Page 42 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

My body trembles as Luther pumps me full of his release.

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.

Holding my hand still, he reaches around from the other side and sets something in my palm.

I close my fingers around the soft fabric.

“It’s a clean kerchief.” He releases my wrist.

Not wasting time, I tug my skirt up, and, like a lady, I pull my thong to the side and use Luther’s clean kerchief to catch the evidence of our rendezvous.

When I finish and straighten, I feel Luther’s arm against mine. “I’ll take that.”

I ball the fabric in my fist. “No, you will not. This is mine now.”

He hums. “Have it your way.”

I tuck the dirty cloth into my dress pocket. “So, what’s the plan now?” I keep my voice to a whisper.

“I’ll open the door, then we hurry to the fridge and grab an armful of drinks. If anyone walks in, they won’t think twice.”

Not having a better plan, I turn toward the door.

At my side, I cross my fingers, hoping we don’t run into anybody specifically looking for us. Because we were relatively quick just now, but we still disappeared for a questionable amount of time.

“Ready?” Luther asks.

I nod. “Ready.”

A moment of silence passes before Luther pulls the door open, and I step past him into the garage that now feels brightly lit.

It’s blissfully empty and remains that way while we cross in front of my dad’s truck to the fridge.

There’s a cooler out back with beers and sodas, but we grab a pair of bottles with each hand.

While Luther shuts the fridge door, I lift the chilled bottles and press them to my cheeks.

“Warm?” Luther smirks at me.

“A touch.” I lower them so the glass is against my neck.

“Just a touch?” He takes a step toward me. “Maybe I need to try harder next time.”

I shuffle back and to the side. “Hands to yourself, Old Man.”

He lunges, and I let out a shriek as I rush away from him.

The laugh behind me is rich and so full of playfulness it makes my racing heart squeeze.

I cannot fall for this man.

We’re just having fun.

I can feel Luther right behind me as I reach the door, and my pulse soars from his chase.

I pull in a breath to call for a truce when the door in front of me swings open.

The movement is so sudden it has me lurching back a step as I let out a yelp.

I slam back into Luther’s chest, but he’s an immovable object, so the collision stops me from falling.

“Sorry,” the man—one of our neighbors—laughs as he holds his hands up. “Just looking for some beer.”

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.

I startle so badly coffee sloshes onto my fingers.

I hiss. “Fuck.”

Before I can do more than curse, Luther is taking the mug and plate out of my hands, somehow having already put his own things down.

“Shit, sorry, Kenny.” Dad rushes over.

“I’m fine. It was just a little hot.” It was more than a little hot, but at least I know the coffee is fresh.

“Here.” Luther steps to the sink and turns the faucet on.

“I’m fine.”

“Kendra, come here.” His voice is stern, and it sends heat rolling through me that has nothing to do with burning my hand.

Dad is pulling an absurd number of paper towels off the roll, not paying attention to the way Luther is bossing me around.

I follow him and stick my hand under the cold running water. “Happy?”

Luther ignores my attitude, gripping my wrist and rotating my hand under the stream.

“How’s it look?” Dad sounds a bit less drunk than he did a moment ago, but he still doesn’t say anything about his best friend touching me.

“A little pink, but not bad,” Luther answers for me.

I sigh. “I’m fine.”

Luther does that humming sound I love so much, then holds my wrist for another few seconds before he turns the water off.

“Thank you.” I catch his eyes as I say it.

Dad shoves eight thousand paper towels into my hands. “You’re welcome.”

Luther clears his throat to cover what sounds like a laugh.

Taking the towels, I rip one off, then fold the rest and set them on the counter.

“Are you two mother hens done?” I ask, using the same single towel to wipe off the sides and bottom of my coffee mug.

They both grunt in reply.

I roll my eyes.

Dad reaches past Luther and grabs the brownie off his plate.

Luther snatches it out of Dad’s hand before he can put it in his mouth. “Get your own.”

Dad huffs. “Sharing is caring.”

“I like you, but not a brownie amount.”

Dad slaps his hand to his chest with a gasp.

Luther hands one of the unclaimed beers to my dad as a consolation prize. “You cool with me crashing on your couch tonight?”

Brownie slight forgotten, Dad opens the beer and slips the cap into his pocket with a shrug. “It’s your back.”

Wait, what?

Luther is staying over?

I eye the man. He’s not drunk. Not even kind of. There’s no reason at all he can’t drive himself home.

Luther catches me looking and lifts his beer to his lips, taking a sip.

This man is drinking simply for the excuse to stay.

I slide my gaze over to the couch, and my mind conjures up the image of Luther sprawled there. On his back. One arm behind his head. One foot extended over the armrest, the other leg hanging off the couch, foot on the ground, because he doesn’t fit.

I bet he’d be shirtless, his jeans open but not off.

I look away.

“If you two will excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy my dessert outside.” I pick up the plate Luther put together for me.

“I’ll join you,” Luther says, like that wasn’t the plan all along.

Dad says something about having to pee, and we leave him inside as we head out.

My feet hit the grass before I see that the chairs we had been sitting in are now occupied by new bodies.

“What a shame,” Luther says with mock sadness. “Guess you can’t sit by your new boyfriend anymore.”

I make a contemplative sound. “Think he’d let me sit in his lap?”

“You’re never going to find out.” The words rumble out of Luther.

I smile to myself.

The late afternoon sun is lowering behind the tall pines surrounding the yard. Some people have left, others seem to be settled in.

Luther steps up beside me. “Who do you want to sit by?”

I scan the groups before looking up at the man who just fucked me senseless, bent over a dryer. The same man who just cared for my burned fingers while holding my wrist so incredibly gently. And I give him my honest answer. “Just you.”