Page 40 of Bound By My Father's Best Friend

A ferocious, hungry growl escaped Hector’s mouth, and suddenly, he lifted me off the saddle and pushed it to the edge of the bed like a madman, the dildo covered in my juices and the hum of the vibrator still drifting through the room.

He shoved me onto my stomach. With my cheek pressed against the mattress, I looked over my shoulder and back at him as he undid the knots around my legs. Then, he crawled up and straddled my thighs, in a prone-bone position.

Once he slipped his dick between my thighs and positioned it at my entrance, he seized hold of the rope knotted around my arms and pulled up on it slightly so my shoulders lifted off the mattress. And then he slammed deep into me.

I threw my head back and moaned. “Oh my God!”

He held onto the knots and used them to pound deeper and faster into me.

My body jerked back and forth, my pussy empty and then full. Empty, then full. I clenched around him, building up to a fourth—fifth?—orgasm of the night. I had already lost count. My mind was so numb when my pussy was stuffed full.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me from now on?”

I bit my cheek, furrowed my brows, and stared back into those dark eyes.

He pulled the rope tighter. “Heather …”

“W-what?”

“I asked a question. I expect an answer.”

“No,” I said, filled with overwhelming delight as waves of pleasure rushed through me. “I’m going to be a bad girl.”

Because, well, I had more fun that way.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

HEATHER

After Hector undid my restraints,he pulled me into his arms and walked with me to the bed. He laid me on his chest and gently drew his fingers through my hair, the rhythmic movement so soothing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Okay,” I whispered, suddenly overcome with so much emotion.

“Okay?” he asked.

Tears trembled in my eyes, and I let out a low sob. I placed a hand over my mouth in a weak attempt to muffle it and curled my knees to my chest. I didn’t know why I was crying, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

“Come here,” Hector murmured, drawing me closer with an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But I’m crying.” I sniffled. “And I can’t stop it.”

He rubbed circles on my bare hip with his opposite hand. “It was an intense scene.”

Is that what this was to him? All just a sex scene?

The thought made my stomach curl and the tears burn even hotter.

Of course it was to him. He had been a dominant for probably close to twenty years. This was all normal and usual for him. There was nothing special about me or between us.

Stop being stupid, Heather.

Yet to me, it seemed like so much more than that.

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