Page 21 of Submitting to Daddy
It’s just Hudson…He’s been here every night for two weeks, and he’s harmless enough. His wallet is thick—like his cologne—and he thinks his money can buy him whatever he wants. I’ve danced for him plenty on the main floor. And while he does live up to his nickname, I usually don’t mind him. This is the first time I’ve ever been truly alone with him, and he seems… different.
He’s slumped on the couch when I turn to face him—his tie half undone, and his fingers working at a few ofthe buttons beneath it. “Pour me a glass of Scotch before you come park that beautiful ass on my lap.” More Scotch is the last thing this man needs, but I do as he requests.
A cocky smirk spreads across his flushed face when I hand him his whiskey. “Miss me, baby girl?” he slurs, the drinks he had downstairs quickly catching up with him.
I smile, just the way I’m supposed to. “Always.”
“Come on then. Let’s make up for lost time.” He pats his thigh, encouraging me to sit.
I slide onto him, my knees straddling his thighs, and my hands resting on his shoulders with practiced ease. My hips sway in time with the soft beat of the music playing overhead. I start slow—just a subtle grind. He grins, wide and far too eager, as his free hand finds its way to my waist.
Gently, I lift it and place it on the couch beside us, and tsk, “You know the rules, Hudson. Hands to yourself.”
“And you’re not supposed to be upstairs.” He chuckles, eyes gleaming darkly. “Apparently, rules are meant to be broken.”
“Not this one.”
“C’mon, baby,” he flirtatiously slurs his plea. “It’s just me. Whatever your price, you know I’m good for it.”
I let out a soft faux laugh, running a finger down the line of his spread collar. “And I’m good at what I do, but you still don't get to touch.”
He groans dramatically and throws his head back. “You’re killin’ me.”
“Just doing my job.” I keep my tone light and playful, as his grip tightens around his glass. He downs the rest of his drinkin a single swallow and slams it onto the table beside us with such force I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.
“You know what I think?” he darkly whispers, leaning so close I can’t miss the sourness on his breath. “I think youliketeasing me. I think you get off on it.”
I laugh—more for self-preservation than show—but the second it leaves my lips, I can tell how forced it sounds. “That’s the fantasy, right?”
“You dance like you want it,” he mutters. “Like youneedit.” My body tenses, just slightly, but I force myself to keep moving. This is far from the first time a drunk man has made an overt pass at me. If I’m being honest, I’ve heard worse. Only, those men weren’t looking at me the way Hudson is: hungry, mean, and dark. He reaches for me again—this time higher—his fingers brushing against the side of my breast as I bat his hand away more firmly than before.
“Hudson,” I warn, “hands off.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. You’re wound tighter than usual,” he grumbles with an eye roll. His hands roughly grip both my hips, and he pulls me flush to his erection. Grinding it against me, he snarls, “I know exactly how to help you relax.”
I blink blindly—trying to maintain my composure—and lift from his lap with a smile still plastered across my face. “I think your dance is over.”
“What?” His voice rises. “I paid for an hour.”
“You paid for my time. Not my body. You can see the club manager about a refund.”
“You’re a real spoiled fucking brat with an attitude problem. You know that?” He shifts forward on the couch, his eyesdarkening in a way that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.
I take a step backward, putting space between us and slowly moving toward the door. “You’re drunk, Hudson. Sit down. Sleep it off. And I’ll pretend this never happened.”
He stands, and my nervous discomfort spikes into fear. He suddenly seems much taller and broader. The room feels too small, claustrophobic. Yet the door seems miles away. I retreat with each step he takes toward me. “You think you’re better than me?" he growls. “Sauntering around this place like you’re a fucking goddess. Like you don’t know what you really are.”
“Don’t do this, Hudson.” My voice cracks, betraying me as I blindly reach for the doorknob.
“You’re just a whore, and I think you need to be reminded of your place.” He lunges, and I can’t avoid him. Grabbing my wrist with one hand and my waist with the other, he yanks me toward him.
“Let go!” I scream, struggling as he tries to drag me back to the couch. I twist my arm and shove against his chest with all the strength I have, but he doesn’t let go.
“You owe me, you little tease,” he growls in my face. “Don’t act like you don’t know what happens up here.”
I slam my knee into his upper thigh. just short of my intended target. He grunts, and the blow catches him off guard. His grip loosens just enough for me to pull free and stumble away. I make it two steps before his large fist connects with my cheek. Blinding, white-hot pain cracks through my skull like a gunshot as my mouth fills with warm, liquid metal.Blood.Still dazed, I lift my arm too slowly to defend myself from his second swing. My jaw is on fire, and my ear is ringing as mybody jolts to the left. The floor rushes up to me, and we collide in a crash that knocks the air from my lungs. My face hits the tile, and the lights blur.
With my vision blinded by tears, I can’t tell if he’s standing over me or if he’s backed away.Get up, Madison.My limbs feel heavy and distant, refusing to listen as I try to push myself up from the floor. I can hear Hudson grumbling something as he shuffles, but my heartbeat thuds so loudly that I can’t understand him.
