MY BEST FRIENDS'S DAD
2027 Words
IVY
What the hell is wrong with you, Ivy Lane? You came here to find a way to sort your life out. Turn around and get out, right now.
But I can’t. I don’t.
“Ivy,” he grunts, and his fingers tighten around his c**k.
My name sounds like sin in his mouth, and it dampens my panties.
“f*****g Ivy.” His strokes become faster, crueler.
My hand slips into my denim trousers.
Watching him is… I like s*x. I’ve always liked s*x more than the average person, more than what’s probably healthy or normal. That therapist I saw first year had a word for it.
Hypersexuality, she called it. An intense, almost compulsive need for s****l stimulation. I called it being honest about what my body wants.
But this? Standing in a stranger’s doorway, watching him stroke himself to the worst moment of my life while my body gets wet?
This is f****d up. Even for me.
So why can’t I stop? Why are my fingers already pushing past my soaked panties, finding my swollen, aching c**t?
His eyes catch the movement of my hand, and something feral flashes across his face.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice like gravel and smoke. “Touch that pretty p***y while I watch.”
I shouldn’t. I absolutely should not be doing this.
But my fingers circle my c**t, slick with how wet I am, matching his brutal rhythm, and a gasp escapes my lips.
On the massive TV behind him, Theodore is pounding into me from behind. My recorded moans fill the room. But I’m not watching the screen anymore. I’m watching HIM.
The way his silver hair falls across his face. The flex of his tattooed forearms as he pumps his thick c**k.
“You’re so f*****g beautiful,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Even more than on screen. Look at you, touching yourself for me.”
My fingers move faster, pushing inside myself as my thumb works my c**t.
This is insane. I don’t even know who this man is. But my body doesn’t care.
“f**k, yes,” he groans, watching my hand disappear into my jeans. “That’s it, little girl. Make yourself come for me.”
“Ivy!” With a loud grunt, he calls my name one more time before shooting thick ropes of c*m from his c**k.
It splatters everywhere. His big hands. His muscular thighs. The expensive leather chair. So much of it, like he’s been holding back for years.
And I come.
Right there in the doorway, my hand buried in my jeans, two fingers deep inside my clenching p***y, my body shuddering as I watch him fall apart while moaning my name.
For three perfect seconds, I forget everything. The tape. Harold. My uncle’s betrayal.
The college funding I just lost. The life that exploded in my face.
There’s only this—his dark eyes locked on mine, both of us breathing hard, both of us knowing we just crossed a line we can never uncross.
Then I hear it.
“Ivy!”
Sierra’s voice echoes up from downstairs.
Reality slams back into me like ice water.
My breath catches in my throat.
Oh God.
Oh my God.
Without thinking, I tear my gaze away from the dark-eyed s*x god and yank my hand out of my jeans.
It doesn’t matter that my panties are soaked through, clinging to me. It doesn’t matter that I can still feel my p***y clenching from the orgasm. It doesn’t matter that I just had the most intense climax of my life watching a complete stranger jerk off to my leaked s*x tape.
All I know, as I turn and hurry toward the stairs, is that I’m in deep trouble if that man upstairs turns out to be Knox Reid. My best friend’s biological father.
My legs feel shaky as I descend the stairs. My underwear is ruined. I can still feel the aftershocks of my orgasm pulsing between my thighs, my arousal making every step slick and uncomfortable.
What the hell did I just do?
For the first time since Theodore posted that video, since Harold threatened me, since my aunt threw me out, I felt powerful. Wanted. Alive.
Even if it was the most wrong, most forbidden version of those things.
I almost don’t recognize Sierra when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
She’s wearing a fancy cream-colored silk skirt that hugs her lean curves, paired with a pink cashmere sweater. Her brown hair is straightened down to her back, with her glasses pushed up like a headband.
She looks…different. Polished. Expensive.
A stark contrast to my faded denim jeans and navy blue sweater that’s seen better days.
Are those Hermès boots on her feet?!
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sierra?”
“Hahaha, very funny.” She rolls her eyes and spreads her arms wide open for a hug, her cheeky smile plastered on her face.
I jump into Sierra’s arms, and she locks both hands around me firmly.
I fight back the tears that rush to my eyes.
This the first person who’s hugged me since everything fell apart.
She just holds me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks gently, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.
Horny as hell, apparently.
But I can’t tell her that.
So I clear my throat and force the words out.
“Scared. Confused. Like my entire life just ended and I don’t know how to start over.”
“Hey.” She pulls back to look at me, her hands firm on my shoulders. “You’re going to be okay. I promise. We’ll figure this out together.”
I want to believe her.
But all I can think about is the man upstairs who just came while moaning my name.
“Theodore still hasn’t answered?” she asks, her voice soft with concern.
My shoulders fall. “Not even by accident. This is turning out to be the worst holiday ever.”
Sierra’s eyes flicker with pity as she reaches for my cheek. “It’s two days until Christmas. It’s not too late for a Christmas miracle.”
I scoff bitterly. “I would need a million miracles to keep my college admission with the number of emails I’ve gotten from the dean’s office. And I don’t even have a place to live anymore.”
I don’t tell her about Harold pulling my funding. She’s done enough as it is. She flew me across the country, opened her father’s home to me. I can’t ask for more.
She parts her lips to speak, but her words are cut off by the sound of a sinful baritone coming from the top of the stairs.
“Sierra? Princess, is that you?”
My best friend flinches on the spot.
And so do I, but for a totally different reason.
That voice just came to the sound of my name minutes ago. I can barely bring myself to turn around and look him in the eyes.
But he’s coming closer. And closer.
The air feels heavier all of a sudden.
“Dad.”
Sierra spits the word out like it’s a foreign object on her tongue.
Dad.
Fuck my life.
“You’re…here.” She doesn’t sound pleased at all. Her smile has completely faded. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be here.”
I can feel him now, the heat from his body as he stands beside me.
Yet I haven’t mustered the courage to look up at him, at those sinful eyes that almost drove me to orgasm with a single look.
He’s her father, and she hates him.
What have I done?
“I’m staying in town for some business,” he says, and I can hear the careful control in his voice. “I thought we could spend some time together. But if that’s not what you want…”
“It’s fine.” She cuts him off, waving her hand. “It’s your house anyway. Who would I be to ask you to leave?”
“Princess—” The pain in his voice makes my heart ache. What did he do to hurt her so much? “It’s your name on the deed.”
“Whatever. You’re here now anyway. We’ll be one big happy family. Won’t we, Ivy?”
I blink. Once. Twice.
She raises her brow, waiting for me to say something.
“Uhm, yeah. Sure.”
I finally look up at him.
And my heart stops.
He’s staring at me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. Not just looking—but seeing. Into me. Through me. Like he can see all the dirtiness of my soul, like he understands. Like he shares the same filth.
The cold smile he wears sends shivers down my spine.
“Hello, Ivy.”
The mention of my name from his mouth makes mine water.
“You two must have met already since she was upstairs,” Sierra says.
My breath hitches at the back of my throat.
“Actually, we—”
“No,” he cuts in smoothly, his cold smile growing wider. “I don’t believe we did.”
My lips thin into a frown.
Is he f*****g with me?
My panties are still sticky from watching him stroke his c**k to me, and he’s saying we’ve never met?
We just did! In the craziest, most f****d-up way anyone could ever meet someone.
There’s no way I’m letting another man gaslight me. Not after Theodore. Not after today.
But neither of us says another word.
He’s glaring at me, daring me to challenge what he just said.
And I…I’m too scared to call him out in front Sierra.
I mean, what would I say? ACTUALLY, WE DID MEET JUST NOW. REMEMBER? WHEN YOU WERE WATCHING MY s*x TAPE AND JERKING OFF TO IT? YOU ALSO KIND OF MADE ME TOUCH MYSELF…
Oh, for f**k’s sake.
“Alright, I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat?” Sierra breaks the tension, oblivious to the silent war happening between her father and me.
Knox tucks his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants.
“Not yet. The cook hasn’t resumed for the holidays. I could go out and get you something, or…”
“Never mind.” She cuts him off again, and I wince at the sharpness in her tone. “I’ll go myself. I could show Ivy around too—I just got here myself, but I’ve seen a few spots in town.”
The knot in my chest tightens.
I can’t leave now. This might be the only opportunity I’ll have to talk to Knox alone. To figure out what the hell just happened.
“I’m quite tired from the flight,” I say. And it’s not really a lie, I’m exhausted emotionally, if not physically. “I’ll pass.”
Sierra’s face falls slightly, but she nods. “Alright then. I’ll get you some soup or something. You look like you could use comfort food.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
She grabs her purse, gives her father one last cool glance, and heads for the door.
I wait until door closes behind her, before I turn to Knox who is already moving toward the stairs.
My heart starts to race.
Do I let him go? Pretend nothing happened like he clearly wants to?
Or do I confront him?
I watch his broad shoulders, the confident way he moves, his…
No.
I can’t just let this go.
I need answers. I need to know if what I felt upstairs was real, or if I’m just so broken that I’ll find power in any f****d-up situation.
Before I can second-guess myself, I’m moving toward the stairs.
“Mr. Reid.”
He doesn’t stop.
“Mr. Reid!” I call louder, my voice echoing through the mansion.
He freezes at the top of the stairs. Slowly, he turns to look down at me.
The desire from before is gone—replaced by a cold look that turns my blood to ice.
- Writer
