The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) 📕

Not surprising given the number of times I came yesterday. And if I’m going to get a drink, I might as well go for a run.

I disentangle myself from Emily carefully. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sleeps late. She had a heavy day yesterday and with such limited energy reserves, she’s going to need a lot of rest. She was receptive to increasing her calories, though, when I coerced her into having a dessert last night with the excuse that she needed to make up the calories we’ve been burning with sex. We’ll work on it bit by bit. That’s the trick with Emily: sudden pain frightens her, sudden changes do, too. She accommodates gradual, logical changes just fine, so that’s the way we’ll go.

Other than her limited calorie intake, there’s very little I want to change about Emily. A sharp contrast from some of my previous subs. I yawn and stretch as I move to the glass doors and draw the curtains, thinking of the submissives who have bent their will to mine, from the most recent, abortive attempt with Sophia all the way back to Malee. Thirty men and women, different and special in their own ways, but none of them like the little girl still lying in the bed.

I glance at her, curled on her side, lashes making dark half-moons on her pink cheeks, soft breaths puffing between rosy lips. My chest swells at the sight. She’s already a sweet, loving sub; there’s nothing I want to change about her submission. Eager to please and well-trained, she won’t need lesson after lesson the way Sophia did. She has some trust issues, but she shared so much with me yesterday I think we’re moving past them already. I don’t need to do the slow erosion of barriers that took so long with some of my other subs. That leaves us free to explore this new dynamic. Daddy-Dom and little girl. I know I’ve just scratched the surface, but already it’s amazing. Humbling, thrilling. It’s beyond gratifying. It fills my soul.

Moving back to the bed, I tuck a pillow behind her and the sheet over her. Her room air con isn’t as psycho as mine, and she’s still in her cute panda onesie, so she should be warm enough under just a sheet.

I collect my boxers off the floor but leave the rest of my clothes. I’ll get them later. I shuffle through the connecting door into my cabin, noting that it’s not as cold as it was, but the temperature still raises goosebumps on my skin.

As I’m passing the bed, my mind catches up to my body and I jerk to a halt.

I definitely locked the connecting door last night after dinner; I remember doing it. And from my interview with Jan Millek yesterday, I know the cleaners don’t use the connecting doors. Strict company policy.

I move fast to the room safe, open it and check that my essentials, cash, passport, computer, are still inside. I leave my holstered gun, pulling out an extendable baton.

Then I go back for Emily.

I hate to wake her under these circumstances, but the door was unlocked, which means whoever was in my cabin might have gone into hers. Might still be in hers.

She blinks at me, groggy and disoriented, when I shake her awake. “Emily, I need you to get up.”

“Daddy?” Her eyes flick from my face to the baton in my hand. The soft flush of sleep drains from her cheeks. Wordlessly, she crawls out of bed.

“Someone’s been in my cabin and may have come into yours. I need to check they’re not still here. Stay right behind me.”

Eyes huge, she nods. She puts a trembling hand on my back as she follows me.

I check every corner. Under the bed. In each closet. In the bathtub. Even under the sink, where she only has two cakes of soap. No intruder, and no bugs that I can see. Her computer is still on the desk with the roses I arranged to be delivered to the ship before we boarded. I have her open her room safe. Her cash and passport are tucked inside. Everything’s as it should be, but then, I don’t think they were here for her.

“Your room’s clean, baby. You can go back to bed. Lock the door behind me.”

I didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger, but I was wrong. They’re huge, hazel pools as she looks up at me. “Please, can I stay with you?”

She’s frightened, which is understandable, and wants the physical reassurance of her Dom, which I’m happy to give her. Her need warms in me what the invasion of our privacy has turned cold. “Yes, sweetheart. Grab your bathrobe. My cabin’s still cold. Stay right with me.”

Once she’s draped in the plush robe, I lead her through my suite carefully. I start at the far end, the window by the TV in the lounge, and check over, under and around every surface. The signs of my room being searched become clear as I do. The newspapers on the coffee-table have been shuffled. I left them in date order, the way I always do. In the closet, my hanging bags have been pushed to one side. I left them spaced so our clothes wouldn’t wrinkle. There are a couple of scratches on the top dresser drawer where someone tried to jimmy the lock. I unlock it and am relieved to find Miranda’s watch still inside. Someone searching my cabin is bad enough, but losing that piece of my past would sting, no matter how I’m feeling about Mir right now.

When I’m finally satisfied, I close the baton and return it to my safe, then scoop up Emily and carry her back to her bed. She’s pale and shivering as I lay her on the mattress and pull the covers up over her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I hold out my arms and fold her to my chest when she comes to