My Dad's Bestfriend (Evelyn and Jacob) novel Chapter 264

Sienna

I was a moth drawn to his flame—and I was about to burn in the most exquisite way imaginable.

Alex was the fire. The center of every filthy, forbidden, and relentless desire I'd ever tried to bury. He was there standing behind me—ready to break everything I'd ever tried to keep together.

Even as he paused, his hand still resting on my butt cheek, the heat of his touch seeped into my skin like a slow brand. The silence that followed was heavy, alive—thick with tension and unspoken hunger. I could feel his gaze on me, tracing every inch, weighing, claiming. And it burned—God, it burned—until I trembled from the inside out.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice low and rough enough to send a shiver through me. "Soaking the desk, Flower. All this... for a mistake?"

The dark amusement in his tone coiled around me, and when his hand came down again, a sharp slap against my butt, soon it melted into something dangerously sweet as he soothed over the bare spot with a gentle touch of his palm resting against the now hot skin.

Was it supposed to feel this good?

No. It couldn't be. There had to be something wrong with me.

But whatever that wrongness was—it was mine. And every right part of me wanted more of it.

Because whatever this man did, whatever power he held over me... I couldn't stop craving the burn.

He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over my ear. "I think your body is telling a different story. Your mind says mistake, but your cunt... your cunt is screaming my name."

And then his fingers dipped lower, teasing entrance and making me moan, as he collected my arousal.

My body betrayed me—a whimper slipped past my lips as I pushed back against his touch, seeking more. Needing more.

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound curling around me like smoke. "Eager, aren't we?" His tone was a taunt, threaded with possession. "But I'm not done with my questions yet."

Then his hand came down again—sharp, deliberate, the sting blooming into a rush of heat that stole my breath. Pain and pleasure tangled until I couldn't tell them apart.

"Let's try again," he said, his voice deceptively calm—like the silence before a storm. "What part was a mistake?"

I bit my lip, swallowing the confession that clawed its way up my throat. None of it had been a mistake. Every second of that night was burned into me—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me as if I was both salvation and sin. But saying it aloud would mean giving in completely, surrendering the last fragile piece of myself I was still pretending to guard.

He already owned me—body, mind, and soul.

And yet... I had a feeling he wasn't done taking.

"Was it this?" he asked, his fingers sliding inside me, curling just right. I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily. "That you kept begging for more?"

God! No—it wasn't.

I begged because I damn well wanted him to fuck me more.

He pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, driving me crazy with need, "Was you taking my cock so well like a good little girl laying beneath me was a mistake?" He leaned over, body pressing into mine, the heat of him seeping into me.

His words...they ignited memories.

And I was already missing him inside of me. The feel of him stretching me there and him driving me insane with each thrust.

My body was screaming for him again. It wanted him.

Once again my body betrayed me and I found myself arching my back, giving him better access—offering myself to him, shamelessly. My breath hitched, his fingers hitting a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. He groaned, the sound vibrating through me, deep and primal.

"You're so tight... so wet..." His voice was a low growl that sent jolts of electricity through my body. He added another finger, stretching me, filling me in a way that made my mind go blank with pleasure.

Fuck! He was indeed ruining me.

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