Page 17 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

We arrive back at Jeremy’s place in what seems like no time at all. "Wine?" he offers.

I nod, suddenly nervous. This was a terrible idea. What am I doing here? We haven't even signed the final contracts. We're still technically doing business together. This is unprofessional, reckless, potentially catastrophic for my career.

And yet… and yet, here I am. And, when he hands me the glass of wine, our fingers touch, and all those reservations fade beneath the electric current that jumps between us.

"You're overthinking," he says softly.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

His smile is gentle. "Because I know you, kitten. Always analyzing, always three steps ahead, always trying to protect yourself."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. It's what makes you successful." He sets down his own wine glass, moving closer. "But sometimes, it's okay to stop thinking. To just feel."

His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. My breath catches.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll back away. We'll have dinner, talk business, and I'll take you home. No harm done."

The out is there, offered freely. I could take it. Should take it.

Instead, I set down my untouched wine and step into him, my hand sliding up his chest to rest over his heart. "I don't want you to stop."

His kiss, when it finally comes, is gentle at first, but when I respond, pressing closer, his control slips. He groans against my mouth, his hands tightening on my waist, and suddenly there's nothing gentle about it.

Thirty years of wanting crashes through us. His hands are everywhere, relearning my body. Mine tug at his shirt, seeking skin. We stumble toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in our wake.

When he lays me down on his bed, he pauses, looking at me with a reverence that makes my breath catch.

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," he whispers.

Then his mouth is on mine again, and I stop thinking. Stop analyzing. Stop worrying about tomorrow. For the first time in years, I just feel.

“I’m going to reclaim what is mine, kitten. I’m going to take you now and this time, I won’t be going anywhere. Do you understand? You’ve always been mine and I’m not going to let anything get between us again.”

I can’t think. I’m not sure I know what he’s saying. All I know is he’s stopped touching me and that won’t do. I reach for him.

“Tell me you understand.”

I’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear to quench this heat in me. “Yes, I understand.”

The sound that came from the back of his throat could only be described as a primal groan. His mouth crashes into mine again, the world beyond this moment fading into nothingness. The weight of him presses against me, heat radiating from his skin as I arch beneath him, desperate for more. Fingers entwine in my hair, pulling me closer, as if he's afraid I might slip away even now.

“Good,” he breathes against my lips, savoring the taste of my surrender like it is the sweetest nectar. “Now let Daddy show you what it means to be claimed.”

Daddy.

Am I imagining things? Did he just call himself Daddy? Before I have a chance to think about it, his hands are roughly, trailing down my sides to cup my hips, fingers digging in just enough to remind me of his strength. Every gasp escapes my mouth unbidden, fired by a hunger growing far beyond mere desire. With one hand, he captures my wrists and pins them above my head, his gaze dark with intent as he exhales a shaky breath, battling his own restraint.

“Stay still,” he commands softly, but the promise behind his words sends tremors through me. I can’t obey; all I can do is move beneath him, instinctively arching my back and begging for the friction of our bodies pressed together.

With a swift motion, he turns me over and slaps my ass, hard enough to make me cry out, before turning me back over. “I said, hold still,” he commands. As my pussy weeps with desire, he shifts his weight and captures both my wrists in one hand while the other travels downwards, tracing the curve of my body with deliberate slowness. Each touch ignites a fire that spreads through my veins; every brush of his fingertips amplifies the need coiling in my core.

“You’ll learn that if you obey me, you get rewarded. And if you don’t…” He stops touching me, and glares down with a stern look. “Well, let's just say, naughty girls don’t get to come. And you want to come, don’t you, kitten?”

“Yes. Please!”

“Yes, what, princess?”

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