The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

“Is this your fantasy, or mine?” he asked quietly.

I edged forward, setting my lips against his firm column of flesh. “It’s ours,” I whispered.

He groaned his satisfaction and grew louder as I took him in my mouth once more. Up and down I pumped on him, sliding his wet dick between my lips. I had to clamp a hand around the base of him to steady myself once his hips began to move and thrust toward me.

It was hard to breathe hunched over him, especially since I’d been out of breath before we’d even started, but I focused on my goal. If I could give him one-tenth of the pleasure he’d given me, it’d be worth it.

The connection between us had been tender, but as I spun my tongue over him, things began to shift. His short, shallow breaths were urgent, and tension coiled in his leg beneath my hand. Everything started to feel . . . needier. And darker.

And raw.

Had he reached a breaking point? Greg yanked me off him and hauled us both up to our feet. I was dizzy with the abrupt movement, and as I tried to get my bearings, I fell forward, bracing my hands on the bed. Wait, I hadn’t fallen. He’d pushed me.

Greg’s voice was deep and sexual. “I shouldn’t have let you do that. You’re such a bad girl.”

Heat licked at my center, responding to his accusation. He was absolutely right. I was bad, and right now? I wanted to be very, very bad. When I tried to push off the bed, he set his hand in the center of my back and shoved, sending me face-down against the mattress.

“Say it,” he commanded.

Every muscle in my body tightened with excitement, and I squeezed the words out. “I’m a bad girl.”

“Yeah, you are.” The back of my dress began to lift. Up the fabric dragged, leaving the backs of my thighs cool in the open air. “Making me want you, when I can’t. When I shouldn’t.” He seemed to be grumbling to himself. “Making me feel guilty when I jerk off thinking about you.”

I let out a gasp. I knew what that looked like because he’d shown me, and an incredibly sexy image splashed in my mind—Greg lying in bed, working himself over in a furious pace, thinking about me.

“But I can’t stop,” he continued. The dress was hiked up on my hips, exposing the intricate lace covering my ass. His strong hand fumbled over it, and then dipped down. It lingered between my legs, brushing a single knuckle over my aching center. I moved against it, rocking my hips to try to find relief. It was so sexy the way he just stood there, letting me undulate against his hand.

“What happens to bad girls, Cassidy?”

I froze. I hadn’t realized we were playing a game, and now it was clear it was my turn. My move. I could answer any way I wanted. Tell him bad girls got sent home, or put in time-out . . . or fucked.

I balled the sheets into my fists, closed my eyes, and pressed my cheek to the bed. Hopefully he wanted the answer I was going to give.

“They get punished,” I breathed.

It was immediate. There was a whoosh of air, and the smack of skin registered before the sensation of his spanking did. The sting radiated up my backside, rippling outward. I bit down on my bottom lip. No one had ever hit me before. Not Preston, not my mom, and certainly not the father I’d never met.

“You deserved that,” Greg said in a seductive tone, “didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I panted.

It was like my body knew what to do, and I surrendered to it. I arched my back, jutting my ass up, wordlessly demanding more. I tugged at the sheets, clenching them to my face, and stifled the urge to beg for it.

His second strike had no warning and stole my breath. It hurt, but only for a moment, and then sweet relief washed over me. When he spanked me, it drove all the guilt away, and I craved the release from my emotions as badly as I did an orgasm.

Greg was breathing hard, and I pictured him looming behind me, my green dress billowed around my waist and my legs trembling against the bed.

“Do you need another?” His voice was uneven and hard to interpret. Was he nervous he’d gone too far, or desperate for more like I was?

I couldn’t find words, so I bobbed my head vigorously. I pushed back toward him, eager to receive it. It didn’t escape me how twisted our actions were, him spanking me like I was a disobedient child. Was I one, in Greg’s eyes? Preston and I were the same age.

I didn’t want to be thinking about my ex. Only the need that had me bursting at the seams. I swayed my hips, inviting Greg to lay his hand on my skin and make me burn. Only I had to wait a lifetime in agony before he delivered the blow.