Blackmail! My Boyfriend's Hunky Father

By Veronica Sloan

Leah's boyfriend is such a bore. He's not a bad guy, he'd just rather play video games than take her to bed. So what's a horny girl to do? Seduce her boyfriend's hunky father, of course! Tim is a grouch, but he's so handsome and strong. Just the thought of his biceps makes her tingle. Leah knows it's wrong to want this hot older man, but she just can't help herself! Maybe he'll notice her if she sends some naughty selfies to his phone...

~~~Excerpt~~~

Tim definitely liked the lace cutaway teddy that opened over my belly and came together just between my thighs. His eyes were dinner plates when I bumped the door open with a playful twist of my butt. "Tada!" I sang.

It was a shiny red number that gave me more cleavage than Tim had probably ever seen (at least on a buxom 19-year-old like me). The panties matched and were soft as silk, shiny.

"I-" he stammered.

"Mmhmm," I agreed. I felt wicked. I struck another pose in the open doorway. I stuck my knee out and balanced my foot on the doorjamb and ran my hands back through my hair. "What do you think, Mr. Davies? Don't I look famous or something?"

"It's. Leah, I think I should g-"

"Oh, but daddy!" I skipped forward and took his hands. My breasts bobbed like jellyrolls (and probably looked just as sweet, all in red). I backed up with him into the dressing room. "How can you pay for it if you don't even know what it looks like?"

"Leah, I'm- Oh." He suddenly realized we were going into the dressing room together. "We're not supposed to-"

"Andrea doesn't mind." I pulled him inside and shut the door. We were standing together in the cramped little closet with just the full length mirror in front of us and my clothes on the floor. I posed in front of the mirror and stuck my butt out.

I leaned forward so that my chest hung down and touched the mirror with my hands, and wiggled happily. "Now, the only problem is, I think maybe it's a little too tight. What do you think?"

His eyebrows came together. "I should go."

"No, you need to help me. I definitely think you should help me." I played with the cups and cinched them up higher, pretending to study myself in the mirror. I made the prancing seem completely natural. I'm a pro at it. I made it really cute. "What do you think of that?" I said.

"It's good, Leah. It's-"

"Hm, good might not be good enough, though. I should look REALLY good in this. You don't think I look REALLY good?" I twirled in place like a dancer and turned my foot up behind me. I bounced up and placed an affectionate little kiss on his chin. "Do you think I look REALLY good?"

Maybe I was being unfair. The pain in his eyes was so palpable. I could see every little thing he wanted to do to me, and every little thing that was holding him back. "Yes," he breathed.

"I think I have something even cuter. Do you want to see it?"

His forehead was wet. He was actually sweating.

"Oh..." I said softly. My hand slid down his chest, down his belt. I gave him a slow, gentle squeeze. "Oh, I'm not trying to tease you...I just want to know what you really think."

Tim. Big strong Tim. Big mean Tim. Big grumpy Tim. He shuddered so hard he nearly collapsed on top of me. "Leah," he gasped. "You don't understand. It's been so long. I want to tear you apart."

"Sure you do," I whispered. I went up on my toes again and kissed his firm lips. "Now turn around, daddy, and don't peek while I change into my skirt."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veronica Sloan
• Release date: Oct 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370935895

Veronica Sloan

Veronica Sloan writes dirty stories and naughty romances. Her erotica is explicit and steamy, and no topic is too taboo. A Chicago girl at heart, Veronica graduated from the Columbia School of Journalism with every intention of writing very important things about very important people. Currently, she spends her days writing about pop culture and her nights writing about lusty men and women and their naughty predilections. She loves big dogs, hot yoga and songs that are stupidly catchy. Visit her at https://www.veronica-sloan-erotica.com/home/.

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Blackmail! My Boyfriend's Hunky Father

© Copyright 2016, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved

NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content and is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Veronica Sloan. Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo Inc. / halayalex / maxriesgo.

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Chapter 1: What a Girl Wants

Girls mature faster than boys, that's just a fact. And any girl that dates boys when she could be dating men, I guess that's what they call personal taste.

But men taste so much better than boys.

Honestly? I've always felt weird about dating guys my own age. My mother says that's because I started too young, too fast. Mommy was always so judgey about who I went out with. She hit puberty at the same age that I did, so it's not like it was a surprise when I started sneaking out to go joyriding with David Downing. He drove a 1965 Fastback Mustang and the sound of that monster's motor got me so wet I had to pack an extra pair of panties in my purse (the first ones always ended up on the floor anyway).

I asked my mom once if she thought any guys my age had a ride like that. She said it didn't matter, I was going to cause a scandal if I kept it up. I did keep it up, but I moved out of the house before I got really scandalous.

To this day my mom still thinks I'm super slutty, but she's always been jealous of the attention I got. See, I look more like the girls on my dad's side of the family. They're all tall with good hips and great tits. My mom is short and on the stocky side. It also doesn't hurt that I look a lot like my dad's late sister, so I've always been his little angel.

Am I a daddy's girl? You bet your ass I am.

But that's really where my mom and I differ. She's very independent, very feminist, wants men and women to be equal. I totally get that. Me, though, I'm more traditional. I think men should be big and strong and take care of their good little girls - and the older they are the better. Call me a gold digger if you want, or a sugar baby, or a bimbo, whatever word you want to use to cut me down. I know what I like. And I know how to get it.

My father was my first teacher. Oh, don't get any naughty ideas. My relationship with my daddy was perfectly chaste. So chaste that it drove my mom insane. She knew I was sneaking out, she knew what I was doing with boys, but my father refused to believe it. He'd blow a gasket if he thought some dirty hooligan was touching his perfect little princess, and that's exactly what I was at home. As far as daddy knew, I never had a rebellious phase.

It seemed like I had every right to. Daddy was away on business so often he had his own place in Shanghai. When business was good he could be away six months out of the year. And yet whenever he came home I was the very model of devotion. I asked him all about China, all about what he did, and I never, ever dressed in the outfits I wore for David or Mitch or Steve...

Do you have everything you need? daddy would ask.

Of course, daddy, I would say. I just want you to be home.

He liked that. And why shouldn't he? Men want to feel wanted just as much as women do. I learned that lesson early on. I also learned that by saying he was all I wanted, daddy would give me everything I never had to ask for.

My mother seethed, and I got spoiled, and when daddy went away I'd call up Steve or Mitch or Tony and ask if they wanted to spoil me in ways that daddy never could. I mean, what else was his little princess to do without a big, strong man in her life?

Does that make me a stereotype? Maybe. Did I purposefully date older men to satisfy my longing for an absent father figure? When another shrink gets me on his couch I'll tell him all about it (the first shrink liked it better when I told him on my knees).

The problem with all that psychobabble is that it disregards how much I like getting off. It's just something in my brain, a switch in the opposite direction than how women are supposed to feel about male attention. Obviously if the guy is gross then I don't want anything to do with him, but I'd be lying if I said getting catcalled didn't turn me on. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wear short skirts at the club or casually forget to wear a bra in class