Page 18 of Submitting to Daddy
I’m not confused about what this is; I’m a fucking wreck because I know. I don’t want just one night. I wanther. I want Madison with all her mess, fire, and complete with smart-ass bratty retorts. I need her sweet whimpers and the way her eyes bore through me as she fights this thing between us. I’m going to watch her fall, even if she claws the whole way down.
Lifting my hands to my face, I bury my face in them and let out a long, exhausted sigh. I knew what I was doing the second her lips brushed against mine and I slammed her up against that door. But not once did I stop to think about what it would mean for her, and now I’ve got no one else to blame for the situation I’ve put myself in. She still works for me. And thoughts of Madison—my Madison—up in one on that stage or in one of the VIP rooms infuriates me. Thinking about her grinding against strange men like she did on me, or their eyes devouring every inch of her perfect body, has me seeing red. I know myself well enough to know that I’ll end up dragging some asshole out by the throat before she makes it through half a shift.No way in fucking hell is that happening.
Grabbing a handful of tissues, I clean my release from the wall and think about a fix I can live with. I can’t fire her. She’d never forgive me. She’d probably think it was punishment for not fucking me.I couldn’t forgive me for that. Her hours, though, I can limit them—pull her from the private roomswhere men get too handsy, too bold, too confident, thinking their cash buys them a piece of what they’re watching.
She can dance, but she’ll do it whenI’mthere; when I can keep my eyes on her. Not a man in this place will think about laying a finger on her when they know I’m watching. I’ll get Chloe to frame it logistically. She can say the roster’s full, or that we’re switching up themes—whatever bullshit we need to feed her. She’ll hate it. She’s far too proud not to, but she’ll forgive me.I hope. I won’t risk seeing her on the security feed grinding on some drunk bastard who doesn’t know how to look without touching.
I clench my jaw and pull my phone from my pocket to text the shift manager. It’s probably not the right thing to do, but until she realizes she’s mine, it’s theonlything I can do.
THREE DAYS LATER
I storm from Chloe’s office, and the music swallows me the second I step into the hallway, but it’s not enough to drown the thundering in my chest. My heels hit the tile floor with sharp, angry clicks—loud enough to be heard over the bass rolling through the club. My anger flushes up my chest and burns over my cheeks with every step I take.
The other night was a mistake—one I’ve come to the thought of more than a couple of times the last few days. But that doesn’t mean Cillian King now gets to make the rules for me like I’m some sort of possession he suddenly controls. I’ve spent all day thinking about him being that close to me again.Only, after my meeting with Chloe, it’s so that I can slap that cool arrogance right out of his mouth.
I head straight to the dressing room, flames of irritation still simmering under my skin. The other girls glance up when I enter, but no one says anything. They know, even if no one says it out loud. Word travels fast in places like this. And I’m certain none of them are upset that I’ll be working shorter shifts or that my VIP suite clients need to be pre-approved by management—a fact I first learned when I overheard Chloe tell one of my regulars, “Raven isn’t available tonight.”
I’m being sidelined. Or more correctly, I’m being claimed—byhim. He’s implementing rules about what I can and cannot do in the club, like he owns me. And I’ve had enough. Struggling to maintain my composure, I reapply my lipstick and stand abruptly from my dressing station. I rush out of the dressing room and down the back hall to where Cillian disappeared as I entered Chloe’s office. He’s coming out of the security office when he sees me, and I swear he freezes like he didn’t expect me to come for him.
“King,” I snap, my tone definitely not appropriate for addressing my boss—or a King brother.
His brow arches slightly, and with the corners of his mouth twitching upward, I can tell he’s trying to hide his amusement. “Madison.”
I close the distance between us. “Why in the hell are you shortening my shifts and limiting my VIP time?”
He studies me with an unreadable expression before finally answering, “Thought you could use the break.”
“YouthoughtI could use abreak? That’s cute.” My scoffing laugh is short and sharp, my hands balling into angered fists at mysides. “Seriously?That’swhat you’re going with? I don’t sleep with you, so you pull me from rotation. Did you really think I wouldn’t say anything?”
“You don’t need to work the VIP rooms,” he states simply.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Staring down at me smugly, he counters, “It’s the answer I’m giving.”
“The other night, it was a mist—” My voice cracks before I can finish my lie.It was wrong, but it wasn’t a mistake.“I’m not your responsibility. I’m not your problem.”
His eyes flash before narrowing slightly. “That’s where you’re wrong. You are very muchmy problem.” His voice drops—low and rough. “I’m not going to watch every greedy asshole sneaking inappropriate touches just because it comes with a good tip.”
“I never asked you to watch,” I spit. “You’re not my protector, and you sure as hell aren’t my owner.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He moves closer, his broad frame casting a long shadow down the dimly lit hallway. The air grows thick, and I find myself suffocating on the intoxicating scent of his cologne. “I don’t share what’s mine, firecracker.”
The words hit me like a slap across the face, rattling me to the core.His. My throat tightens as my heart rises from my chest. He brushes one finger along my jaw—just enough to set my skin on fire—and I’m frozen against his touch. His eyes are locked on mine, as unwavering as his declaration. “I’m not yours,” I retort, sharp as glass.
Cillian’s finger hooks under my chin, tipping my face toward his as he closes what little distance there was between us. His gaze drops to my mouth as his thumb dusts along my lower lip. “Not yet.”
“Notever.” The words feel like a lie as they spew over my lips. “I’m not a thing. You don’t get to claim me and control what I do just because I kissed you, Cil?—”
“Kissed?” He smirks and drags his thumb back across my lip with enough force to smear my fresh lipstick. His hand runs along my side and over the swell of my hip and down my thigh. “Call it what you want, firecracker, but you were seconds from coming with these gorgeous legs wrapped around my waist.” The image flashes through my thoughts and flutters in my pussy.
“And I stopped that, just like I’m stopping this.” I shove him back, my palm hitting his chest hard enough for the slap to echo down the hall. While he barely moves, the distance is enough to breathe again. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing no.”
“No.” His steady voice is joined by a devilish glint in his eyes. “I won’t.”
“So fucking smug and cocky.”
“Not cocky.” He shakes his head. “Confident. So confident that the rules stay in effect, becausemygirl will not have strange men putting their hands all over her.”
