My Bestfriend’s Father

The Dining Table

Chapter Three

Aria POV

You think I felt bad about what Victoria said? No... no! I actually felt like I deserved a medal, right? If the wife is already noticing that the room gets twenty degrees hotter the moment I walk in, then I am doing exactly what I came here to do.

I was back in my guest room, staring at my open suitcase. Victoria wanted me to dress "appropriately" for dinner? Screw her. I am nineteen, my body is at its absolute peak, and I am not hiding it under some boring, matronly sundress just to make an insecure older woman feel safe in her own marriage. I ran my fingers over the fabrics until I found it…a slinky, backless black slip dress. It was made of silk so thin it felt like water, clinging to the curve of my waist and the flare of my hips. And just like before, I didn't put on a bra. I didn't even put on panties. What was the point? I wanted to feel the silk sliding against my bare skin with every single step I took.

I looked in the mirror, watching my own ni**les harden into tight little buds through the black fabric just at the thought of Damian’s pitch-black eyes tracking me across the dining room. I was already getting wet, a familiar, slow drip of sticky heat pooling between my thighs before I even left the bedroom.

When I walked down to the dining room, Victoria and Harper were already seated. Victoria took one look at my plunging neckline and bare back, and her face went completely rigid. If looks could kill, I’d be buried under the Monaco pavement. Harper, of course, was completely oblivious, scrolling on her phone.

Then the glass doors at the side of the dining room slid open. Damian walked in, and my breath cut off entirely. He wasn't wearing his suit anymore. He had changed into something more casual…he was wearing a tight, charcoal-grey T-shirt that stretched over his massive, sculpted chest, and black jeans that hung perfectly on his hips. God, seeing him like this was almost worse. Without the armor of his billionaire suit, he just looked like a dangerous predator.

He didn't even glance at Victoria when she started babbling about some charity gala she wanted to attend. He completely ignored her, pulling out his chair at the head of the table. His dark eyes locked instantly onto me, taking in the backless dress and the obvious lack of underwear beneath it. A dangerous, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Instead of freezing me out like he did in the hallway, he leaned forward, resting his thick, vein-lined forearms on the table.

"So, Aria," his deep, gravelly voice vibrated straight through my ears, making my c**t tickle instantly. "Harper tells me you’re studying literature back home. Tell me, what kind of stories you like to indulge in?"

Victoria stopped talking mid-sentence, and her jaw tightened.

I leaned back in my chair, arching my spine deliberately, so the dress pressed tight against my breasts. I looked him straight in the eyes, swirling the red wine in my glass. "I like stories with a lot of tension, Mr. Damian," I said, my voice dropping into a husky, purring tone. "Stories where a powerful man takes exactly what he wants, even if it's forbidden. I like things that are... intense."

Harper chuckled, totally missing the vibe. "Aria loves her dark romances."

Damian’s gaze darkened, and a feral, hungry fire flashed in his eyes. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "And do you usually get what you want in the end, Aria?"

"Always," I whispered, holding his stare until the air between us felt intense enough to combust. "I'm very persistent when I see something I crave."

Under the long white tablecloth, I couldn't take it anymore. The psychological thrill of flirting with him right in front of his wife was driving me crazy. I slipped my foot out of my heel. Slowly, deliberately, I stretched my bare leg across the gap under the table, running the arch of my foot right against the rough denim of his jeans, sliding it slowly up his calf. I wanted it to look like a mistake.

Damian froze. He widened his eyes a bit as he gripped his wine glass. He didn't pull away. He stayed completely still. The intensity of his reaction made me want to have him. Right there at the table, while Victoria was trying to clear her throat and break the silence, I shifted in my seat. The bit of the silk against my bare, hypersensitive c**t, combined with the image of Damian’s hot body pinning me down, was too much. I tightly crossed my thighs, squeezing my legs together over the heat radiating between them.

Oh, god.

I kept my eyes locked on Damian, imagining his large hands sliding up this very dress, ripping the fabric, and forcing his big, thick co*k into me right on top of the dinner plates while his wife watched. The mental image was so violent, so intensely dirty, that my lower stomach cramped. I let out a sharp, involuntary gasp that sounded like a broken moan, my toes were curling hard against the floor as a sudden, blinding o****m rippled straight through my core. I shuddered in my seat, completely soaking myself, clenching my thighs together to ride out the wave of sticky milk flooding my c**t.

Damian saw my reaction. He watched my eyes flutter, watched my chest heave, and I bet he knew exactly what I had just done. He let out a satisfied smirk, I bet he was completely proud of the effect he had on me. He abruptly stood up, scraping his chair back. "Excuse me," he said smoothly, his deep voice sending another shiver through my dripping core. "I have a few international calls to take in my office."

He walked away, leaving me breathless, wrecked, and dripping in my seat.

"Aria, are you okay? You look flush," Harper asked, finally looking up from her phone.

"I'm fine," I choked out, my inner thighs sticky and throbbing against each other. "Just... the heat," I muttered.

Dinner ended shortly after. As I left the dining room, I went to the kitchen to get ice cream first but on my way back to my room, I heard Victoria’s hissing whisper coming from the hallway.

"Harper, I want you to tell your friend to cover up anything she's around my husband," Victoria snapped, her voice filled with rage. "She is dressing like a total slut in front of my husband, and the way she was looking at him... it’s disgusting. I won't have it in this house."

I smirked, while my heart raced with dirty thoughts. Victoria was terrified. She knew she was losing her grip on her man, and she should be.

I walked back into my bedroom, my body still vibrating from the o****m at the table, but the hunger hadn't gone away. It had only gotten worse. I needed him. I needed his real touch, not just a fantasy. I opened my legs, and deep my fingers in my core, thrusting it and imagining Damian inside of me. Yes, fu*k me harder. Yesss…I moaned until I orgasmed.

As I wiped myself clean, but my mind was already racing. Tomorrow, I would have to find a way to get his private contact info or sneak into his office.