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

to see some self-control. No reaching down. Hands stay above your belly button.”

I wriggle. I love when he challenges me like this, but I hate it, too. Controlling my natural reaction to shield my vulnerable bits and soothe freshly spanked skin makes me stay in my head. I can’t just let go and react. Mindful submission, Daddy calls it when he talks with Master Niall. It’s more meaningful than mindless submission. I get that. And I want my submission to be meaningful. But it’s a challenge, and as with every challenge, fear of failing makes my palms prickle and my tummy clench.

Daddy smiles at me as he kneels between my legs. He reaches out and taps the tip of my nose before he leans over to give me a kiss. “I saw each and every one of those thoughts, Emmy.”

I smile shyly. He probably did. Logan can read me terrifyingly well. And I don’t try to hide anything. Not anymore.

“Mindful submission, Daddy.”

He grins before he sits back. “You’ve been listening to my conversations with Niall. You know what his punishment is for earwigging.”

Niall’s a serious sadist. He sews his subbies’ ears shut if he catches them eavesdropping. “I’m lucky my daddy isn’t as harsh as Master Niall.”

“You are. Now let’s see what color we can turn this pussy.” He taps my mons firmly with the flats of his fingers. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough for the impact to ring through me like a bell. My eyes roll back until all I see is black. I grip my elbows above my head and shudder with delight.

For pussy spankings, Daddy used a different rhythm. Three taps and then a hard slap. He’s not going particularly fast until his playlist changes over and Sting’s “Desert Rose” comes on. Daddy’s such a child of the Eighties.

The faster beat, tap-tap-tap-smack, ramps me up. The heat builds from sunburn to bonfire to inferno and before the second chorus, I’m twisting against the cuffs on my ankles, moaning with every tap, gasping at the smack, and clinging to the rails of the headboard to keep from reaching down, grabbing my Daddy and demanding that he give me his cock before I implode. Oh, God, this hurts so good.

When the song ends, Daddy takes the inflamed skin of my mons and labia and squeezes it in his fingers. It feels like he’s digging meat hooks into me. I howl, arching up off the bed. In desperation, I grab the headboard to keep myself from reaching down and tearing his fingers out of my flesh.

“Good girl,” Daddy says, his voice thick with pleasure. He releases my poor pussy and I sag back into the mattress, whimpering. “Such a pretty pink. I want it rosy red, little girl. Take it for me.”

“Yes, Daddy.” It’s a whisper because my throat is dry, not because there’s any thought of denying him. Not a single cell in my body wants that.

“That’s my girl.” He begins his pattern of tapping and slapping again, on my tenderized flesh. The song changes over to Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose” and Daddy keeps time to the music. The pain’s swelling now, just like my flesh must be swelling. Tighter and tighter. It becomes a tolling bell within me, echoing at the taps and reverberating down to my bones on the smacks. I shudder and sob after each slap, not because the pain’s unbearable, but because Daddy’s pushed me beyond the envelope of comfortable, day-to-day emotions. Everything’s jangled. Pain and pleasure. Hurt and happiness. It all overflows.

Daddy reaches under me, grips my ass, and lifts my hips. He braces himself over me, lines up, and pushes into me. I’m slick from the spanking, but so swollen that Daddy has to work his way in, his heavy groans a counterpoint to my high-pitched whimpers. “Oh, yes, little girl. Your pussy’s so warm.”

His cock feels cool, a balm over my enflamed tissues, but only until he starts thrusting. Then the friction burns me all over again, wave after wave of flame eating through me. I begin to shudder, my legs straining against the cuffs.

“Daddy, please,” I beg. “Please can I come?”

“Yes, little girl,” he growls, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel the hot lick of his breath. “Come for me.”

With barely a second’s pause, I do. Wailing my release. My body clamps down on the thick, thrusting invasion in my bruised pussy, the rigid intrusion in my stinging ass. I’m so deliciously penetrated. I buck under him as the contractions shoot liquid fire through my veins. I’m burned out of my skin by pleasure, and when Daddy gives me his entire weight, thrusting hard against my climax, I scream with the melding of our bodies. Logan roars in my ear and I feel him jerk heavily within me, before he adds his own heat to what’s filling me. His release pushes me over the edge into another orgasm, softer, a dive into deep water rather than falling off a cliff into oblivion.

I float, cradled in Daddy’s hard arms. He likes to stay in me after he comes. A warm, sticky tether binding us together. More tangible and yet looser than the connection I feel between our spirits. We’ve always fit, Daddy and me. Like pieces of the puzzles we like to do together. Right from the very beginning. But every time we fuse together like this, what’s between us locks even tighter.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whisper. “Ta very much for my orgasms.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzles my cheek. “Love you, too, and you’re very welcome. I didn’t expect to come that fast, little girl. You got me really worked up.”

I got him worked up? He made me come just by telling me to. “Me, too.”

“I’d intended to last a little longer and give you a few more orgasms. You’ve been very patient since this morning and I wanted to reward you.”

I wriggle and squeeze his shoulders. “That’s okay. I’m feeling pretty well-rewarded.”

“How about we go to