My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 46 Puzzled

Grant POV

The red room didn’t carry the same energy it had when I fucked Nova in here. Now it felt desecrated by the bitch kneeling on the floor. Every woman I’d dragged into this space had been nothing but a warm cunt to punish and send off with a few dollars. Nova was the exception.

Tonight, though, the room reeked of the usual leather, smoke, and sex. Normally that smell lit me up. Now it just pressed down on me, heavy, suffocating.

And there she was, the first bitch I felt reluctant to dominate in my own territory. Her pitiful sight almost made me feel bad for myself. She sat exactly where I’d told her to: kneeling in the center, head bowed, spine straight, hands resting on her thighs like prayer. A perfect picture of submission. Like a sacrifice laid at my feet.

Too perfect. Too eager.

"Look up."

Her eyes lifted instantly. Wide. Bright with hunger. A hunger that made lesser men feel worshipped. Not me.

Her need was a disease written across her face. It turned my stomach.

I’m a god, but even gods don’t always want worship.

Sometimes I want a little bit of resistance, something sharp, something that fights until it breaks in my hands. Sandy was none of that. She was a cracked toy painted pretty again, mistaking eagerness for seduction.

I dragged the chair back slowly, letting the scrape echo. She flinched. That twitch amused me more than her obedience ever would.

"Hands."

She raised them instantly. Always too fast. I bound her wrists in leather, yanking the straps until her skin flushed red. She gasped. Not from pain, but from the pleasure and it’s sickening. As if everything I did was giving her exactly what she wanted.

Pathetic.

I gripped her jaw and forced her face up. "You think this is for you?" My voice was steel. "You think being a good little lamb earns you more than chains and scars?"

Her lips trembled. She shook her head, but her thighs pressed together, betraying her.

I shoved her against the padded wall, lifted her arms, and locked the cuffs high above her head. Her body stretched long, vulnerable. When I stepped close enough for my breath to brush her skin, the bitch tried to meet my mouth like we were about to kiss. I pushed her head aside before she got close.

"Pathetic."

The whip cracked before she could answer. The sound split the room in two. Her cry followed in a half scream, half moan. Then came her favorite word, the one that made me sick.

"More."

I struck again. Harder. Welts bloomed across her pale skin. She counted when I ordered it. Lost count when I didn’t. Numbers collapsed into sobs. Tears ran down her face. Her knees buckled. Her voice cracked.

And still the bitch still smiled.

That cracked, grateful smile that treated rejection like a gift and pain like worship.

Disgust hollowed me out.

I yanked her head back by her hair and leaned in.

"You’re too easy. I could destroy you a hundred different ways and you’d beg me to keep going."

Her breath hitched, needy as ever.

I shoved my fingers into her mouth. "Suck."

She obeyed. Tongue curling, throat working like she thought she was earning something. Saliva spilled down her chin. When I pulled away, I smeared it across her cheek like filth.

The spreader bar locked her ankles wide. Making her helpless and vulnerable to whatever sick fetishization I had in store for her. I tapped the cane against her thigh and she whimpered. I struck hard. Her cry cracked raw. By the fifth blow, her legs shook. By the tenth, her counting broke down into sobs.

I crouched in front of her, tracing the welts. She shivered under every touch. "You don’t even care if I mean it," I said. "You just want the hurt."

She nodded. Eyes glassy. Tears streaked. Smiling through it.

Shameless.

I clipped the clamps to her nipples and tugged the chain until she screamed. She writhed, broken, still drunk on desire.

I didn’t stop until her body sagged, until her sobs faded to ragged whispers, until her skin was covered in every mark I gave her.

Ruined. And still smiling.

That smile was worse than silence.

When she whispered, "Please... I need you inside me," I almost laughed.

"You think you’re worthy of me?" My voice was ice. "You’re nothing but furniture."

She trembled but kept the smile plastered like a mask.

I flicked on the vibrator, shoved it against her clit, held it there until her body convulsed. Her orgasm tore out of her in jagged waves. When she collapsed, trembling, I dropped the toy to the floor like it was dirt and maybe it was.

"You’ll never have me."

Her eyes glazed, worshipful. She nodded, like even rejection was holy.

I tossed the key at her feet. Watching her crawl for it, fumbling to free herself, was more irritating than gratifying. She finally staggered toward the bathroom. Looked back once, like she expected me to follow.

As if.

Water ran and silence returned.

I lit a cigar, inhaled slowly, as I let the smoke burn. The hollowness gnawed deeper.

Sleep had abandoned me for weeks. Real sleep, the kind where the mind shuts off. With Nova here, I slept. Even when she drove me insane. Even when her chaos ripped this house apart. Without her, my nights were warzones.

Ivin joked that this was love. That’s why he walks around with a crooked nose now.

It’s not love. Obsession, maybe. Possession, definitely. But love? That’s the one thing I can’t feel.

Still... different thoughts clung to me. What if it was the flash that chained Nova to Luca? What if that was the leash around her throat? I wanted to send my men digging, but if Luca’s flash was worth half of what he claimed, it wouldn’t be unguarded. It would be risky for me and too implicating for his men on my payroll. Too loud.

I paced the room, but on second thought left before the bitch in the bath got any ideas about wanting more from me.

Smoke curled from my lips as I drifted through the halls, aimless, until I stopped before a door I’d avoided since that unfortunate night.

Once, it had been the best part of my day. Now it stood like a grave in my own mansion; locked, abandoned, yet still hers. Nova’s room

I hesitated. Then I opened it.

It was bare, lifeless with the same furniture, same curtains. But stripped of her chaos. No scattered pens. No filthy books stacked high. No baggy sweaters tossed around.

Just emptiness. Like the state of my heart.

The room looked like me without her—bare bones. Hollow.

I promised myself I’d change that. She could ignore me, vanish, cut every thread. I’d still find her. I’d tighten the chain until she couldn’t breathe without me. Until she was stuck the way I was without her.

Jay kept me updated anyway. The flowers. The gifts. The mundane things Luca showered her with. That was fine. If that’s what she wanted, I’d drown her in it. Bouquets taller than her. Lingerie that screamed mine. I almost signed them Daddy before remembering she called Luca that too.

The word wasn’t special anymore. But she was.

"Next time we meet, Daddy..." Sandy’s voice rasped through the haze, still raw from the cuffs, the whip, the moans she’d thought bought her a place in my red room.

I turned, smoke curling between us. "It’s Sir. Not Daddy."

Her painted smile trembled, but she forced it back. She tugged at the strap on her thigh like she still had control.

"Anything you want, Sir."

I let silence press against her skin until it was obvious she wasn’t fooling me. It’s time to keep up her end of the deal.

"What do you know about Luca Vitellio?"

Her lashes fluttered. She tried coy, voice syruped with fake tease. "Depends. How much do you want it?"

I didn’t blink. This bitch must have hit her head too hard in the bathroom.

The stillness brought her back to reality than a hand around her throat. Her smirk twitched, faltering awkwardly. I hate tacky bitvhes.

"You’d rather be greedy than rational?" My tone didn’t rise but she could hear me loud and clear.

Her laugh came brittle, too high.

"Rational? Please. You had me begging in your red room, Grant. And now you’re pretending you only want information? Don’t act like you don’t see the difference between me and her."

My eyes narrowed. "Her?"

"Nova." She spit the name like poison. "That spoiled little cunt parades around like she’s better than everyone, like she’s some angel you’re supposed to worship. You think she’s innocent? She’s a whore. She plays sweet for you, but I’ve seen the way she looks at men. She’ll take whoever offers power between their legs. She probably spread for Vitellio already."

Ivin moved, his shadow blotting her light. Her bravado cracked more under our intense gaze, but she kept ranting, voice shrill and bitter.

"She lies to you. Every time she bats her lashes, every time she says your name. You think you’re special? You’re not. She’s playing you like she plays every man. I would never do that. I gave you everything in that room. Everything. And you’re still asking me about her?"

Ivin’s hand closed around her throat, slamming her against the wall. The impact rattled the frames. Her feet scraped for ground.

"Careful," I said, voice low. "You’re choking on your own jealousy."

Her nails clawed at his arm, face red, eyes bulging. Still, she forced words through the grip. "It’s... about Nova... Vitellio’s blackmailing her..."

My jaw tightened but I maintained my non challant mask. "With what?"

"I—I don’t... know..." Her voice cracked, wet with panic. "Heard... in a bar..."

"Useless." I turned away, flicking ash. "Teach her."

Her scream split the air, raw, panicked. "Wait! It’s her parents! That’s what he has—her parents!"

I stopped at the door. Smoke lingered in the silence.

Ivin let her drop. She collapsed, coughing blood into her palm, hair sticking to her damp face. But she wasn’t finished, her jealousy already made her rabid.

"She’s not worth it!" she shrieked, clutching her throat. "That bitch lies better than she breathes. She’ll bleed you dry, Grant. She’ll ruin you. She doesn’t love you. She doesn’t even want you. She’ll sell herself to whoever promises more, because that’s all she’s ever been.. a spoiled, lying whore pretending to be untouchable."

Her sobs curdled into laughter, broken, bitter. "I should’ve been the one. Me. Not her."

The door shut behind me with a click, silencing her.

Parents.

One word, buried under all her filth, and it was enough to change everything. Enough to burn through my chest hotter than the smoke.

Parents. Nova’s parents.

The secret she thought she could keep. The truth Vitellio thought he could hold over her.

Now I had the thread. And I’d pull until the whole fucking truth unraveled and until Nova had nowhere left to run but into my hands