The DILF (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]
  • Reads 14,202,477
  • Votes 350,439
  • Parts 20
  • Time 4h 26m
  • Reads 14,202,477
  • Votes 350,439
  • Parts 20
  • Time 4h 26m
Complete, First published Jul 02, 2013
Mature
*This is a FREE book with PAID exclusive chapters*
[The Dad I'd Like to F*ck] "You should be careful," Devin said calmly, bending over to scoop Rory into his arms. "This bathtub can get incredibly slippery."
"So I noticed," she said dryly. Mortified, she noticed how erect her nipples were. They stabbed the air like tiny knives of arousal and she was positive that Devin had noticed. "I think I can walk now," she said quickly.
To her relief, he set her on the ground and reached for her towel. "This is the second time I'm rescuing you," he said, in that quiet way Rory was beginning to recognise as his annoyed tone. "Let's not make it a habit."
Rory tightened the towel around herself, wincing from the motion. "I slipped in the tub. Hardly a rescue."
A dirty look crossed his face. "I haven't had sex in two years, Rory. Consider yourself rescued..." He turned to leave "...from me."
She was speechless. For starters, this had been the longest conversation she'd ever had with Devin Shaw and, secondly, she was positive that he wasn't as crazy as he let everyone believe he was...
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Something didn't feel right. I looked around my room slowly; cautiously; taking everything in and trying not to feel too nervous. Perhaps Lure was in my room right now, watching me, silently laughing to himself. I didn't doubt it. I slipped off my bed and walked around, hugging my waist, and tilted my head. I felt my rough ponytail slide against the back of my neck and over my shoulder as I moved. "Lure?" I hissed, "Lure, are you there?" I wandered around a little, for some reason feeling scared. But why? It was only Lure. He wouldn't hurt me, would he? "Okay, Lure. Quit it. I know it's you. Who else would it-" I stopped, startled, when I heard a strange sound that made me cringe. It was like fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard. I whipped around and came face-to-face with my mirror. Immediately, I saw the difference. Various scratches were displayed across the glass, forming words. It looked as if claws had written the words in the mirror. "Deepest apologies, but it was fun." (All credit goes to my sister, who wrote this when she was in the twelfth grade)