Summer with my Dad’s Best Friend
Page 8
“Oh shit,” I say when his eager lips latch on. His tongue dances around my clit, teasing, prodding, playing.
“Your pussy tastes so good,” he says before diving back in for more.
As much as I love the way his tongue feels, I need to be filled up. “Please fuck me,” I beg.
He lets out a low, animal-like sound and stands. He grabs my hips and turns me around, pulling my ass toward him. He pushes me forward so I’m leaning up against my car. My belly is too big for him to fuck me from the front while we’re standing, so he takes me from behind. It’s the most comfortable way, and it’s the best way for him to sink deep inside me. When the head of his cock slips past my barrier I moan so loud it fills the garage. Being pregnant, all the sensation in my pussy is far more intense than I’m used to. Having him inside of me is pure heaven.
“You’re so swollen and tight,” he says as he thrusts deep and hard into me.
I moan, unable to speak through the orgasm building up inside. He’s fucking me so hard all I can do is grunt. In this position, his balls slap against my pussy in a perfect rhythm.
“Oh God, I’m going to come,” I tell him desperately as the feeling builds into the perfect ache. My body screams for release, but at the same time, I want the build-up to last. I don’t think that’s going to happen though. I’m far too gone for that. The orgasm is happening whether I’m ready for it or not.
With one hand, he grabs hold of my ass cheek and fucks me like a bull, and with the other hand he takes hold of my sensitive nipple and squeezes. That’s it. That’s all my body can handle before it explodes into orgasm.
I scream and I don’t care if the neighbors can hear. Ben doesn’t either because he doesn’t do anything to try and keep me quiet.
With several powerful thrusts, he groans almost as loud as I’m screaming, and I’m flooded with the warmth of his cum inside me.
We’re both panting and dripping with sweat and our combined juices. He hugs me from behind, rubbing my belling and trying to catch his breath.
“That was a nice surprise,” I tell him.
“I figured we should probably get that out of the way before we spend the next two weeks sharing a house with your parents.”
I laugh. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“How about a cold shower together?” he asks.
“That sounds wonderful.”
We walk into the house naked, holding each other. I touch my belly while I hold his hand. I didn’t think it was possible for one person to feel so much love. Life couldn’t get any better than it is right at this very moment, and yet I know, in a few weeks, it will.
* * *
Keep reading for a special preview of HER DAD’S FRIEND!
He was my dad's best friend—and my first crush.
Check out the first chapter of my other book, HER DAD’S FRIEND. One-click on Amazon now!
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Chapter 1
Know what happens when you bring a bottle of cinnamon whiskey to a party? Nothing good, that’s what. It should come with an additional warning label: May cause extreme stupidity and drunk sexting.
I blame it on Emily. Who needs enemies when you have friends like her? She bought the booze and it was her idea to come to this frat party in the first place and practice at being twenty-one before my birthday tomorrow.
I admit, it started off as a good time. Several of my friends are here, the music’s perfect, and there’s a hot tub, so bonus. I’m a crack shot at beer pong and hit the best of all the flat notes during karaoke. But, as we all know, good times and good decision-making aren’t one and the same. I may or may not have butt-chugged Gray Goose with future lawyers and house wives. And I probably danced topless on the sofa since that’s what all the pictures on Instagram are showing—only I don’t pay too much attention to those since that shit can be photo-shopped. During all of this, I lost my shoes, and who knows what happened to my bra.
At least Emily is here to keep me in check. She has always been the responsible one—about as responsible as a toddler dog-sitting, but still, she’s a better grown-up than me.
She suggests a group of us get together to play Would you rather in one of the quieter rooms. It’s a game. No big deal. A game can’t get me in too much trouble, right? Yeah … right.
Her question for me is, “Who would you rather fuck, your ex or his dad?”
Of course I choose his dad, because he was hot and my ex was kind of a douche. Thing is, I’ve always had doe eyes for older men. It all started with my dad’s best friend, Paul. He looks good for his age, a silver fox covered in tattoos, and is in better shape than most guys who go to my school. And OMG those tropical blue eyes and five-o’clock shadow on a strong jaw. Yes, please.
We’ve been flirting since I turned eighteen. He’d tell me how beautiful I was, complement my ass in a pair of jeans, or notice how nicely I’ve developed. It was all innocent. Never going too far, no touching or talking about sex or anything like that. But I want him. Bad. Just thinking about him has me pooling between the legs.
I lean against the pool table, looking around at all these young bucks strutting around the house in their polos and cargo shorts. I wonder which one I can use for the night. Maybe do some role playing, pretend he’s Paul, have myself a daddy fantasy.
A cute jock-type walks by with all his muscles and cocksure youth. His boner is about as subtle as a rocket launcher smuggled under spandex pants. The way he stares at me leaves no questions about his interest. Though I’m definitely in the mood, his baby face just won’t do because I know how this story ends. I’ve read it many times—well, not that many. Enough to count on one hand … and maybe some toes.
I see it so clearly: We’ll end up in his sock-stinky room full of pizza crusts and porn magazines littering the floor. The glow from his snake terrarium and the video game he has on pause will double as mood lighting. He’ll fumble around my body aimlessly and expect me to oooh and ahhh and appreciate all the pleasure he’s not giving me for five minutes until he gets his rocks off. Then he’ll promise to call the next day. I’m bored just thinking about it. So I don’t even bother.
When he heads toward me, I cover my face with my phone and pretend he doesn’t exist. He’s sober enough to get the hint.
I continue to play with my phone even after he’s gone. My ass is wet and sticky from spilled drinks on the floor. I move to the stained, threadbare couch next to Emily and find Paul’s name in my contacts. When I’m bored I like to look through our old texts. Birthday wishes from last year, a Merry Christmas here, Happy Thanksgiving there. There are pictures of us during a houseboat trip, and at an airshow. Unfortunately, my parents are in all the pictures too.
The whiskey has gone to my head and there’s no room left in there for rational thinking. Not a single consequence occurs to me as I type out five little words. I want to fuck you.
I show Emily. “What if I actually sent this?” I can hear myself talking slow and slurring my words. I’ve drank my body weight in everything over fifty proof and it’s starting to show.
She squints at the little screen. My phone is prehistoric and has a Post-It sized screen. When she’s done reading, her eyes go wide and she says, with a sly smile, “What if you did?” Her words are clearer than mine. She never drinks as much as I do. That’s what maturity looks like, and someday I want to be just like her. But right now I’m having fun.
Or at least I was until she reaches over and hits the send button on my phone.
“Emily!” I yell, jabbing at the screen, trying to get the words back somehow. “What the fuck?” I can be heard over the music and everyone turns to gawk in the hopes of a cat fight.
I stare at my phone, mouth breathing, hoping she hit the wrong button, but no. The text is there, right under his last text to me several months ago, congratulating me on getting my own apartment.
Emily rolls her eyes and tosses her blond ponytail over her shoulder. “You’ve been talking about hooking up with
Paul for years now. I just did you a favor. You’re welcome.”
* * *
Falling for Paul was bad. Flirting with him and trying to get in his pants the night of my 21st birthday party was definitely worse. Keep reading here!
Books By Penny Wylder
Filthy Boss
Her Dad’s Friend
The Virgin Intern
Her Dirty Professor
The Pool Boy
Get Me Off
Caught Together
Selling Out to the Billionaire
Falling for the Babysitter
Lip Service
Full Service
Expert Service
The Billionaire’s Virgin
The Billionaire’s Secret Babies
Her Best Friend’s Dad
Own Me
The Billionaire’s Gamble
Seven Days With Her Boss
Virgin in the Middle
The Virgin Promise
First and Last
Tease
Spread
Bang
Second Chance Stepbrother
Dirty Promise
Sext
Quickie
Bed Shaker
Deep in You
The Billionaire’s Toy
Buying the Bride
Dating My Friend’s Daughter
Big Man
Trapped with My Teacher
My 5 Bosses
Good Girls Say Yes
His Big Offer
Dangerous Love
The Roommate’s Baby
Perfect Boss
Cowboy Husband
Knocked Up By Her Brother’s Enemy
Flirt
Lust
Claim
The Wife Arrangement
Big Mountain
The Baby Maker’s Club
Prom King
The Single Dad Arrangement
Getting Her Back
Hate to Lose You
Drink Me Up
For Her
For Us
Valentine’s Day Virgin
She Is Mine: Prequel to the Billionaire’s CamGirl
The Billionaire’s CamGirl
His Shy Virgin
Good Time Doctor
Basket Stuffer
Wife for Now
Rich Groom
Rich Soldier