Spread For Dad’s Alpha Best-Friend

NOLA “Come on!” “Fine. How many fingers do I have up?” Dad’s driver, Jerry asks me. He just dropped me off in front of the house. I squint my eyes, but the fingers are still wavy, still changing from time to time. “Tw-Three?” I try, holding onto the car. Jerry shakes his head. “One. You’re really drunk ma’am. You should go to bed.” I frown. “I’m not drunk. It’s late and there’s bare…” I hiccup. “… barely enough lights to see. Go away.” And then I push past him, staggering towards the house. Dad isn’t supposed to be home tonight, he told me that when he came to my graduation party earlier. He also begged me not to go for my graduation after party, but here I am… piss drunk after having the time of my life at said after party. Sorry, daddy. Just as I’m climbing the stairs up the porch, my gaze flickers to his house—Uncle Rhett, aka, Daddy’s best friend and our only neighbor out here. I notice something off and freeze mid-step. His door is wide open, and the lights are on. Suddenly, I’m not so drunk anymore. I start climbing back down from the stairs, making my way towards his front door. Is he even in here? What if he’s been robbed? What if I’m in danger, coming here like this? But I don’t turn around and go back to the house like I’m supposed to. Or just take out my phone from the little clutch I held in a tight grip to call daddy. I hesitate at his front door, stepping in after taking a deep, fat breath. “Uncle Rhett?” My voice is barely a whisper. Silence greets me as a response. If this is real danger, Uncle Rhett would be really mad at me for coming in like this. He’s just like dad, overly protective of me for no reason. He still thinks of me as a child, even if I’m 18 now. Still ruffles my hair, calls me Lala, gets my favorite lollipops for me—even if I keep lying that I’ve outgrown them. I hate it. I hate the way he makes me feel. The way my body springs to life when he’s around. I hate my silly crush on him. Because he’ll never notice all that. Or me, at least not like that. I swallow and continue walking inside, peeking into his living room when I get to the entrance. It’s empty, but there’s a movie playing on the TV. Oh… that’s not… that’s not a movie. The fog in my head clears as I take it in. Porn. There’s full-blown porn playing on Uncle Rhett’s TV. Heat rushes through me at once, and my thighs clamp together. Was he… had he been touching himself to… this? I take a quick glance around again. The house still seems empty. My heart thuds in my chest as I step farther inside, sinking onto the edge of the couch. The remote is right there. My fingers curl around it before I can stop myself. I turn the volume up, not caring that he’d catch me here. Maybe I wanted him to… My n*****s bud as I watch, realizing that this is the most f****d up s*x I’d ever seen. The woman is tied up in a very strange position—one that would probably dislocate some joints in her body after the scene—and the man plunges into her with the speed of a starved monster. He has a dildo inside her too, and they both f**k her hard. She’s not screaming. Or maybe she is, but it’s hard to tell because of the gag over her mouth. Her skin is bluish and red from bruises and rope marks and I wonder if she even enjoys this. Yet, for some reason… or maybe because I know Rhett enjoys this and was probably touching himself to it… I lift my legs so they’re against my chin, then I spread them apart. My fingers move my red, g-string to the side and my mini tennis skirt is bunched up around my waist. I trail my fingers up and down my needy c**t as I watch him f**k her. My bottom lip disappears in-between my teeth. My pace grows faster when she squirts, and I almost don’t recognize my voice as small moans spill out from my lips. He grunts like a depraved beast and snatches the gag off her mouth. Her piercing scream fills the room. I was wrong. She’s totally enjoying this. I slip a finger into my virgin p***y and start to f**k myself with it, needing to come. Her screams have gotten louder. Uncle Rhett is definitely going to catch me now. But I’m so close… “f*****g hell.” The voice that haunts every single wet dream I’d ever had rings out behind me. I crane my neck backward, but I don’t stop f*****g myself with my finger. Fingers, because I add another one, entrapped by his hot, primal gaze. Uncle Rhett’s body is taut, muscles and tats everywhere, and he towers over me so easily. He’s only in boxers, and they outline a very hard c**k. I moan at the sight, wondering if I could even take his size in me. It would hurt so much… so sweetly. Just like that, I explode all over my fingers, my voice hoarse as I call out, “Oh f**k, Uncle Rhett!” “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath, his chiseled jaw clenched as he rounds the couch. He picks up the remote and turns the TV off, turning to face me. Or rather, my sopping wet p***y. My cheeks grow hot, and all traces of my precious courage leave me at once. He looks angry yet a big flustered, and his fists are clenched by his sides. He watches my center with deep concentration, and I know it’s now or never… “Please f**k me, Uncle Rhett.” His gaze snaps up to my face now, and he suddenly looks angry. Royally pissed off. I don’t take my words back, or run, or even snap my legs shut. “Are you out of your mind, Lala?” The words are a blow. But the look of disgust in his eyes is the biggest knockout. My eyes start to fill with moisture. “My friends…” I start to give him a reason, “My friends say I’m a prude since I’m still a virgin. I’m not. I need you to f**k me so I can tell them I lost my virginity and they can stop pressuring me.” His gaze drops back to my center. “It’s all wet…” I add in a whisper. “It’ll be easier for you to… slide right in.” His groan is painful, and he turns away briefly. “Shut those thighs, baby girl.” “No.” He faces me. “Shut them, or get out.” Damn. I forgot how rude this man can get. He tries to be civil around me but mostly, he’s just a big, old grump. I’m stubborn for the first few seconds, then I slowly shut my legs, dropping them to the floor. He starts slowly, “What’re you doing here?” I don’t expect that question, so I cross my arms over my chest, unconsciously tipping my cleavage further up. He looks like he’s struggling not to look. A small smirk plays on my lips as I reply, “I saw your door wide open. I was worried about you, uncle.” He nods once. “You shouldn’t have come in here. If that was the case, call your dad or a trusted adult—” “I’m 18! I’m a trusted adult.” I counter, my tone sharp and cutting. He pauses. “Hmm. You’re still Rhett’s child, and he’d have my head if something happened to you because of me.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t do that.” I do it again. Slower. I’m pissed at him. Silence ensues for a long time. I ask again, “Will you take my virginity, uncle Rhett? Please? I trust you, and I know you’d take it gently because you care about me—” “That’s where you’re f*****g wrong, baby girl. You are not ready for the kind of s*x I enjoy. You will never be ready, you’re a child. You’re Lawrence’s child, my god-daughter, and that’s all you would ever be. Now leave.” I stand up so fast, I almost fall forward on the table. Uncle Rhett is unexplainably fast, his arms wrap around me in a second. But I can’t even bring myself to start thinking about the speed, not while my skin is buzzing from this closeness, from the electricity of my scantily clothed body against his almost naked one. He releases me almost at once, pushing me back so my bum hits the couch. “Leave. Right now, or I’ll call your dad and tell him you still went for that after party.” He threatens. I scoff. “He can’t ground me anymore, I’m 18!” “We’ll see about that.” I think he grins a bit, I’m not sure because it dies out fast. I swallow. “I can take you. I don’t care if you’re too rough. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” His jaw ticks, and he starts walking away. I realize he’s probably going for his phone. I’m off the couch at once. “I’ll leave.” He stops in his tracks. “Never come back here asking for such nonsense again. I will never touch you. Find a boy your age and… no. Don’t find anybody to fuck.” He faces me now. “Focus on your studies, focus on making Lawrence proud for now.” He says nothing for sometime. When he speaks again, his words slice through me, “I have a type, Lala. You don’t come close.” The first tear finally rolls down my cheek. “I hate you. You’re such an ugly crow and it was such a big mistake coming here.” He nods. “I hate you.” I repeat. Slower. His jaw ticks, but he says nothing. I turn around and run off, burning all traces of my feelings for Uncle Rhett as I go. Or so I think.