Page 6 of Daddy's Princess

“No, it’s not okay. It’s never okay to disrespect a woman. Especially not you.” Oliver’s green eyes practically burn into me as his fierce words send a flock of butterflies fluttering around my stomach.

If I wasn’t trying to calm Oliver down and save an idiot or three from getting their faces rearranged, I’d be swooning like crazy right about now. I have half a mind to let Oliver loose on them just for ruining what is a total moment for me.

“Oh shit,” Brock says, taking a step back away from Jack. He’s looking at something behind Oliver. I feel an instant burst of relief when I see a very angry looking Andre striding our direction.

“I thought I told you to behave.”

Though Andre’s voice is scolding, I know he’s only teasing me. Oliver’s muscles tense under my fingers, and I pat his chest lightly, drawing his attention back to me. His intense green gaze makes my belly flip flop. I imagine that same look, but while his big body is hovering over mine, filling me inch by thick inch.

Owning me.

It takes me three tries to find my voice. “Technically, you told me to follow my rules. Which is not the same at all.”

“If you kept her on a tighter leash, maybe she’d be better behaved,” Jack snickers.

Lord, save me from fucking idiots. I address Jack for the first time since this whole debacle started. “Do you have a death wish? I’m over here trying to save your dumbass.”

“Language,” Oliver growls.

I look up at him with a frown. As if a curse word is a big deal considering I’m currently the only thing between him and an assault charge. I turn to him and frown. “Really?”

“Yes, really, little girl. Mind your manners.”

Andre is looking between me and Oliver, a smirk on his face. For him to be smirking while drama is going down in his club, he has to be seriously amused. And that makes the brat in me stomp her foot. How dare he be amused when someone who doesn’t have any say in how I behave starts to boss me around. Never mind the fact that Oliver getting all bossy dom on me has me ready to fall to my knees and say, ‘daddy please.’ That’s beside the point.

I think?

“But he is a dumbass.” I cringe at how petulant I sound but don’t stop. “Besides, cussing isn’t against my rules. In fact, I was censoring myself by just calling him a dumbass.” As I talk, I can practically see Oliver counting my infractions and plotting exactly how to punish me for them. Of course, that makes my pussy clench in need. I can only assume it’s the neediness that keeps my mouth moving despite the warning look Oliver’s giving me. “Because really he’s a motherfucking douche waffle who deserves to get his bitch-ass beat down. He’s been aJackass,” I put extra emphasis on his name because Jack the jackass amuses me to no end, “to me ever since I turned him down. Heaven forbid all the little subbie girls don’t fall at his fucking feet and kiss his shoes.”

“You better fucking watch your mouth, bitch.”

Oh, Jack, bless your stupid little heart,I think, as I’m bodily moved out of the way. Oliver practically shoves me at Andre. I’m shocked when Andre grips my upper arm in a firm hold that silently commands me to stay put. I look up at him in surprise and open my mouth to protest and get one of his patented dom looks and a simple shake of his head.

I feel a little betrayed. Andre is my friend, and he’s taking Oliver’s side in keeping me from stopping things from getting physical. He’s basically encouraging it because Oliver is literally a spool of tightly coiled violence just waiting to burst. I’m not even shocked when Jack takes a preemptive swing at Oliver. I mean, I would probably try to beat him to, well, beating me, too. Jack doesn’t stand a chance against the man.

Oliver easily dodges the sloppy punch but doesn’t take his own swing. No, instead he grabs Jack’s arm, and in a move so fast I don’t even see how he did it, he’s got Jack immobilized. Jack’s arm is twisted behind his back. It must be painful because he’s making dying-rabbit noises. I’m not sure what Oliver does, but Jack’s wailing is cut off, and he’s practically standing on his tiptoes as if he’s trying to relieve the pressure.

“I need to learn that trick,” I say with awe.

Both Andre and Oliver growl. I’m no fool that one noise is telling me not to be stupid. That I don’t need to know how to do such a thing because they’ll do it for me. I expect that level of protectiveness from Andre. He’s been my protector for years. But from a man I literally just met? It seems a little odd. Though I can’t say as I mind the idea of having Oliver around to do the arm bending. That thought is insanity. He’s not going to be around. He’s not my dom. Not my daddy. Not my anything. I don’t want a relationship. Casual flings only.

“I think it’s time you apologize to the lady.” Oliver’s tone brokers no argument. When Jack isn’t fast enough to apologize, Oliver does something that makes Jack say, ‘owowowowow,’ before quickly muttering out his apology. The fire in his eyes tells me he’s not at all sorry and that if he ever gets the chance, he will make me pay for my part in this.

With Jack still firmly in his hold, Oliver marches him through the club. Derrick and Levi have materialized and are escorting Brock and the other two. They are getting to walk out with slightly more dignity than Jack. Andre and I take up the rear of the little parade of shame. I try to extricate myself from Andre’s grip, but he holds firm.

It’s a little weird. Andre never lets anyone else do his dirty work for him. If someone needs to be kicked out, he does the kicking. The dungeon monitors are there to help, of course, but he does all the heavy lifting so-to-speak. Why on earth is he letting Oliver do what he normally takes pleasure in doing?

“It goes without saying, your memberships are revoked. Bidden and Bound has a zero-tolerance policy.” Andre addresses the small group of men for the first time. “Don’t come back.”

Andre’s word is final, and either the guys are in shock about being thrown out and don’t have time to come up with a protest, or they are cowed by the fact that four seriously scary dominants are menacing at them, but they leave without a single word. It’s rather anti-climactic all things considered.

Oliver marches up to where Andre is still holding me captive and gives him a meaningful look. The men size each other up for a long moment before Andre nods and releases me.

“Hey!” I shout as I’m picked up off my feet and upended over a hard shoulder. Oliver’s hard shoulder. I push myself up using his broad back and give Andre a withering look as I’m carried off. I’m tempted to flip him the bird when he gets a huge grin and wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave.

I realize too late to make any real protest that Oliver is carrying me to one of the many private rooms. The world tilts right-side-up as I’m sat back on my feet, then just as fast, the world spins, and I dizzily find myself laying over Oliver’s lap.

Oh, crap.

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