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

I’m serious now. I don’t want our time to end when we get off the boat.” I cup her cheek with my free hand. “Spend the summer with me. I promise I’ll give you more time to write and do your own thing. I’ve got plenty of space; you can have your own room. If you need anything from your place, we’ll bring it down. I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Will you think about it, sweet girl?”

Her eyes go so huge they could swallow the world. She stares up at me without answering and my chest tightens. I’ve gone too far, too fast. Like busting out her damn collar; I’ve let her need for reassurance unhinge me.

She throws her arms around my neck. “Yes. Yes, please. I just need to go home to visit Maman once a week.”

The vise in my chest loosens. “We’ll work that out.”

“You really—?” She chokes on the words. Maybe she has a vise in her chest, too.

I trace her lip with my wet thumb. “Really what?”

“Really want me to move in with you for the summer?”

I really want her to move in with me, period, but I’m worried she’ll freak-out if I push harder. “Yes, I do.”

I want to say more. To tell her how much I need her light and laughter. I want her to understand how much she’s come to mean to me in just the few days we’ve known each other. But that really would scare her off. I settle for cuddling her until she falls into a doze, tucked warmly against my chest.

I stretch my arm out slowly until I can reach my laptop, tap it to start the playback again, and watch the empty corridor while Emily naps, her breath feathering across my neck, her tongue cupping my thumb, her hand curled over my heart.

* * *

I wake her fifteen minutes before her class, which turns out to be good timing because the couple emerge from Black’s room just as she stirs. I note the hour and minute. They’ve been in Black’s room for over three hours. Way too long for anything other than a scene.

“Damn,” I say, as I watch them move off down the corridor. “Never got the man’s face.”

Emily yawns and rubs her eyes. Cutie. “Is he hiding? Did he know the camera was there?”

It’s possible, but if this is our pusher, he showed a lot more sophistication and forethought in avoiding the camera than the clumsy search of my room would suggest. “Doubtful, but I wish we had a shot of his face. Can you enter that and put an action item to ask Ed Isaak for the CCTV footage from any nearby cameras?”

“Sure.” She stretches, then types. “Are you going to keep watching while I go to class?”

“Uh-huh. I’d like to get this out of the way so we can enjoy our night.”

“Okay, you’ll need my laptop password. It’s ‘Storm Trooper,’ with zeroes for the ‘o’s and a star between the words. Shift-eight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I sit up and kiss the back of her head while she types. “I appreciate it. Let’s get you dressed, huh? Too bad you didn’t bring your schoolgirl uniform. That would be perfect for Cocksucking Class.”

She giggles. “I brought something else. Can I borrow one of your white shirts, Daddy?”

“Of course.”

Curious to see what she’s going to do with my shirt, I retrieve it for her. She rolls up the sleeves, knots it under her breasts and pares it with Mary Janes, white knee socks and a denim mini-skirt. Fuck me. She puts her hair up in ponytails while I struggle to control my stiffy, and when she’s done, tucks her hands behind her back and twists side-to-side, the points of her nipples sliding under the white cotton of my shirt, grinning up at me.

“Your teacher’s going to have a heart-attack, little girl.”

She wets her lips and blinks her big eyes at me. “If I learn my lessons perfectly, will you give me a gold star, Daddy?”

She’s going to give me a heart-attack. I swat her ass through the mini-skirt and am rewarded with her wild giggle.

Resentful of losing even a minute of her company, I walk her up to the Spa. Inside the Spa’s carved, teak doors, a sign directs us into the Yoga Suite. About twenty guests, mostly women, mill around the studio, a huge circular room lit by an equally huge, circular skylight. Niall gives me a chin lift from the far side of the room, where he’s standing with his arm around Vashi. Emily and Vashi rush to each other and hug like they’ve been separated for months; I hear Emily whispering something about tea before they break apart with matching grins.

Barbie-tits from the treadmill yesterday waves them over and they join her on the yoga mats that have been laid in a semi-circle on the floor. The masseur who did the induction yesterday, Jacob or Jansen or something, stands in the middle of the semi-circle, holding a large purple dildo and a strip of condoms.

Niall makes his way over to me and glances meaningfully at the door. “Unless they’re willing ta practice on the real thing, I don’t think we wanna stay here for this.”

Watching Emily deep throat a dildo would be the end of me right now. I nod.

“Let’s go get a beer.”

That sounds like so much more fun than watching the empty corridor. “You’re on.”

Chapter Eight Emily

I should be paying attention. Logan’s helping me be more focused, and I told him I wanted to be a top student. But I’m already pretty good at cocksucking, or so several Doms have told me, and giggling with Vashi is much more fun.

“Then what?” she asks in a whisper as we sheathe our practice dildos, fortunately much smaller than the one Rose was waving around yesterday. The condoms the instructor has provided are strawberry-flavored, which I suspect will be sickly once we get going. But