Page 65 of Daddy's Lesson

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t. Damn brat.” He grabbed the bottle himself, took a short swig that may not have even been a full shot, and stood, grabbing her hand. “Well, since you insist on playing with fire, little girl, I guess you’re gonna get the horns.”

Nyla cocked her head at his mixed metaphor and sputtered laughter, even as he led her away to the center of the room and began to set up a scene.

“Looks like we’re getting a double show tonight,” Bain said, snickering. He nudged Jasmine, who was sitting on his lap. “Unless you want to make it a triple?”

She shook her head quickly from side to side. “Nope. I’m good. I’m happy being a voyeur tonight.”

“I’m not.” Theo stood, swayed on his feet for a minute, and strode across the club to where a group of single submissives had gathered, waiting for play offers.

I raised my eyes at Bain. “We gonna let him play with the mood he’s in, and the alcohol he’s consumed?”

Bain shook his head but made no move to get up and stop him. “The mood he’s in, it seems best to stay out of his way. I’ll keep an eye on him, but I’m not intervening unless I need to.” He reached for the bottle in the center of the table. It was more than half empty. “Damn. You guys aren’t fucking around tonight.”

I shrugged. “You know what they say. Work hard. Play hard.”

He smirked. “Oh, have you been working?”

He knew I hadn’t. I’d taken the week off to spend time with Zoe. “Shut up,” I grumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. The liquor burned going down, but it tasted good. Strong. Familiar. Comforting. I took another. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to be, and my apartment was in walking distance, or I could uber to Zoe’s.

I took a long pull and caught Bain’s eyes over the top of the bottle.

He raised his brows at me. “You good, man?”

“Never better,” I grunted, then set the bottle down and pushed it to the center of the table. “I’m having a blast with Zoe, and I’m loving being her Daddy, but I haven’t even had a sip of beer all week, and the teetotaler life is not for me.”

He nodded. “But she’s okay with you drinking tonight?”

Cocking my head, I furrowed my brows at him. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“I don’t know, man. Some people are triggered by alcohol, or by their partners drinking. Not that you two are a thing, but you know what I mean.”

I squinted, looking between him and the scotch. “We’re not not a thing.”

Bain made a face at that, but didn’t comment further. “Okay then, why doesn’t she drink? Is it just a personal choice, is she in recovery, does alcoholism run in her family? What’s the deal?”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. “I… I don’t know. I never asked. She just said she didn’t drink, so we haven’t. She didn’t tell me not to drink tonight, and I don’t know if I would have listened if she had. Is that like a thing? Do ex-alcoholics not want their partners to drink?”

Bain shrugged. “Depends on the person, I think.”

I frowned, feeling stupid for not bothering to ask why she didn't drink, and for assuming she wouldn’t care if I drank if I wasn't with her. Oh, well. That ship had long since sailed. Nothing I could do about it now, so I poured myself another drink, in a glass this time, not from the bottle like a neanderthal.

If she had a problem with it… well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. Or maybe she’d never know.

CHAPTER 17

Zoe

Stopping outside the main entrance to the club, I tugged at the hem of the little black dress I was wearing and glanced down at my body with a frown. Going to a BDSM club had never even crossed my mind, so it wasn’t like I had the correct wardrobe for it. I’d had to settle for a classic from a decade ago that was just a little too young and a little out of style, but it was the only thing in my closet that wasn’t earth-mother hippie- artistic type or frumpy old maid.

I’d paired it with strappy black heels that barely fit my feet, and a pair of nylons I’d tugged off and back on half a dozen times because I had no idea if anyone even wore nylons anymore. At least what I was wearing underneath was sexy. Thank god I’d always had an affinity for matching and expensive lingerie.

I could hear the music pulsing even through the door and knew without a doubt I was out of my comfort zone. The urge to turn around and run back to my car was strong, but the urge to march in with my head held high and make Lennon proud was stronger.

I licked my lips and pinched my cheeks the way my mama had taught me, said a silent prayer that I wasn’t about to be the only person over forty in there making a massive fool out of myself, and pulled the door open.

I was expecting dim lights, pounding music, and half naked people everywhere. Instead, what I saw was nothing more than a glorified office area with a stark white counter that wrapped around, a couple conference phones, a computer set-up, a printer, and several filing cabinets, along with a row of sleek black lockers.

There was a woman behind the counter smacking her gum as she shifted from foot to foot, and a large man in a security shirt standing nearby. When the woman saw me her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything unkind.

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