Ruined By My Best friend's Alpha Daddy

Suspicion

Damien’s words hung in the air of the grand foyer like a dark promise, his thumb still tracing my swollen lower lip as rain continued its soft patter against the skylight above. The Blackwood estate felt alive with tension—marble floors gleaming under recessed lights, the distant crash of waves on the Puget Sound cliffs providing a constant, restless soundtrack. His suit was still damp from the earlier downpour, clinging to the powerful lines of his chest, silver threading his dark hair like warnings of the years and power separating us.

“Fix this before she digs deeper,” he had said. But the heat in his eyes told me fixing anything was the last thing on his mind right now.

He pulled me toward the study, one arm banded around my waist, the other already sliding under my robe again. The silk whispered against my skin as we moved through the dimly lit hallway, passing portraits that seemed to judge us silently. My body still ached from the quick, possessive f**k against the column—his release warm between my thighs, a secret brand no one else should ever see.

Inside the study, the familiar scents enveloped me: aged leather, old books, and the faint trace of spilled scotch from nights ago. Damien kicked the heavy oak door shut and spun me against it, mouth claiming mine in a bruising kiss. His hands were everywhere—gripping my ass, lifting me so my legs wrapped around his hips, grinding his hardening c**k against my core through his slacks.

“Sophia’s texts can wait five minutes,” he growled against my lips, voice rough with need. “I need to feel you again. Need to remind this tight little p***y who it belongs to.”

He freed himself quickly, thick and hot, sliding through my slick folds before pushing inside with one deep thrust. I moaned into his mouth, the stretch delicious after the earlier roughness. He f****d me against the door—hard, rhythmic strokes that made the wood creak—his silver-streaked hair falling slightly over his forehead as he lost himself in me.

“Quiet,” he warned, even as his hips snapped faster. “Or I’ll have to gag you with my tie while I fill you up again.”

Pleasure coiled tight and fast. The fear of Sophia’s suspicion only heightened everything—the risk, the obsession, the way Damien’s dominance made me feel both terrified and utterly alive. I came hard around him, biting his shoulder to muffle my cry. He followed with a low groan, spilling deep once more, claiming me from the inside.

We stayed locked together, breathing ragged, his forehead pressed to mine. For a moment, tenderness broke through the raw hunger. His thumb brushed my cheek gently.

“You’re going to destroy me, Ava,” he murmured. “And I’m going to let you.”

His phone vibrated again on the desk—insistent. Damien cursed softly, setting me down and adjusting his clothes with practiced efficiency. I retied my robe, legs shaky, as he checked the messages.

“London office confirmed the feed glitch was a system update,” he said, jaw tight. “But Sophia’s asking questions. She wants to know why the estate cameras went dark right after she landed.” His dark bourbon eyes met mine, sharp with calculation. “She trusts us too much. That’s the problem.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. Sophia—my best friend since childhood, the girl who had shared every secret, every tear, every laugh. Now I was the secret destroying her family from within.

“We need ground rules,” Damien continued, voice shifting to the commanding tone he used in boardrooms. “No more risks when staff are around. Marcus is loyal, but eyes are everywhere. And you…” He stepped close again, cupping my face. “You stay here. Write. Rest. But when I’m home, you’re mine. Every night.”

I nodded, leaning into his touch despite the warning bells. “And if she calls?”

“Act normal. We both do.”

He left for a late follow-up call in his downtown office, the estate falling silent once more except for the rain. I showered again in the guest bathroom, the hot water doing little to wash away the emotional weight. The luxury around me—the heated marble floors, the rainfall showerhead, the view of misty cliffs—felt suffocating now.

I spent the afternoon in the library, trying to work on an article for my freelance journalism gig, but my mind kept drifting to Damien’s hands, his voice, the way Marcus’s eyes had lingered earlier. Was it just professional concern… or something more?

Evening brought another text from Damien.

D: Home in an hour. Wear nothing but my shirt from last night. Wait for me in the study.

Obedience sent a thrill through me. I found the discarded dress shirt in my room, slipping it on. The fabric swallowed me, carrying his scent, the hem brushing my bare thighs.

I waited in the study as instructed, perched on the edge of his massive desk, legs crossed, heart racing. The room was dimly lit, rain streaking the windows like tears.

The front door opened. Footsteps approached—confident, familiar.

But when the study door swung open, it wasn’t only Damien.

Marcus Vale stood beside him, tablet in hand, expression professionally blank. “Sir, the updated security report you requested. The potential breach originated from an external IP linked to one of your rivals—Harrington Group. They’re probing deeper.”

Damien’s eyes locked on me immediately, darkening at the sight of me in nothing but his shirt. Hunger flared, but he kept his voice controlled. “Leave the report on the desk, Marcus. We’ll review it tomorrow.”

Marcus set the tablet down, but his gaze flicked to me again—brief, heated, noticing the way the shirt gaped slightly at my chest, the bare expanse of my legs. “Of course, sir. Good evening, Miss Montgomery.”

He turned to leave, but paused at the door. “One more thing—the London feed issue. Miss Blackwood called the security team directly. She seemed… concerned about unusual activity at the estate.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Damien crossed the room in two strides, yanking me off the desk and bending me over it instead. Papers scattered as he shoved the shirt up my back, exposing me completely.

“He looked at you again,” he growled, hand coming down in a sharp smack on my ass. The sting bloomed into heat. “No one gets to look at what’s mine.”

His belt clinked. Then he was inside me—thick, relentless, f*****g me hard over the desk while the rain lashed the windows. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip.

“Say it,” he demanded between punishing thrusts. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I gasped, pleasure and pain mixing. “Only you, Damien.”

He reached around, fingers finding my c**t, driving me toward the edge. But just as I was about to shatter, his phone lit up on the desk beside my face.

Incoming video call.

Sophia Blackwood.

Damien slowed his thrusts but didn’t stop, burying himself deep as he stared at the screen. His voice was steady when he answered, holding the phone so only his face showed, my body hidden beneath the desk.

“Sophia. Everything all right in London?”

Her voice came through clearly, worried and bright at the same time. “Dad, the security team said there was a glitch. And Ava hasn’t replied to my texts since I landed. Is she okay? Can I talk to her quick?”

Damien’s hips rocked slowly, deliberately, keeping me on the agonizing edge. His free hand pressed over my mouth as he looked down at me with dark, feral promise.

“She’s right here,” he said smoothly. “But she’s… occupied. Say hi, Ava.”

He tilted the phone slightly—enough that Sophia might see part of the desk, but not me bent over it, impaled on her father’s c**k.

My heart pounded. One wrong move and everything would shatter.

Damien’s eyes bored into mine as he whispered, barely audible: “Speak to her… while I keep f*****g you. Or I’ll answer for you while I make you come on camera.”

The call waited. Sophia’s voice called out again, “Ava? You there?”

Rain hammered the glass. My body trembled on the brink. Damien’s thick length pulsed inside me, waiting for my next move.

One word from me could end us.

Or seal our obsession forever.