Dad!BF Jack Abbot x Younger!Reader
When the new doctor had joined the night crawlers at PTMC, Jack became fast friends with him. It absolutely wasn’t because the doctor hosted poker nights, where Jack could see his pretty young daughter.
18+ age gap, fingering, sneaky links, PiV penetration, unsafe sex, they refer to you as ‘angel’
The deep base drifting from the garage was audible all the way in the kitchen. Muffled classic rock hits playing on loop while you fluttered about the kitchen. Filling bowls with chips, stacking dips on the tray and snagging another six-pack of beer, you carefully juggled the snacks as you kicked the screen door open with your foot.
Smoke poured out the cracked garage door—you’d left it partially open for an easier return—laughter and cursing filling in the gaps between songs.
It was surprising how easily your dad had found a new group of friends. You’d just barely finished settling in from the move. But then again, it was always simple for men to be friends. All it took was liking the same sports team.
Several doctors from his hospital sat casually around the table tucked away in the garage. Cards and poker chips strung across the surface. Empty beer cans lined the edge of the table. Cigarettes littered the concrete flooring, smoke heavy in the air.
“No fucking way, you’re cheating!” One man shouted, throwing his cards down and pointed an accusing finger across the table. His smile eased the accusation. “You gotta be counting cards or something man, this is ridiculous!”
“Or maybe you just suck at poker.” Your dad shrugged, collecting the cards to reshuffle the deck, dealing them out quickly before he caught you trying to sneak in without drawing too much attention. “There’s my angel!”
All heads turned, a few drunken cheers at the sight of more beers. Your cheeks burned. Nothing quite like feeling like a celebrity for delivering drunk men more alcohol.
Clumsy compliments were thrown your way as you placed the snack tray down, hands blindly grabbing fists full of whatever they could reach before the tray even fully settled.
“Got her trained right, huh bud?”
“Wish my kid was this nice.”
“The snack princess has returned! Thank god!”
It was hard to believe these clowns were saving lives when they weren’t drinking and gambling.
“She’s a doll, isn’t she?” Your dad smiled fondly. “My pride and joy.”
“That she is.” Jack agreed. His tone didn’t give much away, your tipsy father not catching the heat in Jack’s eyes while he watched you retreating form, greedily taking in the cutesy pajama shorts and t-shirt you wore, before you were gliding back to the kitchen like the good little girl you were.
Your father was a good man, Jack would admit. A good doctor. Decent company. But if he was an honest man, Jack would say there was only one thing keeping him coming back to these poker nights.
Jack had fixated on you the moment he’d seen you at that very first poker night the newest doctor had put together, confidently inviting the night shift attending.
He’d only went because Robby had said, and he quoted, ‘You need more hobbies than getting shot at’. He couldn’t exactly disagree.
He figured this little card game would be the first and last time he hung out with the new doctor. An obligation. To welcome the guy. Poker just wasn’t thrilling to a man used to combat and high energy activities.
But then you came scuttling in—all fresh faced, sweet smiles. Soft in all the right places. Short sleep shorts and the tiniest cami Jack had ever seen—dropping snacks and drinks off before disappearing again.
Play cards. Smoke some cigarettes. Drink some beers. Win a hand. Lose the next three. And make eyes at the daughter of a colleague.
He’d almost felt guilting. Like a raging pervert. Who pretends to be friends with a coworker, just to get close to that coworkers daughter?
But he stopped feeling any type of remorse when he decided you liked his attention. The other men made their own comments, underhanded, not directly disrespectful enough to alert the father sitting right across from them. You smiled politely, ignoring the drunken words, and quickly exited stage left.
You held his heated gaze, where you barely spared a glance at the rest of the players.
You flushed easily when Jack offered you a crooked smile.
Preened when his eyes appraised you.
Hovered closer to his seat when you came to watch the game for a moment or two.
Brushed against him while delicately placing snack trays down, leaning over to give Jack an eyeful of cleavage.
You liked Jack, that much he was sure of.
Jack was a humble man, but he knew he wasn’t unattractive. Even missing part of his leg, he maintained a nice physique. He’d been told his graying curls were ‘adorable’ enough times to know it wasn’t a lie.
He carried himself with a confidence you didn’t often see—especially in these young punks.
And if he was honest, Jack would admit he liked this cat and mouse game you played.
He liked the chase. The meaningful eye contact. The ‘accidental’ touches. It made this all the more fun.
When your dad went to shuffle the deck, Jack shook his head, rising from his chair. “I’ll sit this round out, gotta find the bathroom anyways.”
“Just say you’re bitter you’re losing man.” Your dad chuckled, but waved him off. “Just ask Angel, probably still in the kitchen, she’ll show you.”
That’s what Jack was banking on. He nodded once, downed the rest of his beer and headed for the house.
The smell of the kitchen smacked him clean in the face as soon as he pulled the door open. Your attention was on the stove, back to the door. Jack watched you work, silently, leaning against the counter.
“Smells good.” He finally spoke, lips turned up at the startle shriek you let out. You twisted, hand covering your racing heart when your sight landed on the nonchalant man.
“Jack!” You gasped, “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Well, if you were, I’m the best person to have one around.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Angel, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” You gave him a small smile. “Did you need something? I almost have dinner done, if you’re still hungry? It’s spaghetti night.”
“That’s sweet—perfect little house maker, aren’t you?” You flushed under his praise. “Thank you, but no, just need the bathroom.”
A pregnant pause passed between you. You fidgeted under Jack’s intense staring.
“Well—” You swallowed. “You know where it is…”
“I don’t think I recall. Big house. Lot of rooms.” Jack spoke casually. Moving closer, confident steps until he was a breath away. Cornering you against the counter. Looking down at you. “Might need you to show me again.”
You could smell his faint aftershave.
Dumbly, you nodded, transfixed under his stare. “Uh-huh.”
Jack reached behind you, turned the stove off.
His voice dropping to a husky whisper, “Show me, Angel.”
You brushed past solid muscle as you turned, taking the lead down the hall. Jack’s heavy steps echoing behind you. The closed door at the end of the hall suddenly felt miles away. Your breathing quickening the closer you came to the bathroom. Gripping the cold handle, Jack crowded up against you from behind.
“Open it.” Jack didn’t ask, he instructed.
The soft light of a plug-in air freshener barely illuminated the tiled room.
Jack’s large hand settled at your lower back.
Warmth bled through your thin top.
Jack quietly guided you across the threshold.
The door shut behind you.
The quiet click of the lock being turned rang louder than it should have. You shyly met Jack’s eyes in the mirror, both your reflections just barely visible in the low lighting.
He could listen to you call his name all day. Sweet. Docile. Pleading. He brushed his nose against your hair, over your temple as he leaned down. Stubble ticked your cheeks, lips trailing over youthful skin as you lulled your head back against his shoulder, baring your throat to his curious lips. Audible, sloppy kisses wet your skin.
Jack’s hands roamed, drifting between you, finding its way between your legs. He dragged a finger over the seam of your shorts, moving up to grab a handful of your ass, squeezing the fat. Smirking when you jolted in his arms. He toyed with the waistband of your bottoms for a second, and then he was worming his hand down the back of your shorts.
“You always get this wet for your daddy’s friends?” Jack’s hot breath against your ear had you shuddering, your hips twitching as he glided two fingers through your soaked folds. “Or you just got a soft spot of ol’ Jack?”
“Oh.” You whimpered, gripping onto the counter like a lifeline when he circle your clit with the rough pads of his fingers. “Just you, Jackie.”
He toyed with you pussy. The confines of your shorts making it hard to get a steady rhythm, only able to sink two thick fingers in your tight heat. His deep groan vibrated against your neck, feeling your pussy squeezing around his digits as he curled them, massaging your walls, petting you from the inside.
You rocked back against Jack, riding his fingers while he panted in your ear. Lazy praises falling from his lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, finding that spongy spot that had your knees buckling, feeling your walls fluttering around the intrusion. Your cries music to his ears. Jack slowly withdrew his fingers, pruny and covered in your glistening juices.
Jack reached for his belt, the metal clanking tore through the room—too loud, too harsh—as he worked the leather free, shrugging his jeans to his mid-thigh. Just far enough to free his aching length from his boxers. A broken grunt forced its way out when he grabbed himself, your slick covering his hand aiding the couple quick pumps of his fist while he one handedly yanked your shorts down.
Your breath hitched at being bare from the waist down. When Jack pressed a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to lean against the sink, you risked a glance over your shoulder. Jack’s face was twisted up in concentration. Hunger clouding his hazel eyes as he brought a hand down on your bare ass, fingers digging into the fat and pulling your cheek to give him a clean few of your weeping pussy.
“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Jack swore, slapping the tip of his cock against your ass, letting you feel the weight of the thick appendage. Dragging the head through your soaked folds, collecting all your slick, he pressed against your entrance. “This all for me, Angel?”
“Yes, Jackie.” You whimpered, nudging your hips back. “All yours—please, Jack.”
“That’s my girl.” Jack hummed, and gripped your hips as he thrusted. His jaw clenched immediately, desperately trying to steel himself, and not cum five seconds in like some virgin teenager. Your pussy hugged him tight, like you were meant for this—like you were meant for him. Hot, wet, squeezing him like you were trying to stop him from ever pulling back out.
Sharp hip bones dug into your ass as Jack slid home, every inch buried in you, stretching you open like never before, bordering on painful. Jack tried to give you a moment to adjust. He tried. But ever the resilient, young thing you were, you were already impatiently wiggling in his hold. Trying to push your ass back into Jack, to get some type of friction, some form of release.
“So greedy.” Jack huffed a laugh, drawing back just a couple inches before thrusting back in, an audible slap! of skin filling the air.
He didn’t let the fact he was strapped for time slip his mind—your father was less than fifty yards from you both—and while he didn’t think he’d come looking for Jack, he wasn’t going to tempt that fate.
Jack set a brutal pace, snapping his hips in quick succession, pausing now and again to really push his weight into you, grinding against your ass. His low groans mixed with your high pitched whines and moans.
“C’mon, baby. You can cum for me again, can’t you?” Jack leaned over you, chest pressed to your beck, covering your body with his. One heavy arm curled around your shoulder, palm cupping your jaw, thumb smoothing over your cheek. The other arm circled your waist, tugging you back to spear you on his cock. The slight position change had his cock shifting in you, thick tip pressing against that glorious spot that had your thighs quaking. “C’mon, before we get caught. You wouldn’t want that, right?”
Your cunt fluttering around Jack, a new flood of slick easing his furious fucking. “Fuck—maybe you do wanna get caught. Have daddy see his precious little angel getting bent over by his boss?”
“Jack, don’t be mean!” You cried, “I’m so close—please, please make me cum—don’t wanna get caught…”
“C’mon then, angel.” Jack grunted, pounding into you. Hard, determined, burying his cock to the hilt and barely withdrawing just to sheath himself in your slick heat again. He could die in this pussy, and he’d be the happiest man to live.
He could feel you tightening up around him, just like you did on his fingers, you just needed that extra push.
Jack’s hand left your waist, drifted between your legs again, your slick smeared all across your thighs. Skilled fingers found your clit again, pinching and rolling the puffy bundle of nerves.
“Oh, god!” You jerked in Jack’s arms, pussy spasming around his dick so much his eyes just about rolled back into his head. “Jack!”
“That’s it, baby.” Jack cooed, raising back up to his full height. Smoothing his hands down your arched back, digging his fingers into your sides as he slammed into you. Using you like a toy, feeling his release coming in hot. “Fuuck, angel, I’m gonna cum—“
Abs tensing as his pace faltered, hips stuttering against your tender ass. Heat flooded your core, Jack gave a few more half-hearted thrusts before he deflated, bowing over your drained form, pressing kisses along any skin he had access to. Both of you breathing like you’d just ran a marathon.
Jack withdrew carefully, frowning at the tiny, over sensitive whimpers you gave when he dragged his softening cock out of you. His release lazily oozed from your stretched hole, dripping down your thighs.
“M’perfect girl—did so good.” Jack hummed, a selfish part of him liked seeing you dripping with his cum. He yanked his pants up, quickly tucked himself away. After pausing for a moment, gently slid your shorts back in place, keeping his release tucked safely away between your legs.
“Where’s your room, angel.”
“Down the hall—on the left.”
Jack collected your wobbly frame in his arms, carrying you like you weighed nothing until he found your room. It screamed your age, and Jack ignored the desire to be nosy and take everything in, carefully arranging you on the bed. He tucked you in with a tenderness that surprised both of you, leaning down to place a single, calm kiss to your pouty lips.
When he returned to the garage, and your father asked what took so long, Jack stated, “Got lost.”
“Angel didn’t tell you where the bathroom was? She should be in the kitchen.”
“Think she went to bed.” Jack shrugged. “I figured it out.”
Jack happily lost the next four hands, the only thing on his mind being how he was going to corner you again next Friday.
