The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
Read free book Β«The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
Read book online Β«The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πΒ». Author - Frost, J
βWhere?β
βMy ribs, most of all. Matthew didnβt like hitting my ribs because he said Iβve got too little padding.β
I slide my hand down to the part in question and rub, feeling each of her ribs under her shirt and skin. Her old Dom is right: thereβs not much padding. I can feel the bones distinctly. That doesnβt preclude hitting her there; I just need to be careful.
βYou know what I like best on the ribs?β I ask her. When she shakes her head and looks at me wide-eyed, I say, βThat stingy tawse I used on your calves. It really pops and sings against bone. Should I pack that for the cruise?β
Emily nods eagerly. βCould we use it again tonight, sir?β
Greedy little girl. Wonderful. βI have something else in mind for tonight, or tomorrow morning, depending on how good you are. Youβve had an orgasm. I think itβs Daddyβs turn now. Donβt you?β
βYes, sir. Now?β
She looks even more eager than when we were discussing the tawse. Her little hand drifts to my thigh and strokes tentatively. I place my hand over hers and draw it upward, helping her open my fly and slide her hand in over my cock.
βJust play for now, baby doll. Explore me a little. Weβre not that far from my place, so Iβm not going to come before we get home and youβre not going to try to make me. Deal?β
Her lower lip juts out a little, but she nods and starts exploring very enthusiastically, feathering her fingertips all over my shaft and balls, alternating strokes from the pads of her fingers with little scratches from her short nails that have me growling and straining against her fingers. Iβm not a masochist, but pain there when Iβm hard absolutely turns my crank. Whether Emily intuits this or just gets lucky exploring, she starts chasing it: palming my cock softly and then closing her hand over my glans and squeezing me in an eye-watering fist, swirling her fingertips over and over my scrotum before giving the skin between my testicles a truly wicked pinch, long-stroking my shaft in between working the sensitive ridge where my cock head meets my shaft between her thumb and forefinger. Iβm close to the edge when Manny turns onto my street.
βDamn.β I put my hand over hers and stop the hot torment. βWeβre here, sweetheart.β
βOh. Boo.β
I want to laugh at her cute disappointment but I donβt want her to think Iβm laughing at her. I peck her on the temple, straighten my clothes, and when Manny stops the car, have us both unbuckled and climbing out before he even has a chance to get out of the driverβs seat to open the door.
I lean my forearm across his open window, so he doesnβt get any ideas about getting out. He doesnβt need to see whatβs going on in my pants.
βThanks for tonight, man. I couldnβt have done it without you.β
He fist-bumps me and winks. βHave a great night. You still coming for dinner on Wednesday?β
βYeah, absolutely. Tell Jen Iβm looking forward to it.β
βAnything but spaghetti, huh?β
I chuckle and slap him on the shoulder.
Chapter Six Emily
Logan shows me through the front door of his brownstone. I donβt see him use a key or anything to unlock the door. He just opens it. Surely, he didnβt leave it unlocked in the middle of the East Village? Maybe itβs a P.I. thing. Or maybe he has something really cool like a retinal scanner. But I donβt see any red light. Isnβt there a red light for a retinal scanner?
βIβm going to get us some water, baby doll,β he says. βYou head upstairs and use the bathroom if you need it. Then meet me in the bedroom.β
βYes, sir.β
He kisses me on the top of the head as he passes on the way to the kitchen. I skip up the stairsβso much easier without that damn butt plugβand into his bathroom, which is all spotless cream and blue tile. His place is really clean, particularly for a guyβs house. Maybe itβs a military thing, or maybe he cleaned up for me? That thought has me hugging myself as I use the toilet, which Iβve needed to for a while but no way was I doing it in front of him.
I look longingly at his shower: an old-fashioned claw-foot tub with a huge waterfall shower head. I feel sticky from all the sweating Iβve done this evening, particularly between my legs. Iβm pretty sure weβre going to have sex nowβat lastβand I really donβt want to smell. That horrible possibility has me poking my head back down the stairs.
βSir, could I take a quick shower?β
βOf course,β he shouts from somewhere below. βUse anything you want.β
βThank you, sir.β
I skip down to his bedroom to grab my toiletry bag, then dive into the shower. I keep it as brief as possible, since Iβm probably delaying his orgasm, but the shower feels so good. One of the bottles of body wash in his shower-caddy is labelled βCoconut Passion,β with an explosion of coconuts and tropical flowers on the label. Iβm guessing thatβs not Loganβs. I scowl at it as I use my own.
When I turn off the pounding shower and climb out, I find a pile of pink towels set on the edge of the sink. Are they for me? Did he buy me pink towels as well as a purple butt plug? The other womanβs body wash in his shower pales into insignificance. The amount of thought he puts into topping me makes me teary. Is it because heβs older than any of my previous Doms, and more mature than all of them put together?
Comments (0)