Julius' POV
I should walk away.
Turn around, go back upstairs, lock my door, and pretend I never heard that breathy “Yes, sir” that’s still replaying in my head like a broken record.
But my feet are nailed to the floor.
My c**k is already half-hard again, throbbing against the zipper of my jeans like it’s trying to claw its way out. I press the heel of my hand against it, just to feel something real instead of this burning hot desire.
It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes it worse.
Belle’s shorts are now on the floor around her ankles.
Dad’s thick fingers are spreading her open from behind, slow and deliberate, like he’s unwrapping something fragile and expensive.
Her ass is perfect, round, smooth, the kind of pale that would bruise so prettily under my grip.
A faint red h
