I’m so fucking happy she’s here. Not just in my castle, where I can protect her, but seated across my thighs. She’s delicious. So sweet she’ll give me diabetes and I don’t care, I want all of it.
I should not be doing this with my best friend’s daughter.
But I’m only stealing a wee taste, so much less than I want, it seems as though my restraint in not doing more should be sufficient to absolve me of the crime. I’m not doing anything irrevocable. I’m not taking everything this innocent lass doesn’t even realise she’s offering.
But this kiss is so amazing it’s ripping me apart. I’m torn into shreds for Mia, all my certainty in smithereens. I imagined I knew Mia and myself, and the relationship we had. But no. This lass whose heart I know so well but whose body has turned into a woman’s while I wasn’t watching is everything to me. Our kiss is a mix of all of these conflicted emotions. The desire and the taboo and the deep knowledge that she’s both the cute lassie I cared for and this woman I admire and want and adore. Need. Love.
Fuck, IloveMia.
The combination of our longstanding friendship and combustible attraction is heady and undeniable. My feelings for Mia are in my bones and blood, a part of me I can’t change. It can only have one name. I love her.
I fell before I even realised I should try to catch myself, and now I’m entirely hers. In love with my best friend’s daughter.
I tell her with the brush of my lips on hers. With the thrust of my tongue. I hold her head, that silky blonde hair cascading over my fingers, and alternate tender licks with filthy plundering of her mouth that makes promises I know I cannot keep.
It’s just a kiss. I stay at a respectable distance—for a kiss—so she doesn’t find out how this is affecting me. I continue lying to myself that one kiss doesn’t make me all the things I know I am.
But how can something wrong feel so incredibly right?
She’s making whining noises and shifting on my legs. It’s only when I sense her heat that my heartbeat skips. She has slipped to one side on my lap, so her pussy is flush to my thigh, separated by only a couple of layers of thin fabric. Her leggings. My trousers. And as I feel her move, I realise how, in the sinuous shifts that make her shudder with pleasure, she is trying to get contact on her clit.
That makes the room stuffed with air. Too much, and my head is swimming. She’s… Turned on. Really, really turned on by our kiss. I enjoy her sensual movements, my hands slipping to her hips for a few seconds, taken aback at how sexy she is and how deliciously uninhibited.
Her sounds of frustration tug at my heart. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing to give her what she needs? So long as I wasn’t taking anything for myself, would that really be so wrong?
My lass needs to come.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” I say, low and hoarse.
She gasps like a guilty schoolgirl, then whimpers and grinds harder. Part of me wants to take over. Flip her over and finger her, lick her, then make her come on my cock. But perhaps she needs this. To pleasure herself with a big beast and pretend she’s a shameless hussy doing it without his knowledge. Maybe to stray into the forbidden before she settles down for a normal life somewhere else, far away from me.
I can’t think about that.
All I know is I’m going to enable her to take whatever she needs from me, right now. That’s my reason for existence. To be here for her.
“So naughty,” I whisper and nip her earlobe. She speeds up. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”
“No.” Her hair caresses my chest through my shirt as she shakes her head.
“Liar,” I insist. “And for that lie, there’s a punishment.” I grasp her buttocks in both hands and she squeaks as I pull her up and forwards. Her soft stretchy leggings are yanked down in a single tug and her white lace knickers follow. So fucking cute but I want her skin on mine. I have to feel her juices coating my leg as she writhes and moans.
Her eyes are wide as I hold her arse with one hand and unbutton my jeans with the other. There’s a hint of trepidation around her open mouth as I push the fabric down and reveal my solid length covered with my boxers.
“Go on then, bonnie lass.” I let her sink back onto my thigh, skin to skin this time. “You’re so dirty, sweet, and beautiful.” I cup one hand on her naked bottom and plunge the other into her hair. “You like the taboo, don’t you? Make yourself come.”
She moans as she begins to move again. I urge her faster. And fuck this is insane. My thigh is not sensitive. In thirty-eight years of life, no part of my thigh has ever struck me as being capable of more than a passing sensation. Not like my cock or my fingers. But it seems that every nerve ending in my body has migrated to where she’s rubbing her hot soaking sex on my leg. Even the feel of her bare arse under my fingertips, pressing into her skin, isn’t as good as her pussy.
“That’s it,” I tell her, whispering into her hair as she begins to shake with the effort. “My perfect lass. Give it up. Cream all over me.”
I want to feel her come. My cock is harder than it’s ever been from imagining it’s not my thigh, but that solid length that she’s using to pleasure herself. Or maybe it is just the sound of her. The wet, sticky noise of her pussy lips, the rustle of her top against my shirt. The falling snow outside insulates us from the usual hoots of owls or whistle of the wind. There’s only the soft crackling of the fire and her breath, all high and desperate and ragged now.
She is way off-limits. I’m going to hell for this, if not all the other immoral and illegal things I’ve done. But my good lass deserves an orgasm. And while I’d love to feel her clench around my cock, she’s my best friend’s tipsy daughter. My dead best friend, lest I forget. Duncan would murder me for doing this.
Her making herself orgasm against my thigh isn’t so bad, right? I’m not claiming anything I shouldn’t. I’m not taking her cherry. I’m not pounding her into the sofa. I’m just… Here.
I’m practically an inanimate object.
Oh god I’d like to be her dildo. I’d be terrible. I’d never be able to keep still. I’d do everything for her pleasure, but I’d take too. I’d find that spot which made us both pant and groan.
