Your father needed a raise at work so you looked for a way to get it
age gap, unprotected sex p in v, oral sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, creampie, idea from tiktok (2.7k)
The sheriff’s office smelled of coffee, old wood, and that faint hint of leather. You had been there only a couple of times before, but never alone. Never with your heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to leap out of your throat.
Your father had been coming home with a haggard face for weeks. The bills were piling up, the rent was late again, and he only repeated in a low voice: “Beau says there’s no budget for raises this year.” But you knew there had to be something you could do. That’s why you were there, wearing the simple black dress that hugged your curves just enough not to look desperate… but enough to be noticed.
The secretary looked at you with pity and told you that you could go in. The door to Beau’s office was ajar.
“Come in,” his deep voice said before you even knocked.
You entered and Beau was sitting behind the desk, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his forearms and his cowboy hat hanging on the coat rack.
He looked up and his green eyes narrowed slightly when he recognized you.
“Well… Jones’s daughter.” He leaned back in his chair, watching you with that mix of curiosity and authority that defined him. “Everything okay at home?”
You closed the door behind you, and the click sounded louder than you expected.
“Not exactly, Sheriff.”
Beau frowned but didn’t interrupt, so you approached the desk, trying to keep your voice steady.
“My dad… he’s been working overtime for months. He can barely make ends meet. I know it’s not your personal responsibility, but…” You swallowed hard. “He respects you a lot. And I… I just want to ask you to reconsider the raise, even if it’s small. He’s exhausted, Sheriff. And I can’t stand seeing him like this.”
Beau looked at you in silence for a few seconds that felt eternal. His fingers drummed once on the wood before he spoke.
“I understand your concern. I really do, but the budget is what it is and I can’t make exceptions just because someone needs it more than others. It wouldn’t be fair.”
The disappointment hit you hard. You lowered your gaze for a second, feeling your cheeks heat up. When you looked at him again, you decided to play your second card, the one you had planned as a last resort.
You took one more step closer to the desk, letting your fingers brush the wooden surface.
“And what if I’m not asking for an exception out of pity?” Your voice dropped a tone. “What if I’m asking for… something more personal?”
Beau’s eyes changed. They were no longer just those of the understanding boss. Now there was something darker, more alert. He straightened slowly in his chair, looking you up and down without hiding it.
“Careful what you’re offering, darling,” he murmured, almost as a warning. “I’m not the kind of man who takes advantage of a desperate girl.”
“I’m not desperate,” you lied halfway, placing your hands on the edge of the desk and leaning forward enough for the neckline of your dress to reveal more than was decent. “I’m just willing to do whatever it takes for my family.”
The silence that followed was thick. Beau held your gaze, and for a moment you thought he was going to throw you out of his office. Instead, he stood up slowly, walked around the desk, and stopped just a step away from you.
He was taller than you remembered, more imposing.
“So… you’re willing to do whatever it takes?” he repeated, his voice lower and rougher.
You nodded, feeling the heat rise up your neck.
Beau raised a hand and brushed your jaw with the back of his fingers. The contact was light, but it ran through you like electricity.
“Then lock the door,” he said, almost in a whisper. “And come here.”
You obeyed with slightly trembling fingers. The click of the lock sounded final. When you turned around, Beau had his arms crossed over his broad chest, looking at you with those green eyes that seemed to read every intention.
“Good. Now speak clearly, darling. Because I don’t like misunderstandings. What exactly are you offering?”
You swallowed hard and decided not to look away.
“I’m offering… whatever is necessary for my dad to get that raise. I know it’s not fair. I know this puts me in a complicated position, but I’m willing.”
Beau let out a low, almost incredulous laugh and ran a hand over his jaw.
“Fuck…” he muttered. “Do you know how many years older I am than you? Do you know I’m your father’s boss? This isn’t just ‘complicated,’ this is a big problem.”
“I also know you’ve been looking at me more than necessary every time I go pick him up from work,” you replied, taking a step toward him. “And that today you didn’t throw me out the moment I walked in.”
Beau narrowed his eyes. The corner of his mouth curved slightly, but his expression remained serious.
“You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But bravery and stupidity sometimes look too much alike. What if I say no? Are you going to walk out of here crying and tell your dad his boss is a son of a bitch?”
“No,” you said, taking another step closer. “I’m going to stay here and ask you why you don’t want to take what I’m offering. Or are you afraid you’ll like it too much?”
The air between the two of you grew heavy. Beau uncrossed his arms and looked you up and down, lingering on the neckline of your dress, the curve of your hips, the way your lips parted.
“You’re dangerous,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “And the worst part is you know it. Tell me one thing… Would you really do this for your father? Or is there a part of you that wants this anyway?”
You felt your cheeks burn, but you didn’t back down.
“Both,” you admitted. “I want to help my dad… and yes, I want to know what it feels like to have all your attention on me.”
Beau closed the last remaining distance. Now he was so close that his chest almost brushed against yours. He raised a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with deliberate slowness.
“All my attention?” he repeated, lowering his voice to a deep murmur. “If I give you all my attention, darling, you won’t be able to walk straight out of this office. Are you sure that’s what you want to negotiate?”
Your breathing became shorter. You could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“I’m sure,” you whispered. “Please, Beau…”
Using his first name seemed to affect him. His pupils dilated and his hand moved down to your waist, squeezing just enough for you to feel his strength.
“Say it again,” he ordered softly.
“Beau…” you said, almost breathless. “Please.”
He tilted his head, his lips barely brushing the edge of your ear.
“Good girl. Now tell me exactly what you’re willing to do to get your dad that raise. I want to hear it from your mouth.”
You took a breath.
“I want… I’ll do whatever it takes for you to give my dad that raise.”
Beau smiled slowly, almost cruelly. His fingers tightened on your waist.
“Pretty words… but it’s not enough.”
You felt a liquid heat sliding down your belly.
“Please…” you whispered.
“No. Be clearer, on your knees and begging.”
You bit your lip, shame and excitement mixing together. Slowly you lowered yourself until you were kneeling in front of him. Beau sat back in his leather chair, spreading his legs with authority and looking down at you as if you were the most interesting thing in the world.
“That’s how I like seeing you,” he murmured. “Now tell me what you want.”
“I want to suck your cock, Beau… Please. Let me taste you, I’ll make it worth it. Please…”
He calmly unbuckled his belt and lowered the zipper. He pulled out his already hard, thick cock, stroking it slowly in front of your face.
“Good girl. Open your mouth.”
You had barely wrapped your lips around the head when someone knocked on the door.
“Sheriff Arlen,” a male voice called from the hallway. “Got a minute? It’s about the Miller case.”
Your heart stopped. You tried to pull back, but Beau’s large hand settled on the back of your neck, holding you exactly where you were.
“Easy,” he whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”
Then he raised his voice, perfectly calm:
“Come in, Jenkins. I’m finishing up some paperwork.”
The door opened. From under the desk you could only see the deputy’s legs and the edge of the table. Beau gently pushed his hips forward, pushing more of his cock into your hot mouth while speaking with total normality.
“What’s going on with the Millers?” he asked, as if he didn’t have his employee’s daughter kneeling and sucking him off.
You tried to stay quiet, but it was almost impossible. Your tongue licked the underside of his shaft as you took him deeper, careful not to make the wet sounds too obvious. Beau was thick and hot in your mouth, pulsing against your tongue.
Jenkins began explaining something about evidence and schedules, but you could barely concentrate. Beau kept one hand in your hair, guiding you slowly, fucking your mouth with short, controlled movements while answering in a firm voice:
“I understand… Yes, go over that with the morning team. I don’t want any mistakes this time.”
Every time he responded, he pushed a little deeper, brushing the back of your throat. Your eyes watered, but you kept sucking with more eagerness, turned on by the risk.
“Perfect, Jenkins. That’s all for now,” Beau said finally, his voice a little rougher than usual. “Close the door on your way out.”
The door closed. As soon as the sound of footsteps faded, Beau let out a low growl and grabbed your hair harder.
“Fuck… you’ve got such a good mouth,” he groaned, no longer needing to pretend. “Keep going, darling. Don’t stop and if you’re really good… maybe I’ll sign that raise before the day is over.”
You moaned around him, vibrating against his shaft, and that seemed to drive him wild. He pushed deeper, hitting the back of your throat while holding you firmly. Your eyes teared up, but you didn’t stop.
You wanted more. You wanted everything.
Suddenly, Beau stood up from the chair, pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet sound, and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. He sat you on the edge of the desk, spreading your legs roughly and pushing your dress up to your waist.
“I need to fuck you,” he said urgently, kissing your neck and biting gently. “Now.”
You nodded without thinking, desperate. Beau positioned himself between your thighs, rubbed the thick head of his cock against your soaked pussy, and thrust into you in one deep movement.
“Ahh… shit,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.
He let out a throaty moan and started fucking you hard, making the desk move. Every thrust was deep and possessive. He kissed you hungrily, biting your lower lip while his hips slammed against yours.
“So tight…” he growled against your mouth. “I knew you’d feel this good.”
You came first, trembling and clenching around him as you tried to muffle your moans against his neck. Beau followed shortly after, burying himself to the hilt and cumming inside you with a long, low groan, filling you completely.
After several minutes, Beau pulled out of you, turned you around easily, and bent you over the desk. Your chest pressed against the cool wood while he pushed your dress up to your waist.
He entered you again from behind with one strong thrust, pulling a louder moan from you.
“Like that… let me hear you,” he growled, grabbing your hair gently as he fucked you deeper.
His hips slapped against your ass in a steady, delicious rhythm. One of his hands moved down to your clit and began rubbing it in circles, making your legs shake.
“Beau… please…” you gasped.
He fucked you hard like that for a while, then suddenly paused. One of his hands spread your ass as his thumb brushed over your tightest hole.
“Someday I’m going to take you right here too,” he growled against your ear. “I’m going to fuck this tight little ass until you can’t think straight.”
Breathless and overwhelmed with lust, you nodded.
“Yes…” you whispered.
Beau groaned in approval and fucked you even harder.
You didn’t last long like that, clenching hard around him as an intense orgasm ran through you. Beau kept moving, prolonging your pleasure, until he turned you around again and lifted you into his arms.
He carried you to the couch against the wall, sat down, and placed you on top of him, straddling his lap. He entered you again, this time looking into your eyes while you controlled the pace. His large hands roamed your back, your waist, and your breasts over the dress.
“Move, darling… I want to watch you,” he murmured.
You rocked against him, rising and falling, feeling him fill you completely in this position. Beau kissed your neck, gently bit your nipples through the fabric, and grabbed your ass, guiding your movements.
“Again…” he whispered against your lips, thrusting his hips up to meet you. “I want you to come one more time.”
“Beau… I can’t…” you gasped, exhausted and sensitive.
“Yes you can, baby,” he kissed you tenderly but continued fucking you with a firm rhythm. “Look at me. Let me feel you. Come with me…”
He kissed you nonstop, swallowing your moans as you moved on top of him. The pleasure rose again, stronger than before. You came for the third time, moaning against his mouth while he held you tight. Beau followed shortly after, cumming deep inside you with a throaty groan.
You both stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, breathing heavily, your head resting on his shoulder.
After a while, Beau stroked your back tenderly and kissed your temple.
“I’m going to sign that raise for your dad,” he whispered. “Tomorrow.”
You smiled against his neck.
“Thank you, Beau…”
He stayed quiet for a few seconds, as if debating with himself.
Finally, he let out a soft sigh and looked you directly in the eyes, with a vulnerability you didn’t expect to see in him.
“There’s something you need to know…” he said softly. “Your dad was going to get that raise anyway. I had already approved it two weeks ago. I was just waiting for the right moment to tell him.”
You blinked, confused.
“What…? Then… why…?”
Beau smiled shyly, almost embarrassed, and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face.
“Because I’ve wanted you for a long time, ever since the first time I saw you come to pick him up from work. You always seemed incredible to me… strong and beautiful. But I never dared to say anything. You’re the daughter of one of my best employees and much younger. I thought it was inappropriate.”
Your heart flipped. You looked at him, unable to fully believe it.
“Beau…”
“When you walked into my office today willing to do anything for your dad…” he continued, his voice rough but soft, “I almost died. I didn’t want you to lower yourself for something I was already going to give, but I also didn’t want to let you go. That’s why I asked you to stay.”
You stayed silent, processing his words. Then you smiled, feeling a warm glow in your chest, and kissed him slowly.
“So… all of this wasn’t just for the favor?” you asked against his lips.
“No,” he answered, returning the kiss with tenderness. “This was because I’ve wanted to have you like this for a long time, and now that I have you… I don’t want to let you go.”
You hugged him tighter, feeling his warmth surround you.
“I want to keep seeing you too, Beau,” you whispered.
He smiled against your mouth, happy and relieved, and kissed you once more, slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world.
Your dad’s best friend has been showering at your place while his bathroom is being fixed. One day, the line between you disappears
age gap, unprotected sex p in v, mirror sex, risk of getting caught (
The first time Beau showed up at the door with a hand towel and a toiletry bag, you just smiled and told him the guest bathroom was free. He had been your father’s best friend for years; practically an uncle, but lately… lately nothing felt familiar.
The repairs at his house had dragged on longer than expected. Three days in a row already. And every morning, after his run or finishing his shift, Beau would walk through the door of your house with that lazy smile and his hair tousled by the Montana wind.
“Your old man saved my life, you know?” he always said, winking at you before disappearing down the hallway.
You tried not to think about it. It was a stupid crush, the kind you have at nineteen and that should fade with time. Beau was older, too experienced, too… everything. But then it started happening.
The first time was a genuine accident. You came out of your room at midnight looking for a glass of water and there he was: fresh out of the shower, wearing only a white towel around his hips, water still glistening on his broad shoulders and chest marked by years of hard work.
He had stopped in front of the hallway mirror, running a hand through his damp hair. When he saw you, he simply raised an eyebrow and gave you a half-smile.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I thought you were already asleep.”
You mumbled something incoherent and fled to the kitchen with your cheeks burning.
The next day it happened again. This time he “forgot” to close the bathroom door properly. The towel hung dangerously low on his hips as he stepped out, and you could have sworn he looked at you a second longer than necessary before going into the guest room.
By the third day, he didn’t even pretend to be surprised when he found you in the hallway. He just gave you that slow, dangerous smile, the one that made the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes appear.
“You’re up early,” he commented that morning, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. The towel barely covered what was necessary. The dark hair on his chest trailed down in a thin line until it disappeared under the white fabric. He smelled like your vanilla soap and something more masculine, him.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied, trying to sound casual. Your traitorous eyes dipped down for just a second. Just one second.
Of course Beau noticed.
He took one step closer and the hallway suddenly felt way too narrow.
“Are you sure that’s why?” His voice dropped an octave, husky from sleep and something else. “Because for three days now I’ve been feeling like you’re always where you shouldn’t be, darling.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You swallowed hard.
“Beau… you’re my dad’s best friend.”
“I know.” He took another step. Now he was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his still-damp skin. “And that’s been driving me crazy for longer than I want to admit.”
His fingers brushed your arm, barely a touch, but it was enough to set all the desire you’d been holding back on fire.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, tilting his head. His lips were inches from yours. “Tell me now and I’ll go into that room, close the door, and we’ll pretend none of this is happening.”
You didn’t say anything. Instead, you lifted your hand and brushed the tips of your fingers along the edge of the towel, right where it was precariously holding on to his hip.
“Fuck…”
And then he kissed you. It was as if he had been holding back just as much as you. His large hands grabbed your waist, pulling you against his still-damp body, while his mouth devoured yours with hunger.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips on instinct as he carried you down the hallway to the main bathroom. He closed the door with his foot and sat you on the edge of the marble sink.
The mirror was still fogged up from his recent shower. The steam and the scent of his soap surrounded you.
“You’ve been in my head for days, fuck…” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. “Every time I walk into this house, every time I see you in the hallway… I can’t focus on anything. I only think about you.”
His hands slid down your sides, pulling you closer. Your chest pressed against his, skin to skin. You could feel how hard he was against your thigh.
You smiled, biting your lower lip as you looked into his eyes. That mischievous smile seemed to turn him on even more.
“Is this going to be our secret?” you asked in a whisper, brushing your lips against his.
Beau let out a soft growl and pulled you tighter against him, one hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your hair.
“Yes…” he whispered directly against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours. “This is going to be our secret.”
And then he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier. His tongue tangled with yours as his skilled fingers pulled off the thin t-shirt you were wearing, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. His hands roamed your bare skin with both reverence and urgency, sliding down to the waistband of your shorts.
He slowly slid them down your legs, kissing the inside of your thighs as he did. When you looked at him again, his green eyes were dark with desire.
“You’re so fucking beautiful…” he murmured, straightening up to capture your mouth again.
The bathroom filled with steam, the sound of your ragged breathing, and the constant slide of skin against skin. Beau gripped your thighs, spreading you open for him, and kissed you like he had been holding back for years.
You slipped a hand between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around him. He was hot, hard, and heavy. Beau let out a rough groan against your mouth as you began to stroke him with slow but firm movements, sliding up and down his length.
“Fuck…” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours while watching you touch him.
You felt powerful seeing how his breathing grew heavier.
Smiling against his lips, you guided him exactly where you wanted him. You positioned the thick head of his cock at your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your wetness, making it clear without words what you wanted.
Beau’s eyes darkened. He loved that you were taking the initiative.
“Look at you… so eager,” he murmured in a deep voice.
He didn’t give you much time to prepare. He pushed forward with a firm thrust of his hips, entering you in one go until he was halfway in. You let out a muffled moan, digging your nails into his shoulders.
“Beau… you’re so big,” you gasped, feeling how you stretched around him.
He let out a low growl and gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open for him.
“Shh, you’re a good girl…” he whispered against your ear, biting your lobe. “You’re taking it so well. Breathe, beautiful.”
You nodded quickly, biting your lip. The pleasure and pressure mixed in an almost overwhelming way. Beau pushed a little more, bottoming out this time, and you let out a louder moan.
“That’s it… just like that,” he praised in a husky voice, starting to move with deep, controlled thrusts. “You’re so tight… but look at you, taking all of me like a good girl.”
You could only nod, because words wouldn’t come out. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair and kissed him desperately, swallowing your own moans as he fucked you against the bathroom sink.
Every thrust was deeper, more intense. The wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom along with your ragged breaths. Beau didn’t stop whispering in your ear how good you felt, how perfect you were, how much he had fantasized about this.
And you could only kiss him harder, squeezing your legs around his hips, silently begging him not to stop.
Just when you felt your legs starting to tremble, Beau pulled out of you with a wet sound. He turned you around easily, almost effortlessly, and bent you over the sink.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered in a husky voice, positioning himself behind you.
The mirror was no longer as fogged up. Now you could see yourself clearly: flushed cheeks, lips swollen from kissing, messy hair. Beau was behind you, tall, muscular, with that dark, hungry expression. He gripped your hips and entered you again with one hard thrust, even deeper from this angle.
You let out a louder moan, gripping the edge of the sink. He felt bigger like this, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. Every thrust made your breasts sway slightly and your knees threaten to buckle.
“Beau…” you gasped, watching him fuck you in the reflection.
“Shh, keep your voice down, baby,” he whispered with a dangerous smile, not stopping his movements. “Your dad could be home any minute… and we don’t want him to hear us, do we?”
The risk made everything more intense. The possibility that the front door could open at any second, that your father might call your name while Beau had you bent over the sink, sent a wave of forbidden excitement through you. Your body clenched around him, squeezing tighter.
“You like that, huh?” he growled, picking up the pace. One of his hands slid between your legs, touching you right where you needed it most while he continued thrusting hard. “It turns you on that we might get caught…”
You nodded, biting your lip hard to keep from moaning too loudly. The sensations were overwhelming: the heat of his body against your back, the slide of his damp skin, the way he filled you completely with every thrust, the wet, obscene sound of your bodies colliding. Every time he drove in, you felt a delicious, deep pressure that made you shake.
“Look at yourself in the mirror,” he ordered, gently grabbing your hair to lift your head. “I want you to see how beautiful you look while I fuck you.”
You did. And the image of you completely surrendered, him behind you dominating you with that intense gaze, pushed you over the edge.
Beau felt you tightening around him and let out a low growl, thrusting harder and faster, his fingers still working between your legs.
“Good girl… let go for me.”
A few minutes later, Beau’s rhythm became more irregular, more desperate. His thrusts were deeper, harder, hitting that spot inside you that blurred the reflection in the mirror. You felt every inch of him, hot and throbbing, filling you completely.
“I’m close…” he growled against your ear, his hot breath on your nape. “You want me to come inside, baby?”
You could only moan and nod frantically, too lost in pleasure to form words. Your walls clenched hard around him, and that was all he needed.
Beau let out a deep, rough groan and pushed all the way in one final time as he came inside you. You felt him pulsing hard, filling you with liquid heat while he kept moving slowly, prolonging the pleasure for both of you. Your own orgasm hit you almost at the same time: an intense wave that coursed through your entire body, making your legs shake and your vision blur. You clenched around him, milking him until the last drop.
For a few seconds, only your heavy breathing could be heard.
Beau pulled out of you carefully, but he didn’t let you go. He quickly turned you in his arms and pulled you tightly against his chest, pressing your naked body to his. One of his large hands held the back of your neck while the other wrapped around your waist, as if he didn’t want to let you go even an inch.
He kissed you intensely, but this time slower, deeper. A possessive kiss full of something that went beyond desire. His lips moved against yours with both tenderness and hunger, swallowing your small sighs.
“You’re dangerous…” he whispered against your mouth, not fully pulling away. “You’re going to drive me crazy, you know that, right?”
You smiled against his lips, still trembling from your orgasm, and kissed him back with the same intensity.
Your parents think you’re spending a few days at the family cabin with your friend, but you’re actually spending them with your dad’s best friend
age gap, unprotected sex p in v, risky phone xex (father calling while they’re having sex), cheating (?) light domination (1.2k)
The family cabin had always been the perfect place to escape, your parents thought you were there with your best friend, laughing and drinking wine. The truth was much more dangerous… and exciting.
Beau, your father’s best friend, was buried deep inside you, holding you firmly against the mattress in the main bedroom. His large, calloused hands gripped your hips as he fucked you with that slow, deep rhythm that drove you crazy. Every thrust made the bed creak and a muffled moan escape your throat.
“Fuck, princess… so tight,” he growled against your neck, gently biting your skin.
You could only arch your back and dig your nails into his broad shoulders. Beau was everything you shouldn’t want: older, forbidden, the man your father trusted blindly, and now he was ruining you for anyone else.
The pace grew more intense. His hips slammed against yours with force, the wet, obscene sound filling the room. You were about to come when the phone on the nightstand started vibrating.
The name on the screen froze your blood: Dad.
“Beau…” you gasped, trying to reach for the phone to silence it.
But he was faster. With one large hand he pinned both of your wrists above your head, and with the other he grabbed the phone. A dark, dangerous smile curved his lips as he kept moving inside you, slower but without stopping.
“Answer it,” he ordered in a low, husky voice.
“Beau, no… please,” you begged, but your voice came out broken by a moan when he thrust deep.
“Answer it, baby. Or he’ll get worried.”
You accepted the call with trembling fingers and brought the phone to your ear, trying to make your voice sound normal.
“Hi, Dad…”
Beau smiled wickedly and started moving again, fucking you with slow, deliberate thrusts while your father spoke on the other end of the line.
“Is everything okay over there, kid? Are you having fun with your friend?”
Beau released one of your wrists and slid his hand down to your clit, rubbing it in precise circles. Your back arched violently.
“Y-yes… everything’s great,” you managed to say, biting your lip hard to keep from moaning. “We’re… ah… watching a movie.”
Your father laughed on the other side.
“You sound weird. Are you getting sick?”
Beau leaned in, biting your earlobe as he whispered only for you:
“Tell him you’re very busy… and you can’t talk much.”
“I’m… a little busy right now, Dad,” you gasped. Beau picked up the pace, fucking you harder and deeper. “The movie is… intense.”
Every thrust made your voice break. You felt yourself getting dangerously close to orgasm while your father kept talking about unimportant things.
Beau covered your mouth with his large hand to muffle the moan you couldn’t hold back when pleasure hit you hard. Your body tensed around him, shaking as you came so intensely that tears filled your eyes.
“Alright, kid. Enjoy. Love you.”
“Love you… Dad,” you managed to whisper before Beau ended the call for you and tossed the phone aside.
Still buried deep inside you, he looked at you with that dark, dangerous smile that made you tremble.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured in a husky voice.
Without giving you time to protest, he slowly pulled out of you. A whiny moan escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness.
“Beau…” you complained, instinctively rolling your hips toward him, seeking him again.
He chuckled softly, leaned back against the headboard and patted his thighs.
“I want you to ride me, princess.”
You froze for a second, biting your lip.
“I’ve never… I’ve never ridden anyone,” you admitted quietly, embarrassed.
Beau raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised and turned on at the same time.
“You didn’t do it with your stupid boyfriend?”
You shook your head, looking down.
“No… He wouldn’t let me. He said he was the one in charge.”
Beau’s expression hardened for a second, but then a satisfied, possessive smile spread across his face. He grabbed your waist with his large hands and pulled you on top of him effortlessly.
“Come here,” he said in a deep voice. “I’ll guide you, baby. Just let go.”
You nodded, nervous but desperate to feel him again. You leaned forward and kissed him urgently, sliding your fingers into his hair. Beau responded with hunger, biting your lower lip as he positioned you over his hips.
You felt his thick, hard cock brushing against your entrance. You looked down and swallowed.
“Beau… it’s so big like this…” you whispered, a little intimidated.
He ran his hands over your thighs and gripped your waist.
“You can take it all, beautiful. You’ve done it before… now you’re just going to control it.”
He guided you with his hands, slowly lowering you onto him. Both of you let out a long moan as he filled you completely in this position. You felt incredibly full, stretched to the limit.
“Did your boyfriend make you feel like this?” he asked, staring into your eyes while you started moving with his help.
“No…” you gasped, gaining more confidence as you moved up and down. “Never… he never made me feel like this.”
That seemed to please him a lot. Beau growled with pure male satisfaction, his fingers digging into your hips as he helped you find the perfect rhythm.
“Good,” he murmured against your mouth before kissing you hard. “Because this pussy is already mine and from now on, you’re going to ride me every time I want.”
You could only moan his name, bracing your hands on his broad chest as you rode him faster and faster, lost in the pleasure and Beau’s possessive gaze.
Beau gripped your hips tighter and started guiding you even faster, forcing you to slam down harder on him.
“Faster, princess,” he growled, thrusting his hips up to meet you. “I want to see you bouncing on my cock.”
You obeyed as best you could, moving faster. Your moans filled the room as you felt him filling you completely with every drop, Beau lifted one hand and placed it firmly on your stomach, pressing right where his cock was sliding in and out of you.
“Do you feel it here?” he asked in a husky voice, looking at you with dark eyes full of desire. “Do you feel how deep I’m fucking you?”
You could barely whisper, almost breathless.
“Yes… yes, I feel it…”
Your voice came out weak and broken. You were exhausted, your legs shaking from the effort, but you didn’t want to stop. Beau noticed immediately, he saw your pace starting to falter.
“Come here, baby,” he murmured with tender dominance.
Without pulling out, he easily flipped you over and placed you underneath him again. He spread your legs wide and started fucking you with hard, deep thrusts, taking full control.
“You’re tired… let me finish this,” he said against your neck, gently biting you.
You nodded, moaning loudly with every thrust. You were so close.
“Beau… I’m close,” you gasped, digging your nails into his back.
“Come for me, princess.”
Your orgasm hit you hard. You came around him, clenching tightly, shaking beneath his body. Beau growled your name and fucked you harder a few more times before sinking all the way in and coming inside you.
“Fuck…” he muttered through gritted teeth as he filled you with hot, thick spurts, pressing his hips against yours so not a single drop was wasted.
He stayed inside you for a long time, breathing heavily against your neck, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.
“Good girl…” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “So perfect for me.”
After what happened with your best friend’s dad, things get complicated between you two, but you can’t stay away from each other for long
unprotected p in v, oral sex (m receiving) age gap, rough sex, jealousy (5.6k)
The party ended around three in the morning. Emily was exhausted but happy, and everyone helped her clean up a bit before she went to sleep. You waited for the perfect moment and when the house fell silent, you slipped downstairs barefoot. Your heart was pounding as you carefully opened the door to Beau’s room.
He was asleep, lying on his back, with one arm over his eyes. Moonlight came in through the window, illuminating his bare torso. You stood there for a few seconds looking at him, still unable to believe what had happened hours earlier.
You took off your dress and let it fall to the floor, carefully slipped under the sheets and as soon as you felt the warmth of his body, Beau stirred. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at you. For a second he seemed confused, but then his expression softened. Without saying anything, he lifted his arm and let you in. You settled against his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist while he hugged you tightly, pressing you completely against his body. He kissed your forehead and sighed, as if he had been waiting for you for hours.
“You came back…” he murmured in a sleepy voice.
“I told you I would,” you replied in a whisper, kissing his chest.
You stayed like that, embraced, skin to skin, until both fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, sunlight came in through the curtains when you woke up. You were still in his arms, with your head on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his. You smiled like an idiot, feeling a warm and bubbly happiness in your chest as you lifted your head to look at him.
Beau was already awake. He was watching you with a complex expression: there was tenderness, yes… but also something heavier. Guilt.
“Good morning,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him.
He returned the kiss, but it was short.
When you pulled away, he ran a hand over his face and sat up in bed, covering himself with the sheet up to his waist.
“This… shouldn’t have happened,” he said in a low but firm voice.
Your smile faded slowly.
“Beau…”
“You’re 19 years old,” he continued, looking at you with tormented eyes. “You’re practically a child. My daughter’s best friend. What the hell was I thinking?”
You sat up too, covering your chest with the sheet.
“I’m not a child,” you replied, trying to keep your voice low so Emily wouldn’t hear. “I know perfectly well what I want and I want you.”
Beau shook his head, frustrated.
“You don’t understand. I’m the adult here, I’m supposed to be the responsible one and last night… I took advantage of you. You were drunk, excited about the party, and I…”
“You didn’t take advantage of me!” you whispered forcefully, angry. “I wanted this, I’ve wanted it for a long time. Or do you think it was just last night?”
He stayed silent for a moment, looking at you with pain.
“This can’t happen again,” he said finally. “I’m not going to ruin your life, or the relationship you have with Emily. This ends here.”
You felt something break inside your chest. Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of him.
“Just like that? After everything that happened last night you tell me it ‘ends here’?”
Beau tried to touch your arm, but you pulled away.
“It’s not easy,” he admitted with a broken voice. “But it’s the right thing.”
You got out of bed angrily, picking up your clothes from the floor and getting dressed in a hurry.
“You’re a coward,” you told him in a low but pain-filled voice. “You prefer to hide behind guilt and age rather than admit that you want it too.”
Beau also got up, only wearing pants.
“Don’t make it harder…”
“You already did that,” you replied, your voice trembling.
You finished dressing in silence, with brusque movements. Before leaving, you looked at him one last time.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Emily anything.”
You closed the door behind you with more force than you wanted and quickly went down the stairs, feeling the tears starting to fall down your cheeks. You were angry, hurt and above all… terribly in love with the man who had just rejected you.
You left the Arlen house almost running, crossing the street to your own house without looking back. Luckily your parents weren’t there, so no one saw you arrive with red eyes and a devastated expression.
You went straight up to your room, closed the door and went into the bathroom. You took off your dress and threw it on the floor angrily, got under the shower and let the hot water fall on your body, trying to erase the traces of his hands, his kisses, everything that had happened but you couldn’t. Every touch, every word, every moan was still engraved on your skin.
You got out of the shower, put on an oversized t-shirt and some shorts, and threw yourself on the bed.
At first you just stared at the ceiling, with a huge lump in your throat. Then the lump broke. You grabbed the pillow, pressed it against your face and cried like never before in your life. You cried until your chest hurt, until you were out of breath, and you hated that moment.
Why doesn’t he want me? That question repeated over and over in your head. He had touched you as if he desired you desperately, he had kissed you as if he couldn’t get enough… and now he was telling you it couldn’t happen again? That you were too young? That it was a mistake?
You felt a huge void in your chest, as if he had ripped something out of you.
Hours passed and you weren’t hungry. You just wanted to stay there, curled up, hating him and loving him at the same time. Around four in the afternoon, your phone vibrated. It was Emily.
Emily: Hey!! Are you coming over? It’s horribly hot and I want to go in the pool.
You looked at the message for almost a full minute. The tears were still falling silently down your cheeks and finally you wrote:
You: Sorry Em, I’m busy today. I can’t go.
Emily: What do you have to do? 😭
You didn’t reply. What were you going to tell her? “I’m busy crying over your dad, who fucked me last night and today told me it was a mistake.”
You felt pathetic. Ridiculous. A girl crying inconsolably over a man who probably already regretted everything, u hugged the pillow tighter and cried again, softer this time, but just as painful.
Not even fifteen minutes had passed since you replied to Emily when you heard insistent knocking on your house door.
“Open up! I know you’re there!” Emily shouted from outside.
You wiped your tears as best you could, put on sunglasses to hide your swollen eyes and went down to open.
“What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want to come?” she asked with her arms crossed, looking at you suspiciously.
“Nothing, I’m just tired…” you tried to lie.
But Emily wasn’t easy to convince, she grabbed your hand and literally dragged you to her house.
“Well, you’re here now. Let’s get you a swimsuit.”
She took you to her room, rummaged through her drawers and threw several bikinis at you. You chose a simple black one, changed in her bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had dark circles and your eyes were still red, but the sunglasses helped hide it.
You went down to the pool. The water sparkled under the afternoon sun, u got in quickly, grateful for the cold that helped clear your head. Emily talked non-stop about the party, about the gifts, about how incredible everything had turned out thanks to you. You smiled and nodded, acting as if nothing had happened.
You discreetly looked around: the kitchen, the second-floor windows, the patio… but Beau didn’t appear. And at that moment, it was for the best. You didn’t know if you would be able to look him in the face without it showing.
You were floating on your back, trying to relax, when you felt it.
Beau came out through the back door of the house with a beer in his hand, clearly not expecting you there. He froze when he saw you in the pool. His gaze fixed on you for several seconds. You noticed how he got nervous: his jaw tensed, his shoulders stiffened and he quickly looked away.
You did the same. You turned and started swimming to the other side of the pool, pretending you were very focused on it but it was impossible not to pay attention to him. Every time you came up for air, your eyes searched for him. He was sitting in one of the patio chairs, trying to act normal, but you saw him looking at you when he thought you didn’t notice. That invisible tension between the two of you was suffocating.
Emily didn’t notice anything, splashing and talking excitedly, while you could only think about what had happened the night before: his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, the way he had held you while he came… You wanted to turn back time, repeat every second, for him to touch you again, kiss you, tell you it was worth the risk.
But he was there, just a few meters away, with a face full of guilt and regret.
The following week was a slow hell.
You tried to avoid the Arlen house as much as possible, but Emily was insistent and you didn’t want to raise suspicions. That afternoon you were in her kitchen, preparing popcorn to watch a movie.
You were laughing at something she had said when Beau came down the stairs, already dressed: dark blue well-ironed shirt, dark jeans and that cologne scent you liked so much.
“I’m not having dinner,” he announced casually. “I have a date.”
The world stopped and you lifted your head so fast you almost got dizzy. Your eyes fixed on him and you felt the tears accumulating at the edge of your eyelids in seconds. Beau looked at you. Just for a second, he saw your broken expression, how your lips trembled… and quickly turned his face away, as if looking at you burned him.
Emily, oblivious to everything, asked curiously:
“With whom?”
“With Jenny,” he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. “My coworker.”
“Ah, the blonde you mentioned the other day,” Emily said smiling. “That’s great, dad.”
You couldn’t breathe. The lump in your throat was so big you felt like you were choking.
“Em… I think I feel sick,” you managed to say with a trembling voice. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
You didn’t wait for a response. You ran to the bathroom, closed the door and fell to your knees in front of the toilet. You didn’t throw up food… you threw up pain. Dry heaves shook your body while tears fell uncontrollably. It was as if your heart was trying to come out through your throat and Emily came running behind you.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” she asked worried, kneeling beside you and holding your hair.
A few seconds later you heard heavy footsteps. Beau was at the bathroom door, looking at you with a tortured expression. Seeing him there, seeing you in that vulnerable and humiliating state, gave you even more shame. You tried to cover your face, but you couldn’t stop crying.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
You didn’t answer. You just shook your head, sobbing.
Beau took a step inside the bathroom.
“If you feel so bad, I’ll stay. I’m not going to leave you like this.”
Emily looked at him confused but determined.
“No, dad. Go to your date, I’ll take care of it.”
Beau hesitated. He looked at you one last time, with eyes full of guilt, regret and something else you couldn’t identify. Finally he nodded stiffly.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said before turning around.
You heard the front door close. He had left. Emily helped you clean your face and took you to the couch. She hugged you while you continued crying silently.
“I don’t know what’s been happening to you lately… but I’m here, okay?”
That night you stayed to sleep at Emily’s house. After vomiting and crying you told her you didn’t want to go home. She, as always, didn’t hesitate for a second and prepared the bed in her room for you. You stayed talking until very late or rather, Emily talked and you pretended to listen, answering with monosyllables while your mind was completely elsewhere.
When you finally fell asleep, it was almost three in the morning.
At some point in the early morning, unconsciously, you complained in your dreams. A low and pitiful sound escaped your lips. You stirred between the sheets, hoping to hear Beau’s footsteps arriving home but he didn’t appear.
And you knew perfectly well what that meant. He was probably spending the night with Jenny.
The next morning, around 9am, you heard the front door open.
Beau entered and when he saw you in the kitchen with Emily, he stopped for a second.
“Good morning,” he said, looking directly at you.
You didn’t answer. You didn’t even look him in the face. You lowered your gaze to your bowl of cereal and continued eating as if he didn’t exist. The silence was uncomfortable. Emily frowned, confused by your attitude, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to change and go to work,” Beau announced, trying to sound normal.
Minutes later, when you were just coming out of the hallway bathroom, you met face to face in the narrow corridor and he stopped.
“Hi…” he repeated, softer this time, almost as if asking for something.
You passed by his side without saying a word, without looking at him, with your jaw tense and your eyes burning from the tears you refused to let fall in front of him.
Emily looked at you curiously.
“What’s going on between you and my dad? You’ve been weird lately.”
“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a small smile. “I’m just tired.”
After the awkward breakfast, you finished your cereal as quickly as possible and got up.
“I’m going home,” you told Emily. “I have to shower and sort some things out. I’ll text you later.”
Emily nodded, still a bit confused by your attitude.
“Okay. Tonight I’m going to my boyfriend’s house, so see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Okay,” you replied with a forced smile. “See you tomorrow.”
You crossed the street to your house feeling a huge weight in your chest. As soon as you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it and took several deep breaths, trying not to cry again.
The rest of the day you spent trying to keep your mind busy: you cleaned your room even though it was already clean, organized your closet, watched series without paying attention, tried to read… anything to not think about him, but it was impossible. Beau was in every thought, in every breath.
When night came you were at the window of your room, looking towards the Arlen house without being able to avoid it. That’s when you saw him — Beau and Jenny. It was the first time you saw her, an attractive woman, blonde, in her thirties, with a nice smile and confidence in herself. She laughed at something he said and touched his arm familiarly.
Your blood boiled.
You felt an explosive mix of rage, jealousy and pain so strong that your hands trembled. You watched them walk together to the door. Beau put a hand on her lower back as they entered and the door closed behind them.
You couldn’t stay there looking out the window like an idiot while he was with another woman inside. The pain transformed into something darker: pure rage.
You put on a sweatshirt over your pajamas, put on your sneakers and left your house without thinking twice. Your parents were on a mini vacation, so no one was going to ask where you were going.
You crossed the street with determined steps and knocked hard on the Arlen house door.
You waited, with your heart beating a thousand miles an hour. Beau opened the door and when he saw you, his expression changed completely.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice, quickly looking inside. “Emily isn’t here, she left with her boyfriend.”
“I know,” you replied in a firm voice, although inside you were trembling. “My dad needs you to come to the house for a minute. He says it’s urgent, but nothing serious. Can you come? Just a minute, if it’s not a problem.”
Beau frowned, confused. He didn’t know your parents had gone on vacation, so the lie sounded completely believable.
Before he could respond, Jenny appeared behind him, curious. She was even prettier up close.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Beau cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.
“Jenny, she is…” he looked at you for a second, “a neighbor. Emily’s best friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, forcing the most polite and sweet smile you could.
“Jenny,” she replied, extending her hand kindly. “A pleasure.”
You shook her hand, keeping that fake smile on your face.
Beau looked at you with intensity, as if trying to read your true intentions.
“I’ll be right back,” he told Jenny, gently touching her arm. “My neighbor needs help with something quick. I won’t be long.”
“No problem,” she replied with an understanding smile. “I’ll wait here.”
Both said goodbye with a smile. You told her “nice to meet you” once more before Beau closed the door behind him and came out with you to the porch.
As soon as the door closed, his expression changed. He looked at you with a mix of annoyance and concern.
Beau followed you reluctantly to your house. You walked in silence the few meters that separated both homes. As soon as you opened the door and entered, you closed it behind you with the key.
“My parents aren’t here,” you said bluntly. “They went on vacation.”
Beau let out a dry laugh and ran his hand over his face, visibly angry.
“What the hell was all that?” he asked, raising his voice a bit. “Lying about your dad? Interrupting my night? What the hell is wrong with you?”
You stood looking at him under the dim light of the entrance. The pain of the last few days had become a hot knot in your stomach.
“I just don’t like seeing you with that woman,” you replied with raw honesty.
Beau laughed, incredulous, shaking his head.
“You’re acting like a very immature child. Do you realize that?”
“Probably,” you admitted, taking a step towards him. “But I don’t care.”
Silence fell between you. Beau looked at you fixedly, with his jaw clenched.
“What happened that night doesn’t matter anymore,” he said in a low and cutting voice. “It was a mistake. I already told you.”
You felt something break inside you. You got closer, until you were almost pressed against him. You could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of Jenny’s perfume and that turned your stomach.
“Does it really not matter to you?” you asked, your voice trembling but determined. “Don’t you remember that night? How you had me under you? How I begged you, completely at your mercy? How I moaned your name while you were inside me?”
Beau visibly swallowed. His breathing became heavier and you could see him fighting against the memories.
“I don’t want to think about that,” he growled, looking away.
But you weren’t going to stop. You were hurt, jealous and desperate. You got even closer, almost brushing his chest.
“Did you fuck Jenny on the date night?” you asked without filter, looking directly into his eyes.
Beau tensed completely.
“Stop,” he warned.
“Did you?” you insisted, your voice breaking. “And if you did… did you think about me while you were with her? Or was Jenny better? Did she make you feel better than me?”
The silence was deafening. Suddenly, Beau grabbed you firmly by the arms, not to hurt you, but to stop you. His fingers dug into your skin as he looked at you with an explosive mix of rage, desire and frustration.
“I told you to stop,” he growled, his voice hoarse and dangerous. “What do you want from me? What do you expect me to tell you?”
He didn’t let go and you didn’t want him to either.
“I just want you,” you whispered with a broken voice, looking into his eyes without shame. “I don’t care about anything else. Give me whatever you want, however you want… but give me something. Please, Beau.”
For a second he froze, breathing heavily. The internal struggle was visible on his face: rage, desire, guilt… all mixed. Then something broke… with a brusque and angry movement, he grabbed your arm and dragged you to the back of the large living room sofa. He pushed you forward, making you support yourself with your hands on the backrest, leaning forward.
“Is this what you want?” he growled behind you, his voice dark and loaded. “Is this it?”
“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, almost pleading. “Yes, please…”
Beau didn’t wait. He pulled down your pajama shorts and underwear in one tug down to your knees. You heard him unbutton his pants with quick and desperate movements. Just a few seconds later you felt the thick head of his member pressing against your entrance.
He entered you with one deep and strong thrust.
You let out a long and sharp moan, gripping the back of the sofa tightly. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started moving with fast, deep and angry thrusts, holding your hips firmly.
“Beau…” you moaned his name over and over, like a prayer.
Each thrust made you stagger forward. The sound of skin against skin filled the room along with your moans and his deep growls.
“Are you happy now?” he asked in a hoarse voice, without stopping fucking you hard. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes…” you managed to respond between moans, nodding desperately. “Yes, please… more…”
Beau let out a sound between a growl and a bitter laugh. He lifted your upper body with an arm around your waist, pressing your back completely against his chest without pulling out of you.
Now he had you closer, deeper, more intimate and his mouth was pressed to your ear.
“I missed you,” he confessed in a hoarse voice, almost as if it hurt him to admit it. “It was killing me to be away from you…”
Those words hit you straight in the heart. A wave of happiness invaded you despite everything. He finally admitted it. He finally acknowledged that he wanted you too, that he was suffering too.
“Beau…” you moaned his name with more emotion, turning your head to kiss him clumsily.
He kissed you hungrily while continuing to move inside you, slower but deeper. One of his hands went down to your clit, caressing you while he penetrated you. The other hand squeezed one of your breasts under the sweatshirt.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured against your mouth.
“I’m yours,” you replied almost breathless. “Only yours…”
The rhythm accelerated again. He fucked you hard, holding you against his body, biting your neck and shoulder. Your moans became higher, more desperate and you felt the orgasm approaching fast.
His thrusts became more irregular, deeper when he was close.
“I can’t get you out of my head…” he growled against your skin.
And with those words, both let go.
Both stayed silent for a moment, breathing heavily. Beau was still inside you, hugging you tightly from behind, his chest pressed against your back. He kissed your neck softly, almost tenderly, before slowly pulling out of you.
He turned you carefully and helped you pull up your shorts and underwear. Then he adjusted his own clothes, buttoning his pants and shirt with still somewhat shaky movements. When you finished, he looked into your eyes and kissed you.
It was a different kiss. Softer, longer and almost… full of feeling. You couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears started falling down your cheeks as you hugged him.
“I love you, Beau,” you whispered against his lips, your voice breaking. “Please… don’t leave me. Don’t leave me again.”
He closed his eyes tightly, as if your words hurt him. He hugged you tighter, burying his face in your hair.
“I can’t leave you…” he admitted in a low voice, almost defeated. “Even if I try, I can’t.”
He kissed your forehead, your wet cheeks and finally your lips again. He held you a while longer, gently caressing your back.
“I have to go back,” he said finally, although it seemed he didn’t want to let you go. “I’m going to take Jenny home and I’ll be back. I’m not going to leave you alone tonight.”
You nodded, still with tears in your eyes, but now with a small hopeful smile.
Beau looked at you one more second, as if he were engraving your image in his mind, and gave you one last soft kiss before heading to the door.
“Lock up well,” he told you before leaving.
You watched him cross the street back to his house. You stayed at the door for a few seconds, with your heart beating hard and a strange mix of happiness and fear.
Exactly one hour later, you heard a soft knock on your door. You ran to open it and as soon as Beau entered, you threw yourself at him. You jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist. He grabbed you firmly by the thighs and waist, holding you effortlessly while closing the door with his foot.
“I missed you,” you whispered against his neck before kissing him desperately.
Beau growled against your mouth and carried you straight upstairs to your room. He put you on the bed, but you didn’t want to wait. You quickly got down, and started unbuttoning his shirt with anxious fingers. You took it off and began kissing his chest, slowly going down his abs, savoring every inch of his skin.
You reached the edge of his pants. You looked at him from below with bright and pleading eyes while unbuttoning his button and lowering the zipper. Beau let out a heavy sigh when you freed his member, already hard and ready.
“Fuck…” he murmured when he felt your mouth around him.
You started sucking him eagerly, using your tongue and hand at the same time. Beau tangled his fingers in your hair, breathing with difficulty, enjoying every movement. His deep growls motivated you to continue. You took him as deep as you could, moaning around him.
“So good…” he growled, tightening your hair.
But before reaching the limit, he lifted you easily, taking you by the arms. He kissed you hard and took off your sweatshirt and shorts, leaving you completely naked.
“Come here,” he ordered in a hoarse voice.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you towards him and made you mount him straddling.
You felt him enter you slowly as you lowered, stretching you again. You let out a whimper from the depth of the position, biting your lip.
“Beau… it’s too deep…” you moaned, resting your hands on his shoulders.
He grabbed your hips firmly, guiding you.
“Shh… you’re a good girl,” he murmured against your neck, kissing you. “You can take it. Breathe… that’s it. Lower more.”
You started moving, first slow and then faster. Every time you lowered completely, you moaned louder, Beau helped you with his hands on your waist, lifting and lowering you hard. His eyes didn’t leave your face, observing every expression of pleasure.
“Look at you…” he said in a hoarse voice, admiring you. “So beautiful riding me like this.”
He kissed your breasts, sucking and gently biting while you continued riding him. Your moans filled the room. The position was intense, almost overwhelming, but you loved it.
Beau looked into your eyes, squeezing your waist harder.
“Tell me again that you’re mine,” he demanded.
“I’m yours…” you moaned, accelerating the movement. “Only yours.”
Beau suddenly lifted you easily, without pulling out of you, and turned you. He laid you on your back on the bed and positioned himself on top, between your legs. He penetrated you again with a deep thrust that drew a loud moan from you.
He started moving with a firm and steady rhythm, supporting his forearms on either side of your head. His thrusts were deep, possessive. Every time he entered completely, you felt he filled you completely.
Between moans and agitated breathing, you managed to ask him what was eating at you.
“Did she… make you feel like this?” you whispered, looking into his eyes with vulnerability. “Did Jenny make you feel like I do?”
Beau stopped for a second inside you, looking at you with intensity. He slowly shook his head.
“I wasn’t with her,” he admitted in a hoarse voice. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of any other woman but you.”
Relief washed over you like a warm wave. You smiled through tears of emotion and kissed him with everything you had. Beau returned the kiss with the same intensity, accelerating his thrusts.
He was fucking you hard now, holding one of your legs to open you more. Your moans became higher, more desperate.
You felt you were close again.
“Beau…” you moaned his name against his mouth.
He growled, burying his face in your neck as his movements became more erratic.
“Mine…” he murmured against your skin.
With a few more deep thrusts, Beau came inside you with a long and hoarse moan, pressing you against his body as he finished. He hugged you tightly, trembling slightly on top of you.
You stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily, skin to skin, not wanting to separate. Beau kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips very softly.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you…” he whispered, almost as if talking to himself.
You just smiled, hugging him tighter, happy to have him in your arms again, even though you knew nothing was simple.
The silence was comfortable, but loaded. Neither of you wanted to break it… until you decided to do it.
“Beau…” you whispered, tracing circles on his chest with your finger. “What are we going to do now?”
He sighed deeply and squeezed you a little more against his body.
“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I know I don’t want to let you go. Despite everything… despite the age difference, Emily, how complicated it is… I want you with me.”
You lifted your head to look at him. Your eyes filled with emotion.
“Really?” you asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to pull away, to convince myself it was a mistake… but I can’t. I want you and I’m going to try. We’re going to try together.”
You smiled, with your heart full. He kissed you softly on the lips and then on the forehead.
“It’s going to be difficult,” he continued, more seriously. “Very difficult, we have to be careful, especially with Emily. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“I know,” you whispered. “But it’s worth it.”
You stayed silent for a while, just hugging. Then you gathered courage and asked what worried you most for the future.
“And what if one day I want to have children?”
Beau tensed slightly under you. He looked at you with a soft but sad expression.
“By then… you’ll probably have found a nice boy your age to build that with,” he replied carefully.
You sat up suddenly, straddling his waist to look directly into his eyes. The sheet fell to your waist.
“No,” you said firmly. “I don’t want a boy my age. I want you. I want to have children with you, Beau. Not with someone else, I want you to be the father of my children.”
Beau looked at you surprised, almost speechless and stayed silent for several seconds, processing what you had just said.
“You’re making this very difficult for me…” he murmured finally, running a hand over his face.
“I don’t expect it to be easy,” you replied, leaning forward and resting your hands on his chest. “I just hope you’ll accompany me, that you’ll be with me and that we’ll really try.”
Beau looked at you for a long time. His green eyes filled with a mix of love, fear and deep tenderness. Suddenly, he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you slowly, with devotion, holding your face between his hands.
“I’m going to accompany you,” he whispered against your lips. “And I’m going to give you all the children you ask for… whatever you want. We’re going to do this together.”
You kissed him with all the love you felt, happy, excited and full of hope. Beau hugged you tight, rolling on the bed until he was on top of you again, kissing your neck, shoulders, chest.
“I love you,” you whispered between kisses.
“I love you too,” he replied, looking into your eyes with sincerity. “Even though I still don’t know how the hell we’re going to do this… but we’re going to try.”
Your best friend's dad is the love of your life and on the night of her birthday, you sneak into his bedroom
smut, unprotected p in v, age gap (5.5k)
The afternoon sun lazily entered through the windows of the Arlen house, tinting everything with a warm golden hue. You had arrived almost three hours ago “to see Emily,” but your friend had already been locked in her room for an hour and a half talking on a video call with her new boyfriend. You didn’t mind. In fact… you preferred it that way.
You were sitting on one of the high kitchen stools, with your legs dangling, while you watched Beau cut vegetables.
“More lemonade, darling?” he asked without looking at you, reaching for the pitcher.
Darling.
He always called you that. Or “little one.” Or “sweetie.” Words that made you feel like you were fifteen again… and at the same time ignited you in a way that was far from innocent.
“Yes, please, Mr. Arlen,” you replied, with that soft and polite voice you reserved only for him.
Beau looked up for a second. Those green eyes looked at you with that mix of affection and amusement that disarmed you.
“I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Beau, huh?” he smiled sideways, serving you more lemonade. “The ‘Mr. Arlen’ thing makes me feel like I’m eighty years old.”
You liked the distance it created. You liked reminding yourself that he was your best friend’s dad, that he was older, that he was out of your reach… and that, even so, you couldn’t stop desiring him.
“It’s habit,” you lied, lowering your gaze to your glass. “Besides, I like how it sounds.”
Beau let out a low laugh, leaned on the kitchen island, in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of laundry soap.
“And what else do you like about this house?” he asked, almost as if he were joking. “Because you’ve been spending more time here than at your own house lately.”
You felt your cheeks burning and swallowed hard.
“I like… the atmosphere,” you replied, measuring every word. “It feels safe. And you…” you corrected yourself quickly, “you always make me feel welcome.”
Beau looked at you a second longer than necessary. Something crossed his expression, something you couldn’t identify. Then he shook his head softly, as if he were laughing at himself.
“Well, you know you always have a place here, right?” He extended his hand and ruffled your hair with that paternal naturalness that killed you. “You’re family, little one.”
Family.
The word stabbed right where it hurt the most. You smiled anyway, because that’s what you had to do, but inside you repeated like a mantra: I don’t want to be family, Beau. I want to be yours.
Shortly after, Emily finally appeared in the kitchen.
“Finally!” she exclaimed when she saw you. “I thought you had left.”
“Nah, I was here bothering your dad,” you replied with a smile you hoped looked casual.
The two of you quickly set the table. Plates, glasses, cutlery. Beau took a lasagna out of the oven that smelled heavenly.
When the three of you sat down, he naturally extended his hands toward both of you.
“Let’s say grace,” he said with that deep, calm voice.
You lowered your head but didn’t fully close your eyes. You watched him through your lashes. Beau Arlen praying was an image that hit you straight in the chest. He looked so… manly. So family-oriented. So exactly what you wanted in your future, even though you were only 19 years old and that ruined all your plans.
“Amen,” the three of you said at the end.
During dinner the conversation flowed lightly. Emily, as always, was the center of attention. Suddenly she blurted out:
“Hey, I want to celebrate my birthday this weekend.”
You almost choked on your water.
“This weekend? Em, that’s only three days away. How are we going to organize everything so fast?”
Emily looked at you with that mischievous smile that meant trouble.
“Because you’re amazing at this. You can do it, right?” she said, batting her eyelashes.
You made a theatrical tired face and let yourself fall back against the chair, drawing a low laugh from Beau.
He, who had been listening in silence, asked carefully:
“And are you going to invite your mom?”
You looked up sharply. The fork stopped halfway. You knew Beau still felt something for his ex-wife. It wasn’t something he said openly, but it showed in the way he mentioned her name, in how his jaw tensed sometimes. That small detail hurt you more than you wanted to admit.
Emily shrugged.
“Yes, obviously. She’s my mom.”
The silence lasted barely a second, but to you it felt eternal. To change the subject quickly, you said:
“Well, then we’re definitely going to have to go shopping. Balloons, food, decorations… and we’re going to need money.”
Both you and Emily turned your heads toward Beau at the same time, giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you knew how to make.
Two pairs of big, pleading eyes. Beau looked at both of you, let out a long sigh and ran his hand over his face, though it was impossible not to notice the smile he was trying to hide.
“Fine, you can use my card,” he finally gave in.
“Yesss!” both of you shouted in unison, high-fiving over the table.
Beau shook his head, laughing.
“You’re going to leave me bankrupt…” he murmured, but his gaze lingered on you a second longer than normal. Or maybe you just imagined it.
The next three days were a whirlwind. Emily practically disappeared, busy with her boyfriend and with the “emotional details” of her birthday, according to her.
So almost all the responsibility for buying, organizing, and preparing fell on your shoulders… and you didn’t mind one bit.
Every afternoon you went to the Arlen house loaded with bags: metallic balloons, garlands, lights, snacks, pretty disposable cups, and a huge cake you barely managed to fit in the car. Beau helped you unload everything from the car without asking questions, just with that calm half-smile that made your pulse race.
And now, finally, the day had arrived. You got there at eight in the morning, long before Emily woke up. You were wearing jean shorts and a loose t-shirt, your hair in a high ponytail, ready to get your hands dirty. Beau was already in the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, wearing comfortable clothes: gray sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt that fit perfectly over his shoulders and arms.
“Good morning, Mr. Arlen,” you greeted with a shy smile.
“Beau,” he corrected you gently, as always. “And good morning, little one. Ready to turn this into a controlled disaster?”
You laughed and nodded. You started together.
First you organized the living room, moved some furniture to make space, swept, and mopped. Beau was methodical and strong; he lifted the sofa by himself while you swept underneath. Every time he passed near you, his scent enveloped you.
Then came the decorations.
“Can you pass me that silver garland?” you asked, standing on a chair.
Beau handed it to you. When you tried to reach the highest corner of the wall, you wobbled a little. In less than a second you felt his large, firm hands gripping your waist to steady you.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual.
Your breath caught. His fingers sank slightly into the fabric of your t-shirt, warm against your skin. From above you could see his brown hair, the three-day stubble, the way his jaw tensed as he held you.
He didn’t let go immediately. His thumbs gently brushed your waist, almost as if checking that you were okay.
“Thank you…” you whispered, your voice a little hoarse.
“No problem.”
You hung the garland with trembling fingers, very aware of every inch where his hands touched you.
When you got down, Beau held you a second longer than necessary before letting go. Neither of you said anything about it and you continued working.
You climbed up several more times: to put up lights, to hang the “Happy Birthday” sign, to adjust the curtains, and each time, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Beau appeared behind you, holding your waist with that contained and protective strength. At one point, while you were hanging a bunch of balloons near the ceiling, he stayed a little closer. Your back brushed against his chest and you could clearly feel the heat of his body through the clothes.
“Is this okay?” you asked, turning your head slightly.
His eyes were very close. Green, intense, with small expression lines at the corners.
“Perfect,” he replied, but he wasn’t looking at the balloons. He was looking at you.
Your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it. For a second you imagined what it would be like to turn completely, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. To feel that stubble brushing your cheek, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips…
But you just smiled and got down.
Later, while setting up the snack table, Beau passed you a glass of cold lemonade.
“You’re working too hard,” he said, leaning against the counter, watching you. “You didn’t have to do all this alone.”
“I like it,” you admitted, looking at him over the glass. “I like being here… helping. With you.”
The last words came out softer than you intended. Beau held your gaze for a long moment. There was something different in his eyes, something you didn’t know if it was confusion, affection… or something more dangerous.
“You’re a good girl,” he finally murmured, ruffling your hair like he always did.
The house already looked incredible when Emily finally came downstairs, still in pajamas and sleepy-faced.
“You’re the best! Now come on, we have to get ready. I don’t want us looking like two gremlins when the guests arrive!”
She grabbed your hand and dragged you upstairs to her room. Beau stayed downstairs finishing some details, but you felt his gaze following you as you went up.
You showered in Emily’s bathroom, letting the hot water relax your muscles after so many hours of work. When you got out, you wrapped yourself in a white towel and returned to the room with your wet hair falling over your shoulders. You had brought a big bag with several clothing options because, as always, you didn’t know what to wear… especially knowing he would be there.
You tried on a short red dress first, then a fitted silver one. Emily gave her opinion from the bed, but none convinced you completely. Until you pulled out the last one: a short black sequined dress with black lace details on the neckline and hem. It was bold, body-hugging, with thin straps and a neckline that enhanced everything you had.
“Holy shit!” Emily screamed as soon as she saw you. “You look way too sexy! Since when do you have that dress? You’re going to kill someone tonight.”
You smiled, turning in front of the mirror. The dress fit your curves perfectly, sparkling with every movement. The sequins caught the light and the lace gave it a sensual but elegant touch. It was short, very short. Exactly what you wanted.
“It’s exactly how I wanted to look,” you replied with a mischievous smile and Emily burst out laughing.
You sat at the vanity and started doing your hair. You dried it and styled it into soft waves that fell over your shoulders and back. Meanwhile, Emily finished getting ready in a more youthful pastel pink dress. When you finished with your hair, you moved on to makeup: dark eyeshadow that highlighted your eyes, eyeliner, an intense red lipstick, and a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones.
Finally, the two of you put on perfume. You chose one that was sweet but with a warmer, more seductive base.
“Ready?” Emily asked, excited.
“Ready.”
You went down the stairs together. Your heels echoed softly on the steps. Your heart was pounding hard; you could hear voices downstairs: some guests had already arrived, but only one reaction mattered to you.
When you reached the last step, your eyes immediately searched for Beau. He was standing near the entrance, talking to a neighbor, but as soon as he saw you, he froze mid-sentence. His green eyes slowly traveled over your figure: from the waves of your hair, down the sequined neckline, the way the dress hugged your waist and hips, to your legs.
For a second, his expression was pure surprise. Then something darker crossed his face: a mix of appreciation, confusion, and… heat? He visibly swallowed. His jaw tensed and his fingers tightened a little more around the beer bottle in his hand.
“Everything okay, Dad?” Emily asked innocently, not noticing the tension.
Beau blinked, as if coming out of a trance.
“Yes…” his voice sounded rougher than usual. “You both look…” he looked directly at you, “very good.”
But his eyes didn’t leave you. You felt a wave of heat rise up your neck. The dress had done its job.
Little by little the house filled with people. Emily’s friends arrived in groups, some with gifts, others with bottles. Emily, radiant, greeted each one at the door with hugs and excited screams. The music played from the sound system Beau had set up in the living room.
There were people inside talking and eating from the snack table you had prepared with so much care, and more people outside in the backyard, where the lights you had hung earlier sparkled under the sky that was already beginning to darken. The atmosphere was cheerful, laughter everywhere, but you could only think about the way Beau had looked at you when you came down the stairs.
You were near the kitchen, glass in hand, trying to mingle with some mutual friends, when the front door opened again.
And there she was.
Beau’s ex-wife entered with that natural elegance that had always intimidated you. She was wearing white pants and a soft blouse that made her look sophisticated and beautiful. Emily let out a scream of joy and ran to hug her. You forced a polite smile when Carla saw you and waved.
“Hi! Nice to see you again,” she said kindly.
“Likewise,” you replied, keeping the smile even though inside you felt a knot in your stomach.
Carla stayed for a few minutes talking with Emily and other family members who had arrived, but soon she moved around the room and then, as was almost inevitable, approached Beau.
You watched them from your position. He was by the patio door, beer in hand. When Carla approached, his face softened. He smiled at her in that calm, familiar way he reserved for very few people. They started talking and you couldn’t hear everything, but you saw how he tilted his head slightly toward her, how they laughed at something only they seemed to understand. Carla placed a hand on his arm for a second while talking, a casual gesture, but to you it felt like a punch.
You tried not to pay attention to them, you really tried, so you turned around and went to the drinks table, pretending to look for something to drink. You served yourself more lemonade with a splash of vodka someone had brought, but your eyes kept returning to them.
Beau looked… comfortable. Too comfortable. He laughed at something Carla said, and at one point he placed his hand on the small of her back while pointing something out in the backyard. That natural gesture, so “we were a family,” turned your stomach.
The dress you had liked so much just half an hour ago now made you feel exposed, almost ridiculous. What did you think you were going to achieve? That Beau would look at you and suddenly forget the mother of his daughter?
You took a longer sip from your glass, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in your throat. Emily passed near you, oblivious to everything, laughing with her friends. You smiled when she looked at you, but inside you felt your heart heavy.
As the party continued, you had stronger drinks. Vodka with juice, then another. You drank to erase the image of Beau and Carla talking so comfortably, to silence that little voice that kept repeating that you would never be enough.
They ate later: hamburgers, hot dogs, and all the food they had prepared. You danced with Emily and her friends in the backyard, laughing loudly, moving to the rhythm of the music even though your head was already starting to spin. For a while you managed it: you had fun, you laughed, you pretended it didn’t matter, but every time you looked toward where Beau was, you felt that pang in your chest.
The cake moment arrived. Everyone gathered around Emily in the living room. You positioned yourself a little further back, singing “Happy Birthday” with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Emily blew out the candles amid applause and phone flashes.
Afterward, the adults served themselves cake and little by little started to leave.
When only the young people remained, the atmosphere changed. The music got louder, the laughter became more boisterous, and the backyard became the main dance floor.
Carla approached Emily to say goodbye. She hugged her tightly, wished her the best, and then looked for Beau. As expected, he walked her to the front door.
You felt an impulse.
“I’m going to get more ice,” you told one of Emily’s friends, although no one was really paying attention to you.
You went out through the side door of the house, quietly circled around, and hid near the corner just in time to see them at the entrance of the driveway.
The conversation was not what you expected.
Carla had her arms crossed and a tense expression.
“…and enough, Beau. I’m not coming back. Never. Do you understand that?” her voice was sharp. “What we had ended a long time ago. I only came for Emily. Not because I want anything with you.”
Beau stood in front of her, hands in his pockets. His posture was rigid.
“I just wanted to talk, Carla. For Emily, for us…”
“There is no ‘us’,” she cut him off. “I don’t love you anymore. I haven’t loved you for years. Get over it already.”
The words were harsh. Beau stayed silent, jaw clenched. He tried to say something else, but Carla raised her hand, turned around, and walked to her car without letting him finish. She left him there, standing in the driveway, staring blankly.
You felt a strange mix: relief that she had rejected him so clearly… and pain at seeing Beau’s defeated expression. You quickly returned the same way and entered the house just before he came back.
Minutes later you heard his deep voice from the stairs.
“Em, I’m going to bed. Don’t break anything, okay? And lock up the house when you’re done.”
“Yes, Dad!” Emily replied from the backyard, barely paying attention. “Rest!”
Beau went up the stairs heavily. He didn’t look toward the living room and didn’t see you.
You stayed there, heart beating hard from the alcohol and everything you had just witnessed.
You waited a good while, until another large group of Emily’s friends arrived and the party got even louder. No one would notice you were missing. You took off your heels in the kitchen, hid them behind a door, and went up the stairs barefoot, feeling the cold wood under your feet.
You didn’t know where you had gotten the courage from, probably from the alcohol running through your veins, but also from something deeper: the need to be close to him, to comfort him, for him to see you.
You reached his bedroom. The door was ajar, so you took a deep breath and pushed it open gently. Beau was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and head down. The room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the bedside lamp. When he heard you enter, he lifted his head sharply and startled.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, clearly surprised. His voice sounded hoarse.
You closed the door carefully behind you, leaning against it for a second.
“I heard you… arguing with Carla,” you said softly. “I was outside and… I’m sorry.”
Beau sighed and ran a hand over his face.
“You shouldn’t have heard that. And you definitely shouldn’t be up here, little one.”
You took a step toward him, barefoot on the carpet. The alcohol made you feel braver, but also more exposed.
“She doesn’t deserve you, Beau.”
He let out a short, bitter laugh without humor.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You kept approaching until you were in front of him. Then, slowly, you crouched down to his level, almost on your knees between his legs. Your eyes were at the same height as his and you could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of beer. You were so close you could see the small tired lines around his eyes.
“Yes, I do,” you whispered. “You deserve better. You deserve someone who really loves you, who sees you as you are… and who doesn’t leave you hanging.”
Beau looked at you intently. For a moment he stayed silent, studying your face as if he were seeing you for the first time. Then he let out a low, almost incredulous laugh and shook his head.
“You’re quite the talker, you know that?” he murmured, with a sad smile on his lips.
You also laughed softly, nervous, but without looking away.
“I would never do that to you,” you whispered, looking him in the eyes with total sincerity. “I would never treat you like you’re worth nothing.”
Your right hand slowly slid up his thigh, emboldened by the alcohol and months of repressed desire. Beau quickly intercepted it, gripping your wrist firmly but without hurting you.
“Don’t you want to be downstairs with your friends?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.
“They’re not my friends…” you replied in a whisper.
You tried again, your fingers searching for the button of his pants. Beau stood up abruptly, forcing you to stand as well.
“Emily…” he said, as if saying his daughter’s name could remind him why this was wrong.
“She’s busy downstairs enjoying her party,” you replied, moving closer. “She won’t come up.”
Beau swallowed visibly. He took a step back, but you advanced.
“This is too much. You have to go,” he murmured, though his voice no longer sounded so convinced.
You ignored him. You stood on your tiptoes and started kissing his neck, just below his jaw. His hands automatically went to your waist, holding you tightly. You could feel his body tensing, how he fought against himself.
“We can’t…” he growled, though his fingers were already digging into your skin.
“We can,” you whispered against his neck, biting gently. “But we shouldn’t. It’s different.”
Your hands moved up his chest and you pulled his t-shirt over his head in one movement. Beau let out a shaky sigh. For a second he looked at you as if deciding whether to stop you or surrender… and then he kissed you.
The kiss was urgent, hungry. His lips were softer than you had imagined, but the kiss was dominant, desperate. His hands roamed your back and went down to the zipper of your dress. He pulled it down quickly and the black sequined dress fell to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
Beau pulled back for a second to look at you. His eyes roamed your body with pure hunger.
“Fuck…” he murmured.
He lifted you effortlessly, holding you by the thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down gently on the mattress and positioned himself on top of you, kissing you again with more intensity. His hands explored your bare skin, your waist, your ribs, your breasts while you moaned against his mouth, arching toward him.
All the desire you had kept for months was surfacing. Beau kissed your neck, moved down to your collarbone, and you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
You were exactly where you had dreamed of being… in his bed, in his arms.
Beau pulled back just a few centimeters, breathing heavily against your lips. His green eyes were dark, full of desire and conflict.
“We should stop…” he murmured in a hoarse voice, almost pleading. “Before we do something we’ll regret.”
You shook your head softly, caressing his cheek.
“I could never regret this,” you whispered. “Never with you.”
That seemed to break something inside him. Beau lowered his head and skillfully removed your bra. His large hands covered your breasts, and then his mouth focused on them. He kissed, licked, and sucked hungrily, giving attention to each one. You moaned, arching your back, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him there. The feeling of his stubble brushing your sensitive skin drove you crazy.
He barely pulled away for a second to breathe before your hands moved urgently downward.
You unbuttoned his pants and slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hardness. Beau let out a low growl against your chest, the sound vibrating against your skin.
“Fuck…” he cursed.
He kissed you again, this time more wildly, while you stroked him. His hips moved instinctively against your hand.
Then, with a quick and decisive movement, he removed the last piece of clothing you had left, leaving you completely naked and exposed beneath him.
You were totally at his mercy. He sat up a little to look at you. His eyes traveled over your naked body with an intensity that made you tremble, and his hands caressed your thighs, slowly opening them.
You whispered his name like a prayer.
“Beau…”
He leaned over you, kissing just below your ear. His deep, low voice made your skin tingle.
“Talk,” he requested, almost like a soft command. “I want to hear you.”
“Beau… I need you,” you pleaded almost breathlessly, looking him directly in the eyes with a mix of desire and desperation. “Please…”
He closed his eyes for a second, as if fighting himself, but finally gave in. His hand moved between your bodies and his fingers caressed you slowly, parting your wet, slippery folds. He let out a deep growl when he felt how aroused you were.
“You’re so ready for me…” he murmured against your neck.
You nodded quickly, biting your lip. Beau positioned himself better between your spread legs. You felt the thick head of his member pressing against your entrance, hot and heavy. He entered slowly, very slowly, stretching you inch by inch.
The sensation was overwhelming. He was big and thick, and you were very tight. You let out a long moan when he reached halfway.
“Too tight…” he growled, stopping to give you time. “Relax for me, darling. Breathe. That’s it… good girl.”
You breathed deeply, trying to relax. Little by little your body accepted him. When he was finally fully inside, you felt so full that for a moment you forgot how to breathe. The pressure was perfect, almost painfully good. Beau stayed still, letting you adjust, while he kissed your neck and shoulders.
You needed more contact. You pulled his neck and kissed him urgently, moaning against his mouth as he began to move. At first they were slow, deep thrusts, almost pulling out completely before sinking back in to the hilt. Every time he entered fully, a moan escaped your throat.
“It feels so good…” you whispered between kisses. “Beau… please…”
“I know it feels good,” he replied in a hoarse voice, picking up the pace. “Lift your hips for me, beautiful. Like that… just like that.”
You obeyed. Every time you lifted your hips to meet his thrusts, he went deeper, brushing that spot inside you that made you see stars. His large hands moved up to your breasts, squeezing them firmly, pressing them together as he lowered his head to devour them. His tongue circled your nipples, sucked and gently bit them while he continued fucking you with a steady, deep rhythm.
The pleasure became more and more intense. Your moans grew louder, less controlled. At one point the sensation was so overwhelming you could barely speak, only moan and gasp his name.
Beau lifted his head and looked at you with a dark, satisfied smile.
“You can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he teased in a hoarse voice, without stopping penetrating you. “So quiet all of a sudden…”
You could only shake your head, biting your lip hard.
Suddenly, Beau pulled out of you completely. You protested with a long, frustrated whimper, but he easily turned you onto your side. He pressed himself fully against your back, your body fitting perfectly against his, and entered you again with one deep thrust. The new position made you moan much louder. You could feel him deeper, his chest against your back, his hot breath on your nape.
“Like this…” he growled, biting your shoulder as he sped up. “Let me hear you.”
You turned your head to kiss him. The kiss was messy, wet, and desperate. One of his hands moved down to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles while he continued thrusting mercilessly.
The orgasm hit you suddenly, strong and intense. You clenched around him, moaning his name over and over as you trembled. Beau followed shortly after, pushing deep and spilling inside you with a long, hoarse growl, holding you tightly against his chest.
But he didn’t stop. He kept moving slowly, prolonging the pleasure for both of you, thrusting gently while your body continued contracting around him. Every movement drew small, weak, trembling moans from you.
When he finally pulled out of you, you complained again at the loss, feeling empty.
Beau turned you toward him and hugged you against his chest, covering you with soft kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and lips. Both of you were sweaty, breathing heavily, hearts beating hard.
You stayed curled up against him, head on his chest, listening as his breathing slowly calmed.
After a while, you finally sighed and started to get up.
“I have to go back…” you said softly. “Emily is going to wonder where I am if I take too long.”
You slid out of bed and started picking up your underwear and the dress from the floor.
You had barely taken two steps when Beau grabbed your wrist and pulled you back gently but firmly.
“Come here,” he murmured.
He sat you on his lap, straddling him. His large hands settled on your waist while he kissed you with deep, almost reverent slowness. It wasn’t the desperate kiss from before, it was more intimate, more dangerous.
When you separated, you looked him in the eyes and asked in a whisper:
“Is this… going to happen again?”
Beau closed his eyes for a moment and rested his forehead against yours.
“It shouldn’t happen again,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “Never again. This isn’t right.”
You felt a pang in your chest, but you didn’t give up. You caressed his cheek and kissed him again, soft but insistent.
“Please…” you begged against his lips. “I want to feel you again. I want this again.”
Beau let out a low, frustrated groan, tightening his fingers on your waist.
“You can’t say those things to me…” he whispered, almost as if it hurt him. “You’re killing me.”
But he didn’t push you away. On the contrary, he kissed you again, deeper, his hands sliding up your bare back. Between kisses, he murmured:
“Stay with me.”
You smiled against his mouth.
“I’m going to go back to the party for a while… I don’t want Emily to suspect, but I’ll come back later,” you promised, looking at him with bright eyes. “Wait for me.”
Beau looked at you intently, internally struggling.
“I don’t want to stop,” you said, looking at him.
“I don’t want to stop either,” he finally admitted, his voice deep.
He kissed you one last time, long and possessive, as if he wanted to memorize your taste. When he finally let you go, you got up reluctantly and started getting dressed. You put on your underwear, then the dress, and Beau never took his eyes off you while you zipped it up.
Once ready, you approached the bed again, leaned down, and kissed him softly.
“See you later,” you whispered.
You left the room carefully, closing the door behind you. You went down the stairs and went straight into the guest bathroom in the hallway.
You looked at yourself in the mirror. You had swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and slightly tousled hair, but you were smiling like a complete fool, eyes bright and heart beating a thousand miles per hour.
You knew the sound of the Impala's engine before you ever saw it, you recognized it in the way it vibrated through the motel floor, in the echo bouncing off the walls, and especially in the shiver that climbed up your spine before you even looked out the window. It had been three weeks since you'd last spoken, three weeks of counting the bruises the last case had left on your ribs, and counting, too, the number of times you'd almost texted him and deleted the message before sending it.
You didn't need to check the clock to know it was late. It was always late when Dean showed up like this, headlights off, engine roaring louder than his own voice.
You stood by the window, arms crossed, watching him get out of the car with that crooked walk he only had when he'd had too much to drink. His leather jacket hung off one shoulder. You felt the old temptation to run to the door, and crushed it with the same discipline you crushed everything else with, and didn't open it until the third knock.
"Hey, sweetheart." The nickname came out worn in Dean's mouth, like a word he'd repeated too many times in the silence of the car, rehearsing it. "I needed to see you."
"It's three in the morning, Dean."
"I know." He didn't apologize for the hour. He never did. "Can I come in?"
You should have said no, after all, you'd spent three weeks building the habit of saying no, brick by brick, over the rubble of the last time he'd walked through that door but Dean had a way of looking at you that brought down any structure, with those green eyes reddened from alcohol and something deeper, something you could never fully name. So you stepped back from the door without a word, which was your way of saying yes.
Dean walked in smelling like whiskey, sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed, like the weight of the last three weeks had settled entirely at the back of his neck.
"You said you weren't going to come looking for me again." You didn't move from the center of the room. You needed the distance, even if it was only the distance of a threadbare rug.
"I know."
"Then why…"
"Because I can't." He lifted his head. His eyes were bright in a way that wasn't just the alcohol. "I tried, sweetheart. I swear I tried. Sam says I'm being an idiot, that you deserve better, and he's right, damn it, he's completely right. But every time I close my eyes you're there, and every motel turns into this motel, and every road leads me back here."
You felt something crack open in your chest, that familiar fissure that split whenever Dean talked like that, with that mix of truth and self-destruction that was impossible to turn away. You remembered the last fight. You remembered your own voice breaking as you asked him why he kept showing up if he knew he was just going to leave again, and his, rough, almost cruel, telling you to stop calling him, stop looking for him, stop waiting for something he didn't know how to give you.
"Last time you told me not to wait for you again."
"I know." Dean dragged a hand down his face, like he could wipe the words off his skin. "I was an ass. I always am... it's easier to make you hate me than to let you stay close long enough to see everything that's broken in me."
"That's not an excuse."
"I'm not asking it to be." He stood up, slowly, like his body weighed twice as much from the alcohol and the guilt mixed together. He took two steps toward you, stopped a hand's width away, not touching you yet, waiting for some permission you didn't know if you were willing to give. "I'm just asking you to let me stay here tonight. Nothing else. You don't have to forgive me and you don't have to tell me it's okay. Just... let me stay."
You should have thrown him out. You knew that if you let him stay tonight there would be a next time, and another, and another, a circle repeating itself like some cursed ritual neither of you seemed capable of breaking. But you also knew that some part of you had spent three weeks waiting for exactly this moment, this knock on the door, this half-apology that never changed anything but that, for an instant, felt like it could.
"One night," you said, your voice steadier than you felt inside. "And tomorrow you leave."
Dean nodded, and something in his face softened, a genuine relief you recognized because you felt it too, that momentary rest of not being alone in the room with your own ghosts. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and you stayed standing, watching him, wondering how many more times you'd repeat this exact scene before finding the strength not to open the door.
"Sweetheart." That nickname again, quieter this time, almost a whisper. "I know I don't have the right to ask this, but tell me something. Anything, something from these three weeks. I want... I want to know that you existed without me, even if it hurts."
You sat down beside him, leaving a deliberate space between you, a space Dean didn't try to close. You started telling him about the case you'd solved alone in Nebraska, about the old woman who'd given you a jar of homemade jam as thanks, about the road that had stretched on for miles and miles under a cloudless sky. Dean listened with his eyes closed, like every word was something he could hold onto, a fragment of some parallel life where he hadn't pushed you away with his own hands.
When you finished talking, the silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. For the first time in three weeks, it was almost peaceful.
"I'm going to screw it up again," Dean said suddenly, staring at the floor. "You know that, right? At some point I'm going to say something I shouldn't, or disappear without warning, or Sam's going to need me more than I can give you, and all of this is going to break again."
"I know."
"Then why do you let me stay?"
You didn't have an easy answer.
"Because when you're good, Dean, when you're really present, there's nothing in this world that feels like you." Your voice cracked slightly at the end. "And I guess I keep hoping that version of you will stick around long enough."
He looked at you then, and for a second it seemed like he was about to say something important, something that could change the pattern you'd been repeating for far too long. But he closed his mouth, and instead, with a gentleness that contrasted with the usual roughness of his hands, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.
"I'm sorry," he said instead. The same two words he always said, the same two words that never managed to fix anything. "For everything. For tonight and for the nights to come, because I know I'm going to screw this up again."
You closed your eyes, letting Dean's head rest against your shoulder, feeling the familiar weight of his body, the rhythm of a breath starting to slow with sleep. You knew that by morning he'd be gone, and that in a few weeks, or a few months, you'd hear the Impala's engine in the dark again. And you knew, above all, that you'd keep opening the door every time, because loving Dean Winchester had never been a rational decision, but a wound that kept reopening again and again, with the strange, painful hope that someday it would finally heal.
The next day you woke before he did, like always. The gray morning light filtered through the motel curtains and Dean was still asleep beside you, one arm slung heavy and warm across your waist, and for a moment you could pretend this was simple, that it was just an ordinary morning.
You studied his face while he slept, because it was the only time you let yourself do it without him noticing. Asleep, Dean lost that constant tension that hardened his jaw, that vigilance that never fully left him even in dreams. His eyelashes trembled slightly. There was a new line between his brows you didn't remember from last time, one more mark life had left on him while you weren't looking.
You thought, not for the first time, that you loved him in a way that didn't make sense to put into words. And you thought, too, that this love wasn't going to be enough. Loving Dean was like holding water in your hands: no matter how tightly you gripped, it always ended up slipping through somewhere.
You moved carefully so as not to wake him, got out of bed, and stood by the window, watching the Impala parked under the dirty morning light. Behind you, you heard the mattress creak.
"Sweetheart." His voice, rough with sleep, had something different in it than last night's. Less desperate. Almost tender. "What time is it?"
"Early." You didn't turn around. "You should go before Sam starts calling, asking where you are."
There was a silence. You heard the sheets shifting, his bare feet on the cold floor, and then you felt his presence behind you, that familiar warmth that always seemed to burn and protect you at once.
"I don't have to leave yet."
"I said one night."
"I know." He put a hand on your shoulder, barely a touch, like he was afraid you'd pull away. "But I don't want to."
You closed your eyes. There it was again, that crack opening every time he said something like that, in that low voice that sounded like a promise even though you both knew it wasn't.
"Dean."
"I know what you're going to say."
"Then spare me having to say it." You turned to face him. His hair was more tousled than last night, his shirt rumpled, his eyes no longer red from alcohol but tired in a different, deeper way. "You know how this ends. It always ends the same way. You stay until something calls you away, or until you decide it's easier to hurt me than to let me stay close, and I'm left picking up the pieces until the next time you show up at my door at three in the morning."
"This time is different."
"You always say that."
The words had barely left your mouth when Dean kissed you. It was sudden, hungry, almost desperate. His big hands framed your face like he was afraid you'd vanish.
You kissed him back with the same urgency, pulling his shirt up, needing to feel his skin against yours one more time before the world pulled you apart again.
Dean lifted you effortlessly and carried you back to the unmade bed. He let you fall onto the mattress and settled over you in one motion. His lips never left yours as his hands moved down your body, stripping away the little clothing you still had on. When his fingers found your center, already wet, he groaned against your mouth.
"I need you," he whispered against your lips, almost angry. "Fuck, I need you so much it hurts."
You writhed beneath him, chasing more friction, more of him. Dean held your hips with one hand while his mouth traveled down your body, kissing every rib, every bruise you shared, until his tongue replaced his fingers. The pleasure was immediate and brutal. You moaned his name, pulling at his hair, and he didn't stop, devouring you like he wanted to memorize your taste for the nights he'd spend alone in the Impala.
When you were already trembling on the edge of your orgasm, Dean rose up. He stripped off the rest of his clothes with rough movements and settled between your legs. His eyes met yours as he pushed into you in one deep stroke. You both let out a strangled moan.
"God..." he growled, going still for a second, savoring how you clenched around him. "So tight... so mine."
He started to move. Slow at first, deep, almost torturous. Every thrust seemed to say stay, don't let me go, forgive me. Then the rhythm turned harder, more urgent. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. Dean's hands dug into your hips, marking you as he fucked you with that mix of love and desperation only the two of you understood.
"Tell me you need me," he demanded against your ear, his voice breaking. "Tell me."
"I need you... Dean... fuck, I need you so much," you gasped, feeling the orgasm building again, stronger this time.
His hips slammed against yours in a hard, desperate rhythm. Every thrust was deep, almost painful, like he wanted to brand you from the inside so you'd carry him with you when he left. Your nails dug into his back, leaving red marks you knew he'd see in the mirror later. Dean dropped his head and bit down on your neck, sucking hard as he sped up.
"Harder..." you begged, and he obeyed.
When you felt the orgasm getting close, Dean slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit with his thumb, pushing you to the edge.
"Come on, sweetheart... come for me," he growled.
He groaned your name like a prayer and a curse at once. He kissed you hard as he sped up, hitting that spot inside you again and again until you broke apart around him, screaming his name. Dean followed you soon after, burying himself deep with a long, shuddering groan, spilling inside you as his body shook.
He collapsed on top of you, sweaty and heavy, but didn't pull out. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was afraid you'd disappear, and he buried his face in your neck, breathing hard.
"I love you," he whispered against your skin, so quiet you almost didn't catch it. "Even if I don't know how to do it right... I love you, damn it."
You stayed silent, stroking his back, feeling his release slowly slipping out between your legs. You both knew that "I love you" didn't change anything. Tomorrow it would still hurt just the same. But in that moment, with him still inside you and his heart beating against yours, it was worth it.
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