This chapter contains mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Dylan's sweatpants dropped in one swift motion, and Olivia's eyes widened slightly at the sight. She stared, stunned and tempted, wondering how she ever managed to live without this, without him, every single day.
"Are you just going to stare?" Dylan asked, voice thick with need, his patience long gone.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she sighed out, a sultry moan lacing her apology. God, she knew exactly how to play her role, too well.
Finally, her hand reached for him, fingers wrapping around his base with delicate precision. Dylan flinched, his body responding with a shudder, goosebumps racing across his skin at the simple touch.
She was teasing him, deliberately. Her grip firmed between her thumb and forefinger while her other hand played at the tip, spreading the warm evidence of his desire.
