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“You’re not alone, Dahlia. I’m here, and I wanna see you dance and have fun.”
“Dancing here in front of you is not going to be fun,” I mumble, confused.
His eyes shoot up from his drink and he tsks.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s where you’re wrong.”
He turns the music so that it’s louder and plays the song on repeat. Reluctantly, I get up and start swaying my hips from side to side. It’s actually not that bad, considering the fact that I’m kind of drunk. I had a lot of alcohol in a very short period of time and my body is still absorbing it, but with every single minute that passes, I become looser, happier. A smile makes its way to my lips and I lift my hands to touch my middle as I move, caressing the outline of my boobs as I do when I dance.
“Yeah, I can see it’s a real fucking torture for you. Come closer,” he commands and pats his thigh, still leaning back and looking at me lazily.
I do. I take a step in his direction; he is still sitting down, looking at me like he’d just bought a lap dance with a Happy Ending, but he stops me after just one step. “Stay there.”
I’m getting bolder. I’m dancing wildly and it’s fun. I feel a little bad for Jade. She’s going to faint when she hears what went down here without her.
“Closer.” Graham’s throat bobs with a swallow and I take just one step closer and continue dancing. It’s a tease. I can feel it. He is getting hot for me and hell, I’m already that way for him. He’s not really with my mom, they’re together for the papers and the money, and I keep reminding myself that every time I feel like I should stop dancing, which is not very often.
I love this foreplay. It’s not subtle, but it’s ours, and I knew Graham Savage is the kind of guy who knows what he wants. He owns me, tells me what to do, and I just do it.
“Fuck it! Come the fuck here,” he commands eventually, downing his full shot and throwing the glass on his desk.
I sway toward him, a little faster than I would have if he were Theo James. What in the actual fuck am I doing? Seducing my step-dad?
When my thigh brushes his knee, I stop. His body feels hard and hot and I want nothing more than to climb over my daddy and do filthy things to him, because he is not my daddy. My real one’s in prison, and he hasn’t done half the things Graham has done to make sure that I’m taken care of and safe.
I clasp his knee between my thighs and squeeze hard, hovering over him, but his hand reaches my waist and steadies me. He keeps the distance between us, and I hate it.
“This doesn’t feel like discipline, daddy,” I drawl, staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Fuck, he is sexy. His strong, wide chest is moving up and down and I know that he feels it too. His breaths are shallow underneath that crisp, iron dress shirt and I don’t even want to know what’s hiding behind those dark gray dress pants. I’m afraid to look down because I have a feeling I’m dealing with something a lot more intimidating than the standard six-inch cock of a high school kid, who comes after you jerk him off for ten seconds.
“What does it feel like?” His voice is extra dark when he asks it.
“It feels like seduction.” I bite my lower lip.
Graham gets up from his chair slowly and closes the little distance between us. His eyes are on mine, and my knees buckle with need. And shame. I’m lusting after my step-dad. Holy cow.
He moves his hand across my cheek, letting it disappear behind my neck, into my long honey-blonde hair, and lowers his face to meet mine. I see the pulse in his neck; I feel mine in my toes. It’s all happening too fast but there’s no denying the attraction now. My panties are soaked and if he’d ask me to sit back down, my need for him is going to be smeared all over the leather chair across from him.
“Next time you want to drink and dance, you do it in your room, understand? If you want company, you ask for me to come watch you do it. You do not get out of Jersey. Hell, you do not get out of the fucking house. Oh, and word of advice—next time I find you flirting with guys who can be your real daddy,” he enunciates, and I swallow hard, my confidence faltering. “There’ll be nothing left of them. Nothing, Dahlia. And it will be your fucking fault, on your conscience. Now, excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” He leaves my personal space at once while I’m hot and bothered, just like the name of his club.
When I hear the door shutting behind me, his voice still echoes in the room.
“Nice moves, by the way.”
It’s been a week since the club incident, and in that time, I’ve made myself scarce and avoided Graham like the plague.
He must not have mentioned it to my mom, because she hasn’t said a word about it. I doubt they talk very often, and I sometimes wonder why he even bothers living under the same roof with us. No one talks to anyone in this house. We’re three strangers who bump into each other in the hallway on occasions.
What strikes me as odd is knowing that if Annabelle was privy to my weekend’s whereabouts, she wouldn’t have been mad, anyway. Hell, she’d have probably hi-fived my ass and wished me good luck.
This, of course, doesn’t make the guilt swirling in my gut shrink, not even an inch. Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to basically molest my step-dad? And why did he seem so into it? I’m blaming my lapse in judgment on the alcohol. The alcohol that he fed me.
All week, I’ve been in a Graham-induced fog. Mom hasn’t noticed, but I don’t think she’d notice if her ass was on fire. Graham, on the other hand, has definitely noticed. Something has shifted between us and we can both feel it, but I have a feeling he’s letting me hide… for now.
Jade knows something’s up with me, but I haven’t said a word about what really went down after she left. As far as she knows, I got a stern talking-to and sent home.
Graham never contacted her parents like he said he would. Probably because he’s not a snitch, but mostly because he doesn’t give a damn.
I know Jade wouldn’t judge me—actually, she’d be jealous of me—but telling her would mean admitting to myself that it happened.
