The Preacher's Daughter

by Shelly Morgan

  He just wants to talk. I don’t feel like talking. Not to him, not anymore.

  Moving to walk around him to head back into the dressing room, I’m stopped when he reaches out to grab my arm. Unlike the hand that grabbed me last night, Dominic’s touch doesn’t frighten me. Maybe it’s because I know he wouldn’t hurt me, or maybe it’s because I like the feel of his skin on mine, even in a touch as innocent as this.

  “Then I’ll buy you.” I’m instantly angry. Before I can yank my arm away and tell him as much, he continues. “I’m requesting a private dance with you. Will you accept tonight?” He sounds hopeful. Maybe he did like my dance, and me, after all.

  Deciding this would be the best way to tell him, or explain, I say, “Fine. But you’ll have to wait until my performances are over for the night.” I’m not sure if he’d be willing to wait, but I’m not budging on this one. This way, I’ll have more time to figure out how I’m going to tell him and get the courage to spend time with him privately.

  Smiling again, he says, “Absolutely. I’ll be in the same booth as last night when you’re ready.” He doesn’t wait for me to agree or acknowledge his statement. Instead, he walks away, leaving me to watch him go. At least it’s a mighty fine sight to see.

  ***

  The rest of the night goes by fast, and before I know it, it’s time to meet Dominic. I’m not sure if he wants me to dance or if he really wants to talk, but I guess it’d be pretty awkward if I didn’t. I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into, and Amy’s been busy with her routines and working the floor for me to talk to her about it. Though I highly doubt there is anything she could say to make this easier for me.

  Looking down at my outfit, I wonder if I should change. I’m still in the costume from my last routine, which is a black leather halter top that looks more like a bar, and my bottoms are leather booty shorts. It’s almost identical to the one he saw me in last night. I guess it’s as good of an outfit as any other. At least I feel somewhat covered, compared to some of my other ones. It also makes me feel sexy, which is good because when I’m with him, I want to be sexy. I want him to think I’m sexy.

  Blowing out a nervous breath, I make my way to the door. He said he’d be at the table he was at the night before, which is close to the back hallway that leads to our dressing rooms. I’ve already setup a room for us, so that’s ready. I even picked out a song to dance to.

  I guess I’ll just have to feel the situation out and go from there. Even as I spoke to him earlier, I thought he may have recognized who I was since he said he wanted to talk, but I don’t think that’s the case. So I’ll just take it one step at a time.

  As I’m about to open the door, it flies open and Amy almost runs me over in her rush to get inside. “Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands to protect myself from impact.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry, hun. I didn’t see you there,” she says quickly. “I was coming to find you.”

  I wait for her to continue, grateful for the distraction. Dominic can wait a little longer anyway. I don’t feel ready yet. Not mentally, anyway. But I’m going out there no matter what, I can just stall a bit more before that happens.

  “Did you see that guy sitting in the corner? Oh my God, he’s so fuckin’ sexy.” I have a feeling I know who she’s talking about.

  “What guy? Where?”

  “He’s in that table in the corner, on this side. You know, the one we sat at our first night here? It’s the best seat in the house.” Yup, she’s talking about Dominic. “Anyway, I saw him in here last night too. Boy, I’d love spend a night with that man. Maybe I can make him one of my regulars.” She closes her eyes and has a dreamy look on her face.

  It makes me jealous that she’s thinking of him in that way, though I know I don’t have a claim on him. He can be with any woman he wants, and he probably has, with countless women. That doesn’t mean that I like the thought of it, especially the thought of him with my best friend who is drop dead gorgeous and much more his type than me.

  “Wait,” she says suddenly as her eyes pop open. “That isn’t the guy you were telling me about, is it?”

  She’s excited now, and doesn’t seem to look upset about possibly losing her dream guy. I would never tell her to stay away from him, but I can’t lie and say that I don’t wish for that exact thing.

  “Yes. That would be Dominic,” I tell her with what I hope is a calm voice.

  “Damn, girl. When you said he was good looking, I didn’t think you meant that good looking. That man is a sex god!” She practically squeals with excitement for me. Or maybe it’s because he’s that good looking and she can’t help but be excited. Not like I can blame her for thinking it. Words can’t even describe what he looks like. He’s perfect in all areas, even his crooked nose and hard eyes.

  “Yeah, I saw him earlier. He asked for a private dance and time to talk.”

  “And you agreed, right? You better have fuckin’ agreed, girl. You need to tell him, and then you need to get some of that man meat.” Winking, she then moves her hips, like she’s making love to the air. Well, not making love, but something dirtier.

  “Oh my goodness, Amy! Seriously?” I say, laughing and feeling a little lightheaded. Only in my dreams would I be brave enough to do that. It could make for some pretty awesome dreams and fantasies, though I don’t think I’ll be able to think about it now without picturing her humping the air.

  “What? He’s the sexiest man I think I’ve ever seen, and he wants you. If you don’t go after that hunk of a man, someone else will, and you do not want that.” No, I don’t want that, but it’s unavoidable. I’m still the preacher’s daughter, even if I’m not associated with my parents any longer.

  “He doesn’t want me. He’s just intrigued with me because I told him no when he requested me yesterday. He probably has a man complex, and since I denied him, his ego took a blow. Now he needs to validate himself by me dancing for him. That’s probably all this is, nothing more.” As the words leave my lips, I feel myself hoping I’m not right. Heck, I’d have no idea what to do with a man like him, or any man for that matter. But I still want him to want me, even if nothing happens between us.

  My whole life, I’ve never felt wanted. Not by my parents, and most certainly not by a guy. They never saw anything in me besides what they assumed as religious and boring. It may be wrong to need someone to want me, even if only for my body, but I want that. For the first time in forever, I want to be wanted.

  “Oh, please,” Amy says, breaking me out of my dark thoughts. “From what you’ve told me, that man wants you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come back. Or if he did, he’d try to get with another dancer. Men like him, honey, their egos don’t get crushed. Because they know what they want and they go after it until it’s theirs. So when I say he wants you, it’s the truth.”

  Not wanting to think about it anymore and let the little spark of hope she’s created in my chest burn brighter, I move past her and out the door. “Well, I better get going. He’s waiting for me.”

  Before I get too far away, I hear her yell, “Good luck.”

  I take my time walking out to the bar, going over in my head what I need to say. That I’m the same girl he met a month ago, only now, I’m not living with my parents or following their rules. I’m still the same girl. I need him to know that much. Let’s be honest. Nothing about my looks have changed. The only difference is my hair is always fixed, I finally wear makeup, and I dance in skimpy outfits. To him, I’m not that girl, but I am on the inside. It just proves that he likes girls like me, not the girl he saved.

  Before I enter the bar, I take one last calming breath and pray that it gives me courage. Then, rounding the corner, I spot him right away. Hard to miss a man like Dominic.

  He’s not facing the stage. Instead, he’s facing the hallway, like he’s waiting for me to come out and didn’t want to miss me. Either that, or he wanted t
o make sure I didn’t sneak away from him, which I may have tried to do if not for the fact that I’ve been spotted.

  When he sees me, he stands and makes his way toward me slowly, but confidently. His walk is dominating, lethal, and sexy as hell. How can the way someone walks make me feel like I’m panting and ready to pass out from giddiness? But it’s not just his walk, it’s the look in his eyes that has me feeling lightheaded and ready to jump in his arms, ready to beg him to want me.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  Nodding my head, I start to lead the way to the room I procured when I feel his hand on the small of my back. Now, not only is he touching me, but it’s like he’s leading the way, as if he knows where we’re going.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I talked to Leroy and had him give us a different room. It’s a little more comfortable,” he tells me without looking down at me.

  Stopping mid-stride, I look up at him, a little worried. Why would he need a different room, one that’s more comfortable? What the hell does he think we’ll be doing?

  “Whoa, babe. Nothing like that. I just mean it’s quieter, farther away from the music so if all you wanted to do was talk, we could hear each other.”

  When I still don’t look convinced, he adds, “Trust me. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. My club owns this place and I wouldn’t do anything to tarnish our reputation by treating women with nothing but respect. Plus, any of my brothers would kill me if they knew I hurt one of the girls.”

  I knew the club was owned by a group of men who ride motorcycles, but it’s odd hearing the way he speaks of them. It’s like there are rules, and to break one would be like breaking the law. But he also speaks casual, like there is nothing out of the ordinary about being killed for hurting a woman.

  Hearing his reassurances does make me feel better, though. Not like I feared he’d hurt me. It was just odd that he looked into what room I had saved for us and took the extra step to change it.

  Then, I think of his other statement. “You don’t want me to dance for you?” I ask, sounding disappointed, even to my own ears.

  Not that I don’t want to dance for him, or even that I do. I guess I figured that’s what he’d want. This is a strip club. I can sugarcoat it all I like when I think about what I do, but that’s what this place is. It’s what I do. And it would feel weird, wrong even, if he paid for time with me to just talk.

  If that’s all he wants, I’m not going to make him pay for it. I’m technically off the clock, only making money now because of his request. Maybe I should tell him as much.

  “Well, I’d love to watch you dance, but I’m not gonna demand it, babe.” Well then, what do I say to that? Nothing. Instead, I continue to follow him to the room at the very end of the hallway.

  Turns out, we’re only one room away from the one I’d requested; the VIP room. It has a nice comfy couch, a TV, mini bar, dance pole, and a stage. The lighting is lower, but the knobs on the wall let you control what you want it at.

  I’ve never danced in this room before tonight. I’ve been in here, but only to help clean, or when I got the grand tour when I first started. It’s a nice room, but I’m not sure that we needed it.

  Closing the door behind me, I cross my arms over my chest, nervous again.

  He walks into the room with confidence, grabbing a glass from behind the bar. “Would you like something to drink?” he asks.

  Shaking my head no, I then realize that he’s not looking at me, so I answer, “I’m not old enough.” Why the heck did I just say that? I feel stupid now, especially since I don’t have even a clue how old he is. Not like it matters to me, but still. I sound young and innocent, which I am, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t comment, or even look surprised. He just nods his head and takes a seat on the couch. Staring at me, he waits for me to make the first move. Will I sit with him or dance?

  I only think about it for a second, deciding to go with my gut. Dancing is what I do best. I think that’s originally what he wanted, so that’s what he’s going to get. Then, after, I can tell him what he needs to know.

  The equipment in these rooms are digital, and are hooked up with all our songs. We upload any song we’d ever want to dance to, and the ones we have routines for. All we have to do is use the screen to pick which one we’re in the mood for.

  I don’t have a routine ready, so I pick a song I enjoy dancing to. I’m confident enough with my skills that I can make up the moves as I go. I can make it good for him, dance in a way he’ll enjoy.

  The music starts as I step up on the small stage. The other rooms don’t have anything like this, only having a pole and open area to dance around. I feel both a thrill and stupid dancing on this tiny stage for just one person.

  I work the whole platform, and even use the pole. I’m reminded of how much I enjoyed using it last night. I also make a mental note to put a few moves into all my routines from now on.

  Halfway through the song, I get more confident from the way he’s watching me. I step off the stage carefully, and dance slowly toward him. I’ve never been one to do lap dances, thinking them disgusting, but maybe I’ll make an exception for him. He is sexy, and I want my body close to his. It can’t be hard to give a lap dance. It’s really not that much different from what I do, it’s just more personal for both parties. Since I’m going to ruin everything and make it so he never wants anything to do with me again after tonight, I better get my fill now, before it’s too late.

  I surprise him. When I mount him and move my hips on top of his, mimicking what I think sex would be like, his eyes get big and his breathing picks up. I can feel his penis, hard and in charge, inside his pants, rubbing against my most intimate area. And I like it, a lot.

  My own breathing picks up and I feel wet, my panties moist. A moment of embarrassment hits me. I wonder if he can feel it, but I realize that even if he can, he doesn’t care. The look of bliss on his face shows me he’s enjoying this, maybe as much as I am. And boy, am I enjoying it.

  Berating myself, I decide now is the time to tell him because the song is almost finished.

  Grinding down on him harder, I lean in closer, breathing lightly into his ear, which causes him to shiver. Then I ask in an erotic voice I’ve never heard come out of my mouth before, “You like that, don’t you?” I’m not looking for an answer, and I don’t allow him to give me one either. “I know you do. I could ride you like you ride your bike—long and hard. I could squeeze your dick so hard, it would make your eyes pop. I’d leave you wanting more,” I say, mimicking his words to me from that first night.

  When I hear his sharp intake of breath, I go in for the kill. “But at the end of the day, you’ll only think I wanted a ride on the wild side. Because after, I’ll still be the preacher’s daughter.” My words are no longer sexy, my tone laced with contempt and anger.

  With that, the song ends and I stand up. I don’t look at him and I don’t say anything else. I turn around and walk out of the room. Going into the dressing room, I grab my things and ask Leroy to let Amy know I left. Then, I walk outside with my head held high and hail a cab to take me home.

  Chapter Ten

  Torq

  I like to think that I’m a very organized person, and very cautious in nature. Any situation I’m in, whether it’s club related or personal, I think everything through. I know every possible thing that could go wrong, and I have a backup plan in place. Always.

  Not tonight. I was seriously surprised. I was thrown completely off balance, to the point I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk for at least five minutes. I bet my facial expressions were comical, which makes me somewhat happy that Angel left, and that no one else is in here to see me. My eyes probably look like a deer caught in headlights, my mouth gaping open like a fish out of water.

  How could I not know that my Angel was actually my Angelica Hock? Daughter
of the preacher man from Illinois. Now that I know, I can’t believe I missed it. She looks the same, except for her clothes, the way she holds herself…oh, and the fact that she’s hundreds of miles from home and stripping in a club my MC owns.

  She didn’t change her hair, or anything that you would look at first when someone has changed. There should’ve been no reason I wouldn’t have been able to put two and two together. Shit, I’m so fucking stupid!

  And she’s been starring in every X-rated dream I’ve had since saving her that night. I even fantasize about her when I’m awake, with her innocent appearance and thinking of dirtying her up. Wondering what she tastes like, to what she fucking feels like wrapped around my cock.

  She’s been here all along, and I didn’t know about it.

  I’m angry at my brothers for not telling me who she was, but then I remember they don’t know about her or that I’ve met her before. So I guess I’m really just pissed at myself, and her.

  She must think I’m an idiot. She knew who I was the moment she spotted me, and she saw me right away when she was on stage last night. She should’ve fucking said something when I saved her, yet again, from a bad situation. Or when I asked her for a dance last night. But she didn’t.

  Standing up, I stomp out of the room, fixing to tell her how pissed I am, even though I have no right to be. I know this, deep down, but she really threw me for a spin!

  Telling her how I feel isn’t all I want to do. My dick is still hard as a fucking rock and begging to be buried balls deep inside her tight pussy. I want to push her up against the wall in the dressing room, or wherever I find her, and fuck her until my irrational anger is only an ember of fire, not a blazing inferno.

  “Hey, man, where’s the fire?” Leroy asks when I barrel into him, heading into the back.

  “Angel—where is she?” I demand with a hard voice, but I know instantly that was the wrong tone to use. Leroy’s tasked with protecting the girls, and even though he knows I’d never hurt one of them, my tone right now says differently.