Page 102 of The Daddy’s Girl

She looks at me briefly, letting a smile crawl across her lips. Then she bites her lip and turns her attention back to the dancers.

“I was just thinking what it would be like to see you out there,” she mumbles. “Touching that woman. Bending her over. Fucking her mouth.”

My cock throbs as heat courses down my spine. “I don’t want to touch her. I want to touch you.”

The pride inside her shines through her eyes. She likes being mine.

But I also see what she is doing here. She’s trying to find the best of both worlds for us. A world in which I can continue to be the same promiscuous man I’ve always been while she gets to fulfill her voyeuristic side.

“Then touch me,” she whispers.

My molars grind as I stare at her from the other side of the booth. “I can’t, and you know it.”

“Then I guess it’s your turn to watch tonight.” With a mischievous grin, she slides a few inches down the booth, leaning against the back as she slips one hand under the table.

I lose the ability to breathe as I watch the look on her face transform the moment her fingers find her delicious cunt. Her eyes stay focused on the dance floor. Hidden in the dark recesses of this booth, I can’t help but admire how bold and wonderful she is.

Not many women her age would be comfortable doing this here where so many people could see, especially so many people she knows personally. But Amelia is unafraid. She’s grown so much in just the past few weeks, finding herself and owning it proudly.

I feel my cock leak, and I shift in my seat to accommodate my growing size.

“How does it feel?” I whisper loud enough for her to hear over the music.

She exhales as her body fidgets. “It’s wet. It feels…good.”

“Do you know the control you have over them? Watching them. Using them.”

Her voice escapes her lips in a delicate whimper. “Yes.”

“What are you doing, baby? Tell me what you’re doing under this table.”

I move my hips back and forth, searching for pressure or friction to relieve the ache in my pants.

“I’m…touching my clit,” she mewls.

“Let me see your fingers. Get them wet for me.”

Her eyes find mine as she brings her hand out from under the table. There’s a glisten on her skin, moisture stringing between the first two fingers. Reaching across the table, I grab her wrist and bring them to my mouth.

Her lips part as she watches me lick them clean.

“Stroke yourself for me,” she begs. “Let me watch.”

“Not out here,” I reply. “It’s bad enough we’re sitting together like this.”

“Please,” she cries, letting her head hang back, desperation on her lips.

She wants me, needs me even.

And I cannot deny her.

In a rush, I unzip my pants, yanking them apart to reach in and find my throbbing cock. Turning my body toward her, I fist my shaft and start to pump. Hissing from the harsh friction, I keep my eyes on her.

Her gaze drops down to my hand, and it stays glued there as she continues to work her clit under the table. I wish I could see it, but imagination fills in the blanks for me. Amelia watches me with intensity, and I know she loves the control she has over me right now. She’s making me do this. I am performing for her.

But when someone passes by too closely to our booth, I panic and hide my lower half. It was no one and they didn’t even pay us any mind, but the sight of them was unsettling. We are being too reckless. We are asking to be caught.

Just then, a familiar body fills the space, his back to our table as he blocks passersby from seeing what we are doing in this booth. I glance up to see Geo’s hair, illuminated briefly in the back-and-forth strobe light.