American library books Β» Other Β» The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πŸ“•

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I’ve had a hundred different hobbies, including some crazy ones like axe-throwing and handloom weaving. I’ve read the first few chapters of hundreds of books and then put them down when the next one caught my eye. Poetry and punishment are the two things that hold my attention, but everything else? Oh, look, squirrel.

β€œEmily, what’s going on behind those pretty eyes?” Logan asks, breaking my train of thought. β€œDo you need the hairbrush?”

He thinks my eyes are pretty?

β€œNo, sir.” I haven’t heard a peep out of HIM since the bathroom. Just being with Logan is very peaceful, even when he’s not punishing me. β€œI was just admiring your focus. I’m really scattered. I mean, I can focus when I’m writing, but the rest of the time?” I shake my head. β€œEven when I’m researching, half the time I end up writing down facts that amuse or interest me but aren’t even on topic.”

Logan wrinkles his chin. β€œThat might make your research slow, but I bet you learn about a lot of different subjects.”

β€œI do,” I admit.

β€œDo you get your ideas for your books from your research?”

β€œNot really. This might sound crazy, given what I write, but most of my ideas come from French fairy tales. My mother used to read them to me when I was little. β€˜The Bee and the Orange Tree.’ β€˜Prince Marcassin.’ β€˜The Pigeon and the Dove.’ I loved all those stories. There was sorrow and loss, but there was also enchantment and sacrifice and true love. That’s what inspires me.”

Logan reaches out and takes my free hand again. He lifts it to his lips and kisses my fingertips. β€œI like that. I don’t know any of those fairy tales.” He takes the pad of my middle finger into his mouth and nips it. β€œBring them on the cruise. We could read one each night as a bedtime story.”

I stare at him. I told my ex-husband and one of my Doms about my muse; Ash gave me a beautiful leather-bound volume of Baroness d’Aulnoy’s Les Contes de FΓ©es for our first anniversary. But not a single one of them has offered to read them with me.

It takes me a minute to find my voice. Then I stammer, β€œI-I would love that.”

β€œGood.” With a final kiss, Logan releases my hand. β€œAre you about finished? Would you like a cup of tea? I’m going to have coffee.”

β€œYes, please. Were you going to order dessert?” I ask hesitantly. β€œMistress Maude recommended the tiramisu.”

He grimaces. β€œMaude has a big mouth. But I doubt she’d steer us wrong about dessert. I’d be happy to order it, if you’d like to share it.”

β€œJust a bite. Could I have peppermint tea if they have it? If not, any herbal tea is fine.”

Logan nods. β€œNo caffeine, or is it a taste thing?”

β€œBoth. I kicked caffeine and cigarettes four years ago.”

β€œAt the same time? You really are a masochist.”

β€œYes, sir.” I laugh. β€œNew life, new me. No caffeine, no cigarettes, no more weeks in my grungy jammies. That was when I finally agreed to meet Matthew. To try to whole thing for real. He put up with me being the grumpiest I’ve ever been, including finals week at college. I earned a lot of punishments, those first couple of months.”

Logan smiles. β€œHow long were you with him?”

β€œAlmost two years, but it was very much an every-other-weekend thing.”

β€œThen he showed up at the dungeon party with someone else?”

β€œOh, no, that wasn’t him.” That was Benβ€”DFourβ€”who was good in bed, and a complete asshole out of it. β€œMatty worked in structural engineering. He got this amazing job opportunity, but it was in Costa Rica.”

β€œYou didn’t consider going with him?”

β€œHe didn’t offer and I didn’t ask.”

I didn’t even consider asking. I thought my whole life was in Syracuse. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Looking back now, on the missed opportunity to live in Costa Rica for a couple of years, I can’t imagine why I didn’t.

We’re interrupted by the return of the waiter, who clears our empty plates and takes Logan’s dessert and drinks order. I feel that hot rush in my cheeks and groin when he orders for me. It’s such a little thing. A little, perfect thing.

β€œSir,” I say when the waiter leaves. β€œWe’ve talked all about me. Can we talk about you?”

Logan shakes his head. β€œI like that you’re opening up to me. If I’m going to top you, I need to understand what makes you tick. And we have talked about me. I’ve told you about my business and the Navy.”

β€œAnd the bodily functions of men on high-protein diets,” I quip, and he grins back at me. β€œI just don’t have a good sense of what you like.”

β€œWhat I like. Mmm.” Logan rubs his chin, pretending to consider the question seriously. β€œI like flowers. Long walks on the beach. Sunday mornings in bed—” He cracks the grin he was suppressing.

β€œYou’re mean.”

β€œI can be mean.” The grin turns into a leer. β€œBut most of the time I’m an indulgent top. I think that’s one of the reasons the stuff I read about being a daddy clicked for me. I love the idea of spoiling my girl. I’m all about creating a safe space for play, anyway, so letting you express your inner child in that space isn’t a big step.”

I would throw myself at his feet if we weren’t in a restaurant. I might, anyway, if he keeps saying things like that. β€œWhat did your other bottoms do in that space?”

β€œDifferent things.” He doesn’t elaborate and I wonder if he doesn’t want to talk about his previous subs. Maybe I’m just not asking the right questions.

β€œI guess I’m just wondering, if you haven’t been a daddy before, what you like?” I stumble over the words, like I’ve missed a step and have to throw my hands out for balance. I swear, I can write thousands of pages of snappy dialogue, but when I have to say something marginally intelligent to a real man, I sound like a

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