Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles

by Frost, E J

  “Feel my heartbeat, Emmy. Try to slow your breathing to match my heartbeat. Feel it? Thump. In. Thump. Out. Thump. In. Thump. Out. That’s it. Relax, little girl. Focus on my heartbeat.”

  I can’t feel his heartbeat. I can’t feel anything but the need for air. But I listen to his voice and cling to him and slowly the terrible, alien bellows in my ears eases. Each breath becomes less of a frantic struggle. I close my eyes and feel hot grit, instead of fresh tears. My head is stuffed with cotton, but at least air’s flowing freely through it when I take a breath. I lean further into Logan and slide my arms around his neck.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs. “I’m going to pick you up and carry you into the bedroom, Emmy. Stay relaxed and keep breathing nice and slow.”

  I nod and curl into him when he slides his arm under my knees. After a false start where he bumps into the toilet with a curse much bluer than the word that got me into this mess, Logan climbs to his feet. He shrugs me up against his chest and carries me out of the bathroom. It’s not the koala-baby carry and if I could muster tears at this point, that would make me cry but I can’t. I’m so empty. He sets me on my bed and climbs in straight over me, so I have to lie back as his body stretches across mine.

  He reaches for something on the far side of the bed and when he brings his arm back, he’s holding a bottle of water. He pulls up the bottle’s nozzle and cups the back of my neck, lifting my head as he holds the water to my mouth. I drink gratefully.

  “Small sips,” he tells me.

  “Yes, Sir.” I’m surprised how normal my voice sounds.

  Once I’ve finished half the bottle, Logan takes it away and drinks the rest. Then he stretches back into the pillows and pulls me tight to his chest. I close my eyes.

  * * *

  When I wake, I’m alone, and under my fuzzy. The room’s dark and cool. What time is it? Did I sleep all day? Where’s Logan? Did he leave me?

  I hear a man’s voice, slightly accented. “She hyperventilated and passed out?”

  I should recognize that voice, but everything’s blurry and strange, like my senses have been warped by the lack of oxygen. Maybe I have brain damage? If you have brain damage, do you know you have brain damage?

  “No, she hyperventilated but I got her to slow her breathing down. She drank some water. Then she passed out.”

  That’s Logan. I sit up, looking for my daddy. Is he still my daddy? Why would he want to be after that?

  Logan’s standing in the connecting doorway. He moves into my room as soon as I sit up, puts one hand on my nape and the other on my chest and lowers me back into the pillows. “Easy, baby doll. I called Michael. He’s going to take a look at you.”

  Why do I need looking at?

  “Hi, Emily.” The other man comes to stand next to the bed, then sits down on the edge. “I hear you’ve had a rough afternoon.”

  Is it afternoon? Why’s my room so dark?

  “Logan, maybe some light? I think she’s disoriented.”

  “Sure.”

  Logan moves away from the bed and pulls the curtain back from the glass door to the balcony. Warm Mexican sunlight slants in, across Michael’s square face and greying hair. He smiles at me.

  “Hi, sir.”

  “Ah, that’s better. Let’s check those vitals. Can you keep your eyes on my finger?”

  He holds it up in front of my face, then moves it right and left, up and down, like he’s blessing me, which would make me giggle, except that Logan’s watching over his shoulder and his eyes are very dark. Not that terrible black ice, but bleak and unhappy.

  I’ve made him unhappy.

  “Good,” Michael says. He reaches down into a bag he’s set at his feet and pulls out a stethoscope. He rubs the pad with his fingers before reaching under my fuzzy and putting it against my chest. I flinch. “Sorry, a little cold. Take a couple of nice, deep breaths for me. In and out.”

  I breathe for him, which is most natural thing in the world now. Why was it so hard before?

  “That’s great,” Michael says. “Let’s take a look at that throat.”

  I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, which reminds me horribly of what happened before I choked. By the way Logan shifts behind the doctor, it reminds him, too.

  Michael puts his warm fingers on either side of my throat and palpitates the glands under my chin.

  “All fine. No swelling. No redness,” he says reassuringly. “Let’s check your temperature.”

  He takes out a digital thermometer, one of the ones that looks like a pointy hammer. He pops a plastic sleeve on the tip, then inserts it into my ear.

  While we wait for the beep, he asks, “How’s the tummy, Emily? Any pain?”

  I would shake my head but I have the thermometer in my ear. “No, sir.”

  That horrible swirling feeling is gone. In fact, I’m kind of hungry.

  “Good, good.” At the beep, he withdraws the plastic tip from my ear. He checks the display and smiles at me again. “All normal. Emily, are you on any medication? Birth control?”

  “No medication. I have an implant.”

  He smiles at me as he touches his fingertips to my forehead. “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

  “No.” I glance at Logan. “Did I have a panic attack?”

  Logan moves around Michael and strokes my hair back from my forehead. “We’ll talk about it later, sweetheart. I want you to get some rest while I have a word with Michael.”

  “Yes, um, Sir.”

  His face tightens, but he leans down and kisses my forehead before he moves back to the window and draws the curtain again so the room dims. The two men are shadows as they move around the bed and through the connecting door. There’s a brief white flash in the filtered light, before Logan closes the door.

  It was his eyes flashing, not his teeth. He didn’t smile at me.

  I hear the murmur of voices but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m sure they’re talking about me. A panic attack? No, I’ve never had a panic attack. I don’t think I had one in the bathroom. I just couldn’t breathe. I choked because Logan washed my mouth out with soap. Didn’t I?

  I toss and turn, trying to remember exactly what happened. It’s all mixed up in my head and the more I try to remember, the more it swirls and darkens into old memories. The latrine stink. The water flooding up my nose. The hands holding me down.

  I climb out of bed. I don’t like being alone in the dark. My mind just turns on me. I told Logan that; he pulled the curtain and left me anyway. My fears probably don’t matter to him anymore. He can’t possibly want to be my daddy now.

  I cross my cabin, pull open the curtain, slide the glass aside and step out onto the balcony. Warm, damp air rushes over my bare skin like a thousand, tiny kisses. My nipples tighten. Oops. No shirt. Are we still in international waters? I don’t remember hearing the three horns, but I also don’t want to break any more rules, even accidentally. I’ve gotten in enough trouble for the decade, much less one day.

  I duck back into the cabin and grab a T-shirt out of the dresser before I return to the balcony. It’s my Suicide Squad T-shirt with “Daddy’s Little Monster” printed across my breasts. I have been a monster today, and not in a fun, Harley Quinn way. Why would anyone want to be my Dom after today?

  I lean over the rail, watching the sunlight glimmer on the water. There are a lot of ships that pass, some overtaking us, some going other directions. Motoring along to their destinations. Some fast. Some slow. Each on their own course, alone.

  I don’t want to be one of those solo craft. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with Logan. He’s wonderful, even when he punishes me. I remember his care when I was on the bathroom floor. Clearing my throat with his fingers, holding me to his chest, telling me everything would be okay. And every time he shows me how wonderful he is, a kernel of fear swells inside me. I’m not good enough. I’m a stupid little girl when he’s used to women who look like a cross between Halle Berry and JLo and dr
ess in black basque. I’m a stupid little girl who plays stupid little games. He doesn’t need to put up with me. He’ll ditch me after today, find someone else, and I’ll be alone again.

  Swirling, dark water sucks me down.

  I focus fiercely on the bright sunlight, trying to push back those memories. The bright glimmer on the water blinds me for a moment. I’m rubbing my tearing eyes when I hear the connecting door open and close.

  I turn and blink and the dark shape walking across my bedroom resolves into Logan. He smiles tightly as he joins me on the balcony.

  “Pretty sure I told you to rest, sweetie.”

  Another thing I can’t do right. This time I’m not drowning in littlespace, though. I can think enough to respond. “I’m sorry, Sir. Being in the dark was making me feel worse. I needed to get outside.”

  He reaches out to me and I let him pull me into his arms. I twist my fingers in the soft T-shirt he’s put on and rest my forehead on his collar. “I’m really, really sorry, Sir. I know I screwed up everything. If you want, I’ll fly back from Cabo tomorrow—”

  “What?”

  Hearing the genuine shock in his voice makes me lift my head.

  “Do you want to leave, Emmy?” He cups my face in his hand and his eyes, dark even in the bright sunlight, probe mine.

  I have to bite my lip to keep it from trembling. “I thought you’d want me to.”

  “Because you had a panic attack?”

  “Because I screwed everything up and embarrassed you and broke your rules.” That burning tightness returns and threatens to choke me again. I swallow hard to keep forcing out my words. “I-I know I’m a terrible sub and you could have anyone, a perfect sub like Miranda or—”

  Logan snorts like he’s choking back a laugh. “You of all people know how not-perfect Miranda is.”

  Okay, he has a point there.

  “I don’t want you to leave.” He traces his thumb down my cheek. “We hit a snag this afternoon. We’ll work through it. That’s what I do with my subs. As long as they don’t run away. You ran away from me twice this afternoon and I need to understand what that means and why you didn’t feel you could turn to me for comfort. Am I still your daddy?”

  I nod vehemently.

  “You stopped calling me Daddy.” At my nod, he asks gently, “Is there a reason for that, sweetheart?”

  “I was trying to get out of littlespace. You were really angry at me and asking me questions I couldn’t answer. I needed not to be little.”

  His arm slides around my back and pulls me so close I can feel every inch of him. The biggest, warmest, teddy-bear hug.

  “I didn’t realize that could be a problem. I was asking you to talk to me, and I could see you were struggling, but I thought you were being obstinate not that you’d gone into a non-verbal headspace. I’ll keep that in mind for the future. But I want to make one thing absolutely clear: at no point was I really angry with you. What made you think I was?”

  “I embarrassed you. I know that’s a really big deal for Doms. I saw a Dom whip his sub bloody once because she embarrassed him by peeing during their scene—”

  Logan makes a strangled noise. “When was this?”

  “A couple of years ago. At a dungeon party Matthew took me to.”

  “Didn’t anyone stop him?”

  “The dungeon monitor did but not until it was too late.”

  Frowning, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry you saw that. I’m sorry Matthew took you to a place where that kind of thing could happen. That’s not kink. That’s abuse. And it’s all the worse that the top abused his bottom because she lost control of her body. It happens sometimes, particularly during extended play, and it’s never a reason to punish a bottom. It’s not even a reason for embarrassment. I would not be embarrassed if you peed accidentally during a scene and I don’t want you to ever worry about it. If I push you that far and something happens, that’s on me. You do not need to worry about embarrassing me. When did you think you even did?”

  “I disrupted Master Jason’s class talking with Vashi. Master Niall said you stayed behind to apologize for me.”

  “Niall said that?” Logan shakes his head. “If that’s what he thought, he got it all wrong. I stayed behind to find out what happened. I left a happy girl giggling with her friend and came back an hour later to a sad girl who ran away from me when I tried to hug her. I was afraid something had triggered you so I asked Mr. Massage about it and he got squirrelly. I’m still not happy with his answers and if anyone owes anyone an apology, he owes you one for ruining your fun. It’s bloody Cocksucking Class. You were supposed to have a good time.”

  I gape at him. He wasn’t embarrassed? He wasn’t angry?

  “I thought you—because you’re both Doms. I thought—”

  “You thought I’d side with him? Emmy, sweetheart, I’m on your side. Always. A daddy always has his little girl’s back. I will punish you if you break my rules but talking during Cocksucking Class? Come on. I care about your happiness and it pissed me off to see you looking like someone had kicked your puppy. I was not for one second angry with you.”

  “Bu-but you were in the bathroom.”

  He rubs his hand up and down my back. “I wasn’t mad. I was frustrated because you wouldn’t talk to me, except to swear, but I wasn’t angry. Little girls break rules, they’re punished, and they’re forgiven. That’s how this dynamic works. Why did—” He kisses my forehead, then the tip of my nose, before looking closely at me. “We’re not going to talk about that right now. We will get to the why of what happened but it’s not going to be now when you’re still shaky, huh?”

  Am I still shaky? I don’t feel shaky when I’m all huggled up in his arms in the bright Mexican sun. But I was very shaky when he came out.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He gives me a deep, real smile. Not his wolfy grin. Not his patient daddy smile. This is deep and warm and relieved and . . . loving.

  “Did I almost blow it?” I ask, suddenly feeling very shaky, even so tight in his arms, at the realization of everything I could have lost.

  He lowers his head until our foreheads touch. “No, sweetheart, because I wouldn’t have let you run very far. Did you run because I asked you to move in with me for the summer? Because all the things we’ve shared over the last couple of days frightened you?”

  Did I? The sharing’s been hard, but I’ve loved it. It’s made me feel closer to Logan than I’ve felt to any of my Doms since Lew. I wasn’t at all scared about moving in with him for the summer. I was excited. But then Master Jason got angry with me and I thought Logan would side with him and all those old fears welled up.

  “I didn’t think I was scared. I mean, sharing with you is scary sometimes but I don’t want to stop. And I want to stay with you. So, so much. I was telling Vashi about how excited I was and then Master Jason got angry and I couldn’t do anything right and all I could think about was that I was going to wreck it with you. Like dominoes. I couldn’t stop them from falling.”

  “Mm-hmm. That’s all you have to say to me in future, sweetheart. Just say ‘dominoes’ and I’ll know you’re overwhelmed. Let’s make that your safe word, huh? Will you remember that?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.” He kisses me, sweet and soft. “You are not going to wreck it with me, sweetheart. We’re new to each other and we’re going very fast. There’ll be growing pains. But I wouldn’t be pushing if I didn’t feel this was absolutely right.”

  I get that melty feeling in my chest again. “You feel this is right?”

  “Absolutely right. I haven’t been this certain about anyone, ever.”

  “Ever?”

  “Never-ever.”

  And he’s had a lot of chances to be certain. I’ve had less than a dozen, but I understand what he means. It’s like trying on a pile of shoes that all pinch a little, not so much that you wouldn’t buy them if they look good and the price was right, but you know they’ll take some breaking in
, maybe a few blisters. Then you find the pair that make you feel like you’ve put on Mercury’s winged sandals. The perfect fit. Logan probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, though, even if I compared him to Louboutins.

  The thought makes me giggle.

  Logan squeezes me up against his chest. “That’s a sound I’ve wanted to hear for hours. I’ve missed your laughter, sweetheart. I hate seeing you sad, and the crying when I put you in the corner? That was fucking awful. No more corner time, huh? It doesn’t work for us. I hated not being able to see your face. I hated hearing you cry and not being able to comfort you. You should have seen Niall, watching me jump up and go to you every two minutes. He looked like he was going to take away my Dom badge.”

  That makes me giggle harder. “Bad Daddy.”

  “Useless,” he agrees. “Is corner time something you need as a little, Emmy?”

  “No way. It doesn’t make me feel little or remorseful. It makes me feel like an utter failure. If you don’t want to look at me, much less interact with me, why am I even there? Spank me, paddle me, deny me orgasms—although I really hope you don’t do that, Daddy—but please don’t put me in a corner and ignore me.”

  “Deal.” He pulls back enough to offer me his pinkie and grins at me when I shake it with mine. “No more corner time. If I want to get you to reflect on what you’ve done, there are better ways. In fact, I think we’ll try one out after dinner.”

  More punishment? I try to be Wonder Woman brave. To submit and trust my Dom. But I honestly feel like I’ve hit my wall. I can’t take one more second of feeling bad today. “Puh-please could we do it tomorrow? I feel like I’m going to break if you punish me again today.”

  “Oh, baby. Sweet baby.” He presses gentle kisses to my brow, eyelids, cheeks, and, finally, my mouth. “No more discipline today. That’s the last thing either of us need. I said I was going to get you to reflect. That doesn’t involve disciplining you. Let’s talk about it over dinner, huh? We’ve missed our seating at the restaurant but we can do the Lido buffet again.”