Forbidden Roommate: Her Dad's Best Friend Series Set

by Penny Wylder

“What did you say?” Bryce asks, voice jagged and dark. He grabs my arms, gathering my wrists together behind my back and pulling me up again. I’m pinned to the couch by his cock with no leverage. He’s holding me down and up, and all I can do is gasp. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

  “Good girl. You don’t get to speak,” he says, thrusting deep. “Open your mouth.”

  I obey immediately, mind glazed with pleasure and acceptance. Lace hits my lips, and Bryce fills my mouth with my torn panties. I taste myself on them, the remnants of my arousal from before he arrived. Fuck.

  His hands grip my wrist, using me as leverage as he pounds into me, so deep that I’ll never forget it. The fabric in my mouth muffles my moans, but I can’t keep quiet. I’m so turned on that my orgasm is already building. Already almost here. And every time Bryce slams his cock deep I swear I see stars.

  The pleasure is sharp and dangerous, building to what feels like might be an explosion inside me. Bryce shoves his knee between my legs and knocks my foot wider. I’m ever more off balance now, the only things keeping me upright are the way my hips press into the couch and the sheer force of Bryce’s fucking.

  I feel my orgasm start to go, fire and flame licking up my spine, and Bryce growls in my ear. “You think if I didn’t let you speak I was going to let you come? No.”

  He stops completely, pulling out and shoving me down onto the cushions again. Slaps fall on my ass, beautiful sharp spanks that erase my need to come and once again melt into the perfect blend of high arousal that’s coursing through me.

  Bryce shoves his cock back in, rhythm brutal. “Don’t you dare come,” he says. “Your pussy is mine.”

  Everything feels so good, a constant stream of ecstasy through my veins, and I could go over in a second, but I don’t. I grip the cushions on the couch and hold on for dear life, forcing my orgasm back.

  Behind me, Bryce fucks faster. Harder. And I close my eyes as he shoves in one last time, nearly sending me over. He rips himself from my pussy, crying out his climax as heat splashes over my ass. Streams of cum hitting my skin and dripping, soaking into my pants.

  He groans, and a soft kiss is placed at the base of my spine. “Your ass looks so hot covered like this.”

  Pulling me upright, he has to support me, because I’m limp and pliant. Ass bare and mouth still full of my underwear. He pulls the lace from my lips and tosses it to the floor. “And now, I’m going to spread you out and worship your pussy until you come enough times to satisfy me.”

  I shudder, and he lifts me, carrying me to the bedroom. The bed is still messy from last night, and sinking into the remnants of last night feels like the most natural thing in the world.

  Bryce strips me out of my clothing, and soon he’s over me, eyes searching my face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, and I absolutely mean it. “I’m great.”

  “Was that what you imagined it would be?”

  I shake my head. “It was better. Way more intense. But…”

  Concern fills his face. “But?”

  “I’m sorry that I made you do that. I didn’t realize it was that dark until I was in it. I shouldn’t want that.”

  Bryce’s face softens, and he smiles before he softly kisses my lips. “You never have to apologize for something that you want with me, Katti. That’s the beauty of trusting someone. You can give them the dark parts of you and know that they’ll keep you safe. Take care of you.”

  I reach up and run a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grins. “And now I’m going to take care of you.”

  He sinks down my body, and I’m so ready, I come from just the touch of his lips. It’s like a dam releasing, emotion and pleasure and everything else rushing in and out in a solid wave.

  “Oh, god.” It comes out as a moan.

  Bryce’s mouth seals over me, guiding me through the orgasm with soft movements of his tongue. “I think I need to work harder than that,” he says when I’m fading through it, continuing to lick and suck and slide and scrape.

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before. Everything in me is eclipsed by pleasure and vulnerability. I feel…accepted and comfortable and complete. And as much as it was brought on by it, it doesn’t have to do with sex.

  Bryce sees me for who I am, and he doesn’t care that I had a dark fantasy. He joined me there and brought me back, and now his tongue strokes me in a way that has me falling into pleasure again. Screaming and gasping. I need him. Not between my legs.

  As soon as I can control my limbs again, I’m grabbing at his shoulders, pulling him up to me so his face is near mine. “I need to see you,” I say. “I need to feel you.”

  The words don’t feel like enough, but they’re all I have. I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling to him, but he sees my desperation, and holds me. Kisses me hard and takes what I’m offering. Accepting. Holding.

  “Hold on one second,” he says, pulling away. He’s still in his clothes, and I hear the rustling sounds of fabric as he strips down and the crinkling sound of a condom.

  The way Bryce touches me now with infinite gentleness soothes me. He pulls me on top of his chest, and I can look down at his beautiful face. He’s real. And whatever I’m feeling, I see it in his eyes, too.

  Hands stroke down my back, spreading warmth and comfort through my skin. When he enters me this time, it’s with a gentle movement. A joining. And I understand it. I’m too sore to fuck again, but I want to feel him inside me. I want this closeness.

  It seems silly, this desperation for closeness that I feel with him. But after wanting for so long, and suddenly getting him all at once, I can’t help but feel the need to catch up. To dive in all at once and have absolutely all of him.

  Laying my head on his chest, I savor the heat of him beneath me—the hard stability. Bryce holds me against him, hand massaging my scalp. And we rest together, completely comfortable.

  I’m not sure how long it’s been when we start to move together. Slow, languorous, and completely in sync. It’s a different kind of need that rises inside me. Slow and together, and it stays that way. We move together in a steady build, aching pleasure filling and expanding.

  I love the way he kisses me, slowly and deeply. And when we come, we come together.

  I fall asleep, cradled in his arms.

  8

  I come to consciousness slowly. In little bits and pieces, like becoming aware of the fact that Bryce’s arms are around me. His chest is pressed against my back, hand draped over my hip, and I can feel the steady movement of his breath.

  The first thing I do is think. How do I feel? I was in some sort of frenzy last night, and I wouldn’t exactly think that it was a good thing. Except I feel stable. Calm and content. Everything that happened feels too enormous for me to process, and yet it was perfect.

  And now, more than ever, we need to talk. Because I can't do this if it's just going to end the way it started: quickly and brilliantly

  Slowly, I turn over in the circle of his arms and face him. I stretch on the way, savoring and evaluating the delicious soreness that is the aftermath of everything he did to me—or everything that we did together.

  I like watching him sleep. It’s a different way than I’ve seen him. Sure, I’ve seen him asleep, but it’s different being this close. Seeing his tiny movements. He has the same beautiful face, but smoothed out. None of the worries, concerns, or even joys of waking life are bothering him. I imagine this is how he would look if he was being painted by some Renaissance master.

  I can't help myself. I reach out and gently stroke the lines of his face. He’s so beautiful. I’ve always thought so. And now he’s mine. He wants me. If there’s one thing that last night showed me, is that I’m not dreaming. This is real.

  After a few moments, Bryce’s breathing changes and he opens his eyes to mine. There’s no transition between sleep and wakefulness, and he doesn't look drowsy. He’s simply there.
>
  "Good morning," he says. His voice is deep with sleep, and that resonance that I love so much is even richer now.

  “Good morning," I say.

  Bryce draws his hand up my back, coming to rest it behind my neck as he pulls in to kiss me. "How are you feeling this morning?"

  A flush rises and paints my skin, because of everything. I tuck my head under his chin and breathe in his scent. Warm, masculine, and mine. "I'm good," I say. "Really good."

  "Are you sure?" he asks.

  I nod. "I promise. But I have something that I need to ask you."

  He pulls back so that he can see my eyes, and the look on his face is entirely open and genuine. I have no doubt that he's in the same place that I am. At least in this moment.

  "You can ask me anything, Katti,” he says. "Absolutely anything."

  I take a breath, and try to find the right words. "I know that we’re in this together, and that we’ve both wanted this for a long time. But I can't do this if I don't know where you're at, or where you’re thinking this is going.

  “In any other relationship, I'd say that two days is too fast to ask that question. But this is us, and it’s too complicated for us not to think about it.

  “If this is just going to be something quick and simple, or something to satisfy the urge you had, then I can't. It’s...more to me than that. I'm not saying that I need some kind of deep commitment from you—or anything like that. But I can't let myself go any deeper if I think that it's just going to disappear."

  "Let me make myself clear, Katti,” he says. “This was never going to be something casual for me. The thought never entered my head. Yes, I have wanted you for a long time. And yes, this is new and happened quickly. But don't ever doubt how seriously I want you.

  “I wish there was a way to tell you how much you mean to me in a way that you would believe. Because I know what I feel, and I know what I want. And when I tell you, I don't want there to be any hesitation, and I want you to be ready.

  “I am here, and we are in this together. Do you believe me?"

  I nod, because I absolutely do believe him. The conviction in his voice tells me that it's the truth. The tears that spring to my eyes surprise me, but I can't help them.

  There was still a small part of me that expected him to say that this was a joke. That it was just a fling, and that this would be over the moment he walked out the door. "I believe you."

  "I'm glad."

  Bryce kisses me again, rolling over so that he's pressing me down into the mattress. I think it's my favorite feeling with him, because I'm incredibly aware of his body and how close he is to me. When he was so far away for so long.

  I bathe in the sensation of the kiss, because he is a fucking amazing kisser. Bryce’s tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him, accepting the welcome fire that accompanies every time he touches me.

  When he pulls back, I'm dizzy.

  "I want you to come with me to Marcy's baby shower next week," he says. "Will you?"

  Marcy is Bryce's American stepsister. I knew her when I was younger, growing up in Waterton. My father and Bryce went to Oxford together, and when Bryce’s father decided to move to America, it was his eagerness to give his son some comfort away from home that let him to move to Waterton. And when Bryce’s father remarried, his new spouse had a daughter. She’s a few years older than me.

  We weren’t close, but we were friendly. We saw each other a fair amount just because of my father’s relationship with Bryce.

  I haven't been back to Waterton outside holidays in a couple years. Mostly because I was trying to avoid him. It feels like an entirely separate part of my life. "Won't that be weird? I wasn't invited."

  He shrugs. "It's a pretty casual thing. It will be fine."

  I roll my eyes. “Bryce, there are place cards. That doesn't exactly strike me as something ‘casual.’”

  "I promise you it is,” he laughs. “Marcy wanted to do the place cards because she thought they would be nice. But it's not like she has a seating chart. If you make yourself a place card and we show up together, I’ll tell her that you're the one that did the calligraphy and she’ll probably cry. She’ll be more than happy to have you there.”

  “Why would she cry?”

  He smiles. “Pregnancy has made Marcy a crier. Over everything, good and bad. Trust me, good calligraphy is definitely something worth crying over right now.”

  “Is she due soon?”

  “Yes, at the end of the month. And I think you’ll enjoy yourself. You used to be friends.”

  "I guess," I say, avoiding his eyes and instead choosing to trace the lines of his muscles with my fingers. "Sort of. We were never close, but you probably knew that. I haven't seen her in years—I had no idea she was even pregnant."

  Bryce presses his forehead against mine. “She will be happy to see you. I don't think you realize how much everybody in Waterton misses you," he says. “How much everybody loves you—especially your family. They miss you more than anyone. I don't think they really got over you moving away, or understood why.”

  "No," I say, hating the uncomfortable feeling in my chest. I miss them too, but I could never explain to them. I sigh. "It's not like I could tell them that I was in love with you and desperately needed to get away so that I didn't try to seduce you again." I laugh without any humor, because the very sentence is ridiculous. But that doesn't make it any less true.

  “You should call them more.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Telling me what to do?”

  “Only for this. And sometimes when we’re fucking.” I laugh for real this time, and I’m distracted by his hands on my body. “But really, Katti. They talk about you all the time. They’re so proud of you for your success.”

  “I know,” I say softly. “What are we going to do, Bryce? We can’t tell them. They’ll lose their shit. And I’m not that good an actor. It’s why I left in the first place. If we’re all in the same room together, they’re going to know.”

  “I highly doubt that it will be as bad as you’re imagining.”

  “It will. I don’t even want to think about how that conversation is going to go.”

  He leans down and sucks on my collarbone, making me groan. “Then don’t think about it. That’s not something we have to worry about yet, because for now it’s just us. I think that’s best until we get our feet, don’t you?”

  “For sure.”

  “Good. Then I want to go back to something you just skipped past.” A brilliant smile breaks out on Bryce's face. "You were in love with me?"

  I bite my lip. I was hoping that he wouldn’t notice that I said that. But the man notices everything. “I like to think so," I say. “But being in love with somebody isn’t the same when they don't love you back. Can you really call it being in love if you’re by yourself? Doesn't being in love require two people?"

  Bryce's face turns more serious. "Maybe,” he says. “What if two people are in love with each other, and neither knew about the other? What then?"

  My breath catches in my throat, and I shove the thoughts away. He can't be saying what I think he's saying. He absolutely can't. So I shove the thought away before it can take hold. "I don't know," I say. “Sounds like those two people were really missing out."

  "Yes, they were."

  After the graduation party, when I woke up feeling humiliated and embarrassed, I told myself that it was over. That I needed to get out of there before I ruined everything. That being in love with somebody who didn't know wasn't worth the pain.

  So I shut those emotions down. But can I pretend that they ever really went away? Would I have been looking for him consciously and subconsciously for so long if I had been able to let go?

  Do I still love Bryce?

  I tell myself that I don’t. That all this is, is the remnants of young infatuation. That I’ll grow to love him the way he deserves. But the dropping of sensation of freefall in my stomach is telling me that I’m lying myself and that is
absolutely terrifying. I can’t think about it, and I stop that thought in its tracks before I can give it a chance to take hold.

  "So, will you go with me?"

  The question brings me back, and it actually takes me a second to remember what he’s even talking about. The baby shower. Marcy. Right. “What if someone sees us together? If someone tells my parents…or my dad.”

  “I’ve seen the guest list,” he says. “I’m pretty sure there’s no one on it that knows your family besides my immediate family.”

  “The store…”

  He cuts me off with a look. “Elle can handle it for a day. I’ve seen her work. She’s extremely capable, and I already know that you trust her. If you’re not ready to go, Katti, you can tell me. I won’t be offended.”

  I hesitate. There’s a lot that makes me nervous about it, but I don’t want to say no to something just because of anxiety. That’s no way to live. "If you really think that she won't mind, I would be happy to go with you."

  He grins down at me. "Perfect." It's not that I want to go to a baby shower. Marcy is a really wonderful person, but I don't I have much of a friendship with her outside of Facebook, and the obligatory yearly ‘happy birthday!’ message. But taking a trip with Bryce and making this more real? That I can absolutely get behind.

  “Do you have to go to work today?" I ask. "I don't even really know what you do anymore, but you have to be in some kind of trouble just hanging out with me.”

  He chuckles. “It’s fine. I own the company. I doubt anyone is going to object if I spend a couple of days away from the office.”

  “You own the company?” I run my hands up and over his shoulders, arching into him and feeling his body respond to me. “Look at us, just a couple of business owners.”

  “Two peas in a pod,” he murmurs, looking at me. That look is one that scares me with the depth of emotion. “I’m not in stocks anymore. After you moved away, I started a consulting firm. That's why I moved away from Waterton. I don't want to live in Boston—though from what I’ve seen your neighborhood is lovely—but I need to live closer to get to clients here. And thank fuck that I did. If I hadn't, maybe I never would have been on that app in the first place, and maybe this never would've happened."