Page 13 of Daddy’s Naughty Bridesmaid (Naughty Girls Book Club #4)

B y the time the DJ announces the next slow song, the cake has been cut, the toasts have been made, and I’ve fulfilled every last one of my bridesmaid duties. The ballroom lights dim slightly, the soft amber glow settling over the dance floor like candlelight.

And then I feel him. Before I see him, before I hear him.

Matt moves like he always does with a deliberate, confident, quiet command woven into every step.

My body reacts before my mind catches up, my heart rate spiking in anticipation.

I’ve never felt this way about a man before.

Never. I’ve been attracted to men, but this?

This is more than attraction. It’s like my soul recognized him as being mine.

I shake off that ridiculous thought as he draws closer.

“Dance with me?” he murmurs, appearing at my side, hand extended.

I place my hand in his without hesitation. “Took you long enough.”

“I was being polite. Letting the family have their moments,” he says, drawing me toward the dance floor. “But I’ve waited through cake, a champagne spill, and your mysteriously long conversations with flower girls. I’ve earned this.”

He pulls me close, one strong hand settling at the small of my back, the other capturing my hand in his. We start to sway, slow and easy. The world narrows until it’s just the two of us, the hum of the music a distant backdrop to the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

“I’ve never danced at a wedding like this,” I admit quietly, my cheek brushing the lapel of his suit jacket. “I’ve danced, of course, as part of my duties… But, never with someone I’m interested in.”

“I’m interested in you, too,” he murmurs into my hair. “You’re mine, Sunshine.”

His words wash over me, settling in deep. Warm. Steady. Real.

"Do you know what I want right now?” He asks me. I shake my head. “I want to finish my best man duties while thinking extremely indecorous thoughts about what happens when this reception ends and I get you alone again."

The blunt admission sends heat pooling low in my belly. "That's... remarkably specific," I manage, fighting to maintain composure despite the images his statement evokes.

"I find clarity beneficial in all areas of life," he says, the serious tone belied by the heat in his eyes. "Especially regarding expectations and intentions."

"And your intentions for tonight are...?" I prompt, surprising myself with my boldness.

His smile is slow, predatory in a way that makes my pulse quicken despite the public setting. "To thoroughly explore every sound I can draw from you when you surrender control. To watch you come apart beneath my hands, my mouth, my cock. To hear you call me 'Daddy' as you beg me for your release."

The explicit declaration, delivered in that calm, controlled voice while we move decorously among other dancing couples, steals my breath and sends color flooding my cheeks.

No man has ever spoken to me with such a direct, unashamed statement of desire, with no prevarication, no uncertainty, just clear intent and absolute confidence.

"That's..." I struggle for words, professional composure thoroughly rattled.

"Too much?" he asks, genuine concern beneath the heat. "We established honesty between us, Sunshine. I won't censor my desires unless you ask me to."

"Not too much," I assure him quickly. "Just... unexpected in the middle of a wedding reception. Difficult to respond to appropriately while maintaining professional decorum."

His low chuckle vibrates against me where our bodies press together. "Who says you need to respond appropriately? I rather enjoy watching your professional veneer crack when I push just the right buttons."

"You're deliberately trying to make me blush in public," I accuse, though there's no real heat in it. "Testing my composure."

"Guilty as charged," he admits without a trace of remorse. "Though I prefer to think of it as anticipatory foreplay. Building tension that makes the eventual release all the more satisfying."

His thumb strokes lazy circles against the back of my hand as we move, and even in heels, I feel short next to him.

I also feel protected by his strength surrounding me.

And for the first time in my life, claimed.

I’m both hyper-aware of the people around us and completely centered on Matt.

He holds me in a way that makes everything else fall away.

“Matt,” I start, then hesitate.

“Mmhmm?”

“I, uh... I’ve been thinking about our conversation in bed last night.” My face heats as soon as the words leave my mouth. “When we were talking about how you’d have rules and um… discipline if those rules were broken.”

His grip tightens just slightly, enough to ground me. “You can trust me, Sunshine. Tell me what is on your mind.”

I draw in a slow breath. “I’m excited. I want this… dynamic with you. But I’m also self-conscious about some things.”

“Like what?” he asks gently, dipping his head closer.

I hesitate again, then blurt it out before I lose my nerve.

“Spanking. Specifically, being spanked. It’s not that I don’t want it, I do.

Those chapters in the books I read are always my favorite and I’ve been curious about how it would feel in real life.

But…” I groan softly. “God, I hate even saying this. My butt is… big . Like, really big. I know I’m curvy and like plus-sized and I don’t make excuses or care what people think about my size.

I love myself and I’m confident in who I am.

But, my butt…I’ve always been self-conscious about it.

The thought of you staring at it or… focusing on it like that…

it’s gross. Disgusting. Covered in stretch marks and cellulite. ”

Matt stills. Just for a moment. Long enough that I start to wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Then he leans back, just enough to look me in the eyes.

“Jackie.” His voice is calm. Firm. “I love your ass.”

My face flames. “You’re just saying that?—”

He cuts me off with one raised eyebrow. “No, Sunshine, I’ll never lie to you. I adore your ass. You could land planes on it. It’s perfect. And if you ever talk about yourself like that again?—”

“But it’s true!”

His hand slides down to cup the curve of my hip.

“Doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not, it’s not okay to speak that way about something I happen to find irresistible.

Something that now belongs to me. I appreciate you letting me know how you feel, Sunshine.

I will work hard on making you see your body the way I do. Edible. Perfect. Mine.”

My breath hitches. Should I let it go or push it?

I’m curious about how serious he is. During our hours-long conversation we’d spoken about some basic rules.

No lying. No negative self-talk. “But, me saying my butt is covered in cellulite and stretch marks, that it’s disgusting, is the truth and you want the truth from me. ”

“Sweetheart, you might have cellulite and stretch marks. Bodies grow, change and develop over the years. That doesn't make it disgusting. It makes it real. Authentic. Believe me, whether I’m buried in you from behind or spanking you over my lap, I won’t be thinking that you are disgusting.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” I mutter. Just loud enough for him to hear me.

“In fact…” His palm shifts lower, cupping me fully through my dress. “You just earned your first spanking, sweetheart.”

My mouth drops open. “But—Matt!”

He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Bare butt. Over my knee. Maybe even with the belt if you keep protesting.”

I let out a shaky breath, body tingling. “It’s not negative self-talk if it’s accurate,” I murmur stubbornly, testing him just a little.

He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “That’s twice. You’re not making it easy on yourself tonight.”

“Maybe I don’t want easy.”

The music swells. I realize we’ve stopped swaying. He’s holding me still, and I’m very aware of the way his hand hasn’t moved from my ass. He squeezes once, slow and deliberate, the pressure sending sparks all the way up my spine.

His gaze is warm, amused, and utterly commanding. “Dance is over, Sunshine. And I cannot wait to get you back to my place.”

Heat rushes through me, pooling low and fast. My fingers clutch his lapel as the music fades out and another more upbeat tune kicks in. Around us, couples break apart, returning to their tables, but we don’t move.

“You’re serious,” I whisper.

“Dead serious.” His thumb strokes just below my waistband. “You’re mine now. And Daddy takes care of what’s his.”

I bite my lip, unable to stop the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I should probably be more nervous than I am. But all I feel is anticipation and this deep, blooming trust.

“Better not go easy on me then,” I say softly.

He grins. “Oh, sweetheart. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He takes my hand again, leading me off the dance floor like a man who has every intention of keeping every promise he just made.

And me? I follow, willingly. Because this time, I’m not walking into the unknown alone.

I’m walking into it with a Daddy who sees all of me and apparently is attracted to every inch.

As we walk off the dance floor, a commotion near the entrance to the ballroom catches my attention.

Raised voices, a flash of movement, hotel security moving purposefully toward the disturbance.

Professional instincts override personal distraction immediately.

"Something's wrong," I tell Matt. "I need to check what's happening. "

"I'll come with you."

Together we move toward the source of the disruption, my mind already calculating potential problems and solutions. I’ve dealt with intoxicated guests, vendor disputes, and medical issues requiring discrete intervention.