Her Dad’s Best Friend

Chapter 9

I look at his desk, still covered in stacks of paper.

“But what about the acquisition?”

He shoves everything off of his desk. The papers spill onto the floor, covering the carpet with papers

that are rapidly getting mixed with each other. They’re out of order.

“I don’t give a fuck about the acquisition. You. Desk. Now. Or you’re going to get a spanking that you

won’t forget.”

I rush to his desk and bend over. Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Good girl,” he praises. I’m still wearing a shirt and bra. His desk is cold against my cheek. I’m

breathing, waiting for him to touch me.

Then a hand is between my thighs. I jump when he finally touches me there, right there.

“Responsive little thing, aren’t you?”

A thick finger pushes its way inside of me. Then he stops.

“You’re a virgin.”

I’m as wet as a fountain.

“Yes.” My whisper is very quiet in this office.

His finger pulls out of me. “Oh God, this is a mistake.”

I cringe when I hear him call finger-fucking me a mistake. I can feel tears threaten, so I go to the corner

where my clothes are. I put on my skirt, not bothering with my thong. Another few seconds and my

shoes are on.

“Camilla. Look at me.” I stare at the ground and try not to let the tears fall.

Then his hand is on my chin and he’s forcing me to look up at him.

I can’t stop the tears from falling anymore.

“Camilla, baby.” He holds me close and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Your first time belongs to

someone you love, not your dirty boss. Not your dad’s best friend, who, by the way, will slaughter me if

he ever hears that I touched his baby daughter.”

I stiffen in his arms and pull away. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

He puts a finger in his mouth, keeping eye contact with me. He sucks it then pulls it out with a pop.

“I know.” He sighs. “But I can’t take your virginity.”

Tears of rage and sexual frustration are running down my cheeks now.

“Well, it’s moot,” I say, not bothering to wipe them away. “Because it’s my last day of work anyway.”

Barbarian

Lincoln

I watch Camilla walk out, thong in her hand, a sad slowness to her walk, and I feel like a total piece of

shit. I never should have touched her, and I definitely shouldn’t have gotten within a whisper of taking

her virginity. For God’s sake, I remember the day she was born. I remember her selling me Samoas

when she was a Brownie. I remember how proud her father was when she graduated from high school.

I’d betrayed him. Smelling her scent on my hand, though, maybe made it worth it. I lick up the rest of it.

I felt her melting on me like warm honey. I knew she wanted it. And I’d still sent her away.

I must be a fool. An honorable one.

I wash my hands, then I’m pulling out my phone. So many contacts. There’s a blonde who doesn’t

expect anything besides a dinner and a good time. A brunette who loves to argue with me and then

hate fuck me because she says that I’m a corporate pig who needs to be taught a lesson. She normally

“teaches” by ripping my clothes. A red-head who loves tossing salad.