Daddy’s Angel by K.A Knight

Tyler

Two Weeks Later

Iswear she’s been put here to torture me. I have a strong will, but Lexi? She tests it. Pushes it. Has me wanting to break all the rules and take what I want—her.

The worst part? She isn’t even trying.

Sitting across from her, I toss back my drink, trying to staunch the fire burning in my stomach and appease my hard cock, which is begging me to throw this board game from the table and fuck her across it instead. Justin is clueless. He was out about an hour ago, got bored, and sat outside, drinking while on his phone.

It’s just her and me.

Then she starts playing dirty. I could concede, give in, and walk away, keep things cool, but in the face of her mischievous, knowing, bratty smirk, I find myself going all-in.

Her bare foot catches on my leg under the table again, as if on purpose, and her eyes widen innocently as she moves her player. Narrowing my gaze on her in warning, I roll the dice and move before leaning back and watching her. She licks her lips, her eyes on the board, and I can’t help but want to groan. Those sweet pink glossy lips have me imagining all the dirty things I could do to them.

The shirt and shorts she’s wearing are casual and loose, yet on her, they look like fucking lingerie. I haven’t been this turned on since I was a goddamn teenager. Is it not bad enough I caught her fucking my son? That I stood there like a fucking statue, unable to move?

Watching her rolling, winding hips. Her incredible breasts bouncing as she took her pleasure, and when her eyes met mine and she didn’t stop…I swear she rooted me to the spot. My hand ached to grab her, bend her over that bed, and spank her arse red for teasing. For flaunting. She had to know I was there, that I heard and saw her.

And when she came?

Fuck.

That sound she made is branded into my brain. “Your turn,” she offers sweetly, that smile curling her lips again. She knows what she does to me.

And I hate myself just a bit because I love it. I love her bratty little attitude. She has the face of an angel and the soul of a sinner. Lexi is a dirty little brat wanting a firm hand and a hard cock. But that can’t be me, I remind myself as I roll and move.

I search desperately for a safe topic. “How is work?” I ask.

She sips her wine, crossing her legs innocuously. The top she wears gapes slightly, showing the crests of her full breasts. If she lifted her arms, I would see—

“It’s good. I’ve got a regular spot there now, but as the headliner so…” She shrugs, the shirt slipping down one shoulder to expose her tanned skin. My mouth aches with the need to dig my teeth into it while I slam into that sweet little pussy. My son is right there, through the doors, but I debate running my hand up her thigh and parting them. Would she be wet?

Would she scream for me?

“That’s good,” I rasp, before clearing my throat. “What’s the club’s name? I might have to come some time.”

She giggles, a blush staining her cheeks that has me grabbing onto the table edge. Fuck, she blushes so goddamn prettily. I bet it would flush her chest as well.

“Erm, I don’t think you would like it.” She tilts her head, those blue eyes lighting up naughtily.

“Why? Because I’m old?” I huff.

She winks. “Not at all, but… Well, frankly, Mr. Ph—”

“Tyler,” I interrupt, raising my eyebrow and daring her to call me Mr. anything again.

“Tyler,” she corrects, my name rolling from her tongue, caressing it. “It’s a burlesque club.”

I blink and freeze, my body turning rigid. I can’t stop my eyes from running across her again, imagining her in those little costumes while dancing across a stage. Fuck.

“Burlesque?” I manage to get out of a choked throat.

Fuck, that’s all I’m going to see now. Imagining her in lace and pearls, floating across in the spotlight while smirking at me. She laughs again. “Yep. Justin probably didn’t want me to say, but I’m not embarrassed.” She shrugs one shoulder and moves on the board. “It’s just another form of dance, of expression, just like ballet or tap.” She looks up then with defiance on her face, daring me to judge her. “They all use their bodies to express their emotions, but in burlesque, I get to be free and lay it all out on the stage, to flirt and tease that line. It empowers me. It’s not all about sex, it’s about power.”

I nod in understanding. I wasn’t judging, I was trying to stop myself from demanding she put on a show for me. “Of course, you sing as well? That’s very impressive, you must be quite the athlete.”

She tilts her head in confusion, and I carry on, “To dance and sing at the same time, that takes great strength.”

The smile is slow, but when it fills those lips, I suck in a wobbly breath. It punches me right in the chest, as if me understanding means everything to her. Does Justin not?

“That’s a very enlightened view to have. Many men get insecure.” She huffs.

“Justin?” I surmise, crossing that bridge. I shouldn’t ask, but I’m not backing out now. I trap her in my gaze, and she shifts, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at me.

“He didn’t mind at first…but yeah, he’s getting worse with it. Thinks I want to sell my body for money.” She glances down, her face angry. “They always do. They never see past the pasties and feathers to the art underneath, to the freedom it gives me.”

“Is that what you want, angel, freedom?” It slips out, I can’t help it. But I don’t take it back.

She jerks her head up, meeting my eyes, those pink lips parting temptingly. Swallowing, she nods. “Always. To be free and be who I want, to do what I want…who I want.” Her voice turns husky at the end.

Our eyes stay locked, and I’m unable to break it. I can’t look away, even though I should. Tension fills the air as her meaning sinks into my skin. Does Lexi want me the way I want her? Is that what she’s trying to say?

I open my mouth to ask, but the sliding door slams open and breaks the spell. “You ready, babe? I’m tired,” Justin calls, as he steps into the living room.

She clears her throat and gets to her feet. Winking at me, she moves again, and I gawk as she wins. “Gotcha,” she murmurs, and turns with a grin.

A laugh bursts out of me. No one has ever beat me. Not ever. But this little angel just did, an angel dreaming of freedom—something she won’t find in my son’s arms.

Something I wish she would find in mine.

I would let her soar and be free, if only she would be mine.

* * *

It’s in the little things. I have come to care for Lexi. It’s been months now. I honestly didn’t think they would last that long, but we spend more and more time together. We have movie and game nights, and we drink and talk. Justin always gets annoyed and calls it an evening first, leaving us alone. I learn her dreams, her hopes, her past.

She’s beautiful inside and out.

Completely. But tonight, she’s different—quiet and unhappy. I try to coax her out of her shell, but she seems to curl in on herself, so I break my own rules. Rounding the table, I ignore the game we’re playing. Justin is upstairs packing. It’s just her and me, which is probably why I’m so brave. But that longing, that hurt on her face, has me breaking every rule. I need to comfort her, to help her.

She calls to that protective side of me.

Kneeling at her feet, I clasp her hands in her lap, mine dwarfing hers. Her eyes stay locked on them, my tan flesh against hers, yet she doesn’t pull away. “You okay?”

She nods and goes to give me a fake answer, so I reach up, clench her chin hard, and force her eyes to mine. “Do not lie to me, angel. What’s wrong?” I demand, ordering her to tell me, giving her no room for lies or evasion. She will tell me, or I will force it out of her.

“I—do you think I’m ugly?” she whispers.

I blink in astonishment. Lexi is very comfortable in her own skin, and she owns her beauty… What’s brought this on? “Why?” I snap.

She flinches, but I refuse to look away. “Words, angel, use your words, or I’ll go ask my son.”

She sighs, tears filling her eyes. “We had a fight about me dancing. He said I want to do it because I think I’m not good enough, that I need them to want me to prove I’m not ugly.” She hiccups on the last word, and fire races through me. How fucking dare he?

How dare he try and break this beautiful creature before me? How dare he hurt her because of his own insecurities? He should worship at her feet and watch her dance and sing proudly, knowing that all those men and women want her, but she’s going home with him. I want to wring his neck, but she’s still staring at me. Those big blue eyes stay on me, waiting. I have to answer. I have to.

“No, he’s wrong. I’ve never seen you dance, but I know that’s not why you do it. You’re beautiful, Lexi, so goddamn beautiful it hurts sometimes, and not just because of your face or body.”

She sniffles, and I wipe away a tear, cupping her face. “It’s in the little things.” She tries to look away, so I tighten my hand and force her eyes to mine, my voice going low and gravelly as I admit it, as I reveal just how much I watch her.

“You don’t see yourself clearly. You can’t see when your face lights up in laughter, when you smile freely when no one is around, or the way it softens in peace. You can’t see yourself when you’re talking about your passions, the way your eyes sparkle and your voice rises and becomes faster. The way your lips never stop smiling, the way you lean into people when you’re talking. The way you stare at them as they speak, giving them your full attention. You don’t see the way your tears fill those baby blues and call to everyone.”

She gasps, and I move closer, pushing between her thighs, forcing myself there. She swallows again, her eyes flickering between mine nervously. “Angel,” I murmur, “you’re beautiful, a pure, kind soul. Your beauty astounds me. Every time I think you can’t get any more gorgeous, you do. It kills me. Ruins me.”

My eyes drop hungrily to her lips, and hers drop to mine before our gazes meet again. “So beautiful,” I whisper longingly.

I hear his footsteps, and so does she. A smile curls her lips as she rolls them into her mouth for a moment. “Thank you, Tyler,” she whispers just for me, before letting go of my hands and dashing her tears away. She rebuilds herself as I watch, and I have never felt such happiness, knowing she let me see her weakness, her uncertainty, and let me help.

“You ready, babe?” Justin calls, like she’s a fucking dog.

She stands and slides past me. “Coming,” she replies, her voice not fully recovered, but he doesn’t question it—idiot. She freezes at the door to the living room as I stand to watch her.

She sucks in a breath and turns to me, quickly covering the distance. Her hand goes to my chest as she leans up on her toes and presses her lips to my stubbly cheek. I breathe in her sweet scent, enjoying the feeling of her warmth, of her lips on my skin. She lingers there longer than what’s considered polite before falling back to her feet. Dropping her hand, she looks at me as she steps away. A flash of confusion sparks in her eyes.

Then she’s gone as quickly as she came.

I watch her go as my hand rises to cup my cheek, and I capture her warmth there. Such an innocent move, and yet I’m almost spilling in my jeans.