Page 96 of Finding His Silver Fox Daddy

“Then you’ll get no shit from me.” His eyes flicked behind me, and his smile dimmed. “But I know you’re keeping it quiet, so . . .” He mimed zipping his lips and walked away just as Cameron came up beside me.

“Hey, Camers!” I popped off the stool to wrap an arm around my bestie, pulling him in for a side hug while making sure not to spill my drink.

He grinned up at me. “Hey, Tris. You’re here early!”

I smiled back, dropping my arm to sip more of my delightful drink. Other than Ryden, Henry’s favorite staff bartender, Ben was the only person who came close to making the drink like Henry did. “Yeah, I got done with everything sooner than I thought. Where’s Sam?”

Cameron asked Ben for his preferred rum and coke, and Ben nodded his confirmation. My friend turned back to me while we waited for his drink. “He had to work late, but he said he’d meet us here when he’s done. How’d the live go today?”

I flicked my eyes to Ben briefly though Cameron had kept his voice down. I didn’t hide my profession from people, but I hadn’t directly divulged it to Ben, either, and I didn’t care to interrupt my evening of ogling the hottest Daddy in the place—my Daddy—to explain it to him.

Speaking of . . . my eyes drifted to Henry, who seemed to be done setting up the stage but was now standing at the edge of the raised platform discussing something serious, by the looks of it, with the emcee guy.

I wondered again what his name was. Something that started with a T, maybe? I’d still never had the pleasure of meeting him, but based on looks alone, I’d bet that man was a Daddy.

I turned back to Cameron a second too late, but thankfully, he was distracted by Ben’s drink delivery. Breathing a sigh, I thanked Ben again, and Cameron and I headed over the DASC’s reserved booth. Apparently, Nate and Anson had shown up in the time it took Cameron to get his drink.

I shared the short version of my live stream with my BFF as we crossed the floor—it was mostly uneventful, though I divulged the real details I knew Cameron was after, those that would serve as fodder for the kinky sex scenes he wrote—then we both slid into the booth and started chatting up our friends.

Sam showed up just before the Kink Night events started, saying he’d invited Oliver, but he’d declined. Sam’s Daddy friend had started coming to DASC regularly since Sam had first brought him in December, and our club usually met up for Kink Night unless we had other plans. I’d learned from Oliver that he had a high-pressure job in finance, and given how he talked, I suspected he was rather high up on the food chain. Probably why he had an aura of both stress and exhaustion around him constantly.

My attention was drawn to the stage as the stocky, bald emcee introduced the first demonstration of the night: a shibari session that was beautiful to watch but didn’t do anything for my dick. As it started, I sat back, listening to the unintelligible conversations floating around me and wondering what Henry was doing.

I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to meet up with Henry before the night started like I’d hoped, but I understood. I was proud of him for building this bar from the ground up, and running a business like this one required some sacrifices.

But I never felt like he’d sacrificed me, apart from that one day with the overheard phone call from his freeloading old friend. Aside from that aberration, he was attentive and kind and always put my needs first. He was the absolute best Daddy for me, and I wanted to reward him for that.

My dick swelled in my jeans at the thought.

Searching the largely leather-clad clientele, I finally spied Henry behind the bar filling drink orders with another bartender, probably giving Ben a break. I needed a refill, so I excused myself—I wasn’t actively holding any conversations anyway—and headed up to the bar.

“Hey, Henry,” I called, since I couldn’t get close enough to call him Daddy without everyone overhearing.

The minute his eyes lighted on me, his smile lit up the room, and he slid down the bar toward me. “Hey, Tris. Another mai tai?”

I shook my head, holding his gaze meaningfully. When his eyes widened slightly, I barely tipped my head toward the door to the back. His face fell, and he shook his head, glancing at his wrist so subtly I suspected most of the patrons packed around the bar missed it.

“A sparkling water, then?”

I smiled genially and nodded, trying to hide my disappointment that, per our silent conversation, he would soon go onstage with Carter, and I’d miss touching him yet again. “Sure, sounds good.”

As he filled a glass with the tasteless effervescent liquid, I just stared at him. His white T-shirt strained over his chest and cut across his biceps in the most delicious way, showing off his tattooed arms. I knew firsthand the power in those veiny forearms and strong hands. He’d yet to give me the spanking we’d talked about—he’d warmed my ass with a few light smacks on occasion, but he hadn’t laid into me like I really wanted—and I squirmed just thinking about it.

Damn, we needed to do that soon.

“Thanks, Henry,” I offered after he slid over the drink, which he’d garnished with a lime wedge. I raised an eyebrow at the fruit, and he just smirked in response.

“Sticking around?” he asked as he wiped up the bar top with forced nonchalance. I grinned. He wanted me here just as much as I wanted to be here with him.

After squeezing the lime into my drink and dropping it among the ice, I sipped through the straw he’d given me and softened my smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

I took my time walking back to my friends, considering what was coming next. His scene with Carter was making me feel some kind of way. On one hand, I did enjoy watching these scenes. And to see my man on display . . . I adjusted myself in my shorts just thinking about it.

However, no one would actually know we were together. They might even think he was with Carter. I didn’t know Carter well, but from what Henry told me, he was the sweetest guy, so it wasn’t even jealousy.

It was that I couldn’t claim him publicly as mine.

Which is your fault, Tristan.