Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles

by Frost, E J

  Logan arranges me, straddling him, my calves brushing the chair-legs. “Sorry,” he says to Julia’s Goddess. “Emily won’t be watching. She’s going to be busy.”

  Figuring he wants me to suck his cock while he watches the scene, I start to slide off his lap.

  He keeps me firmly in place with one hand on my ass. With the other he reaches between us, tugging, adjusting, stroking, until he’s freed his cock from his shorts and can feed it into me through the flap in my onesie. It feels like he’s plunging a steel rod into me, he’s so hard, and I wail into his neck at the stretch and burn.

  “That’s right,” he growls to me. “Take Daddy’s cock. Take it. You may not come off Daddy’s cock until I let you, even if that means you take it all night. You can come whenever you need to, but you stay on that cock.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I blubber. “Yes-yes-yes.”

  After the initial shock of his penetration, I sink into bliss. He’s so deep in me in this position, holding me spread across his lap, his crown nudges against my cervix. It’s deep, wonderfully, painfully, eye-wateringly deep, making me whine and moan. I’m desperate to escape the pressure but also desperate for it to continue. The maddening tension pushes me into some place I can’t name. It’s floaty and transcendent, even while it’s squirmy and filthy with him fucking me through my little girl onesie. Logan moves me, shifting me with just the pressure of his big hands on my tingling ass. He doesn’t let me bounce; he just grinds himself inside me, hitting spots that make me tingle and shiver and wail. I come long before Julia and her Goddess start whatever scene everyone’s waiting for, clamping my open mouth into Logan’s neck to muffle my cries. As the first wave passes, Logan changes the motion, pulsing instead of grinding, setting up a second wave of convulsions that shake me against him, firing deep inside my belly instead of from my clit or G spot. I collapse against Logan as I drown in this new pleasure.

  Logan chuckles, kisses me, and goes back to grinding inside me.

  I have no idea what Julia and her Goddess do for their scene; I don’t get to see any of it. Logan holds me tightly, my face in his neck, my pussy locked around his cock. Over his shoulder, I get glimpses of the spotty-eared puppy being disciplined and eventually fucked to his howling satisfaction. Watching that show lifts me higher, makes me hotter, as do the sounds saturating the air: whimpers of pain, the crack of crops and whips, panting, grunts of pleasure. It’s a chorus that tightens me around the unforgiving length of steel that Logan keeps buried deep inside me.

  He holds me across his lap for what feels like hours, until my thighs burn and my clit is so sensitive from rubbing against his trimmed, scratchy bush that I come there, too, without either of us ever having touched it. Through it all, Logan’s a hot, unrelenting machine in my arms. His hands are manacles wrapped around my ass. His cock slams in and out of me like a piston. He grinds filthy, lovely words in my ear. I lose track of how many times I come and only jolt awake from a drifting, euphoric doze when Logan grips my ass, bounces me several times on his flexing cock, and roars his release in my ear.

  An older woman’s cool voice cuts across Logan’s pleasure. “Julia, fetch Master Logan a wipe. With your mouth, little bitch.”

  “Yes, Goddess.”

  I feel the cool wipe lave between my thighs, but Logan doesn’t withdraw from me. He remains a solid presence wedged inside me. More than ever, I feel his mastery, his ownership.

  “Daddy?” I whisper, my voice sounding strange and stretched in my own ears.

  “Are you hurting, baby? You’ve taken me for a long time.”

  Does anything hurt? No, I can’t feel a thing, just soft pulses of pleasure running from my scalp to my toes, flexing inside the fuzzy feet of my onesie. “No, Daddy.”

  “Good, then I’ll just stay right here. My cock’s very happy right where it is.”

  I nuzzle him and kiss the spot under his jaw. The chlorine scent has worn off and he smells like my daddy again. I whisper things to him, a dozen things I’ve never told anyone before, interspersed with how he’s the best daddy in the world, the daddy I’ve dreamed and fantasized about since I discovered the entrancing world of being little. While I murmur, he rubs my ass and back and rolls his hips under me until I come again, shuddering and shaking, while he growls sweet words in my ear.

  I barely know my own name, much less where I am and what I’m doing, by the time Logan carries me back upstairs. He lays me down on my bed, turns me over so I’m face-down in the pillows, and shoves into me again, ignoring my whimper of protest because I’m so sore his cock feels like a diamond-tipped jackhammer inside me. He rides me, pounding me into the mattress. I come or maybe I never stopped. This time I’m vaguely aware of his fingers strumming my clit, his other hand around my throat, never cutting off my air, just making my head spin, heightening the sense of his mastery over me.

  When he comes, it’s not with a roar, but the softest whisper in my ear. “Thank you for being my little girl, Emily.”

  Before I pass out, he gives me his thumb to suck.

  7

  I sleep inside Emily, my body spooned tightly around her. I used a cock ring while we were in the Kennels to stay hard. By the time she falls asleep, I don’t need it. My cock’s found its perfect sheath and it’s staying there for as long as possible, even as raw as I am after fucking her for three hours.

  My dreams are full of fragments from our fucking. Her sweet face framed by the pink panda hood of her onesie. Her cheeks flushed red and eyes rolled to white with pleasure. The wet clutch of her cunt along my shaft. Her warm whisper in my ear, calling me Daddy. I wake in the darkness, hard and throbbing. She doesn’t come fully awake as I pinch her clit and fill her again; she slips easily back down into deep sleep as soon as I finish. Even her little snores sound sated and happy.

  I lie awake for a few minutes afterward, thinking about the things she told me tonight. I’m not sure how aware she was of what she was saying, fogged by an intense evening of little time and a hella lotta orgasms. I don’t know what she’ll remember in the morning. I’ll remember, but I’ll keep her confessions to myself for a while. Some of them were painful.

  Maman’s mind is gone, but the voice of my dark thoughts is her voice.

  Some were just very personal.

  When you show off my red bottom, I want to curl up and die but it makes me so horny, Daddy.

  I need to show her I’m worthy of being her secret keeper. I want her to know she can tell me anything. That kind of trust takes more than a week to build, but we’re off to a good start.

  Part of me realizes I’m focusing on Emily to avoid thinking about Miranda. Just that tangential thought tightens my whole body with rage.

  The soft press of Emily’s body against mine calms me eventually and I push all thoughts of Miranda away. I’ll think about her when I have some distance and can make decisions. Until then, I have Emily. Not to distract me, but to fulfill me.

  * * *

  When I wake again, golden, Mexican light pours through the big glass doors leading out to her cabin’s balcony. Caught up in our fuck-frenzy last night, neither of us thought to close the curtains. I lift my arm from around Emily’s waist to check my watch but my wrist is bare. Fuck. I turn my head until I can see the clock built into the nightstand. Oh six fifty. It’s Sunday morning. I could have a lie-in. I’d planned for today to be a down-day anyway. But there’s a twinge behind my eyes that tells me I need water. Not surprising given the number of times I came yesterday. And if I’m going to get a drink, I might as well go for a run.

  I disentangle myself from Emily carefully. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sleeps late. She had a heavy day yesterday and with such limited energy reserves, she’s going to need a lot of rest. She was receptive to increasing her calories, though, when I coerced her into having a dessert last night with the excuse that she needed to make up the calories we’ve been burning with sex. We’ll work on it bit by bit. That’s the trick with Emily: sudden pain frightens her, sudd
en changes do, too. She accommodates gradual, logical changes just fine, so that’s the way we’ll go.

  Other than her limited calorie intake, there’s very little I want to change about Emily. A sharp contrast from some of my previous subs. I yawn and stretch as I move to the glass doors and draw the curtains, thinking of the submissives who have bent their will to mine, from the most recent, abortive attempt with Sophia all the way back to Malee. Thirty men and women, different and special in their own ways, but none of them like the little girl still lying in the bed.

  I glance at her, curled on her side, lashes making dark half-moons on her pink cheeks, soft breaths puffing between rosy lips. My chest swells at the sight. She’s already a sweet, loving sub; there’s nothing I want to change about her submission. Eager to please and well-trained, she won’t need lesson after lesson the way Sophia did. She has some trust issues, but she shared so much with me yesterday I think we’re moving past them already. I don’t need to do the slow erosion of barriers that took so long with some of my other subs. That leaves us free to explore this new dynamic. Daddy-Dom and little girl. I know I’ve just scratched the surface, but already it’s amazing. Humbling, thrilling. It’s beyond gratifying. It fills my soul.

  Moving back to the bed, I tuck a pillow behind her and the sheet over her. Her room air con isn’t as psycho as mine, and she’s still in her cute panda onesie, so she should be warm enough under just a sheet.

  I collect my boxers off the floor but leave the rest of my clothes. I’ll get them later. I shuffle through the connecting door into my cabin, noting that it’s not as cold as it was, but the temperature still raises goose-bumps on my skin.

  As I’m passing the bed, my mind catches up to my body and I jerk to a halt.

  I definitely locked the connecting door last night after dinner; I remember doing it. And from my interview with Jan Millek yesterday, I know the cleaners don’t use the connecting doors. Strict company policy.

  I move fast to the room safe, open it and check that my essentials, cash, passport, computer, are still inside. I leave my holstered gun, pulling out an extendable baton.

  Then I go back for Emily.

  I hate to wake her under these circumstances, but the door was unlocked, which means whoever was in my cabin might have gone into hers. Might still be in hers.

  She blinks at me, groggy and disoriented, when I shake her awake. “Emily, I need you to get up.”

  “Daddy?” Her eyes flick from my face to the baton in my hand. The soft flush of sleep drains from her cheeks. Wordlessly, she crawls out of bed.

  “Someone’s been in my cabin and may have come into yours. I need to check they’re not still here. Stay right behind me.”

  Eyes huge, she nods. She puts a trembling hand on my back as she follows me.

  I check every corner. Under the bed. In each closet. In the bathtub. Even under the sink, where she only has two cakes of soap. No intruder, and no bugs that I can see. Her computer is still on the desk with the roses I arranged to be delivered to the ship before we boarded. I have her open her room safe. Her cash and passport are tucked inside. Everything’s as it should be, but, then, I don’t think they were here for her.

  “Your room’s clean, baby. You can go back to bed. Lock the door behind me.”

  I didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger, but I was wrong. They’re huge, hazel pools as she looks up at me. “Please, can I stay with you?”

  She’s frightened, which is understandable, and wants the physical reassurance of her Dom, which I’m happy to give her. Her need warms in me what the invasion of our privacy has turned cold. “Yes, sweetheart. Grab your bathrobe. My cabin’s still cold. Stay right with me.”

  Once she’s draped in the plush robe, I lead her through my suite carefully. I start at the far end, the window by the TV in the lounge, and check over, under and around every surface. The signs of my room being searched become clear as I do. The newspapers on the coffee-table have been shuffled. I left them in date order, the way I always do. In the closet, my hanging bags have been pushed to one side. I left them spaced so our clothes wouldn’t wrinkle. There are a couple of scratches on the top dresser drawer where someone tried to jimmy the lock. I unlock it and am relieved to find Miranda’s watch still inside. Someone searching my cabin is bad enough, but losing that piece of my past would sting, no matter how I’m feeling about Mir right now.

  When I’m finally satisfied, I close the baton and return it to my safe, then scoop up Emily and carry her back to her bed. She’s pale and shivering as I lay her on the mattress and pull the covers up over her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I hold out my arms and fold her to my chest when she comes to me. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s all fine. I’ll get the locks on our cabins changed today. You don’t need to be scared. You weren’t the target.”

  She wraps me in a death grip. “You were.”

  “Uh-huh. It happens in my line of work.”

  “Bad people search your room?”

  “Yup, that’s why I keep everything in the safe. They didn’t get anything and they didn’t plant any bugs, which means they’re not very sophisticated. It was just someone spooked by my investigation.”

  Scared people can be just as dangerous as truly violent criminals, but I don’t tell her that. I don’t need to frighten her any further.

  “You were right all along, weren’t you? It is someone inside, I mean, a cruise person?”

  “Staff? I think so.” Or Dan Reyes being more paranoid than I took him for. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m not scared for me,” she insists, although I suspect she is, at least a little. “I’m scared for you.”

  “I promise you, Emmy, I’m safe and careful. This is what I do. Do you believe me?”

  She nods. “Your job is dangerous, though, isn’t it?”

  “Sometimes,” I admit. “I try very hard to minimize the danger, and I never, ever want it to wash over onto my bottom. I’m sorry it did today. It won’t happen again.”

  She rubs her face into my neck. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

  Is it? I’m not at all sure. “Baby, I know you wouldn’t lie to me about what’s between us, but—”

  She pulls back and looks up into my eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you at all. I know how you feel about it. Beyond you punishing me, I saw how much you were hurt because Miranda lied to you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I promise you, I’m not like her.”

  “Aw, sweetheart.” I hug her tightly. “I know that.”

  I do. Mir’s betrayal may have turned me inside out, but I’m clear on this. Emily is not Mir. Emily’s heart is pure platinum. Mir’s was tarnished long before I met her, and all my work with her didn’t polish it up.

  “Do you trust me a little?” Emily asks, looking up at me.

  How am I supposed to maintain any distance, any objectivity as her Dom, when she turns those soulful eyes on me? She turns me to fucking mush with just a look.

  “I trust you a whole lot. And I know you’re nothing like Miranda. I feel bad that my job bled over onto you and scared you, that’s all, and I want to know that you’re really okay. With it and with us.”

  “I’m really okay, Daddy, and I trust you to take care of it, and of me. Can I worry about you a little, though?”

  I kiss her forehead. “A very little.”

  She nestles into me. “Itty-bitty little.”

  Such a sweetheart. “Emmy, I want you to go back to sleep now. You need to recover from yesterday. I want you to have a nice long lie-in while I sort out the security on our rooms. When you wake up, we’ll have a play before brunch. I have a paddle with your name on it.”

  She giggles, which I take to mean that she’s happy with the idea of a pre-brunch paddling.

  “Good girl.” I ease her back into the pillows and pull the covers up over her. “Sleep now.”

  “Daddy, if I can’t have you, can I have my stuffie?”

  I squint at her. I can te
ll she’s quoting a movie, but it takes me a moment to place it. “Big Easy?”

  Another giggle. Fuck, she’s killing me.

  “That better be PG, you little monkey. Where is he?”

  “On your bed, Daddy.”

  “I’ll get your bunny. Suck your thumb until I bring him.”

  She gives me a shy smile as she puts her thumb in her mouth. I have no idea why seeing her suck her thumb turns me on as much as it does, but I’m not going to argue with my balls. I retrieve her bunny, and while she’s settling, I take the desk chair and wedge it under her door handle. Then I return to the bed and give her a kiss on her forehead. She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re safe. Nothing to be afraid of now. Sleep, baby.”

  “Yeth, Daddy,” she says around her thumb, curled up sweet and soft with her bunny.

  I give her a final kiss and leave her to sleep.

  * * *

  After I pull on sweats, I text Niall, not wanting to call and risk waking him at this hour. But he shoots me a text straight back: Two ticks.

  While I wait for him, I take my laptop out of the safe, download the CCTV files that have arrived, and write three emails. The first is to Ed Isaak, letting him know that my cabin has been searched but everything confidential was locked away, and asking him to pull the CCTV footage for the hall camera outside my cabin. The second is to Colin Ainsworth-Porter, responding to his message and putting him on notice that I have reason to believe I’m the father of his wife’s baby and that I’m reporting his threat to the British authorities. The third is to Eileen Samuels, a constable with the Greater Manchester police, who was helpful on a job two years ago. I attach Colin’s email and ask whether the threat is actionable. I don’t know if she’ll be able to tell me anything, but she went out of her way for me once. Maybe she’ll be helpful again.