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

club are just plain scary. Logan’s always a Dom; he tones it down when we’re in public, but his power and control are always there. His sadism isn’t as obvious. It peeks out when we have sex, and takes center stage with a flourish and a bow during formal scenes, but, otherwise, I don’t see or feel it. Some of the masters from Daddy’s club are All-Sadist-All-The-Time. I nearly ran out of the room after five minutes with Master Ten—I do not understand his appeal—and I honestly thought Master Karl was going to try to take me home for his human butterfly collection. Hannibal-level scary man. But the rest are wonderful. Mistress Maude is the doting mother I never had, and Master Javier promised me that no matter what happened to Daddy, I’d never be on my own again, which made me feel wonderfully safe, even though I know Master Niall would be on the next plane if I really needed him.

That’s not to discount the Blunts house subs. Except for Rachel and her Terrible Trio, they’re wonderful, too. One or two were always around, helping out, during the first couple of weeks. Austin has EMT training and he’s big enough to be able to lift Daddy, which isn’t just a super-heroic feat on its own, it was also a godsend those first few days when Daddy struggled to get in or out of bed by himself. Justine knows more than a hundred books about homeopathic healing and made me feel confident that what I was doing to help Daddy recover was right, when his doctors gave me zero encouragement.

“I do, Daddy,” I say as he leads me into the kitchen. “I really, really like Daisy and Mistress Maude and Master Javier and Austin and Justine. And Lucy.”

I add Lucy as an afterthought, because I like her a smidgen less than I did before she asked Logan to top her. I was telling him the truth when I said I was okay with it. I am. Mostly. But there’s still a lingering sense of outrage. It would never occur to me to ask someone else’s Dom to top me. I know Logan used to train all the house subbies, and he’s had open relationships before, but I haven’t given anyone reason to think he’s in an open relationship now. Where does Lucy get off asking my daddy to top her?

“They really like you, sweetheart,” Daddy says. He surveys the table, which I’ve already set for lunch. He can grumble at me if he wants to. I’ve seen how bending over to lay the place settings makes him wince. He shakes his head. “I’m not sure a kitty and a brand and a Lazy Baby Day are enough reward for everything you do, little girl.”

“They are,” I assure him. I love Sable already. And the idea of both the branding and a pirate-themed Lazy Baby Day have me shivering with delight as I take the chicken salad out of the fridge and dish it up on beds of chicory. “Do you think Hendry might clear you for squats with weights today?”

According to Daddy, that’s the acid test. When Hendry clears him for squats with weights, then he’s strong and stable enough to pick me up again. I’ve missed that so much. Not as much as I missed sex with Daddy. It was absolute torture to wait the three weeks until he was cleared for sex. Daddy offered to give me orgasms with his fingers or toys while his penis was off limits, which was very generous of him, but I didn’t want to have orgasms while he couldn’t. So, I waited with him. Longest three weeks of my life. I’m super-grateful we can have sex again, but I’ve missed him picking me up a lot, too.

“Mmm. Fingers crossed.” He takes a bite of the chicken salad, chews and smiles at me. “This is excellent, sweetie. And no chia seeds.”

There are flax seeds in it, but I whizzed them up in the aioli, so he probably can’t taste them. “I was thinking of making more for the party tomorrow.”

“Don’t feel you have to feed everyone. Manny and Jen will bring pizza like they always do. If you put out a healthy alternative, people will appreciate it, but I didn’t invite everyone over so you’d have to spend the day cooking.”

I hate the pizza Manny and his wife always bring. It’s greasy and gross and stinks up the compost. And they don’t believe in pineapple on pizza. Heathens. I’ve planned a bunch of party foods. Some of them are already made. I did a ton of cooking those first three weeks to distract myself from the lack of sex. I just have to defrost and bake. Some of them, like the green goddess salad, I’ll have to make fresh tomorrow, but they shouldn’t take very long. I don’t feel any pressure; in fact, cooking relaxes me. But I appreciate Daddy not wanting me to feel any anxiety about the party-preparation.

“It’s no trouble to make a few salads,” I tell Daddy. “And Justine and Austin don’t eat pizza.” Justine because she’s even more of a health food nut than Maman was; Austin because he doesn’t do dairy. “Do you think everyone would like this?”

“I do.” Daddy takes several more bites. “Do we have a final head-count? I know you invited your little crew from Blunts. Anyone else?”

I wouldn’t call them “my crew,” but I did invite the five Blunts house subs I feel closest to: Lucy, Hunter, Austin, Justine, and DirtyGurl.

“Hunter couldn’t get out of work, so it’ll just be Lucy, Austin, and Justine.”

I don’t mention that I invited DirtyGurl. She can’t come anyway; like Hunter, she has to work. I didn’t invite her to say “thank you,” but because she was the first of the house subs who made me feel it was okay to be little around her. She’s crazy and zany and, as Daddy says, a little bit scary, but I