Page 37 of The Daddy’s Girl

Relaxing deeper into my chair, I kick my feet up onto my ottoman. “So tell me again how you ended up in the voyeur room on a Saturday night.”

She covers her face with embarrassment. “The couch is comfortable in there.”

“I don’t have to remind you what people do on that couch,” I joke with a laugh.

Pointing a finger at me assertively, she adds, “Hey, we have an excellent cleaning crew.”

I laugh in earnest, my head hanging back as she giggles, and it feels so good. This is what I’ve been missing these past few days. I distanced myself from her and my other friends because I thought it was what I needed out of shame after what I did. But it’s clear Amelia’s feelings for me are unconditional.

As a friend, I assume. Or as a godfather. I’m not sure how Amelia views me, honestly, but whatever it is, it’s genuine.

“I’m not sure I believe you, Trouble,” I say, taking a sip of my wine once our laughter has died.

She wipes at the tears leaking from her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I think you were in there for a reason. Is it possible someone has a voyeuristic side?”

Instantly, she bites her bottom lip and looks away, stifling a smile.

“I knew it,” I reply with a laugh. “So you were in there on purpose.”

Her jaw drops. “I was not! I would never…”

“Sure,” I tease.

“Come on, Matis. That would be a major violation of privacy. You think I would do that on purpose?”

“But you did like it,” I say, and just like that, the humor in her expression vanishes.

The room grows feverish as we stare at each other, and I realize that I am stepping over the line again. These lines I use to categorize Amelia as a woman, my friend, my goddaughter, and my best friend’s child are growing blurrier by the second.

“I did,” she whispers, turning her gaze down as she fiddles with the gold jewelry around her ankle.

I lean forward a bit. It occurs to me that Amelia isn’t telling me this to be flirty or cute. She seems just as surprised by this discovery as I am.

She needs someone she trusts to confide in. Someone to guide her.

“Is that the first time you’ve watched someone else?”

“Yes,” she replies emphatically with a nod. Still not looking at me.

“How did it make you feel?” I ask, my voice careful and low, just above a whisper. I want her to know I’m not teasing her or trying to take advantage of her.

She swallows, the muscles in her body visibly tightening.

“It was like…all the noise just went away. I wasn’t thinking about anything else. It made me feel…in control.”

“Do you normally feel in control during sex?”

She squirms in her seat, looking everywhere around the room but at me. Which is fine. If that’s what she has to do to feel comfortable, I understand.

Then she shakes her head. “No.”

My spine stiffens, and my heart begins to hammer in my chest. I refuse to acknowledge the growing warmth in my cock because this isn’t about me.

“Voyeurism is a perfectly normal kink, Amelia. It’s okay if that’s what you like. If that’s what arouses you.”

She smirks. “Doesn’t everyone get aroused by watching people have sex?”