Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles by Frost, J (reading comprehension books .txt) 📕

loves fairy tales, but the ones she reads are more high-brow than comics. She likes Lego Batman and watches Japanese manga porn, though. I can hope. I pull the phone away from my face, flip over to messages and type Emily a quick text.

“Darling, are you still there?” Mir asks.

“Yeah, sorry, just a notification coming in on my phone.” Fuck, yes, an excuse to get off this call. “Mir, I have to go. The client wants to debrief.”

“Of course. You’ll call me later, won’t you? I want to hear all about this new girl.”

I grit my teeth. “Sure. I might not get another break today, though. This job’s pretty full-on.”

“Business first. That always was the way with you. Take care of yourself, darling.”

“Yeah, you, too, Mir.”

My balls unclench as I end the call. That’s the last time I’m ever calling Mir after a tough interview.

Just as I’m shutting off my phone, Emily pings me back.

Are you questioning my geek credentials, Sir? Of course, I know what an EQ elf is. I have first editions. Signed.

Thank God for her. I laugh and rest my sweaty forehead against the cool window glass.

Favorite character?

Winnowill, duh.

The super-sexy, super-evil villain of the original series. A very dominant villain.

Did you want her to spank you?

Not as much as I want you to spank me, Daddy.

Oh, yes. That’s my baby doll. God, I need her.

You’re going to get your wish.

I want to say more. I want to tell her how desperate I am to see her. How being away from her for three days has been completely miserable. I know I’m as messed up as I am right now not just because of the jet lag or Mrs. Black’s ugly vulnerability or thinking about my sister in a way no brother should for the first time in a decade. It’s because I need my little girl. I shouldn’t need her so much, after just one real date. But the scene and the sex and our time together was so good, so intimate, it opened me up in ways I haven’t been open in a long time. Texting and video-calling her during the days we’ve been apart just crow-barred me further open. Phone sex before breakfast didn’t actually give me any relief; it just dialed me up to eleven. I need her so much every muscle aches with it.

She doesn’t want me to be needy. She wants me to be in control. So, instead of raw truth, I give her coated platitude.

See you in a few hours, baby doll. Looking forward to it.

Me, too, Daddy.

I stare at those words for a long time, standing in the window of the fancy hotel my client’s booked for me, which I would never have laid out for on my own, looking out over a city built on greed and idolatry, counting down the minutes until Emily arrives.

2

Eight hours on a plane. You’d think I’d die of boredom.

Instead, I don’t know how I’m going to get everything done.

I’m watching the seatbelt sign like Lloyd and Diane in Say Anything. If anyone asks, I’ll say I’m waiting to turn my phone on. But the truth is, despite all the traveling I’ve done, I’m a bit of a nervous flyer.

Once the light goes off, I drag my backpack from under my feet and plop it in the empty seat beside me. Where Logan should be sitting. I rub my fingertips over the seat cushion, wishing he were here.

I try to shake it off. I’ll see him in less than eight hours.

But I really want my daddy now.

I pull my phone out of my backpack, unlock it and am just tapping up the settings to switch it into airplane mode, when a woman leans over me.

I look up into her blue and white uniform and mega-watt smile.

With a guilty gulp, I tilt the phone screen toward the stewardess. “I’m just turning it onto airplane mode.”

“That’s all right, Miss Martin. Can I get you something to drink?” She holds out a tray with champagne and orange juice in real glasses.

I don’t drink much alcohol and orange juice is too carbie.

“Is there any chance I could have some tea?” I ask.

“What would you like?”

“Peppermint, if you have any. If not, Earl Grey would be great.”

“Peppermint tea coming right up.”

She flashes me that smile again and turns back up the aisle, headed to the galley. I figured she’d continue serving drinks until her tray was empty before getting my tea. Wow, that really is first class service.

I’ve never flown first class before. Between the good service, the comfy seats, and the charging plug for my laptop, I like it so far. I really, really hope the cruise line paid for it, though. The idea of Logan paying to fly me first class after only knowing me for six days makes my tummy clench.

Once I get my phone switched over, I open my photo file and thumb to the last picture I took. The picture is of Logan, sitting at his breakfast table, the morning after our first real date. He’s sleep-rumpled, bare-chested and absolutely gorgeous. At least to me. Most people looking at his picture would probably just see a big man with a night’s worth of beard.

I touch the screen, tracing the sharp curve of his jaw, the line of his muscular neck. His gaze burns into mine, even from the picture, despite being sated and lazy after twelve hours of kinky sex. Intense eyes. Black wolf eyes.

They undo me.

Thinking of those hot eyes moving over me, I squirm in my seat. The movement reminds me of the lingering soreness between my legs from this morning’s phone sex. How awesome is phone sex that actually leaves me sore?

When the flight attendant returns with my tea, I take it as a sign to stop drooling over Logan’s picture and tap up my music app. Logan sent me five playlists before he left early for L.A. He played me two of them during our