My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 16 Butterflies? Try Fireworks

NOVA POV

I inhaled sharply as his fingers pressed against me, rubbing through the fabric of my panties, and my body betrayed me before my mind could catch up.

The heat pooled low between my legs, swelling, desperate, almost painful in the deliciousest way.

Friction alone had me trembling, hips pressing into his hand without permission, every nerve screaming in anticipation. Almost—but not quite—enough.

"Fuck,"

I whispered, hips jerking, voice barely audible over my own pulse.

He pulled back, leaving me aching, wanting. My breath hitched, caught somewhere between need and surrender. Then I heard the metallic click of my zipper, and my chest fluttered in excitement, anticipation spiraling into hunger.

Grant didn’t fumble, didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask for permission. He simply took control, sliding the dress down my shoulders with deliberate patience, like he was peeling away all excuses I had left to resist him.

I arched forward, almost instinctively helping him, almost because my body had been his long before my mind could decide otherwise. The dress pooled at my feet, forgotten, a mere witness to the storm we were about to unleash.

I tried to sit a little straighter, tried to arrange myself in a pose that looked seductively calculated. But his eyes weren’t just looking at me, they were consuming. The way he stared made me feel small, and big, and unbearably exposed all at once.

My hands shook when I unhooked my bra, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. My breasts were free now, nipples hard and alive, screaming for attention, and I didn’t care who heard it. Not him, not me—nobody.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low, rough, a growl that threaded through my veins and lodged itself between my ribs. The words made my thighs clench without conscious thought.

He claimed my mouth again, his lips greedy, tongue brushing mine with a dominion that left no room for doubt: this was his. My hands moved over him, hungry and reckless, clutching at the firm lines of his chest, trailing down to the belt that had been mocking me with its presence for far too long.

His hands were everywhere, one cupping my breast, thumb teasing, squeezing, pressing exactly where I couldn’t resist. The other wandered lower, sliding inside my panties, fingers finding me instantly, pressing and stroking my clit in slow, torturous circles that made me arch and gasp and shiver with want. My body writhed beneath him, twisting toward him even as I tried to stay poised. Pathetic. Beautiful. I loved it.

"Grant—please,"

I begged, voice raw, my hips pressing instinctively into his hand.

He kissed me up, slow, reclaiming my lips, my throat, my jaw, as if marking territory, reminding me of my place. I clawed at his belt until he relented, letting me finally grip him, thick and hot and pulsing in my palm. I froze, stunned by the sheer size, the weight, the undeniable power of him.

My filthy mind ran wild: he’s all mine in this moment, all of him, every inch begging to be worshiped. Every nerve in my body demanded it.

I slid down, tugging him toward me, lips finding the head first, teasing, licking, tasting, learning. He groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent shivers down my spine and made me push harder. I could feel the heat of him, the throb that matched my pulse. Every flick of my tongue, every press of my lips drew a shudder from him, and that only made me greedier.

His hands tangled in my hair—not cruel, not careless, just firm, guiding, claiming. My other hand roamed over his chest, sliding down, stroking him, feeling every pulse, every twitch. He let me explore, let me take him the way I wanted, and it almost made me feel untouchable.

I swallowed him deep, savoring the taste, the tension, the absolute dominance he exuded. When he came, thick and heavy, I swallowed without hesitation. No shame. Only the raw, filthy truth that we existed like this: hungry, greedy, entirely ours.

He hauled me up immediately, kissed me deep, unyielding. One hand on the back of my neck, the other roaming, eyes dark and scorching, and I melted into him. "Get up," he growled. "We’re not done. Not even close."

Every nerve in my body ignited. Fireworks would be an insult. I could barely catch my breath, barely steady myself, and yet the thought of what was coming next made my chest tighten with delicious, dizzying anticipation.

He lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against his office desk like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

My heels dug into the carpet, my heart hammering, every nerve screaming in exquisite anticipation. I didn’t even care if anyone saw us. Hell, part of me wanted someone to catch us, I wanted the danger, the thrill.

Grant’s hands gripped my hips, steady, strong, claiming every inch. His mouth traced the line of my navel, tongue teasing, flicking, coaxing shivers from my spine. I arched, gasping, dragging my nails down his shoulders as my panties were tugged down to my knees.

I offered him my legs without hesitation, lifting them like a gift, and before I could even lower them, his mouth ghosted along my inner thighs. Feather-light kisses, then teasing licks, until his tongue found the wet heat of my cunt.

He kissed each outer lip, teasing, circling, then pressed the tip of his tongue to my clit and oh—my back arched hard, hands clutching the sheets like I was holding on to life itself.

Nova, think! I tried, but all thoughts dissolved in the tidal wave of sensation. My mind scrambled for distraction: pens, hardcover classics, sexy comics...anything to slow the burning pleasure that threatened to swallow me whole. But it was useless.

His fingers joined in, curling, stroking, precise, merciless in their intention. I moaned, screamed, writhed, completely lost, hips jerking in rhythm with his ministrations. And then the first peak hit me in a spine-tingling, hip-snapping, mind-blurring orgasm that left me trembling and trembling, one hand clutching his as if trying to anchor myself to reality.

By the time it subsided, I was flat on the desk, breath ragged, heart hammering, cheeks flushed, and yet I wasn’t done. I swung myself toward the center of the desk, arms reaching for him, body still dripping, still hungry.

He came to me like a predator closing in on its prize. Hands roaming, lips finding mine, tasting myself, claiming me again. My hand gripped him, teasing, stroking, drawing moans that vibrated through the room as his tongue found my nipples, flicking, teasing, drawing fire from every nerve ending.

When he positioned himself at my entrance, my body shivered violently. One last kiss, his arm braced on the desk, cock poised at my dripping heat, then he slid in with perfect precision. My legs wrapped around him instinctively, matching every thrust, grinding, twisting, pushing us both toward madness.

The second orgasm hit, lightning-fast and deep, my body quaking, arms tightening around him, legs locking, every inch alive with the exquisite pain and pleasure of being completely his. He responded instantly, fucking me harder, faster, both of us teetering on the edge, chasing a mutual climax that promised annihilation and ecstasy in equal measure.

When it came—the grand finale—we collapsed together, sweaty, slick, spent, every pulse reverberating through the other. He kissed my neck, my lips, deep, wet, and demanding, but there was no gentle landing yet.

Then...suddenly, everything blurred. My mind went soft. My chest heaved. A tremor ran through me.

"Nova," a low, rough voice called. My eyes snapped open.

I was in my room. Alone. Or...not.

Grant was standing over me, dark, sharp, and alert. His brow was furrowed, eyes blazing in a way that made me freeze mid-breath.

"I heard you screaming," he said, voice low, guttural, like he’d just run a mile or wrestled a storm. "Moaning...hard. Nova?"

I felt my face flame hotter than any shame I’d ever known. My body trembled, still buzzing with phantom sensations, panties clinging wetly to me.

"Why...why were you screaming ’Harder, Grant’?" His words were sharp, teasing, and a little dangerous, like he could see straight through the sin I’d just lived, even if only in dream.

I opened my mouth, nothing coming out. How do you explain that? How do you admit your filthy mind and body had betrayed you before he even touched you again?

Grant’s dark eyes searched mine, a smirk threatening to break through, and he shook his head.

"Don’t tell me...you came on your own, dreaming about me, before I even had a chance to really fuck you?"

I swallowed hard. Wetness pressed uncomfortably against me, proof that my dream had been all too real, all too Nova.

And just like that...my world tilted.

Motherrrr...how can I hate and want the same man so much at the same time?