“What isn't healthy, Isabella?” he asked in a breathy, raspy voice, his hand cupping and rubbing my p***y.
My breathing picked up.
This… this damn look on his face, it was doing something to me. He… he had this… this bad, playboy look on, and I never thought the day would come when that kind of look would make me… thirsty. Yes, thirsty was the perfect word.
His eyes were droopy and dark, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, and his lips… He bit the bottom lip when I moaned as he pressed into my p***y with the heel of his palm.
“Is that really what you want to talk about right now?” I asked breathlessly.
“Yes,” he answered. “Tell me all about this unhealthy relationship between my father and me.”
As he said that, his finger pressed between my folds through my underwear, parting them. He
