My Best Friend's Dad by Cassandra Dee

Author:Cassandra Dee [Dee, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cassandra Dee Romance
Published: 2018-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Chris

Fuck. What have I done? I’ve completely corrupted the girl of my dreams. Marie arrived at my house, innocent and pure with a charming French accent and a sweet smile, and now she’s bouncing up and down my dick as her anus clenches and squeezes, milking my balls until they’re dry.

Yet the loving is so good with the sensuous brunette because it’s not just her body that gets to me – it’s everything about her. The way she smiles at me first thing when she wakes up. The way she kisses me tenderly, and how she says my name musically. Marie has me wrapped around her fingers, and I’ll die a happy man so long as we’re together.

Simple enough, right? Hardly. She’s an exchange student staying in my apartment for crying out loud. Not only would the Board of Education immediately remove the brunette from my care, but her parents would probably hire a hit man to take me out. Not to mention my own daughter. Jenny would probably pass out from the shock, before disowning me as her dad forever.

And I can’t have that because Jenny’s my flesh and blood. She’s the only thing I have on this earth that matters, aside from my sweet Marie. So I’m not sure how this is going to work out. After all, it’s an impossible choice: my lover or my daughter?

But for this weekend, I’ve decided to put it all out of my head because it’s so hard to have time alone with my beautiful exchange student. We’re usually walking on needles, afraid that someone will see us, or that we’ll be discovered by some hapless parent from Bradford. So I’ve decided to enjoy these forty eight hours with no regrets.

And Marie hasn’t let me down. We ordered room service after our frenetic lovemaking, and she’s eating pancakes drowned in maple syrup.

“What, they don’t have pancakes in France?” I tease.

She smiles at me before taking the whipped cream and spraying a big pyramid of frothy white onto her pancakes.

“They do,” she says lightly. “But these are better. I like the blueberries in them.”

“Oh you do,” I say again. “You want a bite of my muffin then?”

She scrunches her nose.

“Now those, I hate,” she grouses. “Muffins in America are so hard and dense, they’re more like scones. I like mine airy and crumbly. But maybe I’ll have a bite because I do like blueberries,” she says playfully.

I watch approvingly as she takes a big bite of my muffin, chewing with her eyes closed.

“Mmmm, blueberries,” she moans. “They’re so good.”

But then those caramel eyes catch mine again.

“Are you sure you don’t mind that I’m eating your whole breakfast?” she quips. “You won’t have anything after I’m done.”

I merely laugh heartily.

“Sweetheart, I’ve dated so many women that ate nothing, and you’re a breath of fresh air by comparison. I love how you enjoy food, and I love how it looks on you too,” I say, shooting her naked figure an approving glance. “Because honey, I hate the stick thin twigs walking around Manhattan.

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