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Hooking Up With My Dad’s Best Friend

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Penny Wylder

Language:
English
Book Information:

I’m obsessed with my dad’s best friend…
He’s got a hot British accent and he’s haunted my dreams for years.
I know better than to act on my desire, so I’ve gone the extra mile– literally– and moved out of my home town to stay away from the guy. I love my dad too much to hurt him.
But when a dating app connects us after years apart, my feelings come rushing back. He’s hotter than ever, a total silver-fox. And when he meets me at my apartment, sparks fly. Clothes, too.
Is this a hook up, or does he want something real?
Either way, when my parents find out what we’ve done…
They’re going to kill us both.

Books by Author:

Penny Wylder Books

1

“That’s it, right there,” the rich male voice says. He’s got an accent, and it’s close enough to the real thing that I can close my eyes and imagine that it’s him…the man I’ve been dreaming about forever.

“Come on,” the enigmatic voice says, “come for me.” The sound of the video echoes off the walls of my bedroom, and the sounds of sex are loud in my ears as I try to shove myself further into my fantasy with Bryce. The dark hair that is just silvering at the temples, the dark blue eyes different from any color I’ve ever encountered, and that voice.

The man on the video speaks again, and it intrudes on my memory. It’s not good enough, and neither are my fingers. Frustrated, I roll over and fumble in my bedside drawer for my handy vibrator. It’s early, and I had a dream about Bryce that I woke up from. My body is craving pleasure, and this is as close as I can get, given that Bryce is hours away and that he has no idea that I even exist.

But that dream, holy fuck. I can still feel the way his lips traced across my skin, and the heat in his words. I woke up wet and wanting, but nothing seems to be working now. Usually my trusty playlist of porn is enough to transport me into the right headspace. I love porn. I embrace it. Use it all the time.

This morning, however, it’s a poor substitute for what I imagine is the real thing, and my body knows it. Glancing at the video, I try to focus on it. It’s one of my favorites. An older porn actor with a British accent and a great body takes a younger actress roughly from behind. The look of sheer pleasure on her face is what drew me to the film, and normally I can imagine myself in her place, Bryce being the one behind me, taking me.

I can’t get the dream out of my head, though, and as I flip on the vibrator, the dissonance between what I’m seeing and what I dreamt is obvious. I’m so aroused, but at the same time, I know that it’s going nowhere.

Frustration rolls through me. I normally have no problem bringing myself to orgasm, and I don’t want to give up. But the more I press the vibrator against my clit the more there’s absolutely nothing there.

Fucking hell.

I smack my laptop closed on the bed and shove the vibrator back into the drawer. This is really not how I wanted to start the day. Starting the day with a good orgasm is recommended. Frustrated and left wanting? Not so much.

And it’s all because of Bryce. Of course it’s because of Bryce. It’s always been because of him, and I’m tired of it.

Because I can’t have him.

Bryce Collingwood is my father’s best friend, and being together would rip our families apart. He’s twice my age, and my father would never forgive us. But even though it’s been years since I’ve seen him, my traitorous brain still gives me dreams like that, and I still find myself looking for him.

In my porn. In my dates.

He’s my go-to fantasy. I can’t fucking help it. He’s always been it for me.

But there’s nothing I can fucking do about it.

I pull a pillow over my face, and scream. I need to get up and go to work. But before I do, I allow myself one last indulgence. I let the dream roll through my mind once last time. It was simple, intimate, and the fact that it’s all I’ve ever wanted almost brings tears to my eyes.

I was lying in bed, and for a moment, I didn’t know that I was dreaming. When his silhouette appeared in the door, I wasn’t afraid, because I intuitively knew that it was him. Wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweats. I’ve seen Bryce without a shirt countless times in my life. He was always there with us at the pool in the summertime, on family vacations. I know what his chiseled chest looks like with my eyes closed.

He looked down at me with a small, private smile, before crossing to the bed. The heat from his body as he stretched out behind me was comforting. That same heat sank into me as he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. I looked back into his face. “You were gone,” I said.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” That voice rumbled through me, rich tones and perfect accent. “I’m here now.”

And then he kissed me. Soft yet firm, caressing my lips open with his own. My body answered the call, heat rising, and pleasure shivering across my skin. I let him deepen the kiss, turning toward him and letting his hands slip down my body where I needed to feel them most.