The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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βLaurel.β I have to take a deep breath, because this womanβs courage and magnanimity make my throat tight. All for a man who did a scene with her without any negotiation or a safe word, and slapped her to the floor after he got off. βNo one could ask more of you. Please tell your owner that youβve been very brave and, in my opinion, you deserve a reward. He should be proud of you.β
βOh,β she says, sounding surprised. βThank you. Iβll tell him.β
βDo you ever come to New York, or does it hold too many bad memories for you?β
βNo, Iβve got nothing against New York. Iβve been up since. I kind of avoid Baltimore, though.β
βUnderstandably. When you speak to your owner, please ask him if heβd be willing to bring you to New York. Weβll handle your travel expenses.β Rickβs not going to like that, but if it saves him a six-figure pay-out, he can pay for their plane tickets and a few nights in a hotel. βI think if we could all sit down and talk, we could figure things out. Also, Iβd like a chance to meet you, and introduce you to my baby girl.β
βYouβre a Daddy-Dom? I should have known. Yes, Iβd love to meet your baby girl. Can I give Jiro this number? Iβm sure heβs going to want to talk to you.β
I give her my cell and the house landline. βI know youβll appreciate this, my little and I are about to do a scene, so I wonβt be taking calls for the rest of the night.β
βI totally understand. This doesnβt quite sound right, but itβs been nice talking with you.β
βItβs been nice talking with you, too, Laurel. Have a good night and Iβll look forward to speaking with your owner.β
After we say our goodbyes, I tap off the burner and sit staring at it.
Laurelβs not the stalker. Iβd bet my life on it.
Then who is?
I think hard for a moment, then fire off an email to Rick.
* * *
I rock Emily, the floor-to-ceiling chains I have her cuffed to creaking with our combined weight. Forward and back, our bodies moving as one. Iβm still inside her, her sphincter gripping the base of my softening cock. Whispering in her ear, I praise her, for taking a flogging for the hour it took to cleanse me of Mirandaβs poison, for taking an ass-fucking as aftercare. She murmurs wordlessly as I rock her, her head lolling against my shoulder, limp in my arms.
I rock us until my leg twinges, and Iβm reminded off all the things I still canβt do, like pick her up and carry her to bed.
Weakness. Lack of control. It comes flooding back with the bitterness of bile.
Emily lifts her head. βDaddy, are you okay?β
I drop my face against her nape, take deep, cleansing breaths of the smell of her skin. Sweat and sex. Earthy and dirty and good. βYeah, sweetie. Just frustrated I canβt carry you up to bed.β
βCanβt we sleep down here? Itβs nice and cool.β
Thatβs not a bad idea. I can manage the couple of steps over to the bed. I withdraw from her and wipe us both up with baby wipes before I pop the snaps on her cuffs.
She relaxes back against me. I sweep my free arm behind her legs, lift her against my chest and wait for a moment while I get used to the weight and pressure of her in my arms. When Iβm confident my leg will hold us, I step over the booster step I had her standing on for the flogging and fucking, and carry her over to the bed. She winds her arms around my neck and looks up at me, not down. Her big, baby eyes are still a little glazed from the intense sensations Iβve given her, but thereβs no fear in them. She trusts her daddy. Despite my injury. Despite all the uncertainty Iβve brought into her life. She still trusts me.
I settle her in the bed, remove her cuffs, and clean us up some more. I turn off the lights, then crawl in next to her and pull the thermal blanket we keep on the bed down here over the both of us.
βBath and a bedtime story arenβt looking too likely tonight, little girl,β I whisper to her as she snuggles into my side.
βThatβs okay, Daddy. Would you tell me a story instead?β
I kiss her temple. βSure, beanie. What story would you like to hear? Beauty and the Beast?β Iβm fairly sure I have that one memorized.
βWould you tell me the story of how you and Miranda met instead?β
A grunt escapes me. Why would she want to hear that?
βYou sure?β
βUh-huh.β She nuzzles into my shoulder.
βOkay.β Still not convinced itβs a good idea, I try to think of the most sanitized version I can tell her, but the words donβt come. I insist on absolute honesty from Emily. Giving her less cheapens whatβs between us. I wonβt do that to her.
βItβs not the best story,β I warn her. βIt doesnβt paint either of us in a very good light.β
She squeezes me with the arm she has across my chest. βYou donβt have to tell me if you donβt want to.β
Am I trying to hide it from her? Am I ashamed of my history? Remembering Laurelβs bravery, her insistence on βowningβ her past, I clear my throat. βWhere do I start?β
βOnce upon a time,β Emily supplies.
I chuckle despite myself. This is what I love about my little girl. This sweet playfulness that lights up every corner of my soul. This is what Iβve missed in
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