Page 19 of Her Father's Best Friend

Two thick fingers push inside me, curling to hit that spot that makes me see stars. His thumb circles my clit with just the right pressure, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"Mitch," I pant, rolling my hips against his hand. "Please."

He shifts, positioning himself above me, his eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"

"Fuck me," I whisper, beyond shame, beyond restraint. "Right here in my childhood bed."

Something primal flashes in his expression. He tugs my shorts and panties down in one swift movement, then unzips his jeans just enough to free himself. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, teasing, promising.

"This is so wrong," he murmurs, but he's already pushing inside, filling me inch by delicious inch.

"Feels right to me," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

He begins to move, setting a rhythm that has the headboard tapping lightly against the wall. Each thrust pushes me higher, closer to the edge. His hand covers my mouth when I start to moan too loudly, his eyes locked on mine.

"Quiet, baby," he warns, though his own breathing is ragged. "Don't want your dad walking in on this."

The mention of Dad should be a bucket of cold water, but instead, the forbidden nature of what we're doing only intensifies the pleasure coiling in my belly. I'm close, so close, my inner walls beginning to clench around him.

That's when we hear it—the unmistakable sound of a car in the driveway.

"Shit," Mitch hisses, freezing mid-thrust. "He's back early."

For one wild moment, I consider telling him to keep going, to finish what we started regardless of the consequences. But rationality prevails. We spring apart, frantically reaching for discarded clothing.

"My shirt," I whisper-shout, scanning the floor.

Mitch grabs it from where it landed near the door, tossing it to me as he yanks up his jeans. I pull my clothes on with shaking hands, trying to smooth my hair at the same time.

The front door opens. "Dell? Mitch? They didn't have the right size. Gonna have to order them."

"Fuck," Mitch breathes, his face pale beneath his beard. "I look like I just?—"

"Rolled around in bed with his daughter?" I finish for him, unable to suppress a slightly hysterical giggle. "Yeah, you do."

He glares at me, but there's no heat in it. "Not funny."

"Kind of funny," I counter, tugging my shorts into place. "Go splash water on your face or something."

As Mitch slips into the hallway bathroom, I quickly remake my bed, then check my reflection in the mirror. My lips are swollen, my cheeks flushed, my hair a tangled mess. There's a red mark on my collarbone from Mitch's beard. I adjust my tank top to cover it and run my fingers through my hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

"Dell?" Dad calls from the bottom of the stairs. "You up there?"

"Yeah, Dad!" I call back, my voice only slightly breathier than normal. "Just finishing packing!"

I hear Mitch turn on the bathroom tap, the splash of water. A moment later, the bathroom door opens and he emerges, his face damp but his expression carefully neutral.

"Act normal," I whisper, squeezing his hand briefly before stepping away.

We make it downstairs just as Dad enters the kitchen, holding a paper bag. "Stopped for donuts since the hardware store was a bust," he says, setting the bag on the counter. "Mitch, you get a look at that loose board on the far end?"

"Not yet," Mitch replies, his voice remarkably steady. "Was just helping Delilah carry down a box."

Dad nods, accepting the lie without question, and my heart twists. He trusts us both so completely. Every lie we tell digs the hole deeper.

As Dad turns to get plates for the donuts, Mitch's eyes meet mine across the kitchen. There's guilt there, but also determination. He gives me a slight nod, and I understand the silent message: He's ready. He's going to tell Dad.

Relief floods through me, followed quickly by anxiety. This fragile balance we've maintained—the secret touches, the stolen moments, the double life—is about to end. For better or worse, everything is about to change.

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