Page 8 of My Best Friend's CEO Dad

“It’s for you. Now, show me that beautiful body.”

The fantasy rushes ahead, and now she’s on the bed, fully naked, her breasts full, her legs thick, and her core glistening and eager for my dick. I’m stroking so fast already. I can feel come rushing up my dick and trying to blow out.

I imagine her beautiful face and her lips pursed in that alluring way as I drive deeper and deeper into her. She’ll grab my shoulders and start bouncing, riding my dick as I pump into her, making the bed shake, making her body shake. Every inch of her ripples as I hammer harder—oh, hell, harder. I’m stroking faster and harder.

Again, the fantasy shifts. She’s bent over now, her big ass bouncing as I hammer into her tight slit. She moans and drives against me, grabbing thick handfuls of the sheets, her gorgeousness shaking, rippling, trembling, so thick, so curvy, so much of her to spank and kiss and own and… ah, yes, yes.

Come explodes out of my shaft, all over my stomach. It feels like I’m unloading into her soaked slit. It’s like I’m filling her up so much that the come starts to spill out of her around my cock, but I don’t stop. I’m still hard. I pump my hand as my come makes me even wetter. It’s the most intense orgasm I can remember. It’s still coming.

I imagine spanking her, watching her ass jiggle for me. Spank her as she bounces and moans, and I squeeze the tempting globes of her ass together, savoring her thickness as, finally, the last of the come burns out of me.

After I sit up, my stomach coated in stickiness, the come drips down into the indents of my abs. I grit my teeth and walk awkwardly into the en-suite, my shorts and underwear wrapped around my knees. Wiping myself clean isn’t enough. I strip, get into the shower, and turn the water hot to try to burn away what I’ve just done.

What’s wrong with me? The worst part is that I already want to do it again. No, that’s not right. It’s not the worst part.

The worst part is I want to do it for real.

CHAPTER 4

MACI

“Sorry about Dad,” Kayla says as she sets up her sewing machine in the living room.

I’m on the couch, laptop open on my knees, reading a journal article for an upcoming essay about shading styles. “Sorry for what?” I ask, innocently, like I haven’t seen him naked and wasn’t just living in awkward land during breakfast. It’s like he was angry at me for being here. Maybe he’d prefer some alone time with his daughter? Or perhaps he’s embarrassed that I’ve seen all of him.

“You don’t have to be nice,” Kayla says. “He’s all business, business, business. It’s hard for him to take an interest sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I understand. It’s not like he needs to be friends with your friends or anything like that.”

Kayla nods as she starts taking swathes of fabric from a large suitcase. “He’s going through a lot. He might hide it well, but his business means the world to him. Well, more accurately, the employees who might lose their jobs.”

“Yeah, he seems like he cares,” I say in the most this isn’t a big deal voice I can muster considering the circumstances. All those thoughts I had before—those little whispers at the edge of my mind about Lukas and a possible crush—are impossible to push down now since I’ve seen him naked. Then my leg brushed against his, and the heat burned between us.

“Are you okay?” Kayla looks up from a big red piece of fabric. “It’s not weird, Dad being here, is it?”

“What? No? Why would it be weird?”

My defense is probably harmed by two things. The first is how quickly and over-the-top I respond, acting too suspiciously. The second is that I phrase no as a question.

Kayla frowns. “It’s nothing.”

“No, go on.”

Now, my best-friend instincts are working against me. I can tell something’s on her mind. Even if I should let it stay in her mind, I’ll just torture myself. I’ll imagine she’s somehow guessed what I’m thinking about her dad. It’s better to get it out there, whatever it is.

“I just don’t want to go on and on about Dad, that’s all.”

It takes me a moment to realize what she’s driving at. When I do, a weird sort of relief touches me. It’s tinged with sadness, sure, shaded with pain, but it’s better than the alternative. “Kay, just because life decided to take my dad too soon, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk about yours. That’s like saying I’m never allowed to talk about Mom. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’d just never want to hurt you,” she says.

“You never have,” I tell her.

But I could hurt you, I almost add. I could tell you all the thoughts going through my head. I could tell her that, even now, as we’re talking, I’m remembering the sun glistening off her dad’s naked body. I’m thinking about his soft, big manhood turning hard. Instead of leaping back into the water in this oh-so-inappropriate fantasy, he turns and spots me. He starts stroking himself, fueling his passion, his hunger.

“Get in here with me,” he growls. “But first, take off your clothes. It’s not fair, me being the only one naked.”

“Maci?” Kayla says, jolting me from my thoughts.

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