Page 17 of Mountain Daddy's Girl
“Now, tell me. Where and when is your show?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Nah-uh.”
I smirk. “So, you want to play games?”
I walk up behind her, slip my hands between her thighs and her belly then thrust my stiffness against her through our clothes.
“How are you already so hard?” she whispers.
“Shhh, little Snapshot.” I gently, almost comically, spank her ass, groaning as her whole body rocks forward. She gasps.
“Tell me.” I spank her. “Where.” Spank. “Your.” Harder spank. “Show.” So hard she collapses forward and bites down on the sheets. “Is.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, pouting like she does when she takes photos.
“I don’t want to ruin your fight,” she says, a glint in her eyes..
“Then I’m going to spank you until your big creamy ass is as red as your naïve little face. Do I need to do that?” She breaths heavily, her fists grasp tighter to the sheets.
I tear down her pants and her underwear to her knees. When I see her pussy, it’s like it’s been weeks, not minutes. Bent over, her pinkness makes a triangle of pure obsession.
“It’s in LA, right?” I murmur.
“You can’t travel the week of your fight, can you?”
I bring a kissing spank against her bare ass cheek. I hold my hand in place pressing and massaging before releasing.
“I can do any damn thing I want.”
The next time I spank her, her hips twitch. There’s something involuntary sexy about the movement, as if lust surges unstoppably through her.
“This is turning you on. It’s making you wild.”
She can’t deny it. She can only stare at me with those beguilingly naïve eyes.
“You don’t want me to stop,” I groan. “You want me to paint your ass red. Doesn’t it hurt, Snapshot?”
“Not much,” she moans. “I like …”
“What … Don’t get coy now”
“You being in charge. I like letting go.”
“Can your inexperienced soaked pussy take more attention?” I grunt.
“I don’t know. This is all new to me.”
I bite down so hard I almost shatter my teeth.
This is new to her because she’s mine. I knew she was mine the moment I laid my eyes on her.
“So, tell me. Now!”
“Yes, it’s in LA, Boone. The Las Fotos Project. The Wednesday of your fight week. But I can’t be the reason you lose your?—”
“I’ll be there,” I cut in. “In the meantime, I’ll need to train. But I don’t want to think about that now. I just want this. I want you. You look so perfect,. In fact—fuck. I need something to tide me over in the meantime.”
“What do you mean?” she murmurs.
