Riley entered the pulsating heart of the nightclub, the deep bass of the music vibrating in his chest as he watched the writhing crowd. The air was heavy with the heady scent of perfume, sweat, and desperation. He spotted her on the stage, illuminated by the intense glow of the lights.

She was a vision of sinful beauty, her lithe body glistening as she danced with a wild abandon that made Riley's blood boil. She writhed against the pole, her pert ass swaying with every twist of her hips. The tiny piece of fabric that barely covered her pussy rode up, exposing the tempting curves of her mound. A week ago, he discovered that his step-niece, his little girl, had become a stripper at his favorite nightclub.

Riley felt his cock swell inside his jeans, pressing against the confines of his fly. He shook his head, trying to push away the lewd thoughts consuming his mind. That was his little girl, for God's sake. His beloved step niece. He couldn't have those kinds of thoughts about her.

But as he watched her dance, watched the way she teased and seduced the crowd with her sensual body, he couldn't deny the hunger growing inside him. He wanted to be the one to touch her, to feel her soft skin beneath his calloused fingers. He wanted to grab her ass, pull her close, and rub himself against her until they both lost themselves in a haze of pleasure.

Riley shook himself out of his thoughts when he saw a man approaching the stage, a lecherous look on his face as he stared at her as if she were a piece of meat. Something inside Riley snapped. He lunged forward, pushing through the crowd with determination.

As the man was about to sit down in her chair so she could dance on his lap, Riley grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. "Not so fast, asshole," Riley growled, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

The man turned, his eyes widening at Riley's imposing presence. "Hey, what the fuck is this?" he began to protest, but Riley cut him off with a stern look.

"You can't touch her," Riley said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "She's... mine." He didn't elaborate, didn't explain the deep and complex reasons why this little girl he had watched grow up could never be touched by someone like this idiot.

The backup dancers quickly took the man's place, and Riley turned his attention back to her. She was now staring at him, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. Riley felt a sharp pang of regret—he didn't want to scare her. But that was quickly replaced by the ravenous hunger he had felt every time he looked at her over the past few days.

He reached out to her, never taking his eyes off her, as he curved a finger in a silent request. "Come here, princess," he shouted over the loud music.

Because she couldn't keep undressing, not when it affected him this way. He wouldn't allow her to be groped by these degenerates. No, she was his little girl... and, God help him, he wanted her to be his in every way that mattered. Riley knew it was wrong, knew he should feel ashamed, but all he could focus on was the burning, aching need to make her his. In every sense of the word.