Hot daddy's best friend
"You shouldn't be here, Fiona," his deep voice rasped against her ear, his hand still pressed against the wall behind her.
"Then tell me to leave," she whispered, her lips trembling inches from his. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. And in that moment, she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
Fiona Harry has lived her whole life in a golden cage of wealth, reputation, and suffocating rules. University was supposed to be her escape, her first taste of freedom. But nothing could prepare her for the moment she came face-to-face with Professor Jalen Hart, her father's best friend. One reckless night changes everything. A drunken mistake turns into an irresistible obsession, pulling her deeper into Jalen's forbidden world. But secrets don't stay hidden forever. Between Jude, her possessive friend who knows too much, Marian, Jalen's wicked wife, and the dangerous power of desire, Fiona is about to risk not only hers and her family's reputation but her entire future.
And what happens when the truth comes out especially to Marian?
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Chapter 5
Her loud laughter interrupted my fading thoughts.
"You sounded like you were being fucked so hard! And did I hear you call Jalen? You don't come close girl-It's past school hours, and you're still in bed?" Kelly snapped, her thick, sluggish voice echoing through the room.
If only she knew how right she was about her assumption. And thanks to her, she had ruined the beautiful moment - right at the same spot where it always stopped. I was so close, I wished she hadn't shown up.
My eyes flew open at her words. I immediately grabbed my phone and checked the time.
10:00 a.m.
"Oh my God," I muttered under my breath, leaping out of bed and rushing to the shower. Kelly's laughter didn't stop until she finally stormed out of the room - a relief that felt like fresh air. I was still terrified of her, even though we hadn't spent much time together yet.
After a few minutes, I hurried out of the room and made my way to my first class - technically, the second one of the day already. But my legs froze halfway through the door when my eyes landed on him.
There he was - Jalen.
He looked as gorgeous as the image that always appeared in my dreams. His grey cotton turtleneck hugged his broad, tailored chest perfectly. The scent of his cologne drifted through the air - strong yet calming - and my body reacted before my mind could stop it. The memories of last night's dream flashed through my head - the heat, the pleasure, the teasing.
I swallowed hard, feeling a shiver crawl down my spine. My body trembled slightly. Then his voice pierced through the silence.
"Fiona... are you coming in, or planning to camp by the door?" he said casually, his eyes briefly lifting from his iPad.
"Oh-uh, sorry, sir. I was just... coming in," I stammered, quickly stepping into the classroom and heading straight for the last seat by the window.
As I settled beside my new seatmate, she leaned closer and whispered, "You're lucky he's the one teaching today."
"Why?" I whispered back, glancing at her. Her soft curls framed her pretty face, and the loose black blouse she wore hung slightly off her shoulder as if she'd rushed out without care.
"Because he's the nicest of all the professors," she said. "Stick around for a while, and you'll see."
"Obviously," I murmured sarcastically, earning a grin from her.
"I'm Paris," she whispered. "We could talk more over lunch later."
Before I could reply, his voice echoed through the room.
"Miss Paris and Miss Fiona - save your conversation for after class, alright?"
The way he said my name made my heart skip. It didn't sound like a scolding. It sounded like a warning - or maybe a reminder of something I couldn't explain.
Our eyes met for a brief moment before he looked away. My pulse quickened, and I tried hard to focus on his lecture. But I couldn't. Every time he moved, my gaze followed. When he turned his back to the class, my eyes lingered - watching the subtle clench of his little butt cheeks and the way his shirt stretched across his structure.
I bit down on my lower lip, hardly hearing a word he said until a folded note slipped under my hand.
"You happened to be in my class, hun?" I read.
I looked around and caught sight of Jude sitting at the far end of the class, his rough brown hair dropped over one side of his face, slightly messy but suiting his cute face. I flipped the paper and wrote back:
"Hi, Clumsy." I felt him roll his eyes.
The class went on for what felt like forever before Jalen finally ended it.
"Alright, see you all in the next class. All assessments should be submitted to my email by the due date," he said, gathering his things before leaving the room.
I began packing my books, but my mind was already elsewhere - planning to trail him to his office once the hallway was clear. That was the last class of the day, and I wasn't ready to end it without seeing him again.
Paris turned to me with a grin and stretched out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Paris," she repeated cheerfully.
"You mentioned that earlier... during our whispered conversation," I said with a small smile, my eyebrow arching slightly before I turned back to my books.
"Oh-right," she laughed awkwardly. "Well... would you like me to show you around the cafeteria? Though, I'll warn you - the food there isn't great."
I hesitated, then stood up. She followed beside me eagerly. I didn't mind her company, even though her timing had completely ruined my secret plan to follow Jalen. But I didn't really have a choice either.
"Sure," I said casually.
After a long walk filled mostly with her endless chatter, we finally reached the cafeteria. The place was crowded, buzzing with students and chatter. We grabbed our trays and found a quiet corner away from the noise.
She was right - the food looked terrible, barely appetizing. I picked at something that seemed edible enough not to upset my stomach.
"Why bring me here when you know how bad it is? How have you survived this?" I asked, squinting at her.
Paris leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I usually sneak out to grab real food," she whispered.
My eyes widened. "You what?"
"I know it's against the rules," she said quickly. "But considering what's on your plate right now... wouldn't you do the same?"
I couldn't help but laugh softly. "You have a point."
"If you don't mind, we can go later. It'll be fun," she murmured, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
Just then, a familiar figure approached our table. The air shifted, and I knew who it was. I rolled my eyes before he could open his mouth.
"Did I just hear sneaking out?"
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
9.2
She loved him until she lost herself.
Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again.
When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe.
But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon.
And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained.
Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again.
Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises.
Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.
7.9
After her twin brother's unexplained death at Alpha Academy, Alexandria Hyde takes his place and his name to uncover the truth. Now living as "Alex," she's thrown into a world of hot, testosterone-fueled Alphas who fight to the brink of death... and she has to survive it while hiding who she really is.
But staying hidden isn't easy–
Not when the Alphas start noticing her.
Not when the truth she's chasing might destroy her first.
And definitely not when they start fighting for her instead.
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
7.2
Allie Patterson poured fifteen years into her husband Grayson’s tech startup, living in a cramped San Jose apartment. Every penny, every late night coding session, was for their shared future, built on his constant claims the company struggled, always on the verge of its big break.
Then, a grant deed arrived: a stunning $4.2 million Atherton villa, paid in full, listing Grayson and an unknown Kacey Schmidt as joint tenants.
Her coffee mug shattered as Allie’s world imploded. Driving to the mansion, she found Kacey in silk pajamas, flaunting a massive pink diamond and, beneath it, Grayson’s grandmother’s heirloom ring – the one he’d tearfully claimed to have lost years ago.
Kacey purred, "He's in the shower. We were so tired last night."
The words were a serrated knife, twisting, confirming years of lies.
Humiliation and rage burned out, leaving a terrifying, absolute silence. All her sacrifice and trust were a cruel, elaborate joke, orchestrated by the man she loved.
Allie calmly took photos, then gave herself one minute in her beat-up car to mourn. When it passed, her tears stopped, replaced by cold, calculated murder in her eyes. She typed a text to Grayson:
"Come home early tonight. I have a surprise for you."