Daddy.
God, I’m so messed up.
I always have been.
I can’t even say it’s Daddy issues because I barely remember my father. He died when I was just a kid.
Yet, for some reason, that word makes my clit pulse, and all I want to do is kneel in front of this man whose name I don’t know and be his good girl.
Good God, I don’t know his name and I’m thinking about sucking his dick. My mother would croak.
He leans over, so his face is near mine, his neatly trimmed beard scratching against my skin, sending a flurry of shivers through me. “Daddy is what you’ll be calling me all night if you’re a good girl.”
I’m so glad I’m sitting because it doesn’t matter how strong my knees are from all my years of training; they would have buckled right now. I’d be a pile of arousal on the floor.
“What makes you think I’ll be doing anything with you tonight?” I challenge.
Look at me being all frisky and brave. I would never have done anything like this in Seattle. Hell, I went to clubs in disguise just so I could dance somewhere other than a stage and really let go. When I was barely surviving and probably needed to go to therapy, but I went to clubs and danced to hip-hop and pop music instead.
Ballerinas don’t dance like whores.
The words my mother said when she caught me dancing toIn Da Club by 50 Centin my bedroom one night. When I got my hands on a fake ID and started sneaking into clubs, it always felt like a big middle finger to my mom. It was my version of rebellion. My only stress release.
Boy, if Mom could see me now.
He leans down, his lips hovering near my ear again, his clean scent making me want to sniff him like an excited puppy.
“Because, since the second we looked at each other, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about fucking you all goddamn night. I’m pretty sure, with the way you were eye-fucking me while you were dancing, that you were having some of those same thoughts. Tell me if I’m wrong.”
His words, so filthy, yet so damn right. I’ve had sex before, and it was fine. It wasn’t as awful as my mother made it out to be, that’s for sure. But it wasn’t spectacular. So when he stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched me like I was the sexiest creature he’d ever seen, I had a lot of the same dirty thoughts.
“You’re not,” I finally whisper back, even though no one is close enough to hear this conversation, especially over the music.
A strawberry is brought to my lips, and I look down to find him holding it up for me.
“I want you to stay the night with me,” he says.
I open my mouth and take a bite, considering his words. We can get a room. It’s not like Vegas is lacking hotels. Hell, we don’t even have to leave this building. I can have one night to live out my Daddy fantasy or whatever the hell it is. Then tomorrow, or whenever, this guy can go back to wherever he came from, and I can focus on living my best life for the first time ever.
One night, no strings.
It’s a perfect and easy plan.
“Are you single?” I watch his face closely, looking for any sign of him lying.
When he brings his left hand up, he holds it out for me to see, palm down, his knuckles marked with ink.
“Yeah, baby doll. Single and the only fucking thing I have on my left hand is your name,” he says while I read the letters marked across them.
ACE is spelled out on the first three fingers, and on his pinky is a spade. I know it’s a coincidence, but seeing my nickname tattooed into his skin is so damn sexy that I let out a soft moan. Thankfully, only he hears it and chuckles.
When I slide my fingers over his, he turns his palm over and closes my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “I find aces to be…lucky.”
I know he means it in terms of gambling, but something about the way he says it feels deeper. Sexier.
“Aces are my favorite.” I inwardly cringe because why the hell did I just say that? Of all things. It’s clear this guy isn’t interested in what my favorite card is. He’d probably be more likely to want to know what my favorite sex positions are. And that is just fine with me because I want thisDaddyto pretzel me by the end of the night.
He raises an eyebrow and watches me with his dark eyes. Gosh, they’re nearly black. Maybe he really does see right through me.
