Hooking Up With My Dad's Best Friend

I flush bright red. “Yes. You knew?”

He smirks at me, which does nothing to cool the blush on my face. “Of course I knew, Katti. It was pretty clear. I’ve thought about that night a lot, actually. Where we might be now if it had gone the way you planned.”

I shake my head. “I’ll be honest, that night is blurry for me. I was drunk, and I don’t remember what I said to you. But other than my imagination, I didn’t think you reacted to me. Like there was just something, and then it was gone.”

“God, Katti, I was so hard that night. After you left I had to get myself off three times in order to cool off. If your mother hadn’t walked in at that moment, I don’t know if I could have held myself back. But you were drunk, and I didn’t want you to regret anything in the morning.”

I rub my hand across my face. “All this time I felt like you thought I was making a fool of myself. But I know this, no matter how drunk I was, I would have never regretted that. I don’t regret what we’ve done.”

“Good.”

The way he’s staring at me, I feel like I could talk to him forever and tell him everything. He draws it out of me. “You’re a good listener, Bryce.”

He takes a bite of fried rice, and smiles. “It’s what makes me a good lover. Whoever my partner happens to be, I listen to what they want and need, especially if it’s their body talking.”

For a second, my mind flashes to the list of lovers he must have had since I left. As Elle pointed out earlier, Bryce is fucking hot. I doubt he’s been celibate.

Jealousy rises up like a flare, and I try to smother it. I don’t have a right to be jealous. We weren’t together, I didn’t have a claim to him. But I also don’t want to think about anyone else touching him. Or him pleasuring somebody else with that perfect body of his.

Bryce reaches across the space between us and takes my hand. “Part of being a good listener is listening when someone isn’t talking.”

I nod, unsure of what I’d say if I let myself.

“There hasn’t been anyone else for a long time.”

I make a face. “Really? You’re like a walking specimen of perfection. I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

“You forget,” he says, twining his fingers with mine, “that you were not the only one wishing for something that they did not have.”

He leans forward like he’s going to kiss me, and his elbow knocks the container of soy sauce off the table and onto his pants. Pale brown slacks that the liquid seeps into right away. “Shite,” he murmurs, and I’m on my feet, running to the bathroom getting a wet paper towel so I can clean it.

It’s only once my hands are already on the stain that I truly realize where it is and what I’m doing. The liquid is right over his cock, and it’s hardening beneath my hands. I slow down my furious scrubbing, and look Bryce in the eyes. They’ve gone dark with awareness and lust, and the air in my lungs completely disappears.

“How cliché is it if I get on my knees right now?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Bryce says. “I think that entirely depends on which story we’re in. Clichés depend on the story.”

“If I get on my knees and suck your cock, like a classic porn movie.”

The corner of his mouth tips up even as he pins me with a hungry stare. “Cliché? Yes. But entirely welcome.”

And I do it. I sink to my knees between Bryce’s legs, fulfilling a fantasy that’s been in my mind for years. I got to taste him last night, but I want more. I want to taste him and explore him.

Unzipping his wet pants, I free his cock that’s straining through his underwear. I love that it’s like the rest of him—long and statuesque and defined. He’s already hard as a rock under my hands.

Right now he’s not thinking about anyone else, and I’m going to make him feel so fucking good.

I start touching him. Not with any other person have I just wanted to savor the feeling of their arousal. I reach down and explore his balls with the tips of my fingers too, feeling the softness there.

Glancing up, I find him watching me, eyes dark. I can’t help but smile, and I don’t break eye contact as I take the head of his cock into my mouth.

He groans, head falling back, and that sound does things to my body. Enough that I’m tempted to skip the blowjob and just climb up onto his lap and fuck him.

But that can come later.

I love the taste of Bryce. It’s rich and deep and salty and reminds me of him. It has layers, and has that same kind of addictive quality that makes me want to taste it forever.