Filed to story: Help! I’m Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend Novel Free
Mr. Collins is my parents’ neighbor and lives three doors down from our house. Half the time, he’s overseas on some super-secret mission. The rest of his time, before we began seeing each other, had been spent doing projects around the house or hanging out with my dad.
But now that we’re doing the whole boyfriend-girlfriend “f**k me harder” thing, he comes to Rhode Island the second his feet reach U.S. soil.
Oh, he doesn’t show up at my dorm or anything. He sends me a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses without a note, so my roommate isn’t tipped off. I get a dozen flowers to tell me he’s waiting at the Holiday Inn.
That’s what I have found today. I’ve just finished English Lit and tromp into my room, only to have a bouquet shoved into my hands while my roommate chirps like a bird about my secret admirer. The roses are the cr?me de la cr?me of any florist shop; red, large and intensely fragrant. Mr. Collins has never sent me the cheap stuff. Always the best for his Harper.
“Who is this guy?” Jolene leans forward and sniffs at the flowers. “He’s so romantic. I bet he’s loaded. He’s loaded, right? Trust fund kid. Or a fat guy looking for a sugar baby. Those are the kind of guys who do this stuff. You actually don’t know who’s sending these?” She’s like a chipmunk on speed.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. After my first round of f**king with Mr. Collins, but before he returned for more, Jolene and I had been f**k buddies… experimenting on each other and getting off whenever we had time.
But since Mr. Collins and I made the commitment thing, I only sleep with him. Jolene thinks I’m seeing someone and that I know who the roses are from. But I’m tight-lipped. Mr. Collins is my secret.
Besides, he isn’t anything like Jolene describes. He parachutes from choppers with an ammo filled bag and an automatic rifle, just dives right into the heart of enemy territory, scouting and killing the big baddies.
But with me, he’s romantic. He knows I love roses, and never fails to surprise me with them, or other thoughtful gifts, when they’re least expected. He’s a keeper.
Jolene is still going on and on, but I ignore her, slip out of my frumpy clothes and hunt up something simple and s*xy for my man.
A half hour later I’m out the door, heading to see Mr. Collins. Jolene gives me the third degree. Her suspicions grate on me, but I utter an easy lie, tell her I’m doing research in the library. I giggle to myself as I head down the stairs. Oh yeah, I’m going to do some research all right. It’s going to revolve around a fat cock, and how best to f**k.
In moments, I’m in my car, squirming on the seat, anticipation building as I leave campus and head toward the hotel. My panties are damp; just thinking about Mr. Collins makes me wet and hot.
It’s been almost two months since I last saw him and I’ve missed him more than I want to admit. Miss touching him. f**king him. Hearing his deep, baritone voice. He sends shivers down my spine with each syllable he utters.
Out of everything, I miss his smell. Male musk, sweat, spicy cinnamon and Davidoff’s Cool Water cologne. All of it together creates his distinctive scent.
When I pull into the Holiday Inn parking lot, I hardly give the car a moment to stop before I spring from my vehicle and head toward the lobby. I tell the lovely lady behind the counter that I’m visiting Mr. Collins and he’s expecting me.
Of course, she shoots me the “I-know-what-you’re-doing-naughty-girl” look and rings Chris’s room. She must think I’m a pro. My dress is cut low on top and short at the bottom, showing off everything I’ve got to offer. I’ve topped off my dress with a black pair of “f**k me” boots. He loves these boots.
I’m dressed to be f**ked. Hard and often. Hell yeah.
The woman bobs her head a few times while she converses with Mr. Collins, a fake smile stretched across her face. Her painted lips are fire engine red and slathered with generous dollops of lip gloss. She looks like she just drank a container of oil. I itch to snag a tissue and wipe her mouth. Ick.
“Mr. Collins is in room one-thirty-four. If you take the elevator to your left and get off on the second floor, it will be to your right next to the vending station.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly and lean closer to read her nametag. “Margaret. You’re a doll.”
I saunter to the elevator and do as directed, heels sinking into the thick carpet as I move toward Mr. Collins’s room.
I knock gently on the door. I’ve just struck the surface when he wrenches the door open, hauls me inside and then shoves it closed behind me. For a moment, all I can do is stare, frozen like a deer in headlights.
It’s obvious Mr. Collins just got out of the shower. Droplets of water cling to his chest, and he’s clad in a white towel. He’s darker now, tanned by Iraq’s sun. Leaner, too. New sinewy muscles have been revealed to me, and I can’t wait to discover them with my tongue. Mr. Collins is one hundred percent f**kably delicious. Mm-mm.
I lick my lips and jump on him, rip his towel from his hips and devour his mouth, our tongues twining while I search out the taste that’s come to mean more to me than breathing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, grasp his shoulders, and I distantly hear the hotel door thump close. We maul each other, tongues and teeth, hungry and greedy for each other.
God, I’ve missed him so much it hurts. In a few smooth moves, he undresses me, and then throws me naked into the middle of the mattress, body bouncing. My back hits the hotel sheets, cool surface contrasting with my heated body.
I spread my legs wide, p**sy already wet and ready for his thick cock. Which he seems more than willing to give me. He strokes his stiff shaft, root to tip with a light squeeze just below the head. I know he likes that, loves it when I suck the soft underside, give him a gentle twist while I blow him.
I slip a finger between my sopping folds, tempt and tease him. Silently beg him to give me what I want.
In a blink, he’s on me, crawls between my thighs and shoves his dick into my p**sy.
I mewl.
He groans.
We don’t need foreplay… the mental masturbation I went through on the way over, the anticipation thrumming through my veins, has made me more than ready for him.
I wrap my legs around his lean waist, wrap my arms around his neck, hold him close. He plunges deep, hard and fast, then stills inside me. His cock throbs in my channel, pulses. He’s humongous and stretches me beyond belief, to the point of pain, but I love it. God, I f**king love it. While he was gone, I’d purchased an expensive cyberskin dildo I’d named Mr. Collins Two. And used it… a lot. When I was horny, and my roommate was at class. But nothing beats the real thing, the real dick, the real Mr. Collins breathing in my ear while he thrusts in and out of my needy cunt.
He braces his weight on an arm near my head and uses his other hand to stroke my cheek. Fire blazes in his eyes, a need I’m sure my own eyes reflect. “I missed you, Harper.”
I lean up, kiss him deeply in response. I pour my emotions into our connection, show him without words that I’ve missed him, too.
He’s a quiet man, generally introverted. For him to reveal what’s in his heart means more than words can say.
Mr. Collins returns my kiss with enthusiasm; his tongue plunges into my mouth, f**king me with the same eagerness as his cock f**king my cunt.
I gasp and writhe. Everything feels too f**king good, too much… yet not enough.