Page 11 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

"Lucky is. You and I still have some work to do." His hand remains extended. "The phone, Jessica. Last chance. Give me the phone or I’ll find another trainer."

I don't know what possesses me to say it.

Maybe it's the way he's looking at me, all commanding authority and barely contained frustration. Maybe it's thefact that I've been fantasizing about exactly this kind of confrontation ever since I met him. Whatever the reason, the words slip out before I can stop them:

"Oh yeah, Daddy? Why don’t you take it?"

The moment the words leave my mouth, the world seems to freeze. Sean goes absolutely still, his eyes darkening to a shade of blue that's almost black. I see the exact moment the words register, the exact second something shifts in his expression.

For one terrifying, exhilarating moment, I think he might actually do it, he might actually take my phone, might actually show me what happens to naughty girls who don't listen.

Instead, he drops his hand slowly, his expression closing off.

"I think we're done for today," he says, his voice so controlled it's almost robotic. "Same time next week?"

The dismissal stings more than I expected. I nod mutely, gathering my things in a hurry, embarrassment and disappointment warring for dominance.

"Next week we'll start working on leash training at the park," I say, trying to sound normal. "If that works for you."

"Fine." His response is clipped, distant.

I give Lucky a final pat and head for the door, acutely aware of Sean watching me go. It's only when I reach for the handle that he speaks again.

"Jessica?"

I turn, hope fluttering stupidly in my chest. "Yes?"

"Next week, leave the phone in your car." His eyes meet mine, and there's something in them that makes my breath catch. "Or I really will take it from you. And you won't like what happens next."

The threat—or is it a promise?—hangs in the air between us.

I should say something professional. Something about respecting boundaries, or clarifying expectations. Instead, I hear myself say, voice barely above a whisper, "Maybe I would."

Like a coward, I slip out the door before he can respond, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it even as I flee to my car.

What the hell am I doing?

Sean Ferguson is a client. A client who already thinks I'm unprofessional, who just threatened to end our business relationship, who clearly has no interest in whatever game I've been playing.

Except... that look in his eyes. The way his voice dropped when he issued that final warning. It wasn't just an annoyance. It was... something else. Something that matched the heat pooling low in my belly.

I start my car with shaking hands, resisting the urge to bang my head against the steering wheel.

Next week, I tell myself firmly, I'm going to be completely professional. No phone. No testing boundaries. No calling him "Daddy" for heaven's sake. Just a normal, professional dog training session.

But as I drive away, I can't help wondering what would have happened if I'd pushed just a little bit harder.

And I can't deny that I'm tempted to find out.

CHAPTER 4

I'm on my absolute best behavior when I arrive at Freedom Park for our next session. I'm five minutes early, my phone is locked in my glove compartment, and I've worn my most professional training outfit, a navy blue cargo pants with sensible pockets and a plain black t-shirt that doesn't cling to anything.

Professional.

That's the word of the day. Professional, professional, professional. I’m not going to think about how I masturbated to his image in my mind last night, trying to get him out of my system.

Or, how I’d read RJ’s newest release chalked full of spanking goodness. Nope. I definitely wasn’t going to think about how age play isn’t my thing, but finding a man who would treat me like a princess during the day, spank my ass and make me orgasm at night, was.

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