He stood up slowly, letting go of my wrist like it burned him.
The warmth of his fingers lingered on my skin, but his face had gone hard again.
“I can’t do this, Amira.” His voice was low, almost pained. “I can’t have anything to do with you like that, you’re my best friend’s daughter, Please go back to your room.”
The words hit harder than I expected, like a door slamming in my face after I’d finally worked up the courage to knock.
I stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to change his mind but he just looked away, jaw tight, hands clenched at his sides.
Something hot and sharp twisted in my chest—anger, humiliation, rejection all at once.
“Fine,” I snapped, voice cracking. “If that’s how you want it.”
I turned and stormed out, slamming his bedroom door behind me hard enough to rattle the frame, I didn’t stop at the guest room, I grabbed my phone and a hoodie from the living room, shoved my feet into my sneakers, and yanked the front door open.
It was pouring outside very heavy, cold January rain that soaked me the second I stepped onto the driveway but I didn’t care, I just started walking fast, down the long street away from his house, tears mixing with the rain on my face.
I don’t know how long I walked, long enough for my clothes to cling cold and heavy to my skin, long enough for my teeth to start chattering.
The neighborhood was quiet, streetlights blurred through the downpour, I kept my head down, arms wrapped around myself, replaying his words over and over.
You’re my best friend’s daughter.
Like that erased everything I felt. Like it erased me.
I didn’t hear the car at first—tires hissing slow on wet pavement behind me, then a door slammed, footsteps running.
A guy stepped out from under a streetlight, mid-twenties, hoodie pulled low, smirking like he’d found easy prey.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he called, voice slurred. “You lost? Need a ride somewhere warm?”
I ignored him, kept walking faster.
He jogged to catch up, grabbed my arm. “Come on, don’t be like that, you’re soaked and I can help”
I jerked away. “Leave me alone.”
He laughed, stepping closer, blocking my path. “Feisty. I like that.”
Then headlights cut through the rain behind us, a truck pulling up fast, door flying open before it even fully stopped.
Mr. Jeffrey.
He was out in seconds, rain plastering his hair to his forehead, white T-shirt instantly transparent against his chest.
He didn’t say a word, he just grabbed the guy by the back of his hoodie and slammed him against the nearest fence.
The guy swung wildly, caught Mr. Jeffrey in the ribs. Once.
That was all he got.
Mr. Jeffrey hit him hard…controlled, brutal punches that dropped the guy to his knees in the wet grass. Blood mixed with rain on the guy’s face.
“Touch her again,” Mr. Jeffrey growled, voice deadly quiet, “and I’ll put you in the ground.”
Sirens were already coming, someone must’ve called it in. Two cop cars pulled up within minutes and statements were taken, the guy was cuffed, shoved into the back of a cruiser for assault and public intoxication.
Mr. Jeffrey barely spoke to the officers—just calm, clipped answers. Then he turned to me, eyes scanning me head to toe, checking for injuries.
I was shaking too hard to say anything.
He shrugged off his soaked jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, then guided me to his truck without a word.
The drive home was silent except for the rain hammering the roof and the heater blasting warm air that did nothing to stop my shivering.
We walked into the house dripping, leaving wet footprints across the floor.
“Go take a hot shower,” he said quietly, voice rough. “I’ll make tea.”
I nodded numbly and went upstairs.
I stood under the scalding water forever, trying to warm up, trying to stop crying, when I finally came out, wrapped in a towel, the house was quiet again.
His bedroom door was cracked, just like the other nights.
I don’t know what made me walk toward it. Maybe I wanted to fight again or maybe I wanted to see if he was as wrecked as I was.
I pushed the door open a few inches.
And froze.
He was on the bed, back against the headboard, sweatpants shoved down just enough, his head was tipped back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling fast.
His big hand was wrapped tight around his cock, thick, hard, flushed dark and stroking slowly
And in his other hand…My phone pictures.
The ones from last summer—me in that red bikini by the pool, laughing with Joyce, another from Christmas, the tight dress I wore knowing he’d be there and a selfie I’d posted last month, biting my lip at the camera.
He had them pulled up on his phone, screen tilted toward him, thumb scrolling slowly as he worked himself harder, a low groan dragging out of his throat.
My name left his lips, rough, broken.
“Amira…”
I couldn’t move.
He didn’t know I was there.
But every stroke, every ragged breath, every time he whispered my name like a prayer.
It told me everything he wouldn’t say out loud.
The rejection earlier?
It wasn’t because he didn’t want me.
It was because he wanted me too much.
I stood frozen in the doorway for only a heartbeat, towel knotted loosely at my chest, water still dripping from my hair down my bare skin.
Seeing him like that sprawled back, fist pumping his thick, veined cock while scrolling through my pictures, my name a ragged groan on his lips, snapped the last thread of restraint inside me.
His eyes flew open when the door creaked wider. Panic flashed across his face.
“Amira fuck get out.” His voice was gravel, hand freezing mid-stroke, but his cock stayed rock-hard, flushed dark and slick at the tip, betraying every word.
I let the towel fall.
It hit the floor with a wet slap, leaving me completely naked, nipples tight from the cold shower and the heat in his stare.
His gaze dragged down my body like a physical touch over my tits, my waist, the bare lips of my pussy already swollen and glistening for him.
I walked forward slowly, hips rolling, until I was at the edge of the bed.
“Amira,” he warned again, rougher, trying to sit up. “We can’t, you’re my best friend’s little girl. This is wrong.”
But his eyes were glued to my cunt, and his cock jerked in his fist like it was begging.
I climbed onto the mattress, straddling his thighs, and wrapped my hand over his. “You’ve been stroking this big dick to thoughts of fucking your best friend’s daughter,” I whispered, removing his fingers away and replacing them with mine on his dick.
He was burning hot, throbbing, precum leaking over my knuckles as I gave one slow, filthy pump. “So don’t lie to me now.”
He groaned, head falling back, hips bucking into my grip. “Jesus Christ… stop.”
I didn’t… I stroked him harder, twisting at the head, thumb smearing that slick precum. “You’ve wanted to bury this cock in my tight little pussy for years, haven’t you? Ever since I started filling out these tits and teasing you in those tiny bikinis.”
A broken sound tore from his throat, his hands shot to my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise but not pushing me away.
I leaned in, lips at his ear. “I’ve been fingering my cunt every night dreaming of you splitting me open and now I’m here naked and dripping, so fuck your rules.”
I shoved against his chest hard, seductive and he let me push him flat on his back. His resistance crumbled, I slid down his body, yanked his sweatpants off completely, and tossed them aside.
Now we were both bare.
I wrapped both hands around his cock, still not enough to close around him fully and pumped slow and dirty, watching his abs clench, his thighs tense.
Then I leaned down and dragged my tongue from his heavy balls all the way to the swollen head, tasting salt and him.
“Fuck” He fisted the sheets.
I took him deep into my mouth, lips stretched wide, throat relaxing until he hit the back and I gagged around him. Spit ran down my chin as I bobbed, sucking hard, hand twisting at the base.
His hips fucked up into my face, controlled but desperate.
“Goddamn, baby your mouth is so fucking hot.”
I pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and slick. “You like your best friend’s daughter choking on your cock?”
He growled, sat up suddenly, and flipped us, pinning me beneath his big, hard body.
His mouth crashed into mine, tongue fucking deep, tasting himself on me, then he moved lower, sucking bruises into my tits, biting my nipples until I cried out.
His hand shoved between my thighs, fingers finding my pussy soaked and aching.
“Look at this greedy little cunt,” he rasped, sliding two thick fingers inside me without warning. I clenched around them, moaning. “Soaked for the man who’s not supposed to touch you.”
He pumped hard, curling, thumb grinding my clit until I was writhing, begging.
“Please Jeffrey I need you inside me”
He added a third finger, stretching me, scissoring. “You sure you can take my cock, baby? Been dreaming about ruining this tight pussy for years.”
I came hard around his fingers, back arching, juices flooding his hand as I screamed his name.
He didn’t give me time to recover.
He spread my thighs wide, lined up, and pushed in—one long, merciless thrust that buried every inch of his fat cock inside me.
I screamed.
It burned, stretched, filled me so completely I couldn’t breathe. He bottomed out, balls pressed against my ass, and stilled both of us shaking.
“Fuck,” he groaned against my neck. “So goddamn tight. Squeezing me like you were made for this.”
Then he started moving.
Hard.
Deep.
Punishing.
Every thrust slammed into me, headboard banging the wall, his hips slapping against mine.
I clawed his back, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging in to take him deeper.
“This what you wanted?” he growled, pounding harder. “Your dad’s best friend fucking you raw? Stretching this forbidden little cunt until you can’t walk?”
“Yes…yes fuck me harder”
He hooked my knees over his elbows, folding me in half, and drilled into me deeper, faster, the angle brutal.
His cock dragged over that spot inside me with every stroke until I was sobbing, tears leaking down my eyes .
“Gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he snarled. “This pussy’s mine now, it’s been mine since you started teasing me with those fuck-me eyes.”
I came again violent, blinding, pussy clamping down so hard he cursed and faltered.
He flipped me over suddenly, yanking my hips up, face down into the pillows.
Then he slammed back inside from behind, one hand fisting my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to leave fingerprints.
The new angle was devastating, he fucked me like an animal, so damn raw, taboo, years of pent-up hunger unleashed.
His balls slapped my clit with every thrust.
“Take it,” he grunted. “Take every inch of the cock you’ve been begging for.”
I shattered a third time, screaming into the mattress, body convulsing around him.
He followed with a guttural roar, burying himself to the hilt and pumping hot cum deep inside me, marking me, claiming me.
We collapsed in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs, his weight crushing me into the bed, cock still twitching inside me.
After long minutes of harsh breathing, he pressed his lips to my shoulder, voice rough and wrecked.
“I fought this for so long,” he admitted quietly. “Because it was wrong, because you were forbidden.”
I turned my head, met his eyes.
“And now?”
He thrust once more slow, possessive still hard inside me.
“Now I don’t give a fuck what’s right. You’re mine.”
“I’m never giving this up,” he said roughly. “You’re mine now and fuck the consequences.”
I smiled, clenching around him deliberately, feeling him harden again inside me already.
“Good,” I whispered. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
