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I hook my hands under her hips so I can pull her toward me – the fantasy so vivid now it feels real – and then yank her hard each time I thrust inside of her, causing her ass cheeks to sway beautifully, so full, so curvy, so mine.
I imagine the shy excited way she’d moan, her dark hair freed from its bun as it spills across her back, her emerald eyes turned to me, wide and innocent as she takes my dick like the good obedient queen I’m going to make her.
I stroke my dick harder, faster, squeezing so I can imagine it’s her tight young hole clamping down around me, lava-hot as I fuck her with more ferocity.
I couldn’t stop now even if the door burst open, even if a war started right outside my apartment building.
I turn her around in my mind, moving her to the end of the bed and sliding my cock into her cute-as-fuck mouth, groaning as she bobs her head up and down and takes more and more of my length.
I grunt as my seed burns up my shaft, erupting out of my throbbing helm, imagining its shooting into her mouth.
I picture the way her eyes would widen even more in shock, the cuteness that would shiver across her expression as she decides whether or not to pull away… and then the fiery femininity that would flood her eyes as she swallows my seed.
I open my eyes, letting out a groan.
What the fuck did I just do?
I touched myself at the thought of my best friend’s daughter.
Shit.
That wasn’t part of the plan, but I got carried away, her perfect lustful body moving through my mind like a song stuck on repeat.
I stand and walk awkwardly into the bathroom, laughing gruffly at the thought of anyone seeing me now. Walking with my pants around my knees, seed cooling on the end of my cock, I must make quite the sight.
No other woman has ever made me want to come so badly.
It wasn’t even want. It wasn’t even need.
I didn’t make a decision to do it. I just pictured her… and then it happened, like a goddamn force of nature.
I clean myself up and then strip naked, climbing into the shower and letting the hot water cascade over my body, sluicing over my chest muscles and down my back.
That was the last time, I try to promise myself.
The last fucking time.
But even as I roar it in my mind, I don’t believe it.
I can’t believe it.
Molly is just too tempting.
Later, I sit at my window and stare down at the city lit up in the night, a thousand lights glittering up at me. The sky is cloudy with no moon or stars, meaning all the lights beam from windows and cars and restaurants.
I stand with my hands behind my back as if by clasping them together I can make sure I don’t repeat the performance from earlier.
I’ve worked myself ragged in the gym, pumping until my muscles throb, pulse, and ache, in a vain attempt to try and get Molly out of my head. But it only served to make her rise with starker vividness in my mind, as though my body was telling me I was lifting weights for her, getting stronger for her, so I can protect our family once she’s brought our children into this world.
I sigh and take out my phone, navigating to Henry’s name.
I promised Molly I’d talk to him.
He answers after a half-minute, making me wonder if he was going to let it go to voicemail.
“Murph,” he says.
I smirk when I hear that. He’s the only one who calls me a shortened version of my name. I’m Mr. Moran or boss or, if they know me, Murphy to everyone else.
But never Murph.
“Henry,” I say, the crazy thought striking me that he somehow knows that I’ve been dreaming about his daughter.
But of course, he doesn’t.
I need to calm down, but Molly has set parts of me alight I didn’t even know existed, obsessive hungry parts I never dreamed a woman could ignite.
“It’s good to hear from you, man,” Henry says.
He sounds steady, without the waver in his voice that tells me he’s been gambling. But even if I’ve honed my people-reading skills to a knife’s edge over the years, it’s difficult when we’re talking over the phone and I’m not there in person.
“And you,” I tell him.
I pace over to my cream leather sofa and drop down, sitting back with a sigh.
I’m lying to his damned face… well, his voice.
Or at least I’m withholding a pretty important point.
I need his daughter. I’m going to be the father of his grandkids.
What a mess.
“I wanted to check you were going to the support group,” I say. “I wanted to make sure you were doing everything you needed to do to stay on the straight and narrow.”
