My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 65 Mine

Nova POV

"Tell me everything." Grant’s voice was a low growl, dangerous, yet intimately close. "Now. No more secrets, Nova."

The command hung in the air, a stark contrast to the warmth still lingering on my skin. He was right. After what we’d just been through, and this new trick coming from Sandy of all people?

The old saying echoed in my head: once bitten, twice shy. I was done with secrets.

The afterglow of my orgasm had faded, leaving a familiar, aching sensitivity. His own arousal had softened against my thigh, unmet.

Suddenly feeling exposed, half-naked while he was still mostly dressed, I moved to retrieve my coat from the floor. It was a shield, a piece of armor to reclaim some composure for this conversation.

His hand shot out, catching my wrist before I could reach it. "You don’t want any hindrance between us, baby." His voice left no room for argument. All my objections died in my throat, swallowed whole by the possessive intensity in his eyes.

"I want full access to this." The words were muffled as he buried his face in the valley between my breasts, his breath hot against my skin. My resolve crumbled. My hand found its way to his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, pressing him closer. The urgent discussion about Texas and traitors was forgotten, replaced by the sharp, single-minded need his touch always ignited.

One of his hands slid down my stomach, his fingers parting the slick, silky folds of my pussy with an ownership that made me gasp.

"Grant," I moaned, the sound half-pleasure, half-surrender. "More. I want more."

He pulled away from my breast, the cool air a shock against my damp skin. I missed the heat of his mouth instantly. "It’s Daddy," he corrected, his voice rough.

"Daddy." I moaned the title shamelessly, my body writhing against the rough fabric of his clothes.

"I want more. I want you everywhere." I knew I sounded desperate, stripped bare, but that was what Grant did to me. He dismantled me, piece by piece, until all that was left was a raw, wanting nerve.

He answered with a sharp bite to my nipple. A scream tore from my lungs, the sharp pain a lightning rod that sent a rushing flood of moisture from my core.

"You like it rough, don’t you?" His voice vibrated through me as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist, his head nestled firmly between my breasts.

"Yes. Yes, I do." If he asked me the square root of pi right now, all I could manage would be ’more’ and ’yes’.

He paid lavish attention to my breasts, and I could feel my own wetness soaking through the front of his trousers, a blatant counterpoint to the hard ridge of his renewed erection. A reminder that while I’d found my release earlier, he had not. He needed his.

I whined, rotating my hips against him in the slow, grinding circle I knew unraveled him. I worked the wetness into the fabric until he growled in frustration.

"Fuck. My little nymph," he gritted out. His hand made quick work of his belt and zipper. The blunt, slick head of his cock was already pressing against my overly ready entrance.

"I need you to bounce on it like it’s a fucking bouncing castle. Understand?" It was the voice of Dom Grant, authoritative, detached, and it turned my bones to liquid.

"Yes, Daddy," I purred, leaning my head back and taking him inside me in one smooth, devastating stroke. I started to move, a slow, torturous rhythm, but his patience was gone. His hands gripped my hips, his own thrusts becoming frantic, a silent, desperate plea for more.

"Who is fucking this tight cunt?"

"You."

"Who?!" he demanded, driving into me harder.

"Daddy! It’s you, Daddy!"

"Who does this pussy belong to?" He emphasized the question with a deep, soul-touching thrust.

"You. Daddy, it’s for you."

"Who do you belong to?"

"Daddy. I belong to Daddy." His thrusts became a punishing, relentless rhythm, slamming into me, rearranging my very soul. All I could do was hold on, a mere passenger as he shattered me and put me back together.

A few brutal thrusts later, his release spilled hot inside me, a warm trickle tracing a path down my thigh as my own climax ripped through me, wave after wave of blinding pleasure.

The sensation of his seed trickling down my inner thigh was as primal a mark as any brand.

"That was hot," I breathed, my body boneless, unable to resist applauding the sheer mastery of him. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

"Good thing we both like it hot," he answered, placing quick, soft kisses on my lips and forehead before heading to the adjoined restroom. He returned with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleaned my legs and my sensitive, swollen flesh, pressing a final, possessive kiss to my core.

It was only after we were both freshened up, wrapped in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, that the real world crept back in.

"We still haven’t sorted the Texas issue," I ventured.

"Don’t worry about that. Jay tailed them, and I’ll have some of my Texas connections looking into it," he waved a dismissive hand, his attention already on his phone.

But one question had been plaguing me, a splinter in my mind. "But you told me Tyler was dead," I said gently. "You and Luca confirmed his death."

His fingers stilled on the screen. He looked up, his gaze level and intense.

"No. I told you I handled it. Luca insinuated death to scare you, to give you this twisted perception of me so he could play his game smoothly." He paused, focusing squarely on my face, ensuring I absorbed every word. "If I had known he would twist it this much —that you would think I murder schoolboys, even though what he did was bad enough that he deserved it—I would have been clearer. I couldn’t have you carrying that guilt. It would have eaten you alive."

I nodded, the truth of his words settling heavily in my chest. He was right. The guilt would have been a poison.

"But know this for sure, Nova," he continued, his voice dropping to that deadly calm tone that promised violence.

"You’re mine. And if any fucker tries to claim what’s mine, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through their skull." A shiver that is equal parts fear and dark, thrilling pleasure raced down my spine.

"I wouldn’t have it any other way," I said, my voice bold, strengthened by his brutal reassurance.

A slow, rare, dimpled grin spread across his face. "I have a surprise for you."

My eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"I should have given it to you a long time ago, but all this drama added twists. It’s never too late, though." I clapped my hands, my eyes darting around the room, expecting a box, a key, something physical.

"Don’t break your neck, baby. It’s not here. We’re going there now."

The immediate problem was clothing. I couldn’t stomach the idea of parading through the city naked under a trench coat, no matter how dangerous and protective he was. Rummaging through his bedroom of the suite, I found one of his soft, black dress shirts that swallowed my frame and a pair of his fitted boxers that, while large, were manageable once I rolled the waistband.

I stepped out, holding my breath. His reaction was everything I didn’t know I needed. His face transformed, the usual sharp angles softening with a smile that was both tender and utterly feral.

"You look so perfect," he murmured, stepping away from his desk and closing the distance between us. He pulled me into a hug that felt like a claim and a shelter all at once, then kissed my forehead and the exposed skin in the V of the shirt. "Perfectly mine. And this surprise will make you even more so."

My curiosity was at a fever pitch as we drove. I expected a jeweler, perhaps, or a luxury boutique. But when the car parked on a quaint street lined with little shops—a bakery, a florist, a bookstore, and an ink parlor—my confusion grew. He gently covered my eyes with his handkerchief.

"Don’t peek. And don’t let go of my hand until I say."

I blushed, letting him lead me blindly, my trust in him absolute. After a short walk, he stopped me. "Now open."

I did, my heart full of happy anticipation. And it all froze.

The tools laid out on the sterile tray weren’t familiar, but their purpose was unmistakable.

"Grant?"

His name felt heavy and foreign on my tongue. The question hung in the air: What is this?

"A perfect surprise for my nymph," he smiled, ruffling my hair as if I were a pet. The gesture, once endearing, now subtly felt like I was being patronized. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

My surprise had curdled into a cold, hard knot in my stomach. I didn’t know if this was good or bad. I just felt a primal urge to run.

Before I could move, a new voice cut through the silence, flat and emotionless. It came from a man I hadn’t noticed, standing in the shadows, observing us.

"Raise the shirt," he instructed. "And spread your legs."