
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 6
Fiona's POV
"None of your business, clumsy," I answered curtly.
"Yo, relax, babes. At this point, you might fight me for every little thing," he teased. I rolled my eyes, doing my best to ignore his charming face. He looked much more handsome now that I was actually calm enough to notice him. Paris, on the other hand, was all kitten-eyed over him until I nudged her back to her senses.
"Can I at least sit with you guys?" he asked, but before I could answer, Paris jumped in.
"Sure, please... you can sit beside me," she muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I shot her a quick glance, then looked back at Jude before giving him a slight nod.
"Thanks," he said, slouching into the bench in front of us. "So, care to share where you guys are going? I like fun things too, you know."
"Like I said-"
"Hun, we're heading to a restaurant later this evening to get some real food. I'm sure you agree this isn't food," she cut in.
First, she interrupted me. Now, she was chattering all over Jude. She really needed to do better. I sat back and watched as they both stole the limelight, their laughter filling the air. The girls passing by couldn't take their eyes off Jude either, and though he was engaged in their talk, his eyes stayed on me the entire time.
"Alright, guys. Enough chattering, please. I'm sick already. Where should we meet up later today, and what time?" I snapped, jolting to my feet. My face scrunched in irritation, and for a moment, all eyes were on me-until the bell rang.
"9:30, I think," Paris replied. "That's usually when the security alerts relax their monitoring."
Jude smirked. "Hmm, I've been in this school for a while, and it's never come to my notice that there's a time for security relaxation."
Paris's eyes glinted, and a wide grin curved her lips.
"Well, I guess some information is better off told by a special person," she teased.
I scoffed, rolling my eyes at her ridiculous response before grabbing my bag. "Right, I have to go now. See y'all later."
As I reached the entrance to my hostel, I suddenly caught a glimpse of Jalen and Marian. They were yelling and screeching at each other. I leaned against the wall near my door, quietly listening, but leaned too lightly and lost my balance-landing hard on my ankle.
The loud thud and my wince drew their attention immediately.
"Fiona?" Marian called.
"What are you doing here?" Jalen asked, walking toward me. Marian threw her hands in the air, frustration written all over her face as she watched him approach.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation-haa, ouch," I muttered. He knelt beside me, his soft, warm hands brushing over my ankle. The touch felt so good that I momentarily forgot about the pain. My heart fluttered as I stared at him-his scent, his focus, his nearness. I could almost imagine his lips on mine, his hands exploring my skin with passion.
Then Marian's sharp voice cut through my imagination.
"We'll continue this conversation when we get home, honey. I have to be at a meeting now," she snapped before storming out. The sound of her heels clicked down the hallway, echoing her fury.
"Does it still hurt?" he asked gently.
I nodded, then parted my lips. "Um-not too much. I'll be fine." I tried to get on my feet, but the pain worsened-or maybe I wanted it to, just to keep him close.
"Ouch! Oh my God, it still hurts," I cried softly.
"Okay, okay... let me get you to the school clinic so they can check it," he said, concerned.
"Oh no, no-it's fine," I objected quickly. "I think I just need to rest my leg. It's not that bad. But... I could use your help to get to my room."
He sighed, then nodded. "Alright, let me help you to your room then."
Before I could say anything, he lifted me up effortlessly, holding me close against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and his breath brushed against my hair.
"What number?" he asked.
"+4-369-651-70," I replied dreamily, staring into his eyes.
He blinked, confused. "What? Your room number, Fiona."
"Oh-yes, sorry. 306."
He chuckled softly and nodded, carrying me down the quiet hallway. My gaze stayed fixed on his strong jawline. I leaned my head against his chest, savoring the warmth of the moment-it almost felt like we were newlyweds, and he was carrying me to our bridal suite. I didn't want him to let go.
At last, we reached my room. I opened the door, relieved that Kelly wasn't around. The room was dim, lit only by a sliver of moonlight seeping through the curtains, and that faint glow instantly set the mood.
He gently lowered me onto the bed.
"You should rest well so you can attend classes tomorrow," he said softly. "By the way, how was your first day in class?"
"Not bad," I replied, my face brightening like a child's. "Even though I was late-but considering what you taught, it was quite fun."
He raised a brow. "Hmm. What was fun about my class? Because I know you were busy chatting with your seatmate the whole time."
That was exactly what I wanted-his teasing, his attention. I smiled.
"I'd rather not say what made it fun for me right now," I said coyly. "But I must compliment you... you looked way more handsome today than the last time you came to my house."
He went silent. His stare deepened, and I could feel the air between us thicken.
"Thank you," he murmured after a while. "I should go."
"Please, stay-just a bit longer," I whispered. "I'm scared. I can't stay alone in the dark."
"This is against the school rules, Fiona. I can't be seen here," he replied firmly.
"Fine," I sighed. "Then can you at least read me a bedtime story so I can fall asleep-and then you can leave? Please?"
He exhaled deeply, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. "Fine, just for a few minutes."
I smiled, pointing at the book on my nightstand. It was a steamy romance I'd just bought-and I deliberately chose it. Maybe, just maybe, I could make him feel what I'd been feeling all along.
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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."