Page 71 of Mountain Daddy
I wasn’t sure anything could top our first time.
But god. Fucking. Damn. This man gets hotter by the second.
My core flutters around him.
If having a Daddy kink is wrong, I will never be right.
Luther’s fingers brush over my clit once more, and my pussy clenches.
He grunts, shoving his hips forward, rocking against me.
Then he pulls his hand free from my heat and wraps his arms around me, pulling my body against his in a bear hug, with his dick still buried inside me.
I blink into the darkness.
And I grin.
He must hear something in my breathing because he holds me tighter, dropping his chin to my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Okay?” A puff of laughter leaves my lips. “I think you just fucked my soul into another dimension. In a garage laundry room.”
I can feel him shake his head. “Possibly not the most romantic location.”
“Romance is overrated.”
Luther inhales, like he might argue, but I shut him up by clenching my core around him again.
His exhale becomes a hiss. “You better keep clenching, Brat. Or you’re gonna have to walk through the house with my cum dripping down your legs.”
“What—”
Luther loosens his hold on me and steps back, his cock slipping free.
It makes sense then. And I have to keep clenching, like he said, because I can already feel the mess of us trying to escape.
“Luther.” I try to keep the humor out of my tone as I attempt to scold him.
Lips press against my bare shoulder.
I can’t with this man.
As I swoon, my body relaxes. Which is a mistake, because then I have to clench even harder.
“Hold your hand out.” Luther’s quiet voice caresses my skin, and I struggle to keep my damn muscles flexed.
“Why?”
“Baby, just do as you’re told.”
Without any light, I don’t have to pretend I don’t want him bossing me around.
Without any light, I can bite my lip and let my lids lower without anyone seeing.
Without any light, I pull my palm off the dryer and hold it up.
Luther’s body presses against my back.
He places his hand on my shoulder, then slides it down the length of my arm, leaving tingles in his wake, until his hand is gripping my wrist.
