Page 18 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

“Yes, Daddy.”

“What a good girl. Such a good girl,” he murmurs, almost reverent as he dips his head low, trailing kisses along my neck. “I’ve waited too long for this.” His words burrow deep within me and stir something primal, something that thrums with urgency. A need to reclaim not just what was lost but to unleash every lingering ember that had been smothered by time and distance.

“Jeremy,” I gasp, tugging against his hold as urgency claws at me. “Please…”

He looks up then, those heated eyes searching mine for something deeper. “Tell me you want this,” he growls.

“I want you.” The declaration escapes before I can pull it back.

"Then I’m going to give you everything I have," he vows with fierce intensity before entering me with a slow, long thrust. “I'm going to remind you just how good it feels to be mine. And make sure you never want to be anything but.” The room fills with the sounds of our desire, moans, gasps, the frantic rhythm of flesh meeting flesh, as I drown myself completely in him. He is relentless with his thrusts, making sure I feel every single inch of him inside of me.

As the pressure mounts inside me, spiraling outwards until I'm breathless and raw with the need for release, I know there’s no going back now.

“I want to hear you,” he insists, pulling away slightly so that I can see the fierce determination in his eyes. “I want you to remember what we are and who you belong to. Now orgasm for me. Come for me, kitten. Come now.” With the command, he reaches between us and rubs my clit. It pushes me over the top.

I can’t hold back the scream that rips from me as the orgasm tears through my body. He’s thrusting again, and I feel him still over me before he joins me in pure bliss.

Later, much later, as we lie tangled in his sheets, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my bare back, he asks, "Regrets?"

I consider the question seriously. Do I regret crossing this line? Do I regret giving in to what I've wanted since the moment he walked back into my life?

"No," I answer honestly. "No regrets." But, I had to be honest with myself. One night in bed was definitely not the cure to get Jeremy out of my head… or my heart.

His smile is slow and satisfied. "Good. Because I plan on doing that again. And again. And again."

The promise sends a shiver through me.

"The contracts," I murmur, reality intruding. "We still haven't signed everything."

"Tomorrow," he says, pulling me closer. "Business tomorrow. Tonight is just us."

Us.

The word holds so much promise, so much danger.

I should clarify what this means. Set boundaries. Protect myself.

Instead, I curl into his warmth and let myself hope.

* * *

The next morning, I wake to sunlight streaming through enormous windows and the smell of coffee. Jeremy is already up, moving around the kitchen in just a pair of gray sweatpants, his back to me as he prepares breakfast.

For a moment, I just watch him. The play of muscles beneath tanned skin, the confident efficiency of his movements, he’s gotten older, we both have, but he’s just as attractive as he was when we were in our early twenties. It feels surreal being here. Waking up in Jeremy Ford's bed after thirty years of telling myself I was over him.

My phone chimes and as I pick it up, I notice three missed calls from my assistant and a text that makes my blood run cold.

Gloria: 911. Break-in at the Richardson listing. Police on scene. Need you ASAP.

"Shit," I mutter, scrolling through more texts with a growing alarm. The Richardson property is a seven million dollar estate I've been trying to sell for months. According to my assistant, someone broke in overnight, vandalized the place, and stole artwork worth millions.

I scramble for my clothes, my heart racing. I'd shown the property yesterday morning but had I remembered to set the alarm when I’d left? Lock all the doors? I always do. It's second nature, but yesterday I'd been distracted, thinking about the walk-through with Jeremy, about what might happen after…

"Everything okay?" Jeremy asks, appearing in the doorway with coffee.

"No," I say, pulling on my wrinkled blouse. "There was a break-in at one of my listings. I need to get there now."

He sets down the coffee, immediately shifting into problem-solving mode. "I'll drive you. Give me two minutes to change."

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