The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “You fucking naughty little monkey. You won’t be able to sit down for a month. Answer my question.”

  “You’re unfair because you’re not even hot and sweaty after all that and I’m gross and covered with stuff.”

  He chuckles and squeezes me so tight I gasp. “Covered with stuff, huh? I like you covered with stuff. In fact, next time I might pull out at the end and really cover you with stuff, see if that makes you a little less lippy afterwards.”

  “Ick, Daddy.”

  He turns onto the stairs and takes one hand from my back to grip the banister. I smack wet kisses on his neck to thank him for being so careful with me.

  “Speaking of stuff, baby doll, I should have asked before fucking you bareback and coming in you. I know you’re clean and you know I am, but if you want me to use a condom, for any reason or no reason, now or ever, don’t even think twice before telling me so.”

  “Ta, Daddy.” I assumed after he asked for my test results, and showed me his, that he’d want to have sex without a condom. Pretty much all of my Doms have, except Matthew, of course. Until this year, I haven’t been able to: birth control was a struggle for me until my Ob/Gyn recommended the progestin implant I have now. I’m glad I’m able to with Logan.

  “I don’t want you to use a condom,” I reassure him.

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, don’t be shy about telling me, Emmy.”

  Emmy? I love it. Even better than Kitty, which I really liked him calling me and was sorry that he stopped after I told him my real name.

  “Can I call you Logie?”

  “Fuck no.” He releases the banister at the bottom of the stairs, adjusts me in his arms and hugs me tight to him again. “I think I’ll just carry you around all the time like this. I’ll get you one of those baby-carry things.”

  “I can walk all my myself, Daddy,” I huff at him.

  “I don’t think you want to put that to the test right now, noodle-legs. Besides, I could cut a hole in the bottom of the carrier and stick my dick up through it and then I could fuck you all the time. I could carry you around impaled on my cock.”

  “Okay!” I agree wholeheartedly with that suggestion, bouncing in his arms.

  Logan laughs and squeezes me. “See? Daddy has some good ideas.”

  “Daddy has lots of good ideas. I like Daddy’s ideas about mandatory condom use in porn, and Daddy’s ideas about my freaky rape fantasy, and Daddy’s ideas about pink towels and purple butt plugs, and Daddy’s ideas about not sharing me, and Daddy’s ideas about giving me all the orgasms.”

  “Daddy likes those ideas, too, except there’s nothing freaky or weird about your rape fantasy. It’s beautiful, and I can’t wait to act it out with you.”

  I take his face in my hands and give him a big kiss. He stumbles a step and catches himself with a hand on the wall. He turns, props me against the wall and kisses me back: slow, deep kisses, full of sighs and nips and little licks, that fill me with so much emotion it leaks out of the corners of my eyes.

  When he lets me up for air, I whisper to him, “Please don’t stop playing with me, Daddy. It would make me so sad.”

  He rubs his nose against mine. “Please don’t stop playing with me, sweetheart. This is such a big, new adventure and I’m kind of worried that I’ll wake up and find out it was all a dream. That would make me sad.”

  “Really?” I smooch him all over his face.

  “Really, muppet. Now, tea for you, and a big glass of water for me. I may not have looked like I was sweating, but I was and I feel like I came a gallon. You’re going to drain me to a withered husk, like the Mummy.”

  That makes me giggle and snuggle into him. The Mummy movie with Brendan Fraser is one of my favorites. Rick O’Connell isn’t quite a daddy, but he’s a total Dom.

  Logan drags me away from the wall and into the kitchen, where he puts me down on the counter and I huddle in the diaper-towel, feeling a little silly, while he boils water for my tea and drinks three big glasses of water in quick succession. He really was thirsty.

  Once my tea is steeping, he carries it and another big glass of water into the lounge area of the great room and puts them down on the coffee table. Then he comes back for me, scoops me up and koala-carries me to the couch. He settles me across his lap, picks up my tea and blows on it, then tests the temperature with his pinkie before handing it to me. Which makes my heart nearly burst. I take the mug, which has a Lego Batman on it, in both hands and look up at him over the edge. “Ta very much for my tea, Daddy. I like your mug.”

  “You’re welcome. My nieces got it for me last year at Legoland. Tell me what else you liked about tonight, other than Daddy’s good ideas and the mug.”

  I consider while I sip the minty tea he bought just for me. “I loved your club. Will you tell me all about it? How did you find it and what do you do other than hunts and scenes and dancing and who the other Masters are and what it’s like to train beautiful girls to do whatever you want them to and what about that gorgeous guy who took Rachel’s place? Do you ever top the boys?”

  Logan sputters into his glass of water. “Fuck, that’s a lot of questions. I will tell you about it, but tell me the other things you liked about tonight first.”

  “I liked talking with you at dinner, and our scene. That was awesome. And I liked Daisy after I got to know her a little. She’s actually really warm and genuine. I know she doesn’t look it.”

  Logan shrugs. “She looks like she’d peel the flesh off a guy’s bones with those nails while cow-girling on his face.” He tips his head and looks closely at me. “People talk to you, don’t they, baby doll?”

  It’s my turn to shrug. “I guess so.”

  “They do. You’re a good listener. I bet Daisy told you real shit, too. Not just the weather and what she had for breakfast.”

  I nod. “We were talking about how she got into porn, and what it’s like being a woman director in the industry, and the films she wants to make in the future. She really has a vision.”

  “See? I’ve met her maybe a dozen times at Rick’s parties and we haven’t talked about anything deeper than why Rick’s too cheap to spring for a better brand of beer. You got all that out of her?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I sip my tea and remember some of the more interesting conversations I’ve had over the years. “It used to make my ex mad that his friends would tell me more personal stuff than they’d tell him. One of them.” I shake my head fondly, remembering. “Patrick, he did four tequila shots at a Halloween party we were at. Then he cornered me and spent the entire night telling me about his undescended testicle.”

  Logan chuckles, but he shifts under my butt like he wants to cross his legs.

  “It was really interesting,” I tell him. “I didn’t know anything about that. Testicles and how they descend, I mean. Or, um, don’t.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. Ash was furious with me afterwards. You weren’t angry with me for talking to Daisy, were you?”

  “No, baby doll, of course not. I was glad to see you enjoying yourself. Why was your ex angry? Did his friend make a pass at you or something?”

  “Patrick? No way.” I shrug. “I’d ignored Ash all night and he said I should have just told Patrick to, um, eff off. He didn’t want his wife thinking about his friend’s undescended testicle. But that’s exactly what I meant when I said to you earlier that I find random things weirdly fascinating.” I giggle. “I based a character on Patrick.”

  “You wrote about a man with an undescended testicle?” He lifts his eyebrows at me. “I thought guys in romance novels were all like that male model, Favio, or whatever he’s called.”

  I giggle harder. “No, Daddy. Have you ever read a romance?”

  “No,” Logan admits. “I’m more of a Tom Clancy man.”

  “I like his stuff, too. But I write quirkier characters. The character I based on Patrick has a damaged, um, penis, due to a childhood accident. Even though it’s an invisible injury to everyone bu
t his lovers, it affects his whole life. He’s convinced everyone knows. He’s very shy, even though he’s a lovely man with a lot to give. That was Patrick. Before that night with the tequila, I think he’d said ten words to me, and I’d known him for, like, five years.”

  “Mmm.” Logan scratches his chin. “So, we’re all just character fodder, hum?”

  “Not anyone who’s intimate with me.” I put down my empty Batman mug and slide my arms around his neck. “I’d never write about you, Daddy.”

  “That’s a relief. I don’t want the whole world knowing about my erectile dysfunction.” He winks at me.

  I giggle. “I have based a lot of villains on my ex and killed them off in really gruesome ways, though.”

  “Well, that’s fair enough.” He gives me a conspiratorial grin.

  I snuggle my head in under his chin. “Daddy, we keep talking about me. Won’t you tell me about your club?”

  “Yeah, I will, but if you’re finished your tea, how about we move this back upstairs? We can spoon and I’ll tell you all about Blunts.”

  “That’s another great Daddy idea.” I sigh.

  “Okay.” He finishes his water, and I rest my palm against his throat so I can feel his Adam’s apple working. He grins at me, wraps me up in a koala-carry again, climbs out of the couch with me mashed to his chest, and carries me upstairs. Other than breathing heavily at the top of the stairs, he totes me around like I weigh nothing.

  “You’re really strong,” I observe, clinging to him as he strides down the hall to his bedroom.

  “Uh-huh. And heavy compared to you, little feather. Was it too much when we were in bed and I gave you my whole weight?”

  “No, I loved it.”

  “Good. You’re tiny but tough, aren’t you? My Kevlar baby doll.”

  I nod. “Super-tough.”

  He chuckles. “Are you, now? We’ll see how super-tough you are in the morning. Daddy’s got a paddle with your name on it for forgetting your Ps and Qs.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. He tosses me onto the bed, looms over me, sticks his finger and thumb into my mouth and pinches my tongue. “And then there’s this cheeky tongue, which is begging for a clothes-pin.”

  With my tongue captured, all I can do is scrunch my face up at him. “Nooo-owww.”

  He releases my tongue, scoops me up out of the loose towel and presses me to his chest as he kisses me. Holding me with one arm, he pulls back the rumpled covers with the other and slides me into bed. His weight crushes me into the mattress and I’m beginning to think he wants another round before we go to sleep. But he releases me and backs away, breathing hard and grinning. I grab a pillow and throw it at him. He catches it and tosses it back at me, catching me in the face and tumbling me backwards into the bed. “Daddy!” I protest.

  He shucks off his robe and hangs it on the back of door, turns off the light, then joins me in the bed. He digs me out of the pillows, rolls me over so I’m facing away from him and curves his big body around mine. Then he pulls the covers up over us and cuddles me so tight I have to bang at his arm with my fist until he loosens his hold enough that I can breathe.

  “I like having you here with me, Emmy,” he says, nuzzling my hair. “This is what I thought about all last night. Only I didn’t know I’d be sleeping in a bakery, gingerbread baby.”

  I melt into him and stop caring about being able to breathe. “I like being here with you, Daddy. So, so much.”

  “Do you need anything before bed, baby?”

  I shake my head, unable to think of anything. “Do you sleep naked?” I usually do, but I brought really cute jammies: white satin with pink hearts.

  “Depends on how cold it is. Tonight, it’s warm enough that I’d like to sleep naked and use you as my blanket if I get chilly.”

  Works for me. “Yes, Daddy. Will you tell me about your club now?”

  “Uh-huh.” He cuddles me, and kisses the back of my head, and strokes my hair, while he tells me about his club. I try to pay attention, because I really do want to know all about it, but I’m so relaxed and I really didn’t get much sleep last night, and before I know it, my eyes have closed and his voice has faded into a deep hum that lulls me to sleep.

  * * *

  When I wake, red morning light is filtering through his granny curtains. I blink at the light owlishly, piecing together where I am and why there’s a log around my waist, and another over my leg, and a third poking me right up the butt.

  Then I start giggling and the logs stir.

  “Morning, baby doll,” Logan says, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “You been awake long?”

  That sends me off into a giggle fit.

  He pokes me in the ribs with a finger.

  “Not as long as Winky’s been awake, Daddy,” I gasp out through giggles and rub back against him.

  Logan grunts and pulls me in tight, pressing the length of his hard-on between my ass-cheeks. “Keep that up. You’re giving Winky all kinds of ideas.”

  “I like Daddy’s ideas. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yeah.” He stretches and I wriggle with relief as the logs lighten. Then they wrap around me again and being crushed seems like a fine way to spend the morning. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this cozy and cared for. “We had a good seven hours there, baby doll. How about a little play and another good fucking and then we get another couple of hours before breakfast? Make up for some of the sleep we both lost Saturday night?”

  He had trouble sleeping Saturday night, too? I peer at the clock. Five-ten. Way, way, way before I need to be awake.

  “Sounds good to me, Daddy. Is it topping from below if I ask for another orgasm?”

  “No, baby doll, it’s communicating what you want.” He stretches again and yawns. “Although Daddy decides whether or not to give it to you. Are you worried about topping from below?”

  “Uh-huh,” I admit. “Matthew used to warn me about it.”

  The log around my waist shifts and he starts plucking at the rim of my belly-button, which makes me giggle.

  “Mmm. Matthew who didn’t fuck you. Were you being bratty to get attention?”

  “I don’t actually know.” I wriggle against his warm hand while I consider. “He just used to warn me not to do it. I wasn’t the way I am with you when I was with Matthew. I was still trying to figure out what it meant to be submissive. I didn’t let my little out the way I do now.”

  Logan nuzzles my hair and cuddles me even closer. I’m going to end up inside his skin if he holds me much tighter. Not that that’s a bad thing. “I’m not worried about you topping from below, Emmy. Be as bratty as you like. I love finding new spots to smack. Speaking of which, pretty sure I owe you a paddling for being a rude girl last night.”

  I was half-hoping he’d forget about that, because as I wake up, I’m discovering all the sore spots from last night. And there are a lot of them. “Daddy, don’t be a morning meanie.”

  Logan chuckles. “Nice try. Let’s clean up. No sex with morning breath. Go to the bathroom and do whatever you need to do. When you’re finished come back in here and I’ll take a minute in the bathroom. If you need a drink, there’s a water bottle on your night table. Anything else you need?”

  “No, Daddy.”

  He pulls the covers off me and swats my behind, which smarts in a way that tells me I’ve had a good spanking recently. I wriggle out of bed and skip off to the bathroom, aware of Logan’s eyes on my ass.

  In the bathroom, I dance around, washing with the pink washcloth he’s left out for me, brushing my teeth and shaking my ass to the tune of Nelly Furtado’s “Say It Right,” which I can hear from the bedroom. Mostly, I shake my ass at the tub and the bottle of “Coconut Passion.” Whoever left it there, she’s not here. She didn’t get stretched over Logan’s knee and spanked with a tawse until she nearly came and then finger-fucked in front of his club brothers. She didn’t have crazy werewolf sex with him and sleep snuggled in his arms and wake up with his mornin
g rocket pressed into her ass. He didn’t buy her pink towels and a purple butt plug, and she didn’t call him “Daddy.” I hug myself and twirl around, immersed a warm golden glow. The analytical part of my brain knows Logan’s just being a good Dom. He cares about topping, not about me.

  The little part of my brain, which feels more and thinks much less, is just squealing daddydaddydaddy.

  And HIM? That part of my brain is blessedly silent. Not even the snarled hair and under-eye circles reflected in the bathroom mirror cause it to stir. It’s been battered down into whatever dark hole in my subconscious it comes from by the wonderful, I-got-fucked-so-hard-last-night ache suffusing me.

  Once my bladder is empty, my mouth is minty and I’m not worried anymore about how I smell, even though I really like being called his gingerbread baby, I trot back into the bedroom.

  He’s put his bathrobe on again, which is just so disappointing. I might have to sneak it into my luggage before I leave and shred it when I get home so he can’t wear it the next time I see him. And despite my usual debilitating insecurity, there’s not even a heartbeat where I wonder if I’m going to see him again.

  He draws me to him and runs his hands down my back to my butt. He gives me a squeeze that has me wriggling against him and sighing at the soreness. Massaging me with those big wolf paws, he murmurs in my ear, “How tender is this little bum this morning, baby doll?”

  I might weasel out of the paddling if I tell him I’m too sore. But it would be a lie, and honesty is important to me, too. “Sore but not too bad, Daddy.”

  That gets me his wolfy growl and I’m glad I’ve told him the truth.

  “Have some water while you wait for me, sweetheart. I won’t be long.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He massages my ass for another minute before he kisses me on the forehead and pads out of the bedroom. I retrieve his horsehair brush and brush out my hair while I cross the room to get the bottle of water. There are more things on the nightstand now, including a black silicon paddle as wide as three of my fingers and as long as my forearm. It looks extremely evil.