Snowed In: Best Friend's Dad Takes My Ass

The wind howled outside the remote cabin, piling snow against the windows in thick white drifts that sealed them in completely. Emma sat cross-legged on the thick rug in front of the roaring fireplace, her bare legs tucked under one of Sarah's oversized sweatshirts that barely covered the tops of her thighs. At nineteen, she still felt the leftover buzz from the day's skiing, her muscles pleasantly sore, but the real heat building in her belly had nothing to do with exercise. Across from her, Mark reclined in the big leather armchair, a glass of red wine cradled in his big hand. Sarah's dad. Forty-eight, divorced two years now, dark hair silvering at the temples, shoulders still broad from years of weekend workouts. The only other person awake in the entire snowed-in cabin while Sarah slept soundly upstairs.

Emma took a slow sip of her own wine, letting her eyes linger on the way his flannel shirt stretched across his chest. Years of secret glances at family barbecues, Christmas mornings, the way he'd hugged her a second too long last summer when she graduated—none of it had ever gone further than charged silence. Until tonight.

"Storm's not letting up," Mark said, his voice low and rough. He swirled the wine, watching her over the rim. "Looks like we're stuck here till morning at least. Maybe longer."

"I don't mind," Emma answered, shifting so the sweatshirt rode higher on her thighs. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. The firelight caught the flush on her cheeks. "Sarah's out cold. Just us."

Mark's gaze dropped openly to her bare legs, then climbed back up. "You've grown up, Emma. Hard not to notice. Every time you come around the house I catch myself staring. Thinking things I shouldn't."

Her pussy clenched at the confession. She set her glass down and leaned forward, the neckline of the sweatshirt gaping to show the soft inner curves of her tits. "I've been staring right back. Fantasizing. About your hands. Your mouth. What it would feel like if you finally stopped being careful."