Bad Daddy (Dirty Little Lies Duet 1)

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Winters?” I ask, my voice humming with desire. I’m overly aroused. Just listening to him breathe is getting me off. My internal battle begs for him to ask me to take my shirt off. Touch myself for him. Fuck myself while wishing it was his finger—his cock—giving me pleasure. My cheeks instantly flush. I know he can decipher what I’m thinking. His eyes deepen to a dark shade. There’s no denying he’s just as turned on as me.

He clears his throat, pulling away from the screen as if it’s on fire. “No, that’s it. Have a great night, Violet,” he says abruptly, then gets up from his chair.

My entire body is buzzing. A throbbing between my legs has my nipples hardening under my shirt. I try drinking some water to cool myself down, but it doesn’t help. Every thought of him, those eyes, his fingers, tongue… “Fuck,” I moan, grazing my fingers over my swollen sex. My eyes catch the clock on the wall. Hazel won’t be done with her movie for another thirty minutes.

I walk over to the door and lock it, then make myself comfortable in my bed. I remove my clothes, the image of him sharp in my mind. This is wrong, but it feels so right. Closing my eyes, I dip my fingers into the folds of my throbbing pussy.

Heath

What in God’s name am I doing? I’m already hard, imagining her taut, little body naked and riding my cock. Those innocent lips around my dick. My fingers in her cunt and ass. “Fuck.” She’s consuming every corner of my brain, and I can’t stop. I drain half the bourbon in my glass, returning to my office. I throw myself in my chair, needing to wash her from my sick mind.

Faint whimpers echo around my office, and I’m confused as to where they’re coming from—my computer. The FaceTime call never disconnected. I expand the tab, and my entire screen fills with the inside of Hazel’s dorm room. The dim lights hanging on the ceiling cast shadows over the room. I squint, my eyes working harder to bring everything into focus when another round of whimpers tickles my eardrums. “What the…?”

There on the lower bunk, I see her. Violet. Porcelain flesh exposed. Her breasts are free, her small nipples pebbled. She sticks out her tongue, licking her bottom lip as a moan falls from her mouth. Just when my cock was starting to go soft, he stiffens into a painful salute. I break away from her mouth, following her hand movements until my eyes land between her legs. Her finger disappears inside her cunt, and with each thrust, her moans become louder and more theatrical.

“Fuck.” I should turn this off. This is a private moment—not meant for a fucking pervert like me. Her hand works harder, and she adds another finger. I grip my cock through my slacks. Her fingers glisten in the glimmer of light, and I growl under my breath, wanting to suck that wetness from each individual digit. She strokes herself, using her other hand to fondle her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingertips.

I’m a fucking pig. A sick mother fucker. She’s my daughter’s roommate. I need to turn this off. But I’m weak when it comes to pleasure. I always have been. Working my zipper down, I pull my cock from my slacks and fist my length. My head rests against the back of my chair as I pump up and down, matching her rhythm. “Fuck yeah, fuck that little pussy,” I hiss quietly. I want to wrap my teeth around her nipple and bite, inflicting pleasurable pain. Her movements become faster, jerkier, and I find myself beating off quick and hard as she fucks herself. My balls become tight. The base of my spine tingles as the pleasure builds. She enters a third finger, and I almost go blind with desire. Her lips part and her head tilts back as she moans out her release. My name falls off her lips as cum spurts all over my hand.

The moment the rush of my orgasm fades, reality sets in. I slam my laptop shut, disconnecting the call.

Violet

I fill out my final answer for my psychology exam just in time for the bell to ring.

“Okay, that’s it. Pens down. Turn your tests in.” Jim…or Professor Wells clicks on his pen, one, two, three times while he scans the room, trying to catch any last-minute scribblers. His eyes latch on mine, and a small smile hooks the corners of my lips.

“How’d you do?” Hazel asks, zipping up her bag.

I pick up my test and throw my backpack over my shoulder. “Nailed it,” I brag.

“Sweet! Let’s get out of here. If we hit the road in the next hour, we can make it to my house before traffic. My dad should be home by then too.”