Page 89 of Mountain Daddy
Heat pools between my thighs.
I pull in a deep breath.
Then I tilt the phone back up, showing my flushed face.
Luther closes his eyes and tips his head back, his skull thudding against the beautiful headboard.
“You okay, Old Man?” I sort of laugh. Sort of whisper.
“I should’ve gone first,” he groans.
“Why’s that?” I tease, dying to see for myself.
Luther’s eyes open, catching mine through the screen. “You know exactly what you do to me, Doll.”
My lips part, ready to reply, but then my throat dries up because Luther is tilting his phone.
The lights in his room are on, illuminating every part of him.
The hand not holding his phone settles on his chest, between his pecs.
And what wonderful pecs they are.
I’ve laid my head there twice, and both times, I fell asleep within moments.
His hand, and my view, move lower. To his abs.
Freakingabs.
Lower still. To that trail of hair.
And whoever named it was right.It does cause me happiness.
Lower.
My breath hitches.
They aren’t white undies like Luther claimed. They’re gray boxer briefs.
And there’s something inside them trying to get out.
Luther palms his cock through the cotton. Squeezing.
I feel the flex of his fingers in my core.
And when I notice the dark spot, the wet spot, where the tip of his dick is, I think I whimper.
“You can’t make those sounds.” Luther grunts as he rubs his palm down his dick.
“You can’t possibly expect me to see you like this and stay quiet.” There’s no point in playing it cool.
“Kendra—”
“Show me.” I reach up and palm my breast, angling the phone so Luther can see.
Luther’s abs flex. “Ask nicely.”
“Please,” I beg quietly. “Please, Daddy. Show me your cock.”
