Chapter 1
âForbidden affairs are the most exciting â the adrenaline, the rush, the taboo topic. We are attracted to the dark side.â
Chapter 1
Jesse
The sharp aroma of Cuban cigar smoke and the rich fragrance of the expensive Philipp Plein cologne filled the enormous bedroom designed for a King, acting as an invisible veil of wealth over me, making me feel stronger with each rough thrust upon the woman who had the silk black bedsheets of my California King sized bed in a tight grasp. High-pitched moans left her mouth as she tried to keep herself on all fours. It always got to the doggy-style position. Never a missionary or something that will display their faces.
It wasnât necessarily their lack of attractiveness. Oh, on the contrary! They were in the luxury category, upholding everything a man could conceivably want for a quick and good fuck. This one had curves for days, with slightly dark skin and long wine-colored hair. She had that perfect hourglass figure and knew what a man wants without having to train her. Time meant money and power for me, and spending it trying to teach a girl how to suck cock was a waste of time.
A low growl left me when I felt her tighten her slick pussy around my cock, increasing my thrusts more and more, chasing my orgasm like a man on hunting grounds. The sounds this one was making didnât even register in my ears. My mind was too lost in the thorns of my lust, ravaging her over and over like a starved beast, until the final blow to her core, making her arch her back and scream, cumming at the same time as me. A low grunt rumbled from the deeps of my chest, and my teeth gritted as I grounded my hips into her plump behind, until the last drop of my essence filled the condom.
I didnât even wait to bask in the aftershocks of my climax, ripping my cock out of her sloppy cunt, making a wet obscene sound follow along with a whine coming from her swollen lips. Sitting at the edge of the bed, I grabbed one of the dark brown Cuban cigars, putting it between my lips and lighting it up with the silver lighter, the skull engraved on it looking ominous, matching my expression, which lacked any warm sympathy.
The feeling of two arms wrapping around my shoulders from behind made the scowl on my face intensify and the overly cheerful voice filled my ears like needles.
âI had such a good time, Jess. You never disappoint me.â She purred, and the way she tried to appear overly sensual didnât impress me. âDid you have a great time, stud?â She inquired, her long French manicure running over the ink that covered my pectorals, further annoying me.
âUhu... Sure.â Boredom and disinterest coated my voice, not even bothering to turn my head to take a glance at her. She didnât show any signs of leaving.
âYour payment and extra money for a cab are downstairs on the table in the hallway at the front entrance,â I informed her, giving her a slight hint to leave, which she didnât catch on because she kept herself glued to me.
âAlways so considerate.â She further rubbed herself on me, until I couldnât stay composed, getting up in a flash and stepping away from her.
âI have an online meeting in a few minutes. I am busy. You have to go. Now.â My voice turned stern, giving her a look that made her feel like I threw daggers at her. All the sweetness left her, her smile dropping, and she squirmed to gather her dress and heels from the dark mahogany floorboards. Not even bothering to dress, she dashed out of the bedroom, getting the hint that I was not joking around.
Hearing the massive doors downstairs slam shut made me sigh in relief, happy to have the sticky prostitute out of my castle. Did I feel remorse? Not even the slightest. Why should I feel? Her stay was temporary, and I had paid her extra. More than any of the other rich piranhas in this dark world would ever bother to give. I was being considerate, and supportive of the sex workers, but the moment they stepped out of line, I wouldnât take their insistence.
She wasnât the first that attempted to get underneath my skin in hopes of a life filled with luxury and extravagance, and she wouldnât be the last. They all wanted me for my money, status, and opportunities; a bunch of hungry money hoes. I respected them as long as they didnât attempt to get something more out of me. A night of passion and money for their services. Thatâs all they will ever receive, but a ring on their finger or sweet promises of love? Not even in millions of years.
Sighing, I moved back to sit down on the bed, continuing to smoke my cigar without disturbance, basking in the rich flavor that filled my lungs. Closing my eyes, I ran my hand over my bald head, closing my eyes, and finally, basking in the aftermath of my orgasm in peace, feeling droplets of sweat running down the ink that covered my chest, going further down the lines of my abdominal muscles.
The moment of peace didnât last long, for the silence broke at the sound of the notification dinging from my iPhone. Unlocking the screen, I saw it was a text message from my long-term friend Mark.
âHey there, Skullhead! The flight is in almost half an hour. Just wanna thank you again for letting me and my daughter stay at your place. I am gonna give you a call after the plane will land.â
I mentally cursed myself for almost forgetting about this. Being so busy with work and the chaotic bachelor life, I forgot about this event. Mark was my best friend, and probably the only genuine friend I had. Weâve known since we entered college together and ever since then we kept in touch, always making sure the other was good. He was the only one to spare me a glance when I was a broke kid, so poor that I couldnât even afford a cup of Starbucks. Now here I was, CEO of my own tech company, worth billions of dollars with luxury all wrapped around my pinky finger. Sometimes it felt like a dream if it wasnât for the modern mansion I owned, the black Chrysler in the garage downstairs next to the Bugatti, or the walk-in closet full of lavish clothing of huge renames.
Mark, on the other hand, walked a different path than me. He got his high school sweetheart pregnant in the first year of college, but one thing I truly appreciated about him was the fact that he took full responsibility for this, like a real man. I still recall the day his daughter was born. We were at the hospital, waiting for the new soul to arrive in this world. I was next to Mark, fully supporting him, through good and bad. Thatâs what real friends were for, after all. I mentally chuckled as I recall how anxious he was, but he was there with Miranda, waiting for her to give birth. The moment the bundle of joy appeared and Mark held her, thatâs when I saw true happiness on a manâs face. It was the first time I saw Mark smile so big, and with tears in his eyes. Me, on the other hand, I had a look of pure shock as Mark handed her to me. My body was frozen and my arms were trembling, holding a baby for the first time in my life. Despite how I was shaking, I held her securely in my arms, anxiety filling me, afraid to drop her, feeling how fragile she was.
The moment she was handed to me, her crying stopped, and she looked up at me with big doe eyes. They were of the starkest blue, so innocent, like the pristine blue sky on a sunny day without sight of gray clouds. Her tiny hand had grasped my thumb tightly and the first time appeared on her face. It honestly made my heart skip a beat, and I never wanted to let go of her. She was so captivating and adorable, something that never once happened with other babies or toddlers.
That happened 20 years ago, but it felt like something that occurred a few months ago. Finishing my cigar, I threw the end of it into the shining black ashtray in the form of a skull. I got up from the edge of my bed and walked over toward the full-length mirror, taking in my reflection. It was funny how things could change in so many years.
To think that from a tall and lanky college boy, I turned into a tall, sturdy man with a confidence I could only dream of achieving back then. My 6âČ6 tall frame made everyone laugh back then, calling me names like a skeleton because of my skinny figure. Now, here I was, packing muscles for days, all covered by ivory skin full of intricate tattoos that resembled the skeletal anatomy, beautifully decorated with roses and other symbols.
I could call myself a piece of walking art, but I didnât have to. The girls did it for me, and all it took was a crooked smirk. The brown hair that covered my head was long gone. I opted for a fully bald head. It all started at the end of college with a disastrous haircut, which forced me to fully shave my head. Imagine the shock I had when girls started to swarm around me. Something about the bald style makes me appear more dominant and intimidating. The chicks dug it, so I continued with it. It was my trademark, along with the skull symbol. The first tattoo was of a skull head right on the center of my neck, and from that I continued to litter my body with more ink, loving how the blank pale skin became my sheet of paper. It was my temple, and it was only fair to decorate it.
I had everything a guy could ever want, everything except for a wife. At my age, most of my so-called friends were married and with children, although I could hardly call what they had a marriage, for I knew all too well of their infidelity. I didnât even have to pull on their tongues. They were boasting themselves about their cheating habits.
I on the other hand? I loved the bachelor lifestyle. I didnât have any obligations, none to report to about what I did. I was as free as a mother fucking eagle. Why would I need a stable partner, anyway? I could get women anytime I wanted, just with a simple call and a stack of money. It was easier this way, and it got me away from the obligation to keep them longer than needed. I didnât have to listen to their life stories or call them just to ask how their days have been. Talk about investment in saving time.
Walking towards the bathroom attached to my bedroom, I took a long shower to wash off the sweat of that call-girl that mingled with mine, the condom long disposed into the trash. Any sight that she had touched me dissipated under the streaming water of the shower. Stepping out of the walk-in shower, I wrapped a white towel around my waist, then walked back into my bedroom. The first sight when I would enter my intimate chamber was always the massive bed, always empty, save for the time I would fuck, but for a woman to sleep? It never occurred.
My hand grasped the iPhone from the table, then I laid down on the right side of my bed, the towel discarded on the floor. Unlocking the screen, checked to see if there were more messages from Mark. None, plus he was offline. Probably the plane had already taken off.
A certain curiosity sparked inside me. The last time I saw her daughter was when she was only seven. She was a little girl dressing up as a princess and playing dragons and knights. I almost laughed as I remember the times when she made me wear a dragon suit to play with her. I think Mark even had photos of these memories.
Checking Markâs profile, I saw his daughterâs name in the family member category. Clicking on her profile was probably the biggest mistake Iâve ever made, for I almost dropped my phone when I saw the beauty in the photos. This couldnât be little Kitty who made me play with her. The little girl who was always glued to me as a toddler.
The little girl was no longer little, but a woman, and what a fine woman she turned out to be. Her long, blonde hair reached her lower waist, and her body morphed into one of a temptress. A delicate hourglass figure that could make any man drop by her feet. The innocent look in her baby blue eyes remained, but the childish features didnât. Her lips got fuller, giving that pouty look. Images of these dark rosy lips wrapped around my cock flashed before my eyes.
Fuck! I shouldnât be thinking this way about my best friendâs daughter!
At that moment I should have turned my phone off, but my fingers had a mind of their own and continued to sweep through her gallery. Some pictures were more elegant and lady-like, wearing decent dresses or attire, but others? Especially the ones from the beach. I could feel my blood pulsing south, straight toward my cock, awakening the monster between my legs.
The way the tiny black bikini hugged her body, displayed curves and flesh. She didnât have the body of a model. There were sights of stretch marks, cellulite, and imperfections, but that only made her look so much more desirable. My hands twitched, yearning to grasp onto her love handles, wondering how plush her body is. Her stretch marks reminded me of a fierce tigress, especially by the cheeky expression she had on her face in the photo.
God Lord, she was stunning, and as I swept to another photo, I almost crushed the device in my hand, seeing another beach photo with her in a bikini, but the detail that caught my attention and made my breath hitch, was the cheeky little tattoo of a skull right on her right buttock.
A surge of possessiveness rippled through my body, my dick hardening to its full length, making the tattoo flames widen as the skin stretched. No woman had this quick effect on me, to turn me on with just a few saucy photos. I swallowed hard as my free hand glided down my abdomen, moving between the V-line and grasping my aching length.
A hiss left from between gritted teeth, feeling how the blood pulsed through my throbbing veins that encircled my cock. My eyes on the photos, I started to move my hand in an up and down motion, pleasure coating my body like a soft blanket.
I shouldnât be doing this. She is Markâs daughter! How would he feel if he knew that his best friend, who was the same age as he, masturbated to the pictures of his daughter? I should feel disgusted with myself, but oddly, I feel so damn good. Something about this being so taboo made it so exciting. The prospect of the little blonde vixen being the forbidden fruit made everything so much sweeter.
With the images perfectly imprinted into my head, I closed my eyes and let my imagination run as wild as a free leopard. With me all spread on my bed on my back, I imagined the little golden-haired beauty at the end of the bed, crawling on all fours toward me with that innocent flicker in her eyes, smiling at me.
I imagined my hand being hers, more delicate and without the skeletal hand tattoo, languidly stroking my cock as her pouty lips pressed on my dark pink tip. Oh, how I would paint these lips with my pre-cum as if it was lip-gloss. The movements of my hand increased, wondering how she would suck my cock... Would she be able to take my full length down that pretty throat, or would she choke on half of it? I hope for the second so I can see these sapphire eyes get filled with tears while gurgled sounds of choking leave her.
An angry growl resounded in the immense bedroom, my thumb swiping over my angry red tip, smearing the pre-cum down my girth. Fuck, she looked so small... I would fucking wreck her if she gets between my bedsheets. Breathing, getting rougher, I felt the telltale of an orgasm approaching, my guts twisting as fiery arousal pooled in my lower abdomen.
Itâs been years since I pleasured myself like this and to the thought of a woman. I felt like that college boy, jerking off behind closed doors.
Oh, sweet Kitty... What are you doing to me?
The fact that I was twice her age made everything feel hotter. Was it wrong? Probably, but not illegal. She was of legal age. Essentially, an adult.
âPlease, Jesse... I wanna play with the dragon.â
My eyes snapped open, groaning loudly as I threw my iPhone on the empty side of my bed, and my hand grasped my balls, giving them a good squeeze. Thatâs what she used to say when she was a child, begging me to play with her when I used to visit Mark and her. Now, seeing into what a desirable woman she turned, the meaning of the words changed to something else, something salacious and pornographic.
âOh, baby girl... I am gonna give you my dragon.â I thought, forgetting for a moment all about Mark and our friendship, how these actions were straight-up betrayal, degrading her daughter in my head.
Oh, the things I would do to her, knowing now how she looks like at this fine age of 20 or more. I would fuck her in every corner of my house: on the balcony, having her bend over the railing, giving her a perfect view of my empire; in the shower or bathtub, foam coating our bodies and water sloshing around as she is all sheathed on my cock; bend over the kitchen island downstairs in the morning while the coffee is being prepared, but most importantly, I will trap her into my bedroom, all spread on my bed.
This maze of the house will get filled with her moans or ecstasy as I wreck her senseless. I wonder... What she a virgin? That thought send a spark straight to the mushroom head of my dick. Even if she wasnât, it didnât matter. I would fuck the images of her past lovers, ruining her sex life for good. She will get on her knees begging me to make her cum, for none will be able to bring her such wonders.
The last thought that made me climax, throwing my head back, was the carnal idea of fucking her without a condom, cumming deep inside her, doing it all bareback and raw. Coating her walls with my semen, imprinting my essence in the hidden corners of her body, brought me shudders down my spine, feeling the ropes of my cum cover my hand and abdomen.
My eyes remained closed, licking my lips and savoring the little electric shocks of my post-orgasm state, until the veil of lust vanished and my eyes snapped open, reality sinking back in like a rusted knife, inflicting a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue. As good as I felt before, now I felt twice as bad, knowing that these fantasies will remain like this... only images of my sick and twisted imagination.
I havenât used my imagination since I was in college. A bitter chuckle left me. Nostalgia filled me. I couldnât believe I just jacked off to the thought of a woman that most definitely didnât remember me. No. Not a woman. She was still a little girl deep inside, and the fact that she was my best friendâs daughter should have been the ice-cold bucket to wake me up from this saucy daydream.
Not even bothering to clean up, I remained in bed, gazing at the ceiling, lost in my head.
One thing was for sure. Her arrival here will be the death of me.
Chapter 2
Kitty
âThank you!â I beamed towards the guy on the other side of the counter as he handed me the strawberry lemonade, giving him the pay for the cold drink, and adding a little tip. He flashed me a wide grin, nodding happily. âEnjoy it, dear!â
Stepping away from the cold drink bar, I looked for my father through the immense crowd in the airport, spotting him at the exit doors, waiting for me. One hand holding the plastic cup with lemonade, my other hand grasped the handle of my luggage tightly, walking towards my father in a zigzag, trying to swim through the crowd of people that acted more like drunken chickens.
Reaching the exit doors, I saw that my father was on the phone, talking with someone, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. I waited for him to finish the conversation on the phone, getting a little worried about him. Ever since my mother left, each time I saw my father with negative emotions on his face, I couldnât help but get anxious.
âEverything good?â I questioned, and he nodded.
âEverything is good, dear. The only problem is that I have to go straight to a business meeting from here. It was supposed to be tomorrow, but they rescheduled it today at the last minute.â I exhaled in relief, glad to hear that it wasnât something serious.
âThatâs why you had that frown on your face. I thought something aggravating happened.â I chuckled, trying to ease the tension, and it worked, seeing the corners of his lips pull in a smile.
âI know youâre worried for me all the time, but I am a grown man, dear. You donât have to babysit me.â He joked, making me click my tongue.
âDetails. Family is family, no matter the circumstances.â I declared, taking a sip of my cold drink.
âAnyway. The business car is outside, waiting for me to take me straight to the meeting offices. When I called my best friend to explain the situation, he said he would take you to his place. I should probably arrive at his place too around nighttime.â I nodded in understanding at his explanation.
âDonât worry about me. You just focus on business and show them what you are capable of.â My father smiled wider at my encouragement, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of my head before he grasped his luggage.
âThatâs why you are the best, Kitty. You always make me proud.â My heart leaped in joy. To hear my father say this always brought a spark of happiness inside me. I knew he was always proud of my accomplishments, but hearing him say, it was the cherry on the top of the cake.
âI will go then. If you ever have a problem, just give me a call. Even in a meeting, I will make time to answer.â I waved it off like it was nothing.
âBusiness first. I am a big girl. I can handle anything.â I winked, flashing a thumbs up, making my father laugh, and nodded.
âI know I know. I will be seeing you and Jesse tonight.â He said before exiting the airport with me, a black Audi waiting for him. The driver put his suitcases in the trunk before he opened the door for my father to enter the car. I watched the shining vehicle take off, leaving me all alone.
Sighing, I sat down on a bench under the shadows, away from the scorching Florida sun, continuing to drink my cold lemonade, waiting for Jesse to arrive.
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Forbidden Daddy: A Taboo Affair with Dadâs Best Friend
