The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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Since Iβm doing interviews this morning and Emilyβs crazy for the headmaster look, I pull on a white, cotton button-down and a dark blue waistcoat. Since itβs Saturday, I leave off the tie and put on jeans and hope I donβt need to leave the fake cold for more than a minute, or Iβm going to broil under the Baja sun.
Emily comes through the open door between our rooms while Iβm rolling up my shirtsleeves, which reminds me to set a rule about the door. βEmmy, when the door is open, you can come into Daddyβs cabin without asking, whenever you want. When the door is closed, youβll knock and wait for me to tell you that you can come in. You can close the door whenever you want, but you may not slam it for any reason. Slamming doors is disrespectful.β
She nods, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. Sheβs curled her hair, or maybe itβs just curlier in the heat, and itβs a rich tumble of chestnut waves that my hands itch to touch. I beckon and she comes to me in a rush. Cuddling her to my chest, I run my hands through her hair, which feels just as soft and silky as it looks.
βYouβre beautiful, baby,β I whisper in her ear and she shivers against me, hugging me tight. βThis hair. Mmm. I could play with it all day. Tonight, youβll show me how you brush it and then Daddy will brush your hair before bed every night.β
She shivers again. βYes, Daddy.β
βDid you look at your schedule before you came in here?β I ask, continuing to run my fingers through her hair.
βNo, Daddy, I forgot.β
βMmm.β I kiss her on the forehead. βGo get your schedule and your phone and weβll go over it at breakfast.β
βYes, Daddy.β
I play with her hair for another moment before I release her with a swat on the ass for her lack of focus. She skips back to her room.
I pick up my watch. Itβs always the last thing I put on when I dress. My own ritual and, like so many others, bound up in Mir. She gave me the watch on our second anniversary. She used to put it on last as the βfinishing touchβ of dressing her Master.
I put the watch back in the dresser drawer before I lock it.
Itβs time for new rituals. Time to focus on being Emilyβs Daddy. Time to put the past behind me. Iβve got my phone if I need to know the time. I pat my breast pocket, reassuring myself the phoneβs there. As I move my arm, the fabric of my waistcoat brushes my bare wrist. Thatβs going to take some getting used to. Rubbing it, I go to get Emily.
Over breakfast, she notices my missing watch. I see her eyes flick to my wrist several times. Finally, when sheβs finished her grapefruit and weβve gone over her schedule for the day, she asks me about it.
βSir, did something happen to your watch?β
βNo, I wonβt be wearing it anymore.β
I see the shock ripple through her eyes. Maybe she knows how much it cost. Mir certainly made sure I knew.
I reach across the table and take her hand. βIt reminds me of someone else, baby doll. I donβt want to think about anyone but you.β
βThank you, Sir.β She flushes and gives me a shy smile. βTa very much.β
βI was thinking this morning that we should start establishing our own rituals, Emmy. The things Iβve done with my previous bottoms, and youβve done with your previous tops, theyβre not relevant to us. I want to build something special, something unique. Maybe brushing your hair before bed isnβt unique. Your other Doms might have done that with you, but weβll make it part of our own bedtime ritual. Putting on your pajamas, brushing your hair, reading a bedtime story, and falling asleep in Daddyβs arms. That will be our ritual, just for us.β
Her rosebud mouth drops open and she stares at me.
βYou donβt like the sound of that?β
She shakes her head, gulps, and her eyes fill. She grabs a napkin with her free hand and blots her eyes quickly. βNo, Sir, I love the sound of that.β
The ease with which Iβve moved her to tears with a simple bedtime ritual touches me, but it also reminds me of how deeply vulnerable Emily is. Mir loved rituals and accepted even the weirdest ones with grace. But she never cried because I created a ritual just for her. She never cried at all except when I pushed her right to the edge of her pain threshold. Iβve seen more tears out of Emily in five days than I did out of Mir in five years.
Fuck it, enough.
Iβve been idolizing Mir, putting her on a pedestal, while I was miserable without her. Now Iβm demonizing her because Emilyβs made me realize how much I was missing. Thereβs no comparison between them and itβs time to stop thinking about Mir. I told Emily I donβt cut people out of my life, but maybe the truth is Iβve been clinging to Mir, or at least allowing her to stay attached to me, because I wasnβt ready to let go.
Itβs time. Emily deserves my full attention, my undivided focus.
When I lift my head out of my thoughts, Emilyβs brilliant smile is my immediate reward.
* * *
After putting the Ben Wa balls back in with the instruction to remove them when she changes into her gym clothes, I leave Emily, pink-cheeked and smiling, in her own cabin and shut the connecting door. I lean against the closed door, immediately feeling an empty ache in my chest and a coldness that has nothing to do with the air-conditioning blasting down on me.
I want Emily back in my arms. I want to continue the conversation we
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