Page 14 of Her Royal Daddy
“Daddy dances for tips, baby,” I told her. “You’re not tipping me.”
She blinked, dismay creeping across her face as she stammered, “Y-you want me to... pay you?”
No. God, no.
“I want you to tip me,” I patiently explained. “Daddy dances for tips.”
Her gaze slid from me to the door, and I knew she was still thinking about money and her purse.
“Pet the kitty, baby,” I told her. “That’s how you tip Daddy when he’s dancing for you. If you want me to keep going, put your fingers on your pussy, and give her a little pet for me.”
Her dismay when she thought I was asking her to pay for sex changed in an instant to furiously blushing dismay over being asked to masturbate in front of me.
“Come on now,” I coaxed, my fingers tapping at my belt buckle, drawing her gaze once more to what she wanted. That she did, in fact, still want it was reflected in the naked hunger that flashed through her eyes. “Be a good girl for Daddy. Pet your pretty kitty.”
She bit her lip. She also shifted her weight onto one arm to slip a hesitant hand between her splayed legs. She touched herself, a trembling stroke of her middle finger, gliding over her clit, down into the wetness glistening along her folds, and subsequently drawing that wetness back up again on the tip of her finger. I saw the subtle twitch of her pussy muscles contract as the tip of her finger circled her clit.
And here I was, still with my pants on.
“Dance, Daddy,” she said, her breath catching just a little as her fingertips found their own caressing rhythm.
Her attempt at giving me orders made me smile. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” I said, playing with the buckle on my thick leather belt. “Good thing for you I like it, or Daddy just might have to take his belt off for other reasons.”
Her whole body shivered, but not because my playful threat scared her. She watched eagerly as I took my belt off, pulling the serpentine length through my pants loops. I doubt she noticed the way her own fingers quickened their strokes as I swung my belt in the air over my head, much like a cowboy with his lasso, eventually sending it flying to land gently on the bed behind her.
Her legs twitched, hugging her own hand as my pants came next. Sadly, they weren’t rip-away jeans with specially designed Velcro seams. That made it harder to take them off with the same kind of grace and showmanship I was used to giving on the stage, but if she noticed, she didn’t show it. Her fingers stroked a little faster, her short, shallow breaths quickened, and the glistening slickness catching the light along her beguiling sex just got that much wetter.
On the stage, I’d have played with my pants, drawn it out for the ladies whooping and hollering like teenagers at a Justin Bieber concert. But right now, I just didn’t have it in me to wait and soon I was standing there at the foot of the bed in nothing but a pair of red boxer briefs and a smile every bit as hungry as the high-standing erection my briefs weren’t hiding revealed me to be.
The music continued to play and her fingers continued to stroke, right up until I put my knee up on the foot of the bedside inside the vee of her widely parted feet, and slowly crawled up onto the bed over her.
Her fingers stopped petting. She leaned back, her excitement showing in her breathing as she lay herself down on the bed beneath me. I could see it in her eyes. It was do or die time, and she wanted me every bit as badly as I ached for her.
“Isn’t there a rule somewhere about not touching the dancers?” she quavered as once more I braced my hands to either side of her head, careful of my weight as I leaned into her.
“I don’t see a bouncer here, do you?” My hips settled into the cradle of hers. Ours was a dance of a different kind now as I rolled my pelvis, letting her feel the swollen hardness of my cock, still trapped inside my briefs, pressing full against her hot pussy. Her wetness soaked into the cloth of my underwear.
“No,” she squeaked, her trembling thighs clamping down on the outside of my hips, hugging me between her legs.
I rocked a slow thrust, letting her feel the length and thickness of me, torturing myself with all that slick heat that my twitching cock couldn’t wait to feel firsthand. “If there are no bouncers and we’re not at the club, then the only rules here are Daddy’s rules. Isn’t that right?”
She nodded, trembling.
I ground my cock against her. “Say yes, Daddy,” I ordered.
She sighed, her back bowing in an arch that pushed her breasts up against me. “Y-yes, Daddy.”
She touched my chest, her small hands moving down and around my waist. She half-hummed, half-whimpered, as if helpless to stop them from drifting all the way down to the elastic waist of my underwear. I ground myself against her again, rocking my hips into the wet heat between her shaking, hugging legs.
“What do you want, baby?” I asked, every rock of my hips increasing both our torment.
“You.” She shook with the rawness of her need. “You, Daddy. I want you.”
“You liked Daddy’s dance, didn’t you? Now it’s time to ride his cock and you can’t wait to have it inside you.”
She moaned and tried to hide her face, but I wasn’t about to let her.
“How badly do you want to ride Daddy’s cock, baby girl? Say it,” I ordered, grinding her clit with my cock, mock thrusting against her and driving her wild.
