Page 5 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

My breathing quickens as the shower spray slides between my breasts, teasing over my hardening nipples. I can almost feel Sean's hands there instead, and I squirm against the wet tiles. Heat pools between my thighs, and I reach down to relieve the ache building there. God, I need this.

Gripping the edge of the shower stall, I let images of Sean take over. In my mind, he steps closer, his deep voice rumbling in my ear.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” he says, his tone low and husky. I can practically feel his hands on my hips as he guidesme over his knee. His thick cock pressing against my abdomen. His hand comes down hard on my ass before he rubs the sting away. “Naughty girls get their asses spanked.”

After several spanks, Sean stops and I'm left trembling, my backside on fire, but the rest of me is tense with desire. Slowly, he slides his fingers between my legs, coating them with my arousal before returning to my aching, wet entrance. With one finger inside me, he crooks his finger just so, hitting my g-spot and sending me over the edge. I moan loudly as my orgasm washes over me along with the constant pulse of water from the shower head; my orgasm explodes into a cascade of pleasure that leaves me trembling and spent against the shower wall.

By the time I step out of the shower, my skin is flushed—from the hot water, I tell myself, definitely just the hot water—and I'm more determined than ever to keep things strictly professional with Sean Ferguson.

Even if part of me desperately wants to discover just how far I'd have to push to make him pull me over his knee.

"Are you sure you're a dog trainer and not a life coach?" Sean asks as we wrap up our session. Lucky is sprawled out on the floor, exhausted from the training exercises and practically comatose with the satisfaction of all the treats he's earned.

I laugh, packing up my training bag. "Dog training is just as much about training the owners as it is about training the pups."

"So, I'm being trained too? That's what you're saying?" One eyebrow arches in a way that makes my stomach do a little flip. It's unfair how attractive he is when he's being sarcastic.

"Absolutely." I zip up my bag and throw it over my shoulder. "And I've got to say, you're both doing great. Lucky has tons ofpotential. He's smart, eager to please. He just needs consistent boundaries."

“Boundaries,” Sean repeats. “Right.” He shoots a skeptical glance at the golden retriever, who chooses that exact moment to roll onto his back, paws in the air, tongue lolling out in the most undignified way possible. “I’m normally the one in charge.” He tells me.

I hold back a laugh and then, because I can’t help myself, I say, "Maybe you could color-code a chart for him. Create a spreadsheet of acceptable versus unacceptable behaviors."

The look he gives me could freeze water. "You think you're very funny, don't you?"

"I think I'm hilarious," I confirm, grinning. "But seriously, you're overthinking. Dogs are simple. They want structure, praise, and consistency. Not so different from people, really."

His eyes narrow slightly. "And what makes you such an expert on what people want?"

There's something in his tone that makes me pause, a deeper question lurking beneath the surface. For a brief second, I consider deflecting with another joke, but something about the intensity of his gaze makes me answer honestly.

“Maybe not all people. Before becoming a dog trainer, I was a kindergarten teacher. Children I found definitely thrived with structure, praise, and consistency. I've always been good at reading others, both animals and people. It's like... seeing the patterns beneath the chaos." I shrug. "Dogs are just more honest about their needs, which is why I like them more than most people.”

His expression softens slightly, almost imperceptibly. "And what do you need, Jessica Wright?"

The question catches me off guard, too personal for someone I just met. But before I can formulate an answer, his phone rings.The moment shatters as he checks the screen, his professional mask sliding back into place.

"I need to take this," he says, all business again.

"No problem. Same time Wednesday?"

He nods, already answering the call. "Ferguson speaking."

I scratch Lucky behind his ears once more. He barely lifts his head in acknowledgment, and I see myself out. It's not until I'm in my car that I realize my heart is beating just a little too fast.

"Wait, back up. You're telling me this guy is fifty-one, looks like he walked out of a silver fox GQ photoshoot, and commands an entire government cybersecurity team?" Jackie leans forward across our booth at The Watering Hole, our local pub and the unofficial headquarters of our local chapter of the Naughty Girls Book Club, when we meet in person. There’s only five of us in Charlotte, but we get together in person at least once a month. "And he has a golden retriever puppy he doesn't know how to handle? This is literal romance novel material."

I take a long sip of my margarita. "I know, right? It's like the universe is testing me."

"Testing you? Girl, the universe is gift-wrapping him for you." Maya, our resident romance expert who's read more books than our local library contains, wags her eyebrows suggestively. "Didn't we just finish that book last month? The one with the uptight CEO who gets saddled with his niece's puppy?"

"Unleashed Passion," Christine supplies helpfully. "Though that guy was only forty-three and owned a tech company, not some super-secret government cybersecurity operation."

"My point," Maya continues, "is that this is practically fate. Life imitating art."

I roll my eyes. "It's a professional relationship. I'm training his dog, not seducing him."

"But you want to," Jackie says, not a question but a statement of fact.

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