Falling For My Dad's Friend - Page 12

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She throbs against my hand and opens her legs wider for me, as I hold my body over hers. I want so badly to untuck myself and bury my cock inside of her but the driver is waiting for us.

I kiss her and slip my finger in and out of her, giving her a preview of what's to come, swallowing the gasps that leave her mouth. I pull away and Cassie sits up shakily in her seat, closing her trembling legs.

“Are you sure you have to go?” she asks in a breathy voice, blinking at me.

“I’m not sure I want to,” I say, sucking my fingers into my mouth as she watches. “But yes, I have to. My room is on the second floor. The last room on the right. I want to find you there.”

Cassie nods and when I kiss her again, I know she can taste herself on my lips.

“I’ll be there,” she says softly. I can still feel her warmth as I step out into the cold rain.



The house that sits under the pour of drenching rain is a gothic-style gable-front cottage. It’s smaller than I thought it would be, but it’s still bigger than any house I’ve ever lived in.

The driver holds an umbrella over my head as I run inside and I feel a little embarrassed that he probably knew what Magnus and I were doing in the backseat.

I can still feel his warm hands on me— inside of me.

And I want more of him.

Inside, the house smells of dust and dampness. It looks as if it’s been years since the place has even been touched, but I can see people buzzing around the inner rooms and I know that Magnus must have brought a car full of staff to take care of us while we’re at the house.

It’s mostly clean and neat inside. There are no rooms full of portraits and no grand dining rooms, but the place is beautiful, I have to admit.

I’d live in this house if I could.

I walk through the house, looking into this room and that. The sitting room is the largest room in the downstairs area. Alice, the maid from the manor, is lighting a fire in the hand-laid brick fireplace.

“Alice, hi,” I say brightly, happy to see a familiar face. “I didn’t know you were coming with us.”

The pale-faced girl turns with a slight smile, smoothing her short, dark hair. Watching her fix herself in front of me makes me feel giddy as if I’m the lady of the house.

“Ms. Langley,” Alice says, nodding at me. “Yes, I was asked to prepare the house. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a call. I can set up your room in a moment with clean towels.

“Oh no,” I tell her in a voice that sounds gleeful even to my own ears. It feels as if Magnus is already mine and I’m showing him off. “I’ll be in the room Magnus is staying in.”

Alice freezes for a moment, and then she nods shortly. “I’ll bring up extra towels there, then.”

I nod at her, letting her leave and make whatever work call she needs to.

Thunder rattles the windows and I decide to take Magnus’s things upstairs to the room he said was his. The driver that brought in our luggage left it on the glossy wooden staircase so I grab Magnus’s briefcase and my luggage bag.

My shoes tap over the hardwood floors as I reach the landing. The stained glass window at the end of the hallway glitters as lightning flashes across the sky. I open the room and I marvel for a moment at the fact that Magnus wants me in his room not to assist him with his work, but to wait for him in his bed.

The room is richly decorated with tapestries and antique-looking cabinets. The two windows are large and half-covered by dark drapes. Rainy light flickers through the glass. A fire has been lit in the fireplace and I realize that Magnus must have already told them I would be staying here. In this room, with him.

A wave of exhaustion hits me suddenly and I sit on the bed, yawning. I don’t even think about it as I curl up on the deep red coverlet and I fall asleep almost instantly.

What must be only a little while later, I hear the door open, and a familiar, warm body slides in behind me.

My heart thuds hard in my chest. I blink, shaking off the tired stupor. Rain patters over the windows, running in rivulets. Magnus is damp from the rain but I can feel the heat of him like the heat that rises from the fireplace across the room as he presses closer, behind me.

My bra is still in his pocket, from our encounter earlier, folded into the dark space of his pants.

Tags: Flora Ferrari Romance
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