Sinning with My Bestie's Dad

Ashley

I never meant to crave my best friend's dad like a dirty little secret.

But fuck if Arthur Ford hasn't owned my filthiest thoughts since I'd discovered what my body could do in the privacy of my bedroom.

Touching myself in the dark guest room, towel stuffed in my mouth to muffle the moans. I'd picture those broad hands pinning me down, his hips grinding slow and brutal while he slept next door. Harmless, right? Just a nerdy girl's guilty escape from algebra books and awkward braces. No one knew.

I had originally planned to bury all my memories and fantasies about him when my family moved to Texas. New state, new life, new Ashley, who didn't spend her nights imagining her best friend's father doing unspeakable things to her.

Fate had other plans. LA called me back for college. And those sinful fantasies? They clawed their way back to the surface the moment I landed at LAX.

***

"Oh my God, there she is!"

Chelsea's voice cut through the crowd before I even spotted her. She barreled toward me in cutoff shorts that barely qualified as clothing and a crop top that showed off her perfect stomach. Her blonde hair bounced as she practically launched herself at me.

"Chels!" I barely caught her before we both went sprawling across the airport floor.

"I can't believe you're actually back. Like, actually here in LA again." She pulled back, gripping my shoulders and looking me over like I'd sprouted a second head. "Pre-med at UCLA. My little nerd made it."

"Your little nerd needs coffee and possibly a shower."

"Both can be arranged." She grabbed my suitcase before I could protest. "Car's in short-term. I may have parked illegally, but whatever."

The California sun hit me the moment we stepped outside. God, I'd forgotten how perfect the weather was here. Texas heat felt like drowning. This felt like coming home.

Chelsea's Range Rover sat in a loading zone with a ticket already tucked under the wiper.

"Seriously?"

"Dad pays them. It's fine." She tossed the ticket in the back seat with what looked like half a dozen others. "Now get in. I want all the details about why you're suddenly single."

Right. I'd texted her about Alex three days ago. The breakup still felt raw.

"There's not much to tell."

"Bullshit. You don't dump a guy after two years for 'not much.'" Chelsea pulled into traffic without checking her mirrors. A taxi honked. She flipped him off cheerfully. "Spill."

I slumped against the leather seat. "I found his Instagram."

"And?"

"And it was full of bikini models and photos of him at frat parties with other girls draped all over him." The words tasted bitter. "He'd been cheating on me for months. Maybe longer."

"That absolute piece of shit." Chelsea's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "I never liked him. Too much hair gel. Guys who use that much product are always compensating for something."

Despite everything, I laughed. "His hair was pretty tragic."

"Tragic? Babe, he looked like a used car salesman trying to sell me a lemon." She merged onto the freeway with aggressive confidence. "You're better off. College is for having fun, not dealing with some mediocre dick who thinks he's God's gift."

"I thought I loved him."

"You loved the idea of him. There's a difference." Chelsea glanced at me, her expression softening slightly. "So what's the plan? You starting classes right away or taking some time?"

"No clue. I just wanted to get settled into uni and maybe find a job. Something part time that won't kill my study schedule. School loans are astronomical."

"A job? Like at a restaurant or something?"

"Probably. I saw a few places hiring near campus."

"Absolutely not." Chelsea switched lanes without signaling. "You're not spending your free time slinging burgers when I have a much better option. Tyler needs a tutor. Like, desperately. His grades are trash, and Dad's been on him about getting them up before college applications start." She shot me a grin. "You're pre-med, you're brilliant, and Tyler actually likes you. It's perfect."

My heart kicked against my ribs. Working at their house. Seeing Arthur Ford on a regular basis.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? You used to help Tyler with homework all the time when we were kids."

"That was different." I fumbled for an excuse that wouldn't reveal the real reason. "He was twelve. Now he's what, sixteen?"

"Exactly. Old enough to actually need the help." Chelsea drummed her fingers on the wheel. "Dad specifically mentioned you when I told him you were coming back. Said he was proud of you for getting into the pre-med program."

Arthur mentioned me. Arthur was proud of me.

Heat pooled low in my stomach. Dangerous territory.

"The pay would be way better than any restaurant," Chelsea continued. "And you'd set your own hours. Plus you'd be at the house while tutouring, which means more time with me."

"What about Tyler? Does he actually want a tutor, or is this your dad's idea?"

"Does it matter? He'll do it because it's you." Chelsea's phone buzzed in the cup holder. She ignored it. "Come on, Ash. It makes total sense."

Everything she said was logical. The money would be better. The hours are flexible. I'd be able to focus on school without killing myself working nights at some chain restaurant.

But it also meant being back in Arthur's orbit. Being in his house, breathing his air, seeing him in those perfectly tailored suits when he came home from work. Or worse, catching him by the pool in those swim trunks that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

My mind spiraled into dangerous territory before I could stop it.

Arthur's study. Dark wood and leather. Him behind that massive desk, sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms I'd memorized years ago. He'd call me in to discuss Tyler's progress. I'd sit across from him, trying to focus while his blue eyes pinned me in place.

"Ashley," he'd say in that deep voice that made my thighs clench. "I appreciate everything you're doing for my son."

"It's nothing, really. Tyler's smart when he applies himself."

He'd stand and walk around the desk. Each step deliberate. My pulse would hammer in my throat as he leaned against the edge, close enough that I could smell his cologne.

"You've always been special." His hand would reach out, thumb brushing my jaw. "Even when you were younger, I knew you'd grow into something extraordinary."

"Mr. Ford..." My voice would come out breathless.

His other hand would slide into my hair, gripping tight enough to make me gasp. Then he'd pull me up, crush his mouth to mine, and I'd finally know what those lips felt like. He'd taste like whiskey and sin. His hands would make quick work of my jeans, sliding them down while backing me against the desk.

"Tell me to stop." His breath was hot against my neck.

But I wouldn't. I'd beg him to keep going, to finally satisfy the ache within me. He'd lift me onto the desk, papers scattering. His hands would spread my thighs. That thick cock would press against me, and he'd lean in close, his voice rough with need.

Then he'd push inside, splitting me open, making me take every inch while I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming. His hips would slam forward, brutal and perfect, exactly how I'd imagined a thousand times before...

"Ash? Hello? Earth to Ashley?"

Chelsea's voice snapped me back to reality. The car had stopped at a red light. My face burned.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you'd think about it at least. The tutoring thing." Chelsea studied me. "You totally spaced. Still tired from the flight?"

"Yeah. Exhausted." I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of the dampness between my thighs. "Um. I'll think about the tutoring. Just give me a few days?"

"Fair enough." The light turned green. "But don't take too long. Tyler's grades aren't getting better on their own."

I stared out the window at the familiar LA landscape, my reflection ghosting in the glass. My cheeks were still flushed. This was exactly what I'd been afraid of. One mention of Arthur and my brain went straight to the gutter.

***

A few days later, I steered my Honda Civic through the winding roads leading to the Ford estate, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. The car ran perfectly fine, a solid find from the used lot near campus. Nothing fancy, but it got me where I needed to go without breaking down.

Then I turned onto their street.

A sleek black Porsche sat in one driveway. A Bentley in another. Further down, what looked like a brand new Mercedes SUV gleamed in the afternoon sun. My reliable little Honda suddenly felt like I'd shown up to a black-tie event in jeans.

The Ford estate loomed at the end of the cul-de-sac, and my breath caught.

Holy shit.

The house had been impressive before. Now it looked like something out of Architectural Digest. Extended wings stretched out from both sides of the main structure, all glass and modern angles that somehow worked with the original Spanish colonial style. A reflecting pool cut across the front lawn, mirrors of water catching the light. Beyond that, what looked like an entirely new guest house was perched near the property line.

I pulled into the circular driveway, parking behind a Range Rover that probably cost more than my entire college tuition. A Maserati sat in the open garage. Casual Saturday cars, apparently.

My hands shook slightly as I grabbed my bag. This was a mistake. I should have taken the restaurant job. Slinging burgers suddenly seemed infinitely safer than whatever I'd walked into.

The front door swung open before I reached it.

"Finally!" Chelsea bounded down the steps in denim shorts that barely qualified as clothing and a white tank top. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail. "I was about to send out a search party."

"Sorry, traffic was worse than I expected."

"Traffic is always worse than expected. It's LA." Chelsea looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the entrance. "Come on, I need to show you what Dad did with the place. It's insane."

I barely had time to register the cool marble under my sneakers before she launched into tour guide mode.

"So basically, Dad's been killing it in real estate the past few years." She waved her hand at the soaring ceilings. "He closed this massive commercial deal downtown and decided to reinvest in the house. Remember that cramped media room we used to watch movies in?"

"The one with the ancient projector?"

"Gone. Completely gutted." She dragged me through the foyer, past artwork that was probably expensive. "Now it's this whole home theater situation with reclining seats and a screen that's basically IMAX quality. Tyler lives in there."

The kitchen had been completely renovated. White marble countertops stretched for miles, complemented by top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances that looked like they belonged in a Michelin-star restaurant.

"Jesus, Chelsea."

"Right? And wait until you see the pool situation. Dad extended it and added this whole infinity edge thing." She pulled me toward the back of the house, her ponytail swinging. "The guest house is new too. He keeps talking about renting it out, but never does. I think he just likes having the space."

A splash echoed from outside, followed by the rhythmic sound of someone cutting through water.

"Oh, Dad must be doing his laps." Chelsea glanced toward the back doors. "He's been super into fitness lately. Like, more than usual. I swear he spends more time in the pool than Tyler does surfing."

"Maybe we should come back later when he's done."

"Why? It's just Dad." Chelsea pushed open the glass doors. "Besides, he specifically asked me to let him know when you got here."

He asked about me. Heat crept up my neck.

The backyard had transformed into something out of a resort magazine. The pool stretched twice as long as I remembered, the far edge disappearing into a seamless horizon that made it look like the water poured straight into the LA skyline. Smooth stone decking surrounded the entire area, dotted with teak loungers and a covered cabana that housed an outdoor kitchen.

But none of that mattered.

Because Arthur Ford was pulling himself out of the pool like some kind of water god, muscles flexing as he gripped the edge and hoisted his body up in one fluid motion.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Water streamed down his chest, following the contours of defined pecs covered in dark hair that tapered down his abs. And God, those abs. Six distinct ridges that looked carved from stone, each one catching the sunlight as water droplets traced their path south.

South to where his wet swim trunks clung obscenely to his hips.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only stare at the prominent bulge outlined mercilessly by the soaked fabric. Thick. Impossible to ignore. My mouth went dry.

He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, slicking it back. The motion made his biceps flex, veins visible beneath the skin. At forty-one, he looked better than men half his age. Better than Alex. Better than anyone I'd ever seen outside of carefully photoshopped magazines.

His blue eyes locked onto mine.

"Ashley." His voice carried across the deck, warm and rich. "It's nice seeing you again."

He grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and slung it over one shoulder, then walked toward us. Each step made muscles shift under his skin. My gaze dropped to his thighs despite every attempt to keep my eyes on his face. Thick. Powerful. The kind of thighs that could pin someone down.

Stop. Stop thinking about that.

"Mr. Ford." The words came out slightly breathless. Professional. Keep it professional. "Thank you for having me."

He extended his hand.

I took it.

His palm was rough, his grip firm and warm. Large enough that my hand disappeared completely. Electricity surged through my arm and spine, settling between my legs with an ache that made me want to press my thighs together, igniting a fire in me that I hadn't felt in ages.

I was doomed.