Page 26 of My Best Friend's CEO Dad

“What are you doing?” he growls, clearly struggling to keep his voice a whisper.

“The sounds…”

“That’s your body talking to me,” he snaps. “Telling me how close you are to creaming all over my hand and soaking these fucking sheets. That’s your body telling me you want my dick. Bad.”

There are more wet noises as he fingers me even faster, each stroke of his hand bringing his palm against my clit and sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through my body. I can’t even try to cling to the best friend thing when we’re floating in so much pleasure. He returns to my nipple, sucking it, caressing it with his tongue.

Starlight bursts across my vision. Stars explode deep inside me. Heat surges through as my hips shudder, chasing the pleasure. It’s somehow even more intense than the pool. Maybe it’s because of how wrong it is. Maybe that makes me messed up. Maybe I’m wrong.

As he pumps his hand, my hips buck, grinding on his finger. In the final moments, I imagine it’s his dick, and that ups the intensity like crazy. No nerves. No doubt. No wondering. Just our bodies and the heat and the need. Just our bodies and the perfection.

I gasp, biting the pillow. When it’s over, I find him staring at me with that same awe-like look.

“Do you know how perfect you are?” he whispers.

“Lukas…” I bite my lip. “We can’t.”

“I know,” he snarls, but then he stands up and pulls down his underwear, his huge cock springing free. A vein moves up one side as if his lust is almost bursting out of him. His tip glistens with precome. My core aches with need. “Take off your shorts.”

Before giving myself time to think about it—knowing a lot of thinking will come later—I grab my shorts and wriggle out of them. A shudder moves through him as he walks to the edge of the bed, looking like he’s ready to collapse with lust.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, staring at my pussy. “You’re so wet. You’re glistening for me.”

He climbs onto the bed, leans over, stares into my eyes, and then pauses. It’s like he wakes up. For a crazy second, I wonder if he is sleepwalking.

“What are we doing?” I whisper, tears almost springing to my eyes, my voice getting choked up.

“I know,” he says, with the same desperation.

He reaches down and brings the massive, hard tip of his dick to my entrance, pushing against it. My walls spread slightly, a kiss of burning pleasure, but then he pulls away.

“Tell me to fuck you,” he growls. “Beg me to claim your tight virgin hole. Tell me, Maci.”

“I want you to so badly.”

He strokes around my entrance, then pushes in just a little. I thought there would be some discomfort. I thought my body, not used to it, would struggle, but I knew if he kept pushing, I’d take him like he said—every inch.

“Then tell me,” he groans.

Something deep inside screams at me to do it and stop delaying, shouting at me that this is the man of my dreams. I need to give my body to him. “But I can’t,” I whisper.

He pulls away with a savage, trembling sigh. Jumping to his feet, his cock bounces, so big, glistening with precome. He turns to the bed, then actually covers his face, like looking at me is going to turn him savage. Maybe it would be better that way. If he just snapped and grabbed me, flipped me over, and drove into me from behind, so we didn’t have to lock eyes and acknowledge the shame we shared.

“Dammit,” he whispers, reaching down for his underwear.

“I’m sorry.”

He glares at me. “You never need to apologize to me, Maci. I should know better.”

“No, don’t do that. This isn’t an age thing. You’re not taking advantage of me. We’re both in the wrong.”

He pulls on his underwear, made more difficult by the fact his cock is still bulging. I ache to reach over, grab him again, and rub my hand up and down like in the pool. It made him so crazy the first time I did it. I want to hear his panting breaths again. I want to see that obsession in his eyes.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” he says miserably, heading for the door.

Somehow, I manage to get a few hours of sleep. It’s fitful and filled with vivid dreams of Lukas. I’m not very refreshed when I wake, but it’s better than nothing. I head downstairs for coffee. A note of paranoia touches me when Kayla smiles at me from the kitchen bar, but there’s nothing suspicious in her eyes. She has no idea what I did last night, what I almost did, what I wanted to do.

“Coffee?” I ask.

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