My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 64 Honesty

NOVA POV

Even though I’m seeing Grant in a few hours—at a hotel not too far that it feels like I’m sneaking away, but not close enough for anyone from school to catch me—he still sent flowers to my doorstep. Roses. Wild ones. The kind that look untamed even in a vase.

There’s a small envelope tucked inside, obviously handwritten by him, sharp, masculine and confident, slides right through my chest as I read:

"Wear your best sin, Nymph. Surprise me."

A ridiculous blush crawls up my neck before I even finish the note. It feels like he’s in the room, whispering that word Nymph right against my ear.

Thank goodness Lena isn’t back yet, and Katie is buried in her iPad like always. I can enjoy this moment without their teasing eyes.

Still, under the excitement, worry hums in my stomach about Lena, about Sandy, about the way something feels wrong. But when I hold the roses up to my nose, their scent wraps around me like him. I exhale, deciding that just for tonight, I will try to stop thinking.

I spend too long staring at my closet. Every piece of lingerie he bought feels too revealing, too sinful, too him. And that’s exactly why I end up choosing the one that scares me the most: a soft coat, nothing underneath but a skin-colored corset hugging my waist and bare skin beneath.

It’s bold. It’s insane. It’s something the old me would’ve never worn. But the new me, the Nymph he coaxes out with every touch wants to see the look in his eyes when I drop that coat.

The drive to his suite feels like forever. When I reach the door, it’s unlocked, always when he’s expecting me. That small trust does something to me.

"You couldn’t wait till I got here?" I tease, slipping inside and shutting the door with my foot.

He’s sitting at the table, sleeves rolled up, laptop open and his facial expression serious, then he looks up at me, and his face softens, heat spreading through those storm-gray eyes that make me forget my own name. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"What kind of lover would that make me?" he murmurs, voice low, smooth as smoke. "All I’ve thought about since morning is ravishing you till sunrise."

A thrill slides down my spine. He says ravish like it’s a dream come through and maybe it is.

"I have a surprise for you," I say, stepping closer. The air between us grows heavy. When I untie the belt of my coat and let it fall, his breath catches. His gaze drops slowly, over the curve of my shoulders, the faint shimmer of the corset, the bare pussy below it.

He looks like a man trying to memorize every inch of my body.

For a second, he just stares. Then, like something snaps, he pushes everything off the table, the papers, laptop, a glass of water and the crash makes me gasp. But his eyes never left my body.

"Eyes here," I whisper, pointing two fingers from my eyes to his.

He smirks, that wicked curl of his lips that always ends with me begging. "Yes, ma’am," he murmurs, but his voice already hoarse with need.

"I said I have a surprise for you." My tone turns breathy as I trail one hand down my stomach, between my thighs, touching myself slowly, deliberately. His eyes darken, no teasing now, only hunger.

He rises and it was like the room shrinks d into itself.

"Does your surprise include killing me?" he says hoarsely, closing the space between us. "Because you’re killing me, Nymph."

He’s behind me now. I feel his breath against my neck, his heat pressing close but not touching. My skin aches for contact.

"No, baby," I whisper, leaning back into him, "but tonight, we’re reversing roles."

His laugh was low and dangerous as his lips slid right against my ear. "I love the sound of that."

My hand finds the hard outline of him through his pants. "You talk too much," I murmur, and he groans softly, like I’ve pulled the words from his lungs.

"How about you show me," I add, glancing over my shoulder with a teasing smirk.

"I intend to," he says, voice breaking into a growl.

But before he can move to push me into whatever position he likes, I push back slightly, enough to make him still. "On your knees," I whisper. "Let me see what your tongue can do."

He hesitates, a single heartbeat where I see his control shift, surrender flickering through his eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels.

"You don’t cum until I say so" His hands trail up my thighs, reverent. "Do we have a deal, Nymph?"

"Yes," I breathe.

He unhooks my corset and lifts it, his voice rough. "What was this for?"

"I was a little bloated but—"

"Don’t." His tone snaps, dominant and powerful all at once. "Don’t hide yourself from me again." His eyes flick up, sharp and earnest. "You are perfect and baby, you’re mine."

My breath stutters. "Yes, sir."

He kisses me then, first on my stomach, then lower, moving in slow worship.

"I love you," he murmurs between kisses. "You’re my definition of perfection." Each word is a promise, each kiss a slow unraveling of everything holding me together.

By the time his lips reach me, I’m trembling. The first brush of his tongue against me makes my knees weaken. The second makes me moan out his name.

"Grant," I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. He answers by going deeper, slower, cruelly gentle, until all I can do is shiver and whisper prayers that sound like moans.

Every worry I’d carried about Lena, Sandy, or the world outside this room dissolves. All that exists is this moment was the rhythm of his tongue, the heat of his breath, the growl vibrating from his chest into my body.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, "Don’t come yet."

I couldn’t hold my whimper and with my trembling hands I clutched unto his hair. "Please..."

He only smirks, lips glistening. "Patience, my love."

When I finally break, when he finally lets me, it was not just an orgasm because it felt more like a release. The kind that feels like confession and maybe freedom.

And when he rose up, pulling me into his arms, I felt the weight of him, every inch of him pressing me into the space between his body and the world, every kiss claiming and dominating at once.

His lips move over mine like he’s searching for the truths I haven’t yet spoken, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. I cling to him, letting myself drown in the heat and the rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

But then the thought crashes in, jagged and unwelcome. I pull back slightly, hands pressed firmly against his chest to keep him at bay. His eyes, still clouded with desire, search mine as if they can read every unspoken word.

"We need to talk," I whisper, my voice trembling even as it tries to assert control.

He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at his lips, though the fire in his gaze never dims. "No talking," he murmurs, leaning closer, pressing me against him again. His hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him.

The familiar ache in my core flares to life, and I remember exactly why I let him dominate me, why this connection is as much about surrender as it is about love.

But the world refuses to be ignored. "Lena went to Texas with Sandy," I blurted, unable to hold it in.

His entire body stiffens. The heat that lingered moments ago drains away, replaced with a storm of concern, anger, and disbelief. His hands tighten around my waist, and his voice booms over me, raw and demanding:

"You said what???"

I shiver, caught between the need to cling to him and the fear of how far this revelation will hit him. His eyes are lightning and intense, impossible to look away from. I can feel the pulse of his anger as it moves through his body into mine, and somewhere deep in me, I know he won’t let this go quietly.

He releases me just enough to search my face, to make sure I’m telling the truth. I meet his gaze, honest and trembling, and the tension between us snaps into something thicker, heavier, more combustible. Every inch of desire from moments ago now pulses with urgency, tied to fear and frustration, to love and protection, and it’s overwhelming.

His hands grip my shoulders, his forehead resting against mine. "Tell me everything," he growls, his voice low, dangerous, yet intimate. "Now. No more secrets, Nova."