Chapter 3: My Best friend Dad(1)

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, sunlight streaming through the curtains of the guest room like a spotlight on Lila’s mischief. She woke with a satisfied stretch, her body still humming from the night’s performance. The sheer black lace nightie lay crumpled on the floor, a witness to her boldness. She smiled to herself, replaying Ethan’s tortured expression in her mind the way his eyes had darkened, his cock straining against those gym shorts, his fists clenched as if holding back a storm. God, she wanted him to beg for it. To drop that noble facade and admit how desperately he craved her. But she’d make him suffer first, draw it out until he was on his knees.

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. Ethan was already up, his broad back to her as he stood at the stove, flipping eggs with mechanical precision. He was dressed casually—faded jeans hugging his ass, a simple white t-shirt stretched over his shoulders, but there was a tension in his posture he was so goodlooking. Lila paused in the doorway, her heart racing. She hadn’t bothered with much, just an oversized t-shirt that belonged to Sophia (borrowed permanently), the hem barely covering her thighs, and nothing underneath. Her nipples poked against the soft fabric, and if she bent even slightly, he’d get a flash of everything.

“Morning, Mr. Ethan,” she said brightly, her voice a playful lilt as she sauntered in. She hopped onto the counter beside him, legs swinging casually, the shirt riding up just enough to tease the curve of her bare ass against the cool granite.

He stiffened, not turning right away. “Morning, Lila.” His tone was gruff, controlled, but she caught the slight hitch in his breath. When he finally glanced over, his eyes flicked down involuntarily lingering on her thighs, the shadow where the shirt met skin, before snapping back to the pan. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” she purred, leaning forward to snag a piece of bacon from the plate. The movement made the shirt gape at the neckline, offering a generous view of her cleavage. She chewed slowly, watching him. “You?”

He cleared his throat, plating the eggs with more force than necessary. “Fine.” But his mind was elsewhere, flashing back to her arched back, fingers buried deep, moaning his name. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Wanted to flip her over that counter, yank up that shirt, and bury himself inside her tight heat until she screamed. To feel her walls clench around him, her nails digging into his back, begging for more. But no. She was his best friend’s daughter. Off-limits. Forbidden fruit that would poison everything.

Lila hopped down, “accidentally” brushing against him as she reached for a mug. Her breast grazed his arm, soft and warm through the thin fabric. “Oops, sorry.” She wasn’t. She poured coffee, bending slightly to grab the creamer from the lower shelf, the shirt hiking up to reveal the bottom curve of her ass and a glimpse of her smooth pussy lips. She lingered there a second too long, knowing he was watching.

Ethan’s grip tightened on the spatula, his cock twitching to life in his jeans. Fuck, she was relentless. He imagined grabbing her hips, pulling her back against him, grinding his hardness into her until she whimpered. Sliding into her from behind, slow and deep, making her feel every inch. Whispering in her ear how bad she’d been, teasing him like this. But he stepped back instead, jaw set. “Lila, put some pants on. Sophia could walk in any minute.”

She straightened, turning with a innocent pout. “She’s still out. And it’s just a shirt. Comfy.” She sipped her coffee, eyes locking on his over the rim. “Besides, you’ve seen more already.”

His face flushed, a mix of anger and arousal. “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Won’t it?” She set the mug down, stepping closer until she was inches away, her bare toes touching his socks. The air between them thickened, her scent, vanilla body wash mixed with lingering arousal—wafting up. She tilted her head, lips parting slightly. “You liked watching me, didn’t you? Got you so hard you could barely walk away.”

Ethan’s breath came in short bursts. He wanted to push her against the fridge, kiss her senseless, then drop to his knees and taste her, lick her clean until she begged him to stop. To fuck her senseless on the kitchen floor, her legs wrapped around him, screaming his name. But he balled his fists. “Enough. Go get dressed.”

She laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. “Make me.” Then she turned, sashaying out with an extra sway in her hips, leaving him hard and aching.

The day dragged on with more “accidents.” Lila “forgot” her towel after a shower, darting across the half naked when she knew he’d be upstairs. She bent over to pick up a “dropped” remote during lunch, her shorts (finally donned) riding up to expose half her ass, Ethan’s resolve cracked a little more. By evening, Sophia was back, oblivious, chattering about her night out. But under the dinner table, Lila’s foot brushed Ethan’s calf, inching higher until it grazed his thigh. He nearly choked on his water, shooting her a warning glare. She just smiled sweetly.

That night, alone in his room, Ethan stroked himself furiously to the memory of her—imagining pinning her down, thrusting into her over and over, her cries echoing. He came with a guttural groan, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted the real thing. Craved it. But he wouldn’t beg. Not yet.

Over the next few days, the teasing escalated. Lila made sure to “accidentally” leave her door ajar while changing, giving him peeks of her stripping down—slowly peeling off leggings to reveal lacy thongs, or unhooking bras to let her breasts bounce free. One afternoon, while Sophia napped, Lila sunbathed by the pool in a bikini that was more string than fabric. The top barely contained her, nipples visible through the wet material after a dip. Ethan watched from the window, hand pressing against his growing erection, fantasizing about ripping it off and taking her right there on the lounger—rough, urgent, her legs over his shoulders as he pounded into her.

She caught him staring, waving innocently before adjusting her top to flash a nipple “by mistake.” He retreated to the bathroom, jerking off again, whispering her name like a curse.

By the end of the week, the tension was a live wire. Lila wanted him to break, to beg for her touch, her body. She dreamed of him on his knees, pleading to fuck her, to own her. And she was close to making it happen.

The teasing didn’t stop at home. One evening, Sophia dragged them all to a movie night at a friend’s house, but Lila “forgot” her jacket, borrowing Ethan’s oversized hoodie. Underneath, she wore a crop top that ended just below her breasts and low-rise shorts. On the drive back, with Sophia dozing in the back seat, Lila shifted, “accidentally” letting the hoodie zip slip down, exposing the swell of her breasts. Ethan’s eyes darted over, hands white-knuckled on the wheel. He wanted to pull over, drag her into the back, and fuck her senseless—her on top, riding him hard, breasts bouncing as she came.

But he gritted his teeth. “Zip it up.”

She did, slowly, but not before brushing her hand over his thigh, feeling his hardness. “Yes, sir.”

At home, the game continued. Lila “spilled” water on herself during a late-night snack run, her white tank turning transparent, clinging to her curves like a second skin. Ethan walked in, he froze at the sight. Her dark nipples stood out, the fabric molding to her pussy outline in her tiny shorts. He stared, imagining sucking those nipples until she writhed, then sliding his cock between her tits, fucking them until he painted her chest.

“Help me clean up?” she asked, handing him a towel.

He took it, dabbing at her shoulders, but his hands shook. Close enough to feel her heat, smell her arousal. She moaned softly at his touch, leaning in. “Please, Mr. Ethan… touch me.”

He dropped the towel, stepping back. “No.”

But his voice wavered. She was winning.

Days turned to weeks. More accidents: Bending over in the laundry room, ass up as she “searched” for a sock, pussy lips peeking from under shorts. Brushing past him in narrow halls, her hand “slipping” to graze his cock. Each time, Ethan’s fantasies grew darker—tying her up, edging her until she begged, then fucking her raw.

Lila reveled in it, masturbating nightly to the thought of him begging, “Please, Lila, let me fuck you. I need it.”