At Home Late CH 47

Tristan spends six out of the seven days of the week working his arse off. The last
day, Sunday, he spends it with Eric and it’s for a few hours only. Afterwards, he
locks himself in his private office for the rest of the day, while Eric is left with no
option than to invite me over for a sleepover.
I’m truly worried about his stress level. I’m worried that when, eventually, he’s
ready to lay back and have fun it’ll be too late then. It’s not an excuse for me to
get closer, I promise.
He has always been a constant in my life since he moved in right next to us. His
son is my best friend–one I’m so thankful for, and I care about the both of them
even more than my own father. I see them as my one, true family
“I’m not grumpy. Lia. And I’m fine. I really am,” he exhales, his jaw still clenched.
“You shouldn’t be standing so close to me,” his gaze falls to my hand on his
chest. “And your hands…they shouldn’tHe trails off with a groan when I pop the first button open, the sight of his bare,
muscled chest making heat pool in between my legs. “Oops,” I say, blinking
innocently. “Bet you feel relieved. How do you breathe in this shirt? It’s so tight.
Too fitting. Too…perfect, even though I’m sure you’ll look twice hotter wearing a
T–shirt instead.”
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Handle My Stepfather And His Best Friend
“You should stop this at once. Why do you always wear revealing clothes? Don’t
you have a skirt that covers your pert, little teenage arse? You’re still a child, Lia.”
The question comes out rushed. He turns away, closing his eyes and shaking his
head. “You know what? Forget about whatever I just said. I shouldn’t have asked
you that. What you choose
to wear doesn’t concem me.”
I can hardly think straight. This is…this is more than I ever asked for. “Oh my God.
You…notice. You do notice what I wear.” My joy is inexplicable, I feel like
screaming. “The way you act sometimes –
“We shouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. It’s so goddamn
inappropriate,” he buttons his shirt back. and folds his big arms over his chest.
“Now go back to Eric. In here, nothing ever happened. We never spoke about
this. Understand?”
Knowing that I’ll never have an opportunity as good as this for at least a long
while, I defy his words, sticking my tongue. out as I hop onto the counter,
dragging my arse backwards, excited beyond words when Tristan’s eyes follow
the movement of my bouncing breasts, his throat bobbing, working in an
awkward pattem when I inch my legs open just a little. Just a tease. Enough so he
can catch a glimpse at least of my white–laced thong. “Eric is probably engrossed
in his video games and wouldn’t need me there to distract him. Besides, I’m
having way more fun with you here.” I lean back on my hands and proceed to
shift my right knee side to side, hiding my panties from him, showing them,
hiding. “Chillout, Big Daddy. Relax those nerves. Have fun with me.”
“No. This…this is madness.”
We both look down at the same time, at his bulging crotch, then back up at each
other. I smirk victoriously
He’s such a terrible liar.
“It’s not…this doesn’t mean…fuck…” He drags a palm down his face and shoves
my legs together with lukewarm determination, his touch blowing up my circuits,
shooting electricity through my body. “I haven’t been with a woman ever since
Sherry died. It’s been decades, and you can’t judge me. I mean, it’s a normal
reaction to be easily…
“Tested? I’m tempting you, am I right?” I lean forward, taking the lapels of his
shirt in my hands, pulling him closer despite his reluctance. Despite the way he
stares at me with that helpless, sexy gaze. Despite the way my name leaves his
throat as as a low growl. A waming. I settle my mouth over the top of his hard
lips, my eyes shut. Inhaling, exhaling inhaling. Feels so perfect. “You want me,
don’t you? You don’t even have to say it. I can feel it. Feel the way your cock
aches for me. Stop torturing yourself, Big Daddy.”
to mine with
He shakes his head, but those lips come back not kissing me alright, but fueling
my hope nonetheless. “You’re
my
my son’s best friend, Lia. Less than half of my age. I
father most evenings. Fuck, I’m practically like a
father to you.” Too quickly, he squeezes my knees, letting his fingers brush along
my sensitive insides. Slightly higher to my higher thighs. With a breathless curse,
he whirls around roughly, taking out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and
dabbing his forehead with it. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what it is
you’re trying to do, but it ends now, little girl. You go for people your age. I don’t
mind if you date Eric.”
I should be annoyed. I should be disappointed, but instead his words only make
me more determined. Make me stubborn.
He came clean. Admitted that he notices me. Notices my body. He lets our
mouths touch. Stroked my thighs. Things might have gone further, if he could
just stop holding himself back. I’m almost trembling with happiness at this
development. If I knew he’d be this responsive earlier, I could’ve pushed him
sooner. If I’d been this brave from the beginning, I could’ve broken him a lot
earlier. The man I burned for, love so fiercely, is turned on. He’s attracted.
But also, he’s thrown up a startling fifty–foot wall between us.
I’m more than happy to climb it this time. To show him I’m more than the little,
horny girl he thinks I am. To show him how much I love him. How much I’m
willing to be devoted
He came clean. Admitted that he notices me. Notices my body. He lets our
mouths touch. Stroked my thighs Thinns. might have gone further if he could just
stop holding himself back. I’m almost trembling with happiness at 1 Fold Up
development. If I knew he’d be this responsive earlier I could’ve pushed him
sonner. If I’d been this braun frermina
Hate My Stepfather And His Best Friend
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But also, he’s thrown up a startling fifty–foot wall between us.
I’m more than happy to climb it this time. To show him I’m more than the little,
homy girl he thinks I am. To show him how much I love him. How much I’m
willing to be devoted.
That’s if he doesn’t throw me out of the kitchen before I get a chance to do
anything.
With more confidence than I had before entering the room, I slide off the counter
very slowly, letting my skirt hike up all the way to my curvy hips, thrilled at the
way he groans, his eyes glued there no matter how hard he tries to look away. He
stifles a groan with the pocket square on the back of his thick neck now.
Maintaining intense eye contact with the only man I could ever want, I bite my
bottom lip and jut out my chin arrogantly, then pull the white, lacy thong down
my legs, stepping out of them. I dangle it from my index finger and part my legs,
giving him a full second for him to get a full view. For him to look at me. There.
Nake. Bare for him. Showing him that the little girl’s excuse is so old news. I’m a
grown–ass woman now, and I am sure of what I want. This strip is meant to open
his eyes. To help him update reality.
His jaw goes slack. “Holy fucking shit,” he rasps, starting to twist away–to block
my seduction out – but it’s Impossible. He can’t. Not completely though. Half–
turned Half–heartedly, his eyes still lingering at the juncture of my thighs, his
tongue snaking out to wet those pink, perfectly–matured lips, surrounded by an
irresistible black pepper–and- salt mustache.
Cautiously, I close the distance between us, smirking at his helpless expression as
I tuck the thong into his breast pocket while his mighty chest heaves, faster and
faster. “No one has to know, Big Daddy. I can be your cute little secret. Your
guilty pleasure,” I whisper, gently dragging my middle finger down, along the stiff
bulge that was his erection. “Consider my offer, I promise you no regrets.”
“There’s nothing for me to think about, Lia. This…this thing you’re trying to ignite
between us… it’s not happening. It can’t happen,” he grinds out, but the sound
comes forth to me as a sexy whine. I gasp when he yanks my skirt down, back
into place, almost nudging me. “Go. Eric must be worried now. He’ll be here any
minute.”
I watch him move to the other side of the kitchen, where he plants his large
hands down on the counter, dropping his head forward. It’s pitch black outside
now, and moonlight streams in through the closest window, illuminating him in a
glossy white light, and my heartbeat picks up. My pussy clenching and
unclenching with yearning. To be in his arms. To have him hold me down with
that hot, big, safe body and comfort me. Tell me that everything would be okay.
If only he can just…give in…
Things would be so much fun between us, I’m sure.
And I desperately needed someone to comfort me right now.
Not only has my infatuation with Tristan just told me, forcefully, to leave, but I
also have a much bigger problem. I have less than a month to come up with my
first semester’s tuition fee, as well as money for
and other necessities. There’s no point asking my father because I know he has
nothing. And asking him will only make him avoid
home a lot more.
My options are disappearing. Quickly too. I have no one to run to. No one to help
me.
I could ask any number of my friends for the money. Their parents would
probably have a hard time believing they only needed the money for themselves,
but they’ll give them anyway. But that would raise a lot of questions and expose
my father as a debtor. A liar. A wrench. That would paint me as a fraud. I care a
lot about the cute, rich girl image they have of me. Ruining that, at this vital point
in my life, will wreck me.
There is at least one option a solid ninety–five percent of girls my age have to
pursue – find a stinky rich old billionaire and become his sugar baby. Or one of
his sugar babies. It really didn’t matter if he was willing to pay their tuition and
fund their expensive lifestyles. In exchange for… company. Of the biblical variety.
There’s a website that’s made connecting with older billionaire men a lot easier,
which I’ve visited so many haven’t brought myself to create a profile, but with
time running out and the deadline approaching steadily, h
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option but to make a profile soon and pray to the heavens that someone is
interested. It won’t be easy, but I think I can
manage.
But what if… what if there was a possibility–even if it’s the tiniest kind–for me to
be Tristan’s sugar baby?
It would be like killing two birds with one stone. I would get the man of my
dreams, who’ll also be footing my bills and tuition. A marvelous dream come true.
And if he’d just let himself lose a little, he’d realize that I’m the best thing that’s
ever happened to him since black coffee. He’ll realize that no one will love and
appreciate his work like I do. I’m not gunning for something long–term, because I
know that’ll be like asking for the moon, so I’m settling for a lot less. If we could
just spend some time together, this time as adults and not as an adult and a
child, he’ll notice my growth. That I could be more than his son’s best friend.
Daughter of his good neighbor. I could be his safe haven – the one thing in his
life that wasn’t related to stress and
work.
Who wouldn’t want that? Tristan, I suppose.
It won’t be easy, but I’m willing to try.
Suddenly, an idea pops up and I smile.
I would get Tristan Hemsworth to bed me, no matter what it takes.
Legs shaking, and teeth grinding hard, I stare at the crumpled pile of white lace
on the counter.
No one has to know, Big Daddy. I can be your cute, little secret. Your guilty
pleasure.
Fucking fantastic.
Lia has absolutely no idea how long I’ve been in torment, thinking about it. I’ve
been counting the days until she finally leaves home for college, relief, and fear
whirling inside my chest. With her gone, everything would truly be normal for
once. I wouldn’t have to come home every night, worried I might break
underneath the tension she’s placed me. Finally drag her perky, sweet arse
upstairs to my bedroom, shut the door, and fuck the living daylights out of her
until she loses her breath.
With each visit, each day came a new temptation. One that drives me further and
further away from logical reasoning. pushing me towards the steep end. The way
she prattles into the kitchen each time, in various revealing outfits, her eyes
gleaming with mischief, her hands getting more and more brave when they touch
me. She’s like a candy I can’t have. The ultimate, alluring forbidden fruit. Twenty–
five years my junior. My son’s best friend. The daughter of our neighbor. And to
put the fucking cherry on the cake, I’ve played the role of a second father to her
all these years.
I had always seen her as my daughter. When did that change?