Hot daddy's best friend
"You shouldn't be here, Fiona," his deep voice rasped against her ear, his hand still pressed against the wall behind her.
"Then tell me to leave," she whispered, her lips trembling inches from his. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. And in that moment, she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
Fiona Harry has lived her whole life in a golden cage of wealth, reputation, and suffocating rules. University was supposed to be her escape, her first taste of freedom. But nothing could prepare her for the moment she came face-to-face with Professor Jalen Hart, her father's best friend. One reckless night changes everything. A drunken mistake turns into an irresistible obsession, pulling her deeper into Jalen's forbidden world. But secrets don't stay hidden forever. Between Jude, her possessive friend who knows too much, Marian, Jalen's wicked wife, and the dangerous power of desire, Fiona is about to risk not only hers and her family's reputation but her entire future.
And what happens when the truth comes out especially to Marian?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
Fiona's POV
The voice rang ever so familiar. I froze in place as my dream replayed in my mind. The sound, the tone-everything felt the same. But my memory faded before I could fully recall his voice. Maybe it was just my illusion, I thought.
I excused myself quietly and stepped away from the lively conversation, heading towards my room. But after just a few steps, my father's voice halted me.
"Fiona got admission into your university, isn't that exquisite? Come here, girl," he called.
Typically, my parents would treat me like a princess in front of everyone but like an outcast in private.
I rolled my eyes subtly and turned back to the grownups, forcing a polite smile.
"How brilliant, Fiona," Marian muttered, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Your mother was telling me that you love art. I'm sure your tiny hands will grow some muscle by the time you resume."
Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. Her voice carried that familiar bitterness I'd always noticed from our neighbor's wife. I knew where it came from-jealousy. She could never have children, no matter how hard she tried. I did feel sorry for her, but deep down, I couldn't ignore the whispers I'd heard about her being dangerous. A part of me believed she deserved her misery.
"Marian, I'm sure she'll do just great," Mum replied proudly. "We did our best to train her well. My baby will make us proud. Right, baby?" She smiled at me.
"I'll try my best, Mum," I murmured, managing a small grin. Everyone laughed-everyone except Jalen. His eyes never left mine for a second, not until Marian tapped him gently.
"If you'll excuse me, I'd like to tidy my room," I said softly, turning on my heels before they could object.
But even as I walked away, I could still feel Jalen's gaze burning into me. I turned slightly, and yes-he was still watching. His eyes carried a knowing look, as though he understood something about me I didn't. It felt like he had so much he wanted to say but couldn't.
Once in my room, I forgot to lock the door behind me, and I've never experienced that. I have a habit of pulling off my clothes the moment I close my door and jumped onto my bed. My heart finally eased, though my mind couldn't stop circling back to Jalen-and that voice.
I hugged my pillow tightly, wondering how freedom would finally taste once I left this house.
I was drifting close to sleep when a knock landed softly on my door.
"Coming."
Jolting upright, I wrapped my towel loosely around me before running to get the door. My parents usually barged in without warning, and that has caused me to lock my door so that polite knock told me it wasn't them. Still, I wasn't expecting him.
"May I?" Jalen asked, peeking through the slightly open door.
"Sure," I replied quickly, opening the door slightly. Then my towel fell, exposing my naked body to him. I gasped, and my eyes widened as he stared at me deeply, his Adam's apple budged and he quickly turned away.
"Oh my god... I'm sorry, I," I stuttered, quickly picking up my towel. Heat surged through my throat and my face flushed.
"You should get dressed," he suggested, "I'll wait outside for a few minutes," he added.
"Oh no, um... I'll dress up in the bathroom, come in please," I gestured.
He stepped inside, his eyes scanning my room until they landed on one of my paintings. He walked closer, brushing his fingers lightly across the edge of the canvas.
"Your paintings are beautiful," he muttered while I dressed up. "Where do you get your inspiration from?"
"Thanks," I muttered. "Um... I just imagine things and paint them. Sometimes I get ideas from music, a little bit from nature, and mostly from exciting moments or emotions."
"Hmm." He nodded thoughtfully. "I see you prefer colorful tones to minimal aesthetics. That's good-it gives you a creative edge."
"You think so?" I asked, feeling the heat rise through my body as his gaze met mine again. My heart wouldn't stop pounding.
"I know so," he said softly. "Pardon me for walking into your room like this. Your dad mentioned you had some of your work I could look at, to see if you needed any guidance. But from what I see, you're doing just fine already-just a few brush improvements, and you'll be great."
I smiled shyly striding to my bed before sitting. I tried to keep my composure, but when he sat down beside me, my breath hitched. My hand pinched my thigh so hard it stung. For a moment, it felt like I was back in that dream again. His voice, smooth and deep, echoed through me.
I wanted him to say something again, just to confirm it. But I couldn't bring myself to ask.
"I should take my leave now," he finally spoke, standing up. "I guess I'll see you more often in school." he added. And I could swear I saw his length already hard.
As he turned, his finger brushed against my hand. The touch was light, but my entire body shivered. A soft moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it. I turned away quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed, then stood up.
"I'll see you out," I said quickly.
I took a few steps toward him-but my foot tangled with the edge of the rug, sending me tumbling forward. Jalen reached out to catch me, but we both lost our balance.
I landed on top of him, my palms pressed to his chest, our eyes locked. My lips parted slightly as I realized how dangerously close we were. His breath grazed my neck, sending a shiver through every inch of me.
His gaze deepened, intense and unspoken. My heartbeat grew louder, my body heated, and a tight ache spread through me.
He leaned closer-so close that our lips were only inches apart. I closed my eyes, waiting-wanting-just a touch.
But then-
"Honey? Jalen!" Marian's voice echoed down the hallway.
I jerked away from him immediately. He stood up, clearing his throat as he brushed dust off his neatly pressed suit.
"I... I'm... it wasn't-" I stuttered.
"It's not your fault," he said calmly. "I should go. See you in school."
And just like that, he left.
The door closed behind him, and I could faintly hear Marian's voice.
"There you are! I've been looking for you. Let's go home," she whispered.
I leaned against my door, breathing heavily, my palm pressed to my chest.
What just happened?
If Marian had walked in a second earlier, she would have caught us in that compromising position. The thought terrified me-but at the same time, what scared me more was how real it all felt. Exactly like my dream.
But I wasn't ready to come to any conclusions-not yet.
I walked to my wardrobe, pulled out my suitcase, and began packing my clothes. The thought of meeting him in school filled me with more excitement.
The morning of my freedom finally arrived. The cool wind brushed softly against my skin as I rolled my suitcase out the door. My father's driver was already waiting at the gate.
I glanced back once at my parents standing on the porch. With a faint smile, I waved goodbye as the car engine started, and we drove off, my excitement grew with every passing mile. My face stayed glued to the window, watching the world blur by until we finally arrived at the university.
I stepped out slowly, taking in the grand sight before me.
For a moment, everything went still. The excitement faded into nerves. A shiver crept up my spine, and chills spread across my skin.
I was here.
Finally free-
But somehow, the air around me felt strange.
You may also like
7.9
Viewer Discretion Advised: This sultry collection plunges into raw, unbridled passion, shadowy romance, and the intoxicating grip of dominance, obsession, and carnal temptation. Crafted for mature audiences, it teases the edges of taboo entanglements, feverish ecstasy, and the razor-thin boundary between restraint and total, shuddering surrender.
In Dangerous Desires, immerse yourself in a realm where lust overrides reason and pulses thunder on the brink of ecstasy and devastation. Each tale strips bare a new facet of craving-where adversaries melt into entangled lovers, hidden truths threaten to shatter kingdoms of control, and erotic hunger flares in the most forbidden corners.
From dominant CEOs and eager assistants locked in charged, sweat-slicked power plays, to tycoons and subordinates blurring the lines of authority with breathless, illicit touches, every clash throbs with electric tension. Foes prowl like flame to tinder, sparking an unstoppable blaze of chemistry that demands skin-on-skin surrender.
Venturing deeper into the forbidden, twilight beckons with supernatural seduction-enigmatic lovers, eternal seducers, and ethereal entities lure mortals into bonds that tangle terror with throbbing arousal. In these realms, desire doesn't merely stir-it devours, leaving bodies quivering and souls utterly claimed.
Each story in this anthology throbs with peril, allure, and the exquisite rush of yielding to the forbidden ache-one that shouldn't ignite, but consumes without mercy.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
8.7
I was dying in a cold hospital bed, listening to the monitor count down my final seconds.
As a ghost, I watched my own funeral. My popular friends and wealthy family soon moved on, but one person stayed.
Cas Riley. The invisible outcast from the back of my history class.
He brought a white rose to my grave every single day, withering away until he collapsed on the frozen ground, dying of a broken heart for a girl who barely knew his name.
Opening my eyes again, the hospital smell was gone. I was reborn back in my high school classroom.
I immediately tracked him down, only to witness the brutal hell he was trapped in.
He was humiliated by a cruel foreman for pennies, violently slapped by his uncle over his sick mother's medical money, and forced into bloody street fights.
He was starving, covered in bruises, and completely alone.
When I tried to buy him medicine and step into his life to protect him, he violently pushed me away in the pouring rain.
"Stay out of my life! To protect you, I have to fight, and when I fight, I lose everything!"
He wasn't rejecting me out of hate. He was terrified that his dark, violent reality would drag me down with him.
Standing soaked in the rain, my resolve hardened like steel.
Gentle kindness wasn't going to save him from this hell.
To protect the boy who died for me, I had to become ruthless enough to tear down his entire rotten world and build him a new one.
7.7
Five years ago, Zaria Blackthorne lost everything. Framed as a traitor's daughter, she watched her parents die, was betrayed by her fated mate, Callum Nightbane, and cast into prison-only to be saved by a monster who wanted to ruin her. That night, she should have died. But fate had other plans.
Now, she's back. No longer the naïve girl who once begged for mercy, she has been reborn as Celeste Draven, the temptress of Nightbane Academy. With a new identity, a rare bloodline that makes her irresistible, and a body forged for seduction, she is ready to dismantle the lives of those who betrayed her-one sinful encounter at a time.
But revenge comes at a cost.
Three powerful men are obsessed with her and they are a tool in her revenge games and then she realised the deeper she played, the harder it becomes to keep the men in control.
And what do you think will happen when the truth comes to light, and she discovered she was being played herself? Will she sacrifice her love for vengeance or allow her enemies to burn and claim the throne for herself?
Dive into this story of betrayal, revenge, reverse haram, and obsession, where no man actually owns Zaria Blackthorne.
8.9
My family's company went bankrupt, and my biological father was lying in the ICU, kept alive by machines that cost tens of thousands a day.
I thought it was just a tragic business failure, until I caught my mother in bed with my stepfather.
They had secretly transferred all our assets months ago, deliberately bankrupting the company and leaving my father to die.
To pay the hospital bills, my stepfather forced me to a private club, trying to sell me to a sleazy investor.
When I refused, he slapped me across the face, and my mother just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Be realistic, Jaelynn. A woman's body is a tool. Use it to get what you need."
Later, right before my father's emergency surgery, my stepfather signed a Do Not Resuscitate order and froze the medical accounts.
"If you don't get on your knees and spread your legs for him, I will tell the hospital to pull your father's plug."
Standing in the freezing rain, covered in mud and blood, I stared at the astronomical hospital bill in my hand.
My own family had plotted to murder my father and sell me to the highest bidder. The betrayal shattered every ounce of sanity I had left.
I didn't cry or beg them anymore.
Instead, I pulled out a water-stained, gold-embossed business card.
It belonged to Dolph Valentine, the most ruthless billionaire in New York and my ex-fiancé's uncle.
If they wanted to destroy my life, I was going to sell my soul to the biggest monster of them all and drag them straight to hell.
7.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."