Daddy's Secret Touch

I stood frozen outside Jake’s apartment door, my hand still raised to knock. The sound coming from inside made my stomach twist violently.

Moans. Loud, breathless moans.

“Oh fuck, Jake… right there!”

I didn't knock.

Instead I used the spare key he’d given me two weeks ago, the one he said proved how serious he was about us.

When I opened it I froze instantly.

The girl on the bed was my best friend since childhood.

The same Mia who had helped me pick out the cute red lingerie I was wearing underneath my coat tonight as a surprise for our six-month anniversary.

She was riding him, her head thrown back, Jake’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements with the same eager thrusts he used with me.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he groaned, voice thick with pleasure. “Better than her.”

Her.

Me.

Something inside my chest cracked wide open.

I must have made a sound, a choked sob or a gasp because Mia’s eyes suddenly flew open.

She froze mid-motion, staring straight at me in horror.

“Lila…” she whispered, scrambling off him.

Jake’s head snapped toward the door. His face drained of color when he saw me standing there in my coat, still holding the spare key, tears already spilling down my cheeks.

“Baby… wait, it’s not ..”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, voice shaking but surprisingly steady. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

Mia was frantically pulling on her clothes, tears forming in her own eyes. “Lila, please… it just happened. We didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I’m so sorry…”

“Save it.” My voice cracked. “Both of you.”

I turned and ran.

The elevator ride down felt endless. By the time I reached the street, my legs were trembling so badly I could barely walk. The cool night air hit my face, mixing with the hot tears streaming down.

How long has this been going on?

The late replies. The sudden “study sessions.” The way Mia had been avoiding eye contact with me for weeks.

I pulled out my phone and deleted every photo of Jake. Then I blocked both of them.

My chest hurt so much I thought I might throw up.

I needed to get home. Mom was away again.. some fancy trip with her latest boyfriend. The apartment would be empty. I could cry, scream, drink until I passed out. Anything to make this pain stop.

By the time the Uber dropped me off, my eyes were swollen and my makeup was ruined. I didn’t care.

I let myself in, kicked the door shut, and dropped my bag on the floor.

The apartment was dark and silent.

I headed straight for the kitchen, grabbed the expensive bottle of red wine Mom had been saving, and didn’t even bother with a glass. The first swig burned all the way down. Good. I wanted to feel something other than this hollow ache.

Standing in the middle of the living room, I shrugged off my coat, revealing the red lace lingerie I’d worn for him. The set that was supposed to make tonight special.

What a fucking joke.

I laughed bitterly through fresh tears and took another long drink. The wine warmed my blood, loosening the tight knot in my chest just enough to breathe.

I collapsed onto the large sectional sofa, legs spreading carelessly as the alcohol started to hit. My hand trailed down my stomach, fingers brushing over the lace panties. I was angry. Devastated. And underneath it all, a reckless, desperate heat was building.

I wanted to forget.

I wanted to feel wanted, even if it was stupid and dangerous.

The front door clicked open.

I froze, bottle halfway to my lips.

A tall, commanding man stepped inside, closing the door behind him with quiet confidence. He was older, late twenties or early thirties, broad shoulders filling out an expensive black shirt, dark hair with silver at the temples, sharp jaw, and piercing blue eyes that instantly locked onto my barely clothed body.

He paused, keys in hand, clearly surprised to find someone half-naked and crying on the sofa.

His gaze didn’t shy away. It raked over me slowly, my tear-streaked face, the red lace barely covering my breasts, the damp spot forming between my spread thighs.

Heat flooded my cheeks, but the wine and the raw pain made me bold.

“Who are you?” I asked, voice slightly slurred. “This is my apartment.”

His deep, smooth voice carried natural authority. “I could ask you the same. But it looks like you’ve had a hell of a night, sweetheart.”

The pet name sent a shiver through me. He looked powerful. Controlled. Nothing like Jake.

I took another swig and laughed bitterly. “Hell of a night? I just walked in on my boyfriend fucking my childhood best friend. So yeah… pretty fucking bad.”

Something dark and protective flashed in his blue eyes. He set his keys down and stepped closer, towering over me.

“He’s a fool,” he said quietly, voice low and certain. “Doesn’t deserve you.”

My heart stuttered.

The pain was still there, sharp and ugly, but this stranger’s intense gaze was making my body react in ways I couldn’t control. Heat pooled low in my belly. My nipples tightened against the lace.

I met his eyes, reckless and aching.

“And you think you do?”

He didn’t smile. He simply reached down, large hand cupping my chin firmly, tilting my face up so I had to look at him.

“I know how to make you forget him,” he murmured, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Even if it’s only for tonight. Say the word.”

Reason screamed at me to stop.

But the heartbreak, the wine, and the desperate need to feel something other than betrayed won.

I nodded.

His mouth crashed down on mine instantly hot, demanding, experienced. His tongue swept in, claiming me as one hand tangled in my hair and the other pulled me closer.

I moaned into the kiss, pressing my body against his hard chest. He tasted like control and safety and raw power.

Clothes disappeared in a blur.

He dropped to his knees between my thighs, yanking my panties aside. Two thick fingers slid through my already soaked pussy before pushing deep inside me.

I gasped, hips bucking.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he growled, curling his fingers perfectly while his thumb circled my clit. “Let go.”

The orgasm hit me fast and hard.

I came first, crying out as my walls clenched around his fingers, pleasure crashing through the pain like a tidal wave. My legs shook, fresh tears mixing with the overwhelming release.

He didn’t stop.

Even as I trembled, he kept stroking me through it, drawing out every pulse until I was whimpering.

Only then did he free his thick cock and position himself at my entrance.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

“Yes,” I breathed, pulling him closer. “Fuck me. Make me forget everything.”

He thrust in deep in one powerful stroke, filling me completely.

And for the first time tonight, the heartbreak started to fade beneath waves of raw pleasure.