
Craving My Dad's Billionaire Bestfriend
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"Will you be a good girl for Daddy?" His husky voice dripped with lust.
"Yes, please fuck me hard, Daddy." I answered, breathlessly.
His hands were all over my body as he pressed into me roughly and I could feel my pussy swelling in response to his hardness.
"Good," he whispered against my ear, teeth nipping at my skin. "Because you'll be a damn good whore."He bit down again, pulling away from me long enough to grab one of my wrists and pin it above my head, then began fucking me hard, his hips rolling violently and slamming into mine in time with his movements.
•• •• ••
Camille Caldwell, tasked by her wealthy father to learn the ropes of business under the watchful eyes of a dear and trusted mentor, Gavriel found herself juggling between being a dutiful secretary and a seductive temptress at night.
At first, all she wanted from him was for him to give a good report to her father of her behavior, but as she got closer to him, she couldn't resist the magnetic attraction that drew her to him.
When Billionaire Gavriel Donovan agreed to take the only daughter of his friend under his wing as his secretary, he merely counted it as doing a favor for an old friend, but Camille will have him doing the unthinkable, and he'll have her pinned beneath him, screaming for more pleasure.
Can their forbidden desires survive in a world where their romance is regarded as abominable?
Was Gavriel willing to put his friendship and reputation on the line for a girl he was old enough to father?
*****
This book unapologetically contains very dark, raw, and mature contents. Do not open unless you'd love to be stuck in a sex-filled, lusty, and romantic world.
Craving My Dad's Billionaire Bestfriend Chapter 1
Camille's POV
"Jessica! Jessica!" The crowd of masked men chanted as I danced and stripped on stage. Loud music filled the entire club, and I grinned, trying not to get lost in the song.
It looked like today's payment would be worthwhile. We had a large crowd, after all. Adjusting my mask to keep it from slipping, I swayed my hips towards the pole on stage, dressed in a black lace g-string and bra, and began grinding against it.
"Show us those titties!"
"Take it off!"
The men yelled, and I tossed them a grin. Just when I reached for the strap that held my bra up, my eyes connected with a pair of eyes.
He sat away from the men surrounding my stage. He wore a black mask and a white shirt that bunched tightly against his taut muscles.
I could see every outline of those forearms as he raised a glass of whiskey towards his lips and my breathing stuttered. For a second, I wondered how they would feel if I kissed him. How could lips look so inviting? I could imagine them on mine, claiming, demanding, and taking.
My stomach tightened as I noted the rest of him. His jaw was clenched and looked so sharp, I could swear they could slice through anything.
I couldn't make out the colour of his eyes, but they burned. I felt them trail down my skin. And then they met mine again as he took another sip.
My knees weakened, and my hold on the pole slipped. He was drinking me in. Every gulp, every swallow. The crowd melted away, and it was just him.
I watched his Adam's apple work up and down in his throat as he swallowed and parted my lips in a silent moan. I wanted to climb down the stage, walk over to him, and kiss him.
Then, slowly work my way down that magnificent chest. His hands set down the glass, and my thighs tightened at how large they were. He was a huge man.
I doubted his hands were the only thing huge about him.
He blinked and looked away, breaking the spell he had on me.
What on earth was that? I had never felt so... seduced. And he had done nothing more than look at me.
What if he touched me? With those large hands? Grabbed my breasts and fondled them? My thighs grew slick and pressed harder against the pole, grinding my pussy against it.
"Fuck it all!" I heard a man yell and before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged off stage.
"Let me go!" I demanded, shoving at the man who had grabbed me. The security guards were supposed to prevent this from happening. But they were nowhere in sight!
That wasn't good.
"Let you go?" The man said with a disgusting leer on his face. "You naughty tease. Admit it. You want to fucked!"
Certainly not by him!
I drove my knees between his legs and watched him crumple to the ground, screaming like a little girl.
I barely had time to celebrate my victory however because the men around me went into an uproar. They grabbed my arms and tried to push me to my knees.
Panic drilled through me. If I didn't get out of here, bad things would happen. I could barely see or breathe with the men yelling and laughing around me.
"No, please no!" I cried, trying to pull away from them. Tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. "Let me go!"
My eyes caught the stranger I had seen earlier. He rose from his seat, about to walk out of the club.
"Help me!" I called out to him. "Please!"
He stared at me for a minute, clenching his jaw as if considering helping me, then pushed through the crowd.
I was right, he was a huge man.
He towered above everyone else and had no difficulty tossing people aside as he made his way towards me. A large hand yanked me out of the men's grasp and pulled me into his arms.
A woody scent filled my nose and I let out a soft sigh. He smelled so delicious.
"Not yet, pet,"
A shiver slid down my spine as he spoke. His voice was low and raspy, running down my skin and making me terribly wet.
He led me through the crowd that way. I, protected in his arms, as he shoved anyone who stood up against him.
"You can let go now," he murmured low in my ear, skimming his lips over my earlobe.
I shuddered and stepped away, looking up at him.
Hazel. His eyes were hazel. They burned as they stared down at me through their masks. My pussy throbbed and I bit my lip trying not to moan as I recalled the way I had been pressed up against that hard body.
He cupped my face, freeing my lower lip from my teeth.
"You shouldn't do that, pet,"
Pet. I don't know why that made me even wetter. This should be embarrassing. We were outside the club in a corridor. The thong I wore barely covered my pussy. I could feel my juices dripping down my thighs as I stared up at him.
"Why?" I whispered.
"Because I'll demand compensation," He replied in that deep timbre of his.
My nipples poked through the lace, begging to be let out. His eyes darkened as he took note of my nipples and then muttered.
"You're a naughty little slut, aren't you?"
"I... I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." I replied, trying to step away from him. His arm came up around my waist, jerking me towards him until I was flush against that hot hard, delicious body. I could feel his cock push against his breeches, digging into my stomach.
"Ohh," I moaned breathlessly. Oh, he was definitely huge everywhere.
"Are you wet?"
As he asked the question, his hot palm trailed down my backside, pulling on an ass cheek and spreading them apart. More juices spilt, soaking the lace thong and then rolling down my thighs.
"Fuck," he growled, spanking my ass and I squealed in surprise. "If you were mine, you would be up against the wall right now, pet. For being such a slut."
He delivered another spank and I buried my face in his chest, squirming in his arms, wishing he would touch me where I needed him the most.
"I could be your slut," I mumbled, staring up at him.
His eyes darkened and I yelped when he spanked my ass again. "You could be? Or you will be?"
My mind buzzed lightly with awareness that this was going too far. He was a stranger and I shouldn't fraternise with anyone from the club.
But he felt so good. And I was so horny. I needed him. Who knew, I may never see him again.
He pulled on the thong I wore causing it to dig into my pussy and a cry slipped from my lips. Pleasure shot through my veins.
"Answer the question my pet," He hummed, pulling harder.
If I thought I was wet earlier, then I was flooded.
"Yes!" I cried, head thrown back as he tortured me. "Yes I'll be your slut, just fuck me already."
He let out a slow long hiss and rapidly switched places. "So eager. You are so fucking eager, aren't you my pet?"
My back was pressed up against him, his cock digging into my back. A large hand pried my legs apart.
"Spread them, slut," he ordered. "And keep them that way."
"Yes," I drawled when his hand trailed hotly down my back, slipped between my ass cheeks and found my pussy.
He pushed the panties aside and pressed his fingers against my aching core. We both groaned at the impact.
"You're so fucking wet!" He growled, slipping two thick fingers into my sopping wet pussy. "Did dancing for those bastards turn you on? Tell me!"
"N-No," I moaned. Oh, he was driving me crazy. Thick fingers invaded my pussy, thrusting repeatedly, harshly. I loved it! I pushed my ass deeper on his fingers, grinding on them.
"Hump my fingers like the dirty slut you are," He growled. "Dancing on that stage, for all those bastards to see. Did you like it?!"
I moaned, too lost in the sensation I felt to pay attention to what he said. He withdrew his hands then and I cried in disappointment.
Three successive hard smacks landed on my ass.
"Oh fuck!" I cried arching against him.
"Answer my question pet," He hissed harshly, nibbling at my earlobe. "Did you like those men touching you?"
"No," I whimpered, trembling. "Please. Please,"
"What are you begging for, pet?" he mocked, delivering another spank to my ass, this time a little too close to my pussy. "Make it clear."
"Make me cum. Please make me cum!"
I was way beyond redemption. I just needed those fingers back in my pussy.
"You want to cum, slut?" He chuckled.
"Yes, yes please."
"You know what sluts do when they want something? They beg. Get on your knees and beg, my pet."
On my knees?
I looked down at the ground and slid down on my knees. My ass propped up towards him.
"Beg," he hissed, spanking my pussy this time.
I yelped as I tingled all over, more juices spilled and I could feel myself get closer to the edge.
"Please make me cum," I moaned, wiggling my ass at him. "Please? I'll be a good little slut. Just make me cum please!"
"I want to fuck that dirty mouth so bad," He groaned, slipping his fingers into my pussy this time and fucked me with it. Hard.
I held on to the ground, welcoming the invasion, relishing it, feeling those thick fingers fill me up
"Look at that," he murmured. "Your pussy lips taking my fingers like the greedy little slut you are."
Anyone could step out and see my pussy getting violated by some stranger and that thrilled the hell out of me. He was right. I was a dirty slut. His thumb found my clit and swiped at it before pressing down suddenly.
That set me off. I exploded, squirting all over his fingers and hands, moaning as I did.
His fingers didn't stop fucking me all through my orgasm.
"Look at you, making a mess everywhere," he growled. "Get up."
I struggled to, still reeling from my orgasm. He wrapped a hand around my neck and slipped the fingers that had just been in my pussy into my mouth, fucking me with them as he had just fucked my pussy. I moaned as I lapped up my juices off his fingers.
When I calmed down from my orgasm, the realisation of what I had just done dawned on me.
I had allowed a random stranger to touch me! Eyes wide, I stepped away from him, staring in disbelief. Without waiting for him to say a word, I turned around and raced towards the elevator, ignoring my mask as it fell.
I had to get out of there!
Continue Reading
Craving My Dad's Billionaire Bestfriend of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

7.7
My fiancé always told me he loved me. But not long after our engagement, I woke up suffocating in the dark.
He was pressing a pillow over my face, his eyes cold and dead, while my half-sister stood by watching with fake pity.
They had orchestrated everything just to steal my trust fund.
It all started with a massive hotel scandal. They had drugged me, thrown a cheap escort into my bed, and brought a mob of paparazzi to ruin my reputation.
When my fiancé broke through the crowd, playing the heartbroken victim, he knelt down with a massive diamond ring.
"I know things have been hard, but I love you. If you come home with me, I will forgive all of this."
In my past life, I cried tears of gratitude and let him slide that ring onto my finger.
That ring sealed my death warrant. I lost my company, my dignity, and eventually, my life.
Until my lungs burned and my heart stopped, I didn't understand.
How could the people I trusted most plot my murder so ruthlessly?
Why did they have to tear my entire life apart?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the hotel scandal, exactly one year ago.
But the man lying bare-backed in my bed wasn't a random escort.
It was Johnathan Chase, my family's biggest corporate rival and the most ruthless predator on Wall Street.
Listening to the paparazzi pounding on the door, I smiled coldly.

8.4
Grace, after three years of silence from a crash that stole her voice and family, finally uttered a hoarse syllable. It was her first sound, a breakthrough she desperately wanted to share with Josiah, her childhood protector. Instead, through a slightly ajar door, she heard his careless chuckle, followed by a sharp, entitled voice.
Alexandria's voice sliced through the air: "Josiah, are you really planning to bring that little mute to the banquet? She's a walking trailer park tragedy. It's embarrassing." Grace froze, waiting for Josiah to defend her. He didn't. Instead, he sighed, calling her "a responsibility" and "a lifeless ghost," then pulled Alexandria closer.
The words were serrated blades. Her silent devotion, her self-erasure for his peace, had made her a punchline. He was relieved she was broken. The bitter realization of his betrayal ignited a cold, white-hot fury.
Wiping away tears, Grace met Josiah, feigning her usual submissive smile, and quietly refused his "hush money." As he walked away without a glance, her inner voice was clear, sharp, and resolute: "I'm done playing your game."

7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.

9.2
Rebirth with a Twist.
Fawn Jones doesn't get a chance to resolve the issues with her marriage. No, she gets murdered in her own bathtub. Drowned by the husband she hated after he had moved his mistress into their bed, Fawn's last lucid thought is a promise before death. "I will not stay weak. I will make you pay. If not in this life, then the next." Then she wakes up. Different room. Different body. Different life. Cassandra Huntington – rich, infamous, beautiful in a way Fawn never had been. Cassie had been in a coma for six months after a car crash. Her billionaire husband, Blake, had just signed the paperwork to turn off her life support when she suddenly started breathing on her own. Now everyone thinks Fawn is Cassandra. The media calls it a miracle. Blake calls it complicated. The woman wearing his wife's face is softer, sharper, funnier... and so tempting he hates himself for wanting her. Fawn calls it an opportunity for revenge. Her killers are still out there. Her old body is in the ground under a lie. And the only weapons she has now are Cassandra's money, Cassandra's reputation... and Cassandra's husband. So, she plays the role. Learns to walk in six-inch heels. Smiles for the cameras. Seduces a man who once couldn't stand his wife and now can't seem to stay away from her. While she quietly buys into the company that ruined her old life. While she gets close enough to the man who killed her to watch him crack. They drowned the wrong woman. Now she's awake. And she's not done.

9.7
Darcie Miller survives elite St. Jude's Academy on sarcasm and invisibility, steering clear of golden quarterback Charles Sterling-her most ruthless tormentor. But when her father's bankruptcy hands everything to the Sterling family, Darcie faces a humiliating ultimatum: move into Charles's mansion as his live-in "academic handler" to keep him eligible for graduation.
Now the girl who despises him holds his future in her hands, and the boy who shattered her reputation might be the only one who truly sees her. In a world of cold marble and buried secrets, hate is about to catch fire-and obsession could burn them both.

7.6
The heavy prison gates clanged shut, ending three years. I scanned the empty lot for Julian, my fiancé. Deserted.
Biting December wind my only welcome. Calls to Julian, father, mother: unanswered/disconnected.
Shivering, Julian's tracker showed an unfamiliar Long Island estate. A freezing cab left me penniless; I walked through the blizzard. Through a mansion window, I saw Julian, my stepsister Clara, a small boy—a perfect family. Julian, who hated children, doted on him, and Clara wore *my* engagement ring.
I overheard Julian's call: he, my father, conspired to frame me for Clara’s medical error, saving their company and future. My family hadn't just abandoned me; they plotted my destruction.
A delayed text from Julian popped up, lying about a "cross-border meeting," promising to pick me up tomorrow. Despair vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying smile. Typing "Understood," I turned from their stolen life, walking into the blizzard, fueled by burning rage.











