Page 21 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

"He'll have to get used to sharing my attention," Sean says, and the implication that I'll be continuing to receive his attention makes my heart skip.

We finish our coffee and take Lucky for a walk around the small park adjacent to the café. The conversation flows easily now, punctuated by training moments as we work with Lucky on leash manners and recall in the new environment.

It's the most relaxed I've seen Sean, and I find myself watching him when he isn't looking; the way his face softens when he praises Lucky, the confident set of his shoulders, the hint of gray at his temples that only enhances his attractiveness.

When it's time to leave, we linger by my car, neither quite ready to end the morning.

"This was nice," I say finally. "Lucky did really well."

"He did." Sean steps closer, just inside my personal space. "And so did you."

"Does that mean I get a reward?" The words slip out before I can censor them.

Sean's eyes darken with lust. "Is that what you want, princess? A reward?"

I nod, suddenly breathless.

"Ask me," he instructs softly.

My cheeks burn, but something deeper burns hotter. "May I have a reward... please?"

“Please, who?”

“Please, Daddy?”

"Good girl." His approval washes over me like warm honey. "Close your eyes."

I obey without hesitation, heart racing in anticipation. For a moment, nothing happens. Then I feel him step closer, his presence enveloping me without touching. His cologne, that now familiar subtle blend of cedar and bergamot, fills my senses.

When his lips finally touch mine, it's gentle at first, sweet and restrained. But then my lips part under his, and something shifts. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck, holding me in place as he claims my mouth with unmistakable authority.

I melt into him, my hands finding his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath his shirt. He kisses like he does everything else, with precision, attention to detail, and absolute control. It's intoxicating.

I want more. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close. When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing harder. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, a flush high on his cheekbones.

"Saturday mornings," he says, his voice rough. "Same time, same place. From now on. Unless you have something else planned, and then you clear it with me."

It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "Yes, Sir."

His eyes flash at the honorific. "And our regular training sessions continue as scheduled."

"Of course."

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, the touch sending shivers through me. "This doesn't mean you get special treatment during training. If anything, I'll expect more from you now." His words are cryptic. He’s not talking about how I train Lucky.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," I assure him.

He steps back, putting a respectable distance between us again. "Good. Then we understand each other. Text me when you get home."

As I drive home, my lips still tingling from his kiss, I can't help smiling. Dog training sessions on Wednesdays, coffee dates on Saturdays. Rules and expectations clearly defined. Rewards for good behavior. Consequences for bad.

Me: I made it home.

Him: Good girl. What’s your plan for the rest of the day?

After we text for a few minutes, Sean commands me to call him after hanging out with the girls. I look forward to it. I wonder how much I should tell my local Naughty Girls Book Club. Will they gloat about being right?

Sean Ferguson might be the most structured, controlling man I've ever met. But for the first time in my life, I find myself eagerly looking forward to following the rules.

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