Page 37 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad

Dripping.

His finger slid under my panties and through my folds. He moaned, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking.

“Brett,” I said with a mixture of a sigh and a moan.

“Are you going to tell me to stop?”

How could I? I looked up into his gray eyes, not wanting to be reactive in this moment. I wanted the confidence and courage he had.

I cupped him, loving how he hissed in response. “No, I’m not going to tell you to stop.”

13

Brett

What the fuck was I doing? The last thing I should be doing is fucking Miranda. We were in a public place. I had a date in the other private room. Lindsay was here, for fuck’s sake. But when I saw Miranda in the red dress that left nothing to the imagination, something inside me snapped. I couldn't deal with the idea that every man in this club would see her and know every curve of her.

So I excused myself from my group and hunted her down. I knew where she'd be because I'd arranged a secluded seating section for them. But she wasn't there. She was on the dance floor with that Oliver kid. His hands were on her. In a flash of rational thinking, I considered that she'd moved on. I even told myself that it was a good thing. Our secret was safe.

But that thought was immediately overridden by jealousy, which pissed me off. As per my MO, I had to take it out on the source of my anger and frustration, namely, Miranda. It didn't help that she stood up to me, calling me out. Her defiance didn't make me want to punish her more for making me feel the way I did. It made me want her more. And so here I was, in a private room of a club, pushing Miranda up on the table as I freed her tits and lifted her dress so I could fuck her. I needed to pound away this clawing need that threatened to consume me whole.

If caught, we'd likely be arrested. There would be a scandal that could hurt both of my businesses. Then there was Lindsay finding out. I'd have thought that losing my daughter's respect and love would have been a strong enough motivation to stop, but it wasn’t. At this moment, nothing was more important than getting inside Miranda's sweet pussy.

My lips latched around her nipple as I fumbled with my pants to free my dick.

“Open for me, Miranda. Jesus fuck.” I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust. I yanked her panties down and then positioned myself at her entrance. Gripping her hips, I drove in until my hips slapped against her.

I let out a feral moan that filled the room. If they had cameras in here, I was truly fucked. And yet, I didn’t stop. Instead, I withdrew and thrust in again. And again. And again. Each time, the tension cranked up. The beast clawing to be free became more incessant.

“Oh, God,” Miranda cried out, her head falling back as her pussy convulsed around my dick.

Sparks flew, radiating out until every cell in my body was on fire. “Fuck yes.” My orgasm rammed into me. Like a feral animal rooting, I fucked her hard and fast, working to hold onto the sweet release.

When I pumped in my last shot, the irritation returned. I hated how weak I was to resist Miranda. Hated the pull she had me.

I withdrew, yanking my pants up. The anger at how she stole my strength and made me a slave to my libido swirled deep in my gut.

Just like the need for sex, my anger got the best of me. "You got what you wanted, now leave me the fuck alone." I didn't need to see the shock and hurt in her eyes to know my words were offensive. I hated how cruel I could become and decided to blame her for that too.

She slipped off the table, putting her dress back in place. "Back at you, Brett.” She gave a humorless laugh that put me even more on edge. Was she really laughing at me?

“And you called me immature.” She walked toward the door, stopping just as she stepped next to me. She glared up at me. "You're like a teenage boy who can’t manage his dick. Thanks for reminding me what an asshole you are.” She strode to the door, and a mixture of regret and anger filled me. I wanted to stop her even as I was relieved to watch her go.

She stopped at the door, turning to look over her shoulder at me. "You are effectively scrubbed from my memory. I won't think of you ever again, and if I do, it will only be to remember what a jerk you are."

"Mir—”

She opened the door, disappearing into the hall.

I dragged my fingers through my hair, hating the man I'd become. I resented Miranda for turning me into such an asshole, even though I knew it was my flaw.

Fucking hell. I hurried from the room, hoping to catch her to apologize. I scanned the club but didn't see her. Maybe her anger at me was for the best. Clearly, I couldn't control my libido or my asshole behavior around her. This way, she’d make sure to avoid me if our paths ever crossed again.

I pulled out my phone and texted Dunc that I was leaving. I wasn't in the mood to party or throw off the advances of my date, Debbie or Donna. I couldn’t remember. I’d already been trying to concoct excuses to not fuck her before Miranda showed up. My date would think I was rude, but I didn't give a shit.

What's wrong?Came Dunc's text.

Migraine, I lied.

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