Page 16 of Daddy's Naughty Author

When he finally sinks inside me, it’s slow, deep, deliberate. Like he’s staking his claim. Like he’s never letting me go.

And God help me, I don’t want him to.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he moves in a savage rhythm that has me on the edge of oblivion. My hips buck against him as we move together. “You were a bad girl,” he says to me. “A very naughty girl. I should be fucking your ass.” My pussy gushes. Literally. I feel the liquid pool around his cock.

“But, just this once I’ll be merciful.” His hand goes up and around my throat, resting there. Not squeezing, not hurting me, just resting. And fuck, if it doesn’t turn me on.

He plunges in and out of me, each stroke driving me higher. Towards the edge but not quite over. His thrust become faster almost violent as he pounds my pussy with his cock.

“KC,” I moan his name into the darkness between kisses, wrapping my legs around him to urge him on faster because nothing could ever be fast enough when he’s inside of me like this - so full and right somehow... so… perfect... "More...Please… I need…"

“Daddy knows exactly what you need.” He tightens his grip around my neck, squeezing with just enough pressure and then releases. He rolls us over, and now I’m riding him on my couch. Roughly, he grabs my hips with both hands and lifts my body and slams it down onto his cock, thrusting deeper still. He releases the right side of my hip and brings his fingers to my clit, without pausing in rhythm, he finds and strokes it until I feel it coming, the wave crashing over me so hard it steals what little breath remains. My entire body shudders with release, I throw my head back and scream his name into the room as he follows close behind.

Afterwards, I relax onto his chest feeling absolutely spent but incredibly satisfied. Damn. This was better than any sex scene I’d ever written.

CHAPTER 7

The brunch spot Margaret picks is one of those cozy Denver cafés with exposed brick walls and the kind of warm lighting that makes everything feel intimate. The scent of fresh coffee mingles with homemade cinnamon rolls as I stir my mimosa and try not to fidget. Margaret has been looking at us weird ever since we arrived.

KC sits next to me in the booth, our thighs brush every so often, and he’s holding my other hand under the table.

Across from us, Margaret sips her coffee, her sharp gaze flicking between the two of us. “Something’s changed between you two.”

My fingers tighten around my fork. Does she suspect that we’ve slept together? Or that I’m falling for this man quicker than I should be? I definitely dove into the deep end of the pool without a life jacket.

KC doesn’t even blink. “What do you mean, mom?”

Margaret tilts her head, studying us the way only a mother can. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel it.” She narrows her eyes slightly. “You two just seem… different.”

I force a laugh, but it feels brittle. “Maybe you’re just getting more used to seeing us together.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Mmm. You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

“No, not at all. We’re the happiest we’ve ever been,” KC reassures her. He’s not lying. If happy means waking up and having an orgasm first thing in the morning and then having another one before bed, then yes, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. KC is the most attentive lover. I’m getting used to his bossy ways and the way he slaps my ass every time I bend over. He’s been inspiring my creative side, too. My heroes will definitely have more depth added to them.

“I see.” She looks at me as if she’s wanting confirmation.

I give her a quick nod and take a quick sip of my mimosa to avoid her gaze. Nope. Not going to say a word. Thankfully, Margaret lets it go—for now—and moves on to something safer. “I meant what I said the other night, RJ. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.” Her voice is warm, genuine. “You’re a remarkable woman.”

The unexpected compliment catches me off guard, and I swallow past the strange, tight feeling in my chest. I shouldn’t care so much about KC’s mom’s opinion, but I do. The feeling of guilt settles heavy over me. I hate lying to her. Especially now. Now that I am indeed her son’s girlfriend. We might not have had the define the relationship conversation yet but based on how KC has been acting and the words he spoke the night he came over…

“Thank you,” I manage, my voice softer than usual.

Margaret reaches across the table, giving my hand a small squeeze before turning to KC. “You did good with this one, son.”

KC makes a sound in his throat, something between a chuckle and a hum. “Yeah,” he says, voice unreadable. “I know.”

I don’t dare look at him.

Margaret’s phone buzzes, and she glances down before smiling. “Oh, and Tiffany wanted me to remind you, RJ, thatshe’s waiting for your call. She’s taken a real liking to you. She wants to join your book club.”

I grin. “I like her, too. I’ll call her soon.”

Margaret nods approvingly before checking the time. “I guess we should get going. Don’t want to miss my flight.”

And just like that, the moment is gone. I push down the ridiculous pang of sadness as we leave the restaurant and head for the airport.

The drop-off area is chaos; honking cars, families saying their goodbyes, travelers rushing to their terminals. As per usual, uniformed police officers are prodding people along, not letting anyone park for more than a minute or two. Drop off and pickup only. No waiting. KC pulls up to the curb, and I hop out to grab Margaret’s bag from the trunk.

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