Nash (Daddies of Justice #3)

Chapter 9

Nash

N ash's eyes snapped open in the dark bedroom. A soft moan drifted from the other side of the bed. Rosie. She let out another whimper, her body twitching under the sheets.

Shit. A nightmare. He rolled over and reached for her trembling form. "Rosie, wake up. It's just a bad dream, baby girl."

She startled awake with a gasp. He smoothed a hand over her hair, murmuring soothing words. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you."

Still half-asleep, Rosie nuzzled into his bare chest. Her lips pressed against his skin in feather-light kisses trailing up his neck.

Nash's body tightened. Christ, that felt good. Too good.

Rosie shifted, throwing a leg over his thigh. Her hips rolled languidly against him, brushing the hardening ridge of his arousal. "Mmm, Daddy," she mumbled, still caught between sleep and waking.

Fuck. The breathy word shot straight to his cock. Nash gritted his teeth as Rosie continued to grind on him, soft and warm and so damn tempting.

He knew he should stop this. Put some distance between them before things went too far. But the needy little noises spilling from her lips, the way her body molded perfectly to his—it was almost more than he could resist.

Nash lay still. Maybe he could indulge for just a moment more. Let himself imagine it was real, that she was his . . .

No. Rosie trusted him. Practically considered him her knight in shining armor after he rescued her two years ago. With a low groan, Nash edged away from her. He had to put a stop to this, for both their sakes. No matter how badly he ached to pull her beneath him and give her what she was so unknowingly begging for.

Rosie, though, wouldn't take no for an answer. Her sleepy hands reached out for his groin, seeking out his erection as she murmured "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," over and over again.

Enough was enough. With a growl, Nash overpowered Rosie, getting on all fours over here and pinning down her thighs with his, and holding her wrists above her head, trapping her against the mattress. "Rosie. Wake up, baby girl." His voice was rough with restraint. "This has to stop."

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. "Nash? Wha—"

"You were having a naughty dream," he growled. "Rubbing yourself all over me. Calling me Daddy."

Color bloomed in her cheeks but she didn't try to pull away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ." Her words cut off on a gasp as he shifted, the hard ridge of his erection pressing insistently against her core.

"Feel what you're doing to me?" Nash fought to keep still, to not grind into her heat. "If you don't quit squirming, I'm going to have to leave."

Rosie's tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, pupils blown wide. "But what if I don't want you to leave?" she whispered, arching subtly into him. "What if I like feeling your big, hard cock nudging my panties?"

Jesus fucking Christ. The sultry words knocked the air from his lungs. He stared down at her, struggling for control.

Rosie stared back, a mix of nervousness and need shimmering in her brown eyes.

Ridiculous. She couldn't possibly want this, want him. It had to be the remnants of her dream making her say such provocative things. But damn if his body didn't leap to attention, urging him to yank down those skimpy pajama shorts and discover just how wet she was . . .

Nash started to pull away, to put some much-needed distance between them, but Rosie's hands grabbed his t-shirt.

"No. Stay." Her voice was breathy, pleading. "You can do whatever you want to me, Nash. Spank me. Fuck me. Anything. I want it. I need you."

Fuck. The desperation in her tone nearly undid him. His cock jerked so hard it bordered on painful. But he couldn't give in, no matter how much his body screamed at him to take what she offered.

"You don't know what you're asking, baby girl." Nash forced himself to be the voice of reason even as his resolve crumbled. "Things are all twisted between us. You're vulnerable and I'm supposed to be protecting you."

“Doesn’t sound so twisted to me,” she whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair from her flushed face, gentling his voice. "If I touched you the way I want to, it would be taking advantage. I'm . . . I'm real fucking dominant in bed, Rosie. I'd . . . well, frankly, I’d probably scare you."

Her lips parted on a shuddery exhale. "You could never scare me. I trust you." She shifted beneath him and he bit back a groan. "Please, Nash. Please touch me. Make me forget everything except how good you feel."

Christ, she was killing him. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her sweet little body. To find out if she tasted as good as she smelled. Pin her down and make her scream his name until she forgot every terrible thing that had happened.

But he couldn't. It wouldn't be right, not like this. Not when she was looking at him with those big, trusting eyes, begging him to take control. She had no idea the things he'd want to do to her, how thoroughly he'd wreck her for any other man.

No, when he finally claimed her, Rosie would be clear-headed. Would understand exactly who and what he was. A Dominant through and through, who would demand her submission . . . and reward her so fucking good she'd never want to leave his bed.

The heated image seared itself in his brain. Nash swallowed hard. Drew on the iron will that had seen him through countless undercover assignments. He could do this. Could resist the one female he wanted to possess more than anything.

Slowly, carefully, he peeled her fingers from his shirt and forced himself to sit up. Putting a few crucial inches between his aching dick and the heaven between her thighs.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I can't. It’s not right." He prayed she couldn't hear the strain in his voice, the need pulsing through his veins. "You need sleep and I— fuck, I need a cold shower."

Before he could second-guess himself, Nash pushed to his feet. He adjusted himself as subtly as possible, though his hard-on tented his sweatpants obscenely.

"Rest, Rosie." He bent to brush a kiss over her hair, inhaling her honeysuckle scent one last time. "I'll be close if you need me."

“Wait!” Rosie called out.

He looked back at her, shocked to see that in the two seconds he’d turned around, she’d removed her top. She sat there, completely nude from the waist up, her breasts gleaming in the moonlight. The sight of her like that took his breath away. She was beautiful . Not just a little bit beautiful. She was fucking perfect. Such ample breasts, with small pink nipples, erect and straining for his touch. She was like a painting. Better than a painting, because she was real.

“I got all hot and sweaty from those nightmares, Nash,” she said, innocently flushing her lashes. “I think I had bad dreams because I normally sleep naked. She ran her hands down over her naked and oh-so-perfect breasts, causing Nash to whimper.

“Right, that’s it,” he said. “I told you I’d spank you if I misbehaved and I will.”

“Okay, Nash,” said Rosie sweetly. “If you think I deserve it, then I trust you. I promise I’ll try not to enjoy it too much.”

Nash growled again, jumping onto the bed and pulling down Rosie’s pajama pants. He dragged her toward him, pulling her over his knee, aware that his hard-on was straining against her stomach, but what could he do? She needed to learn a lesson now.

Nash lifted back his hand and watched as Rosie's round ass, elegantly tattooed with a delicate butterfly on her right cheek, quivered with his first strike.

He'd never aimed to cause real pain, but rather, he wanted to jolt her back to reality—a reminder of who he was and what their roles were in this game they played.

“Harder,” she croaked, squirming in his lap.

He swung his arm back, tensing the muscles in his bicep as if preparing for combat. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the air like a drumbeat, each smack echoing through the dimly lit room. The air between them felt charged with raw energy, every fiber of Nash's being focused on imparting just the right amount of force to shake Rosie from her naughtiness.

From his vantage point on top of her, he could see her smooth, creamy skin ripple in waves with each smack of his hand. The rhythm of the spanking matched the steady beat of his heart as it raced with renewed interest in joining the rest of his body in a state of perpetual arousal. Rosie's cries, soft as the whispered secrets of a lover in the dark, fueled the fervor within him, urging him to greater heights.

As the third smack landed, Rosie's body arched off the bed. She moaned in delight, her entire body shaking, and that’s when he noticed the slickness between her thighs.

Oh shit. He’d just made her come. He’d literally just given Rosie Love an orgasm.

“Mmm,” she moaned softly. “That was delicious, Daddy.”

With that, Rosie yawned, kicking off her pajama shorts so that she was lying on the bed completely naked, and then she drifted off into a deep slumber.

Nash sat frozen, staring at her, a mix of confusion and arousal washing over him as he tried to process what had just happened.

He looked down at the evidence—her slickness coating his hand, the damp spot on the sheets where her arousal had seeped through, and, most importantly, the rapid beating of his heart that felt like it would burst from his chest at any moment.

"Shit," he muttered, padding out of the room toward the shower. As he went, he couldn't resist gripping his hard-on, rubbing some of her wetness off on himself.

Holy fucking shit.

He knew exactly what he'd be doing in that shower the second he turned on the water.

Probably more than once.

And it was all because of her.

As he climbed into the shower and tried to get Rosie Love out of his system, he knew the operation was futile. And there was a simple reason for that. The realization hit him like a freight train. He wasn't just attracted to Rosie; he was completely, overwhelmingly obsessed with her. His body had proven that over and over again in the past few hours—from the rock-hard erections that he kept having to tend to, to the way his heart raced every time she was near, to the fact that he had just given her an orgasm, completely unintentionally.

But there was no denying it now. Nash was in love with Rosie. He was in deep. Addicted.

And so, it seemed, was Rosie.