My Daughter's a What? (Book 2 of "Forbidden Secrets")
Jim's marriage is failing and his step-daughter won't talk to him. But when he goes to the strip club one night, he gets one hell of a surprise! Will Allison's forbidden desire for her father finally bear fruit? And can it save her parents' marriage as well? More
Jim's marriage is failing and his step-daughter won't talk to him. But when he goes to the strip club one night, he gets one hell of a surprise! Will Allison's forbidden desire for her father finally bear fruit? And can it save her parents' marriage as well?
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
For the barest instant, her dance faltered. But routine saved her, keeping her feet on the beat, even as her face went numb, her professional smile feeling as if it were painted on her face.
And then she was overcome as a tidal wave of lust swept through her. Her smile widened, and she looked him dead in the eye, knowing he could not, under any circumstances, acknowledge the relationship between the two of them. If he did, the men with him would be embarrassed and he would be humiliated.
A small, secret smile curved her lips. “Hello, Daddy,” she mouthed, the whisper of the words lost in the loud, pumping music.
She stepped onto the table, her heart singing. For once, she held the upper hand. She could do whatever she wanted, and he would be powerless to stop her. She spun on the table, her high heels clicking on the wood, then knelt and turned, until her rear was almost in Jim’s face. She looked over her shoulder, pouting winsomely, as she shook her ass-cheeks, the taut flesh jiggling. A quick flip, and she was on her back, her legs spread wide, smiling up at her stepfather as he numbly peeled a bill away and slid it into her garter, refusing to look her in the eye.
The song swung into the last chorus, and with a start, she remembered where she was and what she was doing. If her set ran long, Sylvia would read her the riot act.
She got to her hands and knees, and then to her feet, blowing a kiss at one last man who pushed a crumpled, sweaty bill into her garter, then stepped back onto the stage. But she couldn’t leave without taunting Jim one last time. Turning to look over her shoulder, her body gleaming with sweat, she held up a hand in an old gesture, thumb and pinky extended to resemble an old telephone handset.
“Call me,” she mouthed, fluttering her lashes.
And then the song was over.
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