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

of us descending on him better than the wait staff at the Chinese restaurant. To be fair, we’re an unusual-looking bunch, between Emmy’s Victorian fairy outfit, Laurel’s scaly dress, Luisa and Vic’s 1940s swing costumes, Sammi’s cross-gendered version of Sailor Moon, Harry’s biker leathers, and the bright yellow Minion onesie Yumiko’s wearing. Although all of us are careful about not inflicting scenes on vanillas who don’t consent, a lot of our conversation was decidedly kinky and the many speeches unmistakably so.

It’s nice to be back in an environment where I don’t have to watch what I say or do for fear of offending the straights. It’s a reminder of how much Blunts is a home-away-from-home for me and Emily, and how much I owe the club for my happiness over the years. Enough to step up to the plate and make sure that the house submissives are getting what they need, whether or not I wear the title of Master of Training.

I glance around the group as Niall plants his elbow on the picnic table and catch the eyes of the club submissives who have come to celebrate with us: Austin, Brenna, Fleur, Cappa, Charlotte, Hunter, Justine, Lucy, Mally, and Shannie. I smile at each of them and receive grins of various shades back, including a lopsided and drooly version from Brenna. Cappa scoots around the group and leans against my side. I drape my arm across his shoulders and hand him the handkerchief to do the honors for the second round.

“Ready, gentlemen?”

Mac picks his position and clasps Niall’s hand.

“Ready, steady, go,” I say. Cappa drops the handkerchief.

Neither man moves. For all the strain that shows on their faces, they could still be waiting to start. But the muscles in their arms bunch. As the seconds tick by, their muscles ripple, veins popping, but still nothing shows in their faces. They hold eye contact to a few murmurs from the subbies watching.

“One minute,” Warrin announces. I didn’t realize he was timing and wonder if this is something they’ve arranged.

At the two-minute mark, little has changed. Their hands and eyes are still locked. Their muscles are still working. Each has a glimmer of sweat on their foreheads. After another thirty seconds, a bead of sweat rolls down Mac’s temple. Niall wiggles his eyebrows to avoid sweat dripping in his eyes and Mac chuckles but neither of them breaks form.

“Three minutes,” Warrin announces. The men unclasp hands and sit back.

“You concede?” Mac asks Niall.

“Nae, yeh?”

“Nope. Looks like a tie, Lo. Niall will take the first half of the ceremony and I’ll take the second half.”

Ah-ha, that’s what they’ve been scheming about together all day. I can’t even complain that they didn’t make an effort because they clearly were both trying their hardest. They’re just very evenly matched. Nor is it any hardship to have them both officiate the ceremony. I only proposed the arm-wrestle battle to avoid hard feelings.

“A tie it is.” I shift away from Cappa to clap them each on the shoulder. “Congratulations, gentlemen. A match well-fought.”

Niall dips his head and wipes sweat off his face with a towel Vashi offers him. When Niall notices that Mac doesn’t have a subbie to serve him, he nods at Vashi and she fetches another towel for Mac, who thanks her gruffly.

Martyn appears with a glass of whiskey for each man, which gets him a round of applause.

“Can I interest you all in some games while you digest your dinners and before the scene begins?” Martin asks.

That gets enthusiastic interest from our three mad Hearts players: Emmy, Austin, and Hunter. They draw several others into the game and soon have two tables of Hearts going while Daisy organizes a game of lawn croquet for those who don’t want to play cards. Watching a still-groggy Brenna trying to aim with her mallet is almost as funny as watching Yumiko play in her Minion costume. I end up sitting at the picnic table with Mac and Harry after Niall gets dragged off to croquet.

“You two planned that,” I say quietly to Mac.

“No idea what you’re talking about, son,” Mac responds, his eyes tracking one of the littles, Sammi, as he steals Yumiko’s mallet and runs off waving it over his head.

“So, knowing he wanted the first half of the ceremony . . .”

“Old sailor’s intuition.” Mac chuckles. “I’m your oldest friend here. I should get the last word.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, just admire your Machiavellian machinations.”

“We’re going to split the vows, if that’s okay with you,” Mac says. “I’ll do Emmy’s. Niall’ll do yours.”

“You’re splitting that intuitively, huh?”

“Long months at sea.” Mac shrugs. “You develop a sixth sense.”

“Didn’t help this morning when I was chasing ghosts,” I point out.

Another chuckle out of Mac which Harry echoes. Mac doesn’t take his eyes off the croquet match, where Sammi’s daddy, Jack, has now intervened and restored the mallet to Yumiko, only to have the Minion-y little snatch Sammi’s sailor cap and run off in the other direction with it.

“I haven’t spent much time with littles,” Mac says, rubbing his chin. “They’re adorable.”

I nod. “Pure joy.”

Harry sighs. “I know a subbie or two I wish was more joyful.”

I’m not sure who he’s talking about, although I know he has some type of relationship with one of the house submissives, Pence. Since Pence still isn’t my favorite person after he bullied Emily, I made a point of telling Harry that Pence wasn’t invited this weekend. To his credit, Harry didn’t argue. In fact, I’ve seen very little of Pence since punishing him. But Pence isn’t the only house sub and I’m aware that some of the others are struggling.

“Anyone I know?” I ask.

Harry nods. “Not something to talk about this weekend, though. And mebbe if you bring more littles into the club, they’ll spread some of their joy.”

“That’s the plan,” I say. Renovations to turn one of the club’s dungeons into a nursery are underway. Once it’s done, I plan to have an age-play night for one of the