Page 73 of Mountain Daddy
Luther lifts his bottle-filled hands on either side of me. “How many you want?”
The neighbor’s smile is wide, hinting that he’s had a few. “Two, please.”
Luther’s arm extends over my shoulder, and neighbor guy takes the offered bottles.
“Much obliged.” He nods, then turns back into the house, showing zero suspicion over the fact I’m still slumped against Luther’s chest.
I look over my shoulder at Luther, brows raised.
He uses his newly empty hand to grab a pair of bottles out of mine. “Never question good luck, Baby Doll.”
I nod. “Won’t argue.” Then I reach forward and catch the door before it can swing shut.
Back inside, I set the beers I’m still holding on the counter and scurry off to the bathroom.
When I’m done, and no one is visible in the hall, I hurry to my room and trade my thong for a new pair of ass-covering undies.
Feeling a little more put together, I roll out my shoulders and head back to the kitchen.
Luther’s eyes catch mine when I step into the room, and he lifts a paper plate toward me. “Dessert?”
Rolling my lips together, I nod.
The plate has a slice of cake, a brownie, and two chocolate chip cookies.
It’s so much.
Too much.
And on the counter beside him is a second plate filled with the same exact items.
“You sure that’s enough?” My voice is quieter than I intended, trying to make a joke, but it comes out shy.
“I recently worked up an appetite.” He winks at me.
Winks.
And my gluttonous pussy throbs.
If you’re going to fuck me, then feed me, you might as well wife me.
I take the plate from Luther’s hand.
He picks up a pair of beers. “You want one of these or something else?”
At his question, I notice the scent of coffee in the air.
Looking over, I see that someone started a pot. “I think I’ll do coffee, actually.” Balancing my plate of dessert in one hand, I open the cupboard and grab a mug. “Do you want one?”
Luther shakes his head as I pour my coffee. “If I have caffeine this late, I’ll be up all night.”
Shaking off the shyness from a moment ago, I snort. “Sometimes I forget how old you are, then you go and say something like that.”
Luther narrows his eyes, and I lift my mug in a mock cheer.
We’re still looking at each other when the back door opens.
“My favorites!” Dad’s voice booms through the kitchen.
