Page 68 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Luther

I close the garage door after I turn off the engine.

I grab Kendra’s bag and open my door. And by the time I reach the passenger side, Kendra is sliding out of the truck.

The overhead lights are on night mode, filling the garage with a dim glow.

I hold out my hand to Kendra.

She slides her palm against mine.

Her fingers are cool, and I wrap mine around hers.

I’ll warm you up soon, Baby.

Kendra walks beside me through the garage, past my old Bronco, past the empty spot where Ashley parks when she’s home.

I open the door that leads into the mudroom and let go of Kendra’s hand long enough for her to step inside first, and for me to kick off my boots, then I take her hand again.

We walk down the hallway, past my home office. Past a laundry room. And into the great room.

Kendra’s head swivels around, taking in the oversized furniture and the massive windows that look out on the deck over the backyard.

We cut past the kitchen with the ten-foot island.

And my pulse doubles when we reach the staircase.

We walk up, side by side, our fingers still entwined.

To the right, at the top of the stairs, is a loft area, Ashley’s room and her bathroom.

But to the left…

I flex my fingers around Kendra’s as I turn her to the left.

We pass through a set of double doors into the owner’s suite. Into my room.

I left my bedside lamps on—I always do—and it’s the perfect mood lighting for what I have planned.

The lofted ceilings are crisscrossed with large wood beams.

The stone fireplace climbs the wall across from the bed.

The wood floors are covered in fur rugs. Faux fur, because I’m not a monster.

Across from the doors we just walked through are windows. Lots of windows. And a glass door leading out to my private balcony.

There’s a hot tub downstairs on the main deck. But I’m thinking I need to put another one up here.

No swimsuits allowed.

I watch Kendra turn her head toward the bed.

It’s an Alaskan King.

Too big for one man.

But perfect for fucking a feisty brat.

Only we aren’t starting in the bed.

Letting go of Kendra’s hand, I drop her backpack at the foot of the bed, then cross the room to my leather armchair.

I’m still standing, but when she takes a step forward, I hold up my hand. “Stay.”

She stops.

I reach down and undo the button on my jeans.

She watches.

And my cock swells at her attention.

I pull my zipper down.

She wets her lips.

“On your knees.” My command comes out as a growl.

Kendra lifts her gaze from my jeans.

I think she might protest. Might say something.

But with her eyes on mine, she lowers.

I could come from that sight alone.

Kneeling, she lifts her hands to the front of her cardigan.

When she pauses, I nod, and she undoes the first button. Then the rest.

She shrugs the cardigan off, letting it drop to the floor beside her.

I clench my jaw because she’s in the same outfit as the night we did the video call. The one that barely counts as clothing.

We watch each other. Eyes roaming.

Her face is flushed.

Her chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths.

And her nipples are begging for attention.

I lower myself into the chair.

Kendra wets her lips again. Like she’s starving.

“It’s time for your punishment, Brat.” I palm my hardening cock. “You ready?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I groan. “Good.” Then I lean back in the chair and spread my legs. “Hands and knees, Baby Doll.”

She bends forward onto all fours, palms on the ground.

I take her in.

The way she has to tip her head up to keep her eyes on mine.

The way her heavy tits strain against the thin material trying to hold them in.

The way her back arches, the way her ass looks.

The way it’d look with my hands gripping it.

I squeeze my dick once more, then place my hands on the armrests. “Crawl to me.”