Daddy's Naughty Author (Naughty Girls #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

W e drove all the way home without mentioning the kiss. I sat as close to the truck door as I could, trying to create distance between us. This isn’t supposed to be happening. I’m not supposed to be falling in love with this man. Is it love? Is it lust? I don’t know. I know my battery operated boyfriend is calling my name from my bedside table drawer tonight, because every nerve in my body is literally on edge after KCs kiss. Fuck. What is even happening?

It feels like hours, even though the drive was only a few minutes. The silence was stifling between us and then we were home. I said an awkward goodbye and hurried up the steps. Did I take a hot shower while masturbating to thoughts of KC? Yes. Do I feel even the tiny bit guilty about it? Also, yes. This is wrong. He’s my neighbor. Both of us own our houses, when all this is over, we have to see each other… a lot. Like, how am I going to do this, knowing he is right there? Next door? It’s been well over a week of us talking every single day. It felt like speed dating, getting to know this man. Questions, quizzes and conversations that lasted late into the night. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted to know.

I’m just pouring my first cup of coffee when there’s a firm, deliberate knock on my door. I know who it is before I even check.

KC stands on my porch, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his jaw tight. He looks serious—too serious—and something uneasy shifts in my stomach.

I open the door, arms crossing over my chest defensively. Why does he look angry? “Morning.”

His lips press together. “We should talk.”

I step aside, letting him in. He moves past me, bringing the crisp scent of winter air and something uniquely KC into my space. He stops in my living room, back straight, shoulders squared, like he’s bracing for impact.

I take a breath, steadying myself. What is going on? “Okay. Talk.”

He turns to face me. “About last night.”

The words alone are enough to make my heart kick up a notch. I nod, waiting.

“The kiss…” He shakes his head like he’s still trying to make sense of it. “It felt real.”

“It did.” There’s no point in pretending otherwise.

His gaze sharpens. “RJ, I think we should put some distance between us.”

The words hit like a slap. “What?” Of course. It makes sense. We are pretend. I wondered if I was the only one to feel the chemistry between us, the only one to want more. I now have my answer. This is all a game of charades to him. I was stupid to let my guard down.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “There’s only one more dinner you need to go to with my mom before she leaves. After that, there’s no reason to keep this up. And after last night…” His jaw tightens. “I think it’s better if we take a step back before things go too far.”

“No,” I say, surprising even myself.

His brows pull together. “No?”

“I don’t want that,” I tell him firmly. “I like spending time with you, KC. I don’t want to pull away just because something real might be happening.”

His eyes darken, and for a second, he looks almost… pained. “RJ, I’ve enjoyed our time together too. But you need to understand something.” He steps closer, his voice low and controlled. “I’m not a pushover. If we start dating—really dating—things are going to change.”

I lift my chin. “Change how?”

His gaze flickers over my face, searching. “I won’t be the guy you can push away when you get scared. I won’t be some temporary thing you can play with and then walk away from.” His voice drops lower, more intense. “If I’m with you, I’m with you. I take care of you. I keep you safe. You are mine. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

The words settle between us, heavy and unshakable.

But I don’t flinch. I don’t back down. He’s saying words I’ve imagined my heroes in my books saying. Real men don’t say these things. Yet here he is, saying each one of these things to me. What should I do? Do I agree? Cut my losses? Or surge on and know if things don’t work between us, we are in a very hard situation, being that we live next door to each other. I should walk away now. It was fun while it lasted.

Instead, I meet his gaze head-on and say, “I’m willing to take that chance.”

KC watches me for a long moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters, and he closes the space between us, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me again. It’s different than last night. It’s slow and deep, like he’s staking a claim he hadn’t meant to make.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

I smile, breathless. “Maybe not. But I know I want to find out.”

I should’ve known pushing KC would get me in trouble.

Over the past week, he’s been around a lot more. His mom and Monica took a quick trip up into the mountains to some fancy yoga and spa retreat, so it’s just been us. He’s been over every day after work; fixing that leaky faucet in my kitchen, making sure I actually eat meals instead of living off coffee and sheer willpower, even checking the locks at night when he thinks I don’t notice. He’s even popped onto the screen and talked to some of my book club girls. It’s been great having him around. We’ve not progressed further than kissing, not yet, but I’m enjoying the slow burn.

He's dominant as fuck, but with all green flags. He’s somewhere between the overly dominant BDSM Master James in my last book and the gentler Daddy Doms who are into age play in my last series. I’m not a BDSM slave, nor am I a little girl… I’ve only dabbled into the BDSM realm, and only in the bedroom. But am I enjoying having a man who dotes on me while simultaneously protecting me? Hell yes I am. I’m also super curious about what a spanking feels like. He’s alluded to it a few times now. Something about the threat of warming my butt up really turns me on.

And then there’s the look.

That steady, unwavering gaze he gives me when I get too sassy, too stubborn, too reckless.

It’s not just any look. It’s the you’re asking for it look.

So, of course, I have to push him. It’s snowing again and I mention going outside to watch it fall. Without looking up from whatever work he’s doing on his laptop, he tells me to put on my coat and boots first. I argue about the lack of accumulation and how it will all be melted in the morning anyway, and he looks up over his laptop and gives me the look.

“Regardless of how much will or will not accumulate, it’s freezing out. Put on your coat and boots or watch from inside.”

I don’t even think twice as I step onto my porch in the middle of a Colorado snowfall, wearing nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts, my bare feet sinking into the snow. The cold slices through me instantly, but there’s a wicked thrill in it too. In knowing what’s coming.

A deep, sharp voice cuts through the night.

“Rebecca Jane.”

Oh. Shit.

I barely have time to turn before KC is there, towering over me, his expression unreadable except for the tight clench of his jaw. Without a word, he scoops me up, one arm around my waist, the other under my thighs, and marches inside. He’s carrying me. Me. I’m like a good forty pounds overweight and he’s picked me up like I weigh nothing.

The wind slams the door closed behind us.

“KC, I?—”

“Not. A. Word.”

His voice is rough silk, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

Before I can protest, he’s sitting on my couch, and I’m suddenly, effortlessly, draped over his lap, my hands catching on the cushions as he secures me in place.

Oh. Oh.

“You knew better.” His voice is low, almost calm, which somehow makes it worse. “I warned you.”

“I was just?—”

The first swat lands before I can finish. A sharp, hot sting against the curve of my backside that steals the breath from my lungs.

I freeze.

A second swat, firmer this time, sends a rush of warmth flooding through me.

My heart pounds with a relentless rhythm, echoing through my chest like a drum in a silent room. My skin tingles, a cascade of shivers racing down my spine like a thousand tiny sparks igniting at once. I should be protesting—demanding he release me—but instead, I find myself melting into his embrace, into the way he commands me without a single ounce of hesitation. The sensation is electric, my clit throbs insistently, and my nipples tighten into aching peaks.

Oh my god!

He’s spanking me.

Literally, spanking me.

And.. I like it.

His hand comes down again and again, each swat firm and deliberate. My ass burns beneath the strength of his hand, a delicious heat spreading through my body. I squirm under his touch, as the need within me intensifies, growing with every strike. “I told you I would warm another part of you if you went out in the cold undressed again,” he murmurs, his voice a low, intoxicating promise.

He rubs the sting with his palm, a soothing caress before delivering another firm smack that sends a ripple of pleasure through me. My toes curl in response, a reflexive reaction to the mix of pain and pleasure.

“This,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing a languid path up my spine, “is what happens when you push me.” His words are a soft growl, resonating with unspoken desire.

A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it. I grind my hips against his knee, seeking some form of release from the pressure building inside me. KC lets out a quiet curse. “Fuck, Rebecca,” he breathes, his voice rich with restrained passion.

I shift in his lap, and that’s when I feel it—him.

Hard. Thick. Pressing against my stomach.

Need coils hot and desperate in my core.

I turn my head, meeting his gaze, and what I see there and what I see there takes my breath away. Lust. Possession. A hunger so deep it threatens to consume me whole.

“KC…” His name is a whispered plea on my lips. I need him.

And then his lips are on mine with a searing kiss of fire and fury, all the restraint he’s been holding onto snapping like a frayed rope. His hands grip my waist, pulling me onto his lap until I can feel all of him.

“I told you things would change,” he rasps against my lips.

I nod, breathless. “Good.”

His control fractures.

Clothes disappear in a blur of movement and need. He lays me on the couch and his hands explore every inch of my skin, his mouth claiming, worshipping, devouring me whole.

When he finally sinks inside me, it’s slow, deep, deliberate. Like he’s staking his claim. Like he’s never letting me go.

And God help me, I don’t want him to.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he moves in a savage rhythm that has me on the edge of oblivion. My hips buck against him as we move together. “You were a bad girl,” he says to me. “A very naughty girl. I should be fucking your ass.” My pussy gushes. Literally. I feel the liquid pool around his cock.

“But, just this once I’ll be merciful.” His hand goes up and around my throat, resting there. Not squeezing, not hurting me, just resting. And fuck, if it doesn’t turn me on.

He plunges in and out of me, each stroke driving me higher. Towards the edge but not quite over. His thrust become faster almost violent as he pounds my pussy with his cock.

“KC,” I moan his name into the darkness between kisses, wrapping my legs around him to urge him on faster because nothing could ever be fast enough when he’s inside of me like this - so full and right somehow... so… perfect... "More...Please… I need…"

“Daddy knows exactly what you need.” He tightens his grip around my neck, squeezing with just enough pressure and then releases. He rolls us over, and now I’m riding him on my couch. Roughly, he grabs my hips with both hands and lifts my body and slams it down onto his cock, thrusting deeper still. He releases the right side of my hip and brings his fingers to my clit, without pausing in rhythm, he finds and strokes it until I feel it coming, the wave crashing over me so hard it steals what little breath remains. My entire body shudders with release, I throw my head back and scream his name into the room as he follows close behind.

Afterwards, I relax onto his chest feeling absolutely spent but incredibly satisfied. Damn. This was better than any sex scene I’d ever written.