The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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He nods and releases my other wrist. I roll off the bed faster than The Flash, zip into the bathroom, and close the door behind me. I donβt lock it because I donβt know how heβd react to that, but heβs so polite that I figure heβll at least knock before coming into the bathroom, which will give me a minute to compose my face. Which, in the mirror, looks purely hateful. All this morningβs beauty is gone. My hairβs a ratβs nest. My face is red and sweaty. Iβm not quite at Chernobyl levels, but all Iβm really lacking is the snot, and now that Iβm upright, Iβm managing to produce that, too.
Charming.
I blow my nose, then run the cold tap until the waterβs really cold, wet a washcloth, and rub myself down. After I get his jism off my belly and cool off my poor vagina, I add soap to the washcloth and wash everywhere else. Much, much better. Iβm not usually concerned about how I look during a scene, unless my nose starts running, but something about the edging is making me not only self-conscious, but horribly vulnerable. I want the thin defense of clean skin.
A towelβs an even better layer of defense, and after a momentβs indecision, I wrap one around me and tuck the edge in across my chest so it stays.
After I use the toilet and brush my hair and teeth, I open the bathroom door and peek out, half-expecting Logan to be gone. He said heβs doing interviews this morning. Iβm not sure when they start, but itβs got to be around nine now, so probably soon.
Heβs lying on the bed, stretched out on his side. He took off his shirt before edging me, so heβs just wearing his jeans and belt. His bare chestβs firm with muscle, even relaxed. His skin glows a deep gold in the stormy light through the balcony doors. He looks pretty Greek God-like, except that he just gave me one of the more frustrating half-hours of my life so Iβm not feeling particularly worshipful in this moment.
βThere you are, little girl. Nice and clean now?β
I nod.
He pats the bed and I start to climb up onto it.
βEmmy, lose the towel.β
I donβt want to. I really, really donβt want to. Itβs keeping me warm in the cool room. More than that, itβs a barrier between me and the mean man on my bed.
But that mean man is my Dom, and heβs given me an order. I slowly loosen the towel and let it fall.
βGood girl.β
His praise warms the goose bumps that rise over the skin Iβve just bared. Iβm warmed further when he pulls me into his arms and wraps me in my Ravenclaw blanket. Once heβs got me settled against his chest, he rubs noses with me and gives me a daddy smile.
βBetter? I know youβre not happy with me right now, but can I be Daddy again or am I still in bad books?β
His humor pulls the plug on my frustration and anger. I nestle into him and nuzzle under his jaw so I can smell his woody, spicy scent.
βYou can be Daddy again.β
He makes a happy humming noise in his chest. βWeβre not going to talk about your feelings about being edged yet, little love. Iβm pretty sure I know what they are, but I will ask you about them later. Stick with it for the forty-five minutes after lunch, huh?β
I nod into his neck, which is all I can manage.
βGood girl. What are you going to do while Daddyβs working?β
βBlog tour and write for a while. The bondage marketplace is open after ten. I might check that out when I need to stretch my legs.β
βSounds like a plan. Iβm going to the gym at eleven. Youβre welcome to come if you want, but I havenβt put it on your schedule since youβve had a lot of exercise over the last couple of days.β
βIβd like to come.β If only to watch my daddy while heβs lifting weights and grunting and being all studly. So hot. Of course, that might not be a good thing today when Iβm already frustrated, but Iβm still not going to pass it up.
βThatβs my girl. Iβll knock on your door at eleven.β
βIβll be ready, Daddy.β
βThere we go. Now youβre sounding a little happier. Look at me, baby doll.β He tips my head up with a finger under my chin and when my eyes meet his, he burrows through my brain and into my soul with that dark gaze while I squirm under his scrutiny and feel like the worst little girl in the world for not appreciating what he does for me. βNo, none of that.β He bops the tip of my nose with his finger. βI know youβre frustrated and annoyed with me, but thatβs not a reason to doubt me, is it? Or yourself. No bad thoughts. If you start having bad thoughts, you knock on the door. I donβt care whatβs going on, Iβll answer and take care of you. Are we clear?β
βYes, Daddy. Iβm not having bad thoughts.β
Which is the truth. And reassuring. Doubting my Dom does bring on bad thoughts, but my hateful internal monologue is silent, so I canβt really be doubting Logan down at the level where my worst insecurities operate.
βMmm, just very self-critical ones. I know that look. Give me one happy thought, little girl.β
Iβm going to get mind-blowing orgasms after nine oβclock. Thatβs a happy thought. If we ever get there. Itβs feeling very far off. And potentially unachievable. I settle for a less controversial happy thought.
βIβm going to see you again at eleven.β
He kisses my forehead. βWeβll see plenty of each other today and have lots of fun, even though I know it doesnβt feel like it right now. Enjoy your blog tour and if you leave the cabin, remember to take your phone so I can reach you.β
βYes, Daddy.β
Chapter Thirteen Logan
I leave her with
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