“I was thinking,” he says, stumbling into my room and ignoring my request. “We never got that kiss from last time.”
I blink up at him. “Um, that’s okay. We really don’t have to.”
“Oliver told me you were nervous about your first time,” Toby slurs, taking a seat on my bed. I wonder how drunk Ollie was when he said that.
I draw my legs in close, trying to put distance between myself and Toby. “I’m not nervous. I’m tired and uninterested. Can you please go?”
“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ll take good care of you—”
“She said, get out.” Evan stands in the doorway, jaw set, with a murderous glint in his eye.
My heart leaps at seeing him, and then I immediately start to panic.
The party. Toby in my room. Oh, God…
He grabs Toby by the shirt and shoves him out the door, then slams the door shut. My mind reels as he turns back to me, his expression hard.
“I’m so sorry about the party, Evan. Ollie and I’ll clean up as soon as everyone’s gone—”
“I don’t give a damn about the party.”
He climbs on the bed and grasps my hands, pinning me to the mattress. He attacks my lips with a growl, devouring my gasp before I’ve even processed what’s happening. He bites my bottom lip hard enough to hurt, wrenching a yelp from my throat.
“I’m tired of people thinking you’re fair game, Natasha,” he rasps, dragging his teeth down my neck. “Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”
There’s a wildness to his tone that makes me tremble. I clench my thighs together and bite my lip at the look of raw jealousy in his gaze.
“I belong to you, Daddy.”
He sighs into my neck, weaving his fingers into my hair and gripping tightly. He tilts my head back, forcing me to meet his deep, dark, smoldering gaze.
“That’s right. You’re my baby girl. And I don’t ever want to see another guy in your bedroom. Is that understood?”
The “yes” I’m able to give is little more than a whimper, but he seems satisfied.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Now, turn over.”
He gives me just enough space and freedom of movement to roll onto my stomach. My pulse races as he grabs my hips and tows me onto my knees. I moan softly as he presses his groin firmly against my ass.
“Feel how hard I am already, baby girl?” When I don’t respond immediately, he smacks my ass.
I yelp. “Yes, Daddy.”
He peels my shorts down to my knees, then sucks in a breath. I know my panties are soaked.
“So wet for Daddy.” Slowly, he rubs the damp patch between my legs. “Do you want me to fuck you like this? From behind. No foreplay. Just my cock and your glorious ass.”
I moan as he cups my pussy with his whole palm, pressing lightly.
“Yes,” I whisper. I bite my lip as he rubs my center in slow, teasing strokes.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy. I want you to fuck me like this.”
“I’m not going to go slow, either,” he growls. “I’m going to pound your pussy hard and fast, until you scream my name loud enough that everyone outside that door hears it. So that everyone at the party knows what a dirty girl you are.”
“God, yes…” My heart hammers in my chest. I hear the clink of his belt buckle and the purr of his zipper sliding down.
But before I can even register the sound of the door opening, I hear my best friend’s frantic voice.
“Nat, we’ve gotta get everyone out, my dad’s coming—”
I glance over my shoulder and find Ollie standing in the doorway, a look of horror and confusion on his face.
“What the fuck is… Oh god.” He groans, one hand covering his eyes and the other covering his mouth. “What the fuck are you two doing?”
Thankfully, Evan has the quick reflexes to pull my shorts back up for me before re-buckling his own belt.
“Oliver,” Evan says. “Let me explain.”
“Dad, what the fuck are you doing here?” Ollie searches my gaze for answers. “Have you been fucking my dad this whole time, Nat?”
Guilt and shame wrap around my throat.
“Ollie, please—”
“You lied to me!” Ollie points a finger at both of us. “I knew something was up. You said you moved back here for me, but I knew there had to be another reason you stuck around.” He spins on his heel, stumbles into the door frame, then runs off down the hall.
I rush after him, pushing past drunk and confused party guests who ask me what’s wrong with Ollie. When I finally I catch up to him, he’s on the beach in front of the neighbor’s house.
“Ollie, stop. Just talk to me.”
“I can’t believe this,” he roars, kicking at the sand. “You and my dad. How could you?”
Tears flow down my cheeks. “I’m sorry—”