CRAVING DADDY'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter Twenty Five: The Midnight Borderline

Abigail Macron

The sixty-second countdown Caleb had given me was the longest minute of my life. I slipped out through the side terrace door, the cool night air hitting my flushed skin as I quickly smoothed down the emerald silk of my gown. By the time I found my father and Julian near the edge of the rose garden, the excuse of a returning migraine slipped past my lips with a practiced, hollow perfection. My father kissed my cheek, completely oblivious, and urged me to get some rest.

But sleep was an impossibility.

By 2:00 AM, the last of the limousines had rolled through the iron gates of the estate. The grand mansion transitioned into a heavy, suffocating silence, the glittering lights of the pavilions extinguished, leaving the canyon in total darkness.

I lay awake in my massive canopy bed, wearing nothing but a loose, silk cream robe, my skin still burning from the wild encounters of the evening. The silence was louder than the music had been, a torturous vacuum that filled my head with the image of Caleb’s cold, disciplined mask as he walked away from me in the hallway. He had said we couldn't do this here again. He had called this house my father's sanctuary.

A soft, almost imperceptible click broke the quiet of my bedroom.

I sat up, my heart immediately leaping into my throat. The heavy oak door of my room didn't swing wide; it opened just a fraction of an inch before a massive, shadowed silhouette stepped through the gap, closing it silently behind him.

It was Caleb.

He had discarded his tuxedo jacket and waistcoat. His white dress shirt was completely unbuttoned, hanging open over his broad, hair-draped chest, and his silver-flecked hair was wild, as if he had spent the last two hours running his fingers through it in the dark. The scent of heavy smoky Scotch and the crisp night air followed him like a shroud.

"Caleb," I whispered, my voice a breathy gasp in the dark. "You said—"

"I don't care what I said," he rasped, his voice lower and more broken than I had ever heard it. He closed the distance to the bed in three long, predatory strides, the absolute gravity of his obsession completely shattering the boundaries he had tried to erect. "I sat in my guest quarters for two hours trying to breathe, Abby. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was that boy looking at you. All I could feel was you shaking against the glass."

He threw himself onto the mattress, his frame looming over me, his heavy weight pinning me deep into the plush duvet. He didn't waste time with words. His large, rough hands aggressively parted the silk of my cream robe, pushing the fabric off my shoulders until I lay completely exposed to the silver moonlight filtering through the high windows.

He leaned down, his face burying between my breasts, inhaling the sharp, intoxicating trace of my perfume mixed with the natural heat of my skin. His hands slid up to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing roughly over the hypersensitive peaks until they hardened into tight knots.

"You're going to destroy me," he growled against my skin, his voice a low, guttural vibration.

Before I could answer, his mouth shifted downward, locking onto my left breast. His tongue lashed out in broad, using his tongue across the aureola before his lips closed tightly around the crown, drawing my n****e deep into the warm, wet vacuum of his mouth.

A sharp, breathless cry escaped my throat, my fingers instantly tangling into his thick hair, pulling him closer. Caleb was relentless, sucking on the sensitive peak with a firm rhythmic intensity that sent a violent spike of electricity straight down to my core. He used his teeth with a gentle, punishing pressure, biting just enough to make me writhe beneath him, before his tongue swirled around the wet peak, soothing the ache he was creating.

He shifted his focus to the right breast, his mouth ravenous, drinking me in as if he were a starving baby hungry for breast milk. The double assault of his hands and his mouth had my back arching off the mattress, my breath coming in short, unprecised gasps that echoed softly against the silk canopy.

"Caleb... please," I whimpered, my hips moving involuntarily against the mattress, my core aching for the heavy fullness I had tasted in the library.

He pulled his mouth away from my breast, leaving the skin wet and glistening in the moonlight. His dark eyes blazed down into mine, completely dilated with a lawless, untamed desire. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and unfastened his trousers, freeing his heavy, rigid sugarcane into the space between us.

In the silver light, the sheer, imposing reality of his seven-inch length looked terrifyingly beautiful, a visual fact to the absolute control he had lost. But instead of driving into me immediately, Caleb gripped my waist, pulling me upward until I was sitting back against the headboard, my breasts fully exposed to him.

He positioned himself over my torso, the smooth, white-hot length of his shaft pressing flat against the valley between my breasts. He gripped the outer curves of my breasts with his massive hands, squeezing them tightly together, trapping his rigid length in the tight, friction-filled cleavage.

"Look at me, Abby," he breathed, his jaw clenched as he began to slide himself up and down against the soft, yielding skin.

I looked. My chest heaved as the friction of his heavy length rubbed against the center of my chest, the sensitive undersides of my breasts sliding against his scalding skin with every frantic movement he made. The sensation was entirely unique—a heavy, suffocating weight that sent a wave of liquid heat crashing straight down between my thighs.

Caleb increased the pace, he poured some olive oil on me to enhance his movements becoming faster, harder, his breath a ragged, guttural rasp in the quiet of my room. He slid deeply between the tight valley, the tip of his desire brushing against my collarbone with every upward stroke, before sliding back down to hit the top of my stomach. The oiled friction-filled sound of his movement filled the space between us, a wicked, forbidden rhythm happening in the very heart of my father's house.

His eyes were fixed on the visual, watching the contrast of his dark, veined skin crushing against the pale fullness of my breasts. The sheer intensity of the possessiveness in his gaze made my core pulse with an aching readiness.

"You think you're safe in this room?" he whispered with boldness his strokes becoming erratic, his chest crushing against mine as the tension reached a breaking point. "There is no safety for us, Abby. Not anymore."

With a low, final groan, he pulled back slightly, his hand wrapping around the base of his length as he prepared to shift his weight down to where the true fire was waiting to burn us both alive.