Caught In Your Bed
The sheets smell like him.
Smoke, leather, something darker clinging to my skin no matter how many times I shift beneath them. My body’s wrecked, marked, used in ways I swore I’d never let happen again—except I let him, I wanted him, and now I can’t think of anything else.
His chest is solid under my cheek, his arm heavy around me, like he’s daring me to move. Like he doesn’t care if I wake Kate herself by mistake, so long as I stay trapped in his hold.
I should pull away. I should put space between us before the sun catches us both in the lie. But his legs are tangled with mine, my lips are swollen from his mouth, and when I breathe in, I can taste only him.
The doorknob rattles.
My entire body jolts. His arm clamps harder around me, pinning me down.
“Dad?” Kate’s voice. Slurred. Drunk. Too close.
My heart slams against my ribs. I bury my face against his chest like I can disappear. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch—his breathing stays calm, controlled, like he’s already calculated every outcome and doesn’t give a damn about the risk.
The door creaks open an inch.
Panic claws up my throat. I clutch the sheets against my chest, praying she can’t see the outline of my body pressed to his.
“Dad? You in there?” Kate mutters again, voice thick with sleep and alcohol. “I… I don’t feel good.”
His hand slides up my spine, deliberate, soothing—like he’s telling me to stay quiet, to trust him. His voice rumbles low, casual, too steady for a man lying in bed with his daughter’s best friend.
“Go back to bed, Katie. I’ll check on you in a minute.”
The silence stretches. My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears.
“Okay,” she mumbles at last, the door clicking shut.
I don’t breathe until I hear her footsteps fading down the hall. My whole body’s trembling, the sheet clutched like armour.
I lift my head, wide-eyed, whispering, “Are you insane?”
He smirks, the kind of wicked, unrepentant curve that makes me want to scream and kiss him at the same time. “Relax, baby girl. She didn’t see a thing.”
“That was too close,” I hiss, shoving at his chest. “We almost—”
“Almost got caught?” His hand snaps around my wrist, dragging me back on top of him, bare skin against bare skin. His eyes burn, feral even in the dark. “That’s half the fun.”
“You think this is a game,” I snap, my voice a whisper-shout, every nerve raw from the scare. “She’s right down the hall. What if she—”
He rolls, sudden and sharp, pressing me flat beneath him. His weight pins me, his hand forcing my wrists above my head, and the sheet slips uselessly away, leaving me bare under the shadow of his body.
“What if she what?” he murmurs, voice like smoke, like sin. “What if she walked in and saw you spread out under me? What if she found out her best friend can’t stop begging for her daddy?”
“Stop—” The word cracks in my throat, more plea than command, and his smirk deepens.
“That’s not what you said last night.” His mouth drags close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Last night, you begged me to break you. Last night, you whispered, please while I ruined you. Don’t lie to me now, baby girl.”
My whole body flushes, shame burning through my chest, but my hips betray me, lifting, pressing, desperate for friction even as I glare at him.
He feels it. Of course he does. His laugh is low, dangerous. “There she is. My dirty little secret.”
“Don’t,” I choke, twisting against his grip. “Don’t call me that.”
His eyes glittered, feral and hungry. “What else should I call you? My daughter’s best friend? The girl I shouldn’t want but already fucking own?”
“Dean—”
He swallows the rest with his mouth on mine, bruising, claiming, daring me to fight him. And I do—I push against his chest, nails scratching, but the second his tongue parts my lips, the anger bleeds into something hotter, darker, something I can’t control.
The bed shifts under us, the headboard hitting the wall too hard, and panic rips through me again. “She’ll hear—”
His hand clamps over my mouth, his hips grinding against me with cruel precision. “Then keep quiet,” he growls, eyes locked on mine. “Or let her hear exactly what you sound like when you’re mine.”
His palm is hot over my mouth, the weight of it silencing the scream clawing up my throat. Not that I’d scream—not when my hips are arching into his without permission, not when every inch of me is betraying the lies I keep spitting at myself.
The headboard taps against the wall again. I freeze, panic seizing me like ice.
“Shhh,” he whispers, leaning close enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear. “Don’t worry, baby girl. She’s too drunk to hear a thing. It’s just you and me now.”
I shove at his chest, weak, futile. “This is insane,” I hiss when he finally moves his hand. “We can’t—”
His hand is at my throat before I can finish, not squeezing, just holding, his thumb pressing beneath my chin until I’m forced to look up at him. The way he stares down at me—dark, certain, like he already owns every piece of me—makes my stomach flip and my thighs clench.
“You think I care about can’t?” His voice is a rasp, low and dangerous. “I told myself I wouldn’t touch you again, but you—” his thumb slides along my pulse, his smirk cutting sharp — “you keep coming back for more.”
“I don’t—”
“You do.” His other hand slides between us, cruelly slow, fingers tracing the heat he already knows he’ll find. My back arches, betraying me, and his grin turns feral. “See? Liar. You want this as badly as I do.”
I shake my head, desperate, furious, aching. “Dean, she’s right there.”
“Then bite your lip. Stay quiet. Make me believe you can take it.”
The sheet slips fully off me, pooling at my waist. His gaze devours every inch of bare skin revealed, his hunger so raw it makes me dizzy.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, the word ragged, like he’s lost the war with himself. His mouth crashes down on mine again, savage, and I lose myself in him, in the fire of it, in the way his body fits against mine like it was built for this sin.
My nails claw at his back, leaving fresh marks over the ones from last night. His hand tightens on my throat, just enough to make me gasp, just enough to make my body light up with need.
“Good girl,” he growls when my legs fall open for him, shame and desire twisting like a knife in my chest. “You’re learning.”
And even as guilt burns, even as Kate’s face flickers in my mind, all I can do is arch into him, chasing the very thing that’s going to ruin me.
His weight crushes me into the mattress, every muscle in my body screaming to resist even as my hips roll up shamelessly against him. The contradiction makes me dizzy—I don’t know if I want to claw his eyes out or beg him never to stop.
He pulls back just enough to study me, his thumb still firm beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. “You’re trembling.”
“No, I’m not,” I whisper, but the shake in my voice betrays me worse than my body does.
His lips curl, smug. “You are. Not because you’re scared of me.” His fingers drag lower, tracing the lines of my collarbone, then lower still, circling a nipple until I bite back a moan. “You’re trembling because you know how wrong this is, and you still want it.”
“Dean…” His name slips out strangled, a plea, a curse.
He leans down, his mouth hovering over mine, the barest ghost of contact. “Say you don’t want me and I’ll stop.”
I can’t. The words choke me. He knows it. He sees it in my eyes, feels it in the way my body arches helplessly into his touch. His smile sharpens, victory laced with something darker, something I don’t dare name.
“That’s what I thought.”
He shifts his hips, grinding against me, slow, brutal, teasing. My gasp catches in the silence, and his hand covers my mouth again, pressing down hard enough to keep me quiet.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his nose brushing mine. “Do you want her to hear? Do you want Kate to come running in and see how needy her best friend is for her daddy’s cock?”
Shame burns through me so hot it feels like fire under my skin. I shake my head violently, eyes stinging, but my body betrays me again—lifting into him, wet and aching and desperate.
His laugh is quiet, vicious. “God, you’re filthy.”
He shifts lower, his mouth on my throat, biting until I gasp against his palm, the sound muffled and pathetic. His free hand slides between my thighs, fingers gliding through slick heat, and my back bows, helpless.
“Already dripping,” he taunts, kissing the mark he just bit. “Tell me again how much you hate this.”
I want to scream at him, claw him, shove him away. But all that comes out is a muffled whimper against his hand, my body shuddering as his fingers tease, never giving me what I’m begging for.
He pulls back just enough to let me breathe, his stare devouring me. “You’ll break before I do,” he whispers, voice dark and certain. “And when you do—baby girl—you’ll beg me to finish ruining you.”
His fingers circle me, maddening, never enough pressure, never where I need him. My thighs clamp around his wrist like I can force him deeper, but he only laughs against my throat, cruel and amused.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my ear. “Shaking, begging without words. Do you have any idea how pathetic you are for me?”
“Please,” I whisper before I can stop myself, the word ripping out of me raw, shameful.
He freezes, his breath hot against my neck, then pulls his hand away completely. My whole body jolts in protest, a strangled sound leaving my throat before I can choke it back.
“Please?” he echoes, leaning back just enough to watch my face. His smirk is slow, devastating. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”
“Dean—”
He presses two fingers against my lips, silencing me. “No. You don’t get to say my name like that. Not when you’ve done nothing to earn it.”