to feel your pussy when you come on my cock.” His fingers stroke my clit, once, twice. I don’t need more incentive than that; I’m so turned on I could lose my mind.

  I cry out, deep in my throat, my lips clamped shut to muffle the sound. My whole body shakes from the force of the orgasm, stars bursting behind my eyes. But Russ doesn’t hesitate or slow down. He just keeps fucking me, hard, fast. Driving my hips into the railing while his fingers grip me hard, holding me in place.

  “Again,” he says, his voice low and commanding, almost a growl.

  I open my mouth to protest that I can’t come again so quickly, I never have before. But to my surprise, I can already feel the second orgasm building, especially with the way Russ pushes my ass down and angles his hips higher, his cock dragging along my front walls with every stroke, the tip of his cock running right across my G-spot every time he thrusts into me.

  Before long, the pressure starts to build behind my belly all over again, and I’m gasping for breath, arching right back up toward the peak again. This time I forget to be quiet. I come with a loud cry that echoes through the stairwell, my whole face and body flushing the second it happens, but it’s too late to go back now.

  For his part, it barely even seems to faze Russ. He just tightens his grip on my hips, keeps fucking me right through the orgasm, not even slowing down when my pussy clenches and convulses around him from the force of it. “I’m going to come, Maggie. You tell me where you want it.” I can feel his body going tense, and hear the tightness in his throat, his voice, as he battles to control himself for a few more seconds.

  “In me,” I gasp. “Come inside me.”

  I say it just in time. He obeys, and I feel the hot rush of his cum as he finishes deep inside me, his hands tight around my hips as his cock jumps inside me. I reach back to grasp his hands, but he’s already pulling out of me, spinning me around. I gasp again at the sensation of our mingled juices spilling over, down my inner thighs, tracing along my legs. It feels white hot, and so fucking dirty.

  But Russ has more presence of mind than I do. He’s already kneeling at my feet. He leans in to kiss my pussy, just once, his mouth hot and hard enough to make me shudder all over from the pleasant sensation. Then he yanks my panties and my scrubs back up into place, and winks up at me from kneeling at my feet.

  “That was fucking incredible,” I whisper.

  “You are fucking incredible,” he counters, rising to kiss me softly on the mouth. He draws back just as the stairwell door nearest us opens, and one of the nurses sticks her head in, one I don’t recognize, from the surgery wing. She recognizes Russ, though, as is clear from the way her gaze darts from him to me and back again. Russ looks every inch composed, already standing a few feet away from me, smiling placidly.

  I, on the other hand, feel like I probably look like I just… well, got fucked senseless. I can feel the flush in my cheeks, and I know my scrubs are wrinkled, my hair mussed. Still, I plaster on a belated smile.

  “Everything okay in here?” she asks. “I heard a shout.”

  “I just dropped my phone,” I lie quickly, still breathless, my lungs heaving in protest as I resist the urge to gasp for breath. “Um, Russ was helping me fix it.”

  “Oh, bad luck.” The nurse frowns. Is it my imagination, or is she looking at me funny? Second guessing my makeshift cover story? “Hope it’s not broken.”

  “It’s all good, Stacy,” Russ replies, with the kind of broad, easygoing smile that it’s impossible to argue with.

  “Okay, well.” She’s about to let the door swing closed, before she squints at it, confusion written across her brow. “I could have sworn these stairwells were alarmed, you know…” With that, she lets the door shut, and we’re both plunged back into semidarkness.

  Only then do I break into breathless laughter, doubling over and Russ watching with amusement. “That… was too close.” When I straighten again, he leans in to kiss me once more, his mouth soft and slow against mine this time, a gentler kiss than before.

  “Worth the risk,” he murmurs, his gaze serious, fixed on mine. Then he offers one more wink, and checks his watch. “I’ve got surgery. I’ll see you soon, Maggie.” With that, he turns to go, and leaves me alone in the stairwell, my heart still racing, every nerve ending in my body on fire with adrenaline, desire, victory.

  “Holy fuck,” I murmur to myself in the now empty stairwell. “Did that really just happen?” I am so fucking screwed. But hopefully Russ was right. Hopefully it was worth the risk.

  4

  The next day, I’ve made up my mind. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. All I kept picturing was Russ in the stairwell. Russ, bending me over that railing to fuck me. Russ, pinning me against the wall, his voice low and commanding.

  God, I want him to fuck me again. And not just to get back at my dad, even if that is why I started to flirt with him in the first place. By now, that’s just a distant memory in my head. I want Russ, I want his hands all over me, I want him to show me how he made me have two orgasms in a row, I want him to teach me everything he knows about making my body feel incredible.

  I want to make him lose his mind the way he made me lose control in that stairwell, crying out loud even though I knew it was the worst possible thing to do in that spot at that moment. I would give anything for the chance to see Russ lose control that way, too.

  Hell, I want to taste his cock. To trace my tongue along the edges, to lick the hard thick vein and trail the flat of my tongue along the tip…

  But we can’t do that again. We can’t do anything, ever again.

  Russ might not have seemed worried yesterday, about the possibility of my dad firing him, but maybe Russ just doesn’t know how overprotective and controlling my dad really is. They’ve been friends for years, but friends are different than daughters. I can’t imagine Russ has really thought through the consequences: how he could lose his job, his position, his seniority, everything. I know how much working at this hospital means to Russ. Because after all, like he told me yesterday, he’s turned down dozens of other job offers over the years, to go and work for competing hospitals. Russ never has, because he loves it here. And he loves my dad, too.

  Much as I want to piss off my dad right now—and believe me, that’s a lot—I can’t do it at the risk of Russ’s life and happiness. I don’t want to get him fired.

  And I have no idea what Dad would do to me, either. I’m not too worried about him firing me, because hell, I never wanted to work at this crappy job in the first place, tied tight on his leash. But I wouldn’t put it past my father to try and get me blacklisted at other jobs in the area. I wouldn’t put it past him to call Doctors without Borders to tell them that I’m a bad nurse and he fired me for sucking at my job. If he thought it would keep me stuck here in the city, under his thumb, he’d do that in a heartbeat.

  So, no. I want to anger him, but I don’t want to go totally nuclear. Which means, no more Russ.

  Even if it was the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life. Even if my whole body goes tense and trembly with anticipation just from pulling up to the hospital doors the next day.

  Dad, who has been driving me to work this morning, the same as every other morning, glances over at me and notices my tense body, my clenched fists. “I know you’re still angry,” he says, softly. “But someday you’ll un
derstand why I do this. You’ll come to realize that sometimes you have to play the game, if you want to get ahead. Now.” He nods toward my side of the car. “You have your patients for the day.”

  All three of them, the same three I was downgraded to babysitting yesterday. But I play along, because better Dad think this is what’s preoccupying me than guess what I’m really thinking about. “I still think it’s unfair,” I say as I unbuckle my seatbelt and shove out of the car door. “Both to the other patients and to the other nurses you’ve given way too big a workload to handle.”

  Not to mention, it makes the other nurses on my team resent me. I heard whispers yesterday in the changing room as I was heading out at the end of my shift. Lionel telling another nurse that my father was giving me preferential treatment; assigning me as few patients as possible, so I wouldn’t have to work very hard.

  If only he knew the truth. If only I could explain that I’d trade places with any of them in a heartbeat.

  “And as I’ve explained before, it’s not your call,” Dad replies evenly, but I’m already slamming the car door in his face and storming toward the hospital entrance. I don’t wait for his valet to come and claim the car keys from him, or for his assistant to come read through the daily drama he needs to deal with.

  I just beeline straight through the winding corridors toward my assigned locker, where I’ll be able to drop my stuff off, pick up some coffee, and get to work.

  But at the entrance to my wing, I stop dead, my limbs ceasing to propel me forward. Because leaning against the wall of the locker area, completely out of place up here in the pediatric wing of the hospital, is Russ, dressed in his green surgeon’s scrubs. He has two coffees in hand, and he’s grinning like I’m the person he wanted to see most of all in the world right now.

  My cheeks flush as I reach his side, and he holds out a coffee, his eyes grazing over my body boldly. “You look great today,” he says, soft enough that hopefully none of the other nurses at the nearby station, about fifteen feet away, can overhear him.