Page 101 of The Daddy’s Girl

With that, he stands from the bar and saunters away toward the back of the club where there’s a room for BDSM exhibitions, the free use wall, and an area for people to mingle.

Once we’re alone, I turn to Amelia with a heavy sigh.

“Relax,” she implores with a smile.

“I can’t relax, Amelia. The more people who know, the angrier your father will be with me when he finds out.”

“He won’t find out,” she replies.

I take a step toward her, eating up the distance between us. “Won’t he? Because I’m standing too close to you. My cock was hard the moment I saw you in this dress. And all I want to do is lift the bottom and fuck you on this bar.”

She lets out a tiny gasp at my words. Her pupils are blown wide as she whispers. “Then maybe you should back up.” The plea is empty and weak, as if she doesn’t really want what she’s asking for.

“I can’t.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Why not?”

“Because I’m powerless when it comes to you. Don’t you see what you do to me? Don’t you know what I would do for you?” I lean in, brushing my lips over her cheek and back to her ear. “Let’s get a room, mon trésor.”

She whimpers softly in my ear, and I feel her tremble against me. Any moment, I expect her to reply with a simple word of agreement. Instead, she puts her lips against my ear.

“Those rooms are for sex.”

Now it’s my turn to whimper. “But we haven’t done everything but yet.”

“Then I guess we don’t need a room,” she teases.

My cock throbs at the sound of her sweet voice in my ear.

I can feel the bartender behind her watching us, but I don’t care anymore. Bartenders keep secrets, don’t they? She has no reason to tell a soul what she saw tonight.

Suddenly, Amelia slips out from between my body and the bar. She’s sipping on the tiny red straw in her drink as she walks away from me toward the VIP booths around the dance floor. Before going too far, she turns back toward me.

“Besides, I’m in the mood to watch tonight.”

As she walks away, into the pulsing strobe lights of the club floor, she finds an empty booth and slides in. Meanwhile, I brace myself for what is sure to be an evening of torture. Maybe with her, a lifetime of it.

And I’ll love every fucking second.

Like the lovesick animal I am, I follow her to the booth. It’s a circular sitting area built for privacy. She has moved to the center, giving her a clear view of the dance floor. The walls around the booth are high and the drapery encompassing the table hides certain…activities below from view.

When I first opened the club, everything was far more open than it is now. But that’s because it catered mainly toward the French and more specifically French men. I learned a lot when Ronan and Daisy came along, helping me to run it.

Now, the club is built on inclusivity, catering not to one audience but everyone. From the reserved to the downright lascivious. Every kink represented. Every demographic in mind.

I slide into the booth, staying on the side, giving me more a view of Amelia as she watches the crowd. Seeing her like this, so comfortable in her own skin and sexuality, is not only incredibly arousing, but it’s liberating as well. Looking at her like this makes me feel free.

The music is perfect for Amelia too. Not too erratic and loud. It’s a sultry beat, enough for people to dance to—or should I say dance to—without being overwhelming. There is no one performing onstage tonight, but one glance around the booth to the center of the club and I see that there is certainly enough of a crowd out there to give her something to watch.

There are two men grinding on each other so intensely, it looks as if they are seconds away from coming. There’s a woman dancing completely topless, her arms moving fluidly above her head, and she appears to be free and alone. Then there’s the two women reaching up each other’s dresses as they kiss fervently while still moving to the music.

Each of them is part of a much bigger collage. They are a moving piece of art, the harmony of sex and pleasure creating a symphony of sound barely heard over the heavy synth beat.

Amelia’s eyes dilate with excitement as she watches them. Condensation drips from her glass as she ignores it, too intoxicated by the blatant display of sex instead.

But I don’t need to see them to be intoxicated. She is enough. Her arousal fills the room like a sweet billowing smoke so I see nothing else.

“You are stunning like this, my sweet girl.”