Page 25 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

Sean shifts, turning more fully toward me. "Ourrules. I’ll never give you a rule I won’t follow myself. First, honesty. Always. If something doesn't work for you, you tell me immediately. No pretending to enjoy something you don't, just because I like it. Always tell me the truth."

I nod. "That seems reasonable."

"Second, your safety and well-being come first. Always. If I tell you to do something that would harm you in any way, you have not just the right but the obligation to refuse. Even emotional. I would hope to never do such a thing, but in case I ask you to do something that I’m unaware will cause you emotional harm, you refuse."

"Also reasonable," I agree.

"Third, outside of our private time together, you make your own decisions. This dynamic exists when we both want it to, not as a default state."

Relief washes through me. I'd worried he might expect a 24/7 arrangement, which I'm not ready for. "Thank you for clarifying that."

"Fourth, when we are in our dynamic, you address me appropriately."

My cheeks flame. "As Daddy?"

"If that's what feels right to you," he says, watching my reaction carefully. "Sir works too. The title matters less than the respect it conveys."

"I think... Daddy feels right," I admit, the word coming naturally. "With you."

Something flashes in his eyes, I think it’s a mixture of satisfaction, desire, affection, but I can't quite name it. "Then Daddy it is."

"Any other rules?" I ask, hyperaware of our joined hands, the warmth radiating from his body so close to mine.

"Just one more, for now. When I give you an instruction during our private time, I expect it to be followed immediately. If you choose to disobey..." His voice drops lower. "There will be consequences."

"And when I follow instructions?" I can't resist asking. I know what he’s going to say. He’s said it before. I can’t help it, though. I’m hoping he will demonstrate one of them.

His free hand comes up to cup my cheek. "Then you'll be my good girl, and good girls get rewarded."

The phrase sends a jolt of pleasure through me so intense it's almost embarrassing. "I think I can work with these rules."

"Good," he says softly. "Because there's one more thing I'd like to discuss."

"What's that?"

"Lucky's furniture rules."

I blink, thrown by the sudden change of topic. "His... what?"

"You heard me." Sean's expression is perfectly serious, but there's a glint in his eye that makes me suspicious. "You've been letting him up on the couch when I specifically said no."

My breath catches. He knows. Of course he knows.

Yesterday during our training session, while Sean was in the kitchen getting us water, Lucky had given me his most pitiful look, and I'd patted the couch beside me, letting him hop up for just a moment of cuddles.

"How did you?—"

"Dog hair on the cushions," he says simply. "And Lucky looking way too pleased with himself after you left."

Busted.

"It was just for a minute," I defend weakly.

"A rule is a rule, Jessica." His voice takes on that edge that makes my stomach flip. "You deliberately ignored a boundary I set."

"Maybe," I admit, pulse quickening. "What are you going to do about it?"

Sean's smile is slow and dangerous. "What do you think I should do about it?"

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