by Frost, E J
“Mistress Maude told me you like pink diamonds,” I say.
“Pink’s my daddy’s favorite color,” she says, tipping her head back to smile up at me. “Besides, white diamonds look cold. Like the White Witch in Narnia. I bet she wears white diamonds. Brr.”
Her illustrative shiver makes me chuckle. I kiss her finger again. “I think you need a pink diamond right here.”
Her breath catches. The big, baby eyes skewer my heart.
“Daddy?” she whispers.
I kiss her finger again. “Something to think about, little girl. Wearing Daddy’s ring as well as Daddy’s collar.”
“I don’t need to think about it.”
I hold her eyes for a moment. When I’m sure she means she wants my ring, a tension in my chest that’s been knotted like shibari rope releases.
“Then I’ll find a pink diamond in time for our three-month anniversary.”
“Really?” she breathes.
“Really. I never want you to have another moment’s doubt about how much you mean to me, or what place you have in my life.”
She reaches out to wrap her right arm around my neck, but winces at the movement. I pull up her knees so she’s curled in my lap, not putting any strain on her groin, and give her a deep, sweet kiss.
When I let her up for air, she rubs noses with me and smiles into my eyes. That’s a very happy smile.
* * *
I lose her smile in the night, when she wakes, sobbing, at oh-three-hundred, but find it again in the morning.
Her weight, more than the time or the light sneaking around the edges of the blinds, wakes me. She’s inched up on top of me in her sleep again. No drool, though. The thought makes me chuckle.
She begins to stir, mumbling as she comes up from deep sleep. I rub her back to ease her into wakefulness. “’Morning, my sweet love.”
“Good morning, Daddy.” She gives me a wide, sleepy smile before she scrubs at her eyes and kisses my chest. “Can I worship you?”
I cuddle her to me. “We’ll talk about that in minute. First things first. How did you sleep?”
I expected another nightmare after the stresses of yesterday. As soon as her crying woke me, I wrapped her in her fuzzy and rocked her in my arms until she calmed down. Around shy suckles on my thumb, she told me about her nightmare: being pecked to death by a flock of blue-eyed crows. I don’t have to be Jung to figure out that dream. The only surprise is that I wasn’t in it, given that I was her most recent tormentor. But my baby doll is nothing if not forgiving.
“Good, Daddy. Thank you for taking care of me in the night.”
“You’re very welcome. How’s your bum?”
She wriggles against me, grimaces and coos, “Sorer than the sorest bottom that was ever sore.”
That gets me chuckling. “In the whole history of being sore, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice is creaky with sleep, but I can tell from her tone that she’s already in littlespace. What a cutie.
“Mm-hmm. I think Daddy needs to take a look.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not, little girl?”
“My privates are closed for business.”
I laugh, bouncing her on my chest. “They are, huh? I’m happy to make your privates off limits for today, but I still need to take a look.”
“Maybe not off limits aaall day, Daddy.”
“No? Not all day?”
She blinks the big eyes at me. “You said you wanted to, um, have sex while my holes were still hot and swollen. I’m not sure they will be by tomorrow.”
I stroke her nose with my forefinger.
“Baby doll, I can make your privates hot and swollen any time I want. What I care about today is you healing. Riding a wooden pony can cause permanent nerve damage. I didn’t keep you on the horse for that long, although I appreciate it probably felt like a long time, but I never want to cause you permanent injury. I’m going to take a look to make sure you’re healing and you’re going to take it easy today. We’ll cab it to Central Park and back. If you’re struggling on the walk from the Museum to Saks, we can do something fun like take a horse and carriage.”
She wriggles happily. “I’d love that, Daddy. But please-please can I worship you if we’re not going to have sex today?”
My sweet baby girl, who never holds a grudge and dedicates herself to pleasing me.
“Yes, little love. Roll to your back and lift your knees and let Daddy look at you. If you behave yourself, Daddy will fuck your throat afterwards.”
Her grin lights up the dim room and she shifts off me, rather gingerly, and onto her back before she lifts her knees. “Yes, Daddy.”
Chapter Seventeen
Emily
I wasn’t kidding when I told Daddy that I’m sorer than the sorest person who was ever sore.
My last year of college, I got shingles. I had no idea I could hurt that badly. It took a month before the rash healed and even longer before the pain went away completely. I don’t think it will take a month for me to heal from the horse, but the pain’s worse than shingles. It’s deeper, like nails have been driven all the way into my bones.
But once Daddy starts taking care of me, I stop feeling the pain. He checks me all over and reassures me that there’s nothing worse than bruises. He smooths cream from front to back which tingles to start then fades into a soothing coolness. He kisses my bruises and tells me he’s proud of me while he looks at me with those hot, dark eyes. His care, and his words, and the heat of his stare fill me up so full I’m floating before he even straddles my shoulders, leans over me to grip the headboard, and drives his cock down my throat.
Breathlessly, I float through the most glorious face-fucking. How can a face-fucking be glorious? It can be glorious when my daddy cradles my cheek and jaw with one big hand while he owns my throat. When he holds my eyes with his wolfy gaze and burns his bliss right down into my soul as he uses me for his pleasure. He anchors me and lifts me and transports me; by the time he spurts down my throat, I’m drowning in love.
I swallow his slightly bitter taste dazedly. “Ta, Daddy.”
“Why are you thanking me, baby girl?” He chuckles as he slides down beside me and pulls me into his arms. “I think it should be the other way around.”
“I’m thanking you for the wolfy loving.”
“You’re very welcome for the wolfy loving.” He kisses the tip of my nose and my mouth, where he must be able to taste himself, but he never seems to mind. “I adore you, little girl.”
His wolfy, but glorious, face-fucking leaves me with a sore throat to match my very sore bottom. When the sore throat persists after breakfast, even after two cups of herbal tea, and I develop an accompanying sniffle and headache, it occurs to me that my sore throat might not all be down to Daddy.
While he does the breakfast dishes, I blow my nose and rummage through the cabinet where I have all the herbal remedies stored.
“What are you looking for, little girl?” he asks, over the running water.
“Echinacea, Daddy. I think I might be getting a cold.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I’ll be done with this in five minutes. Take two echinacea now. Get the big glass thermometer from the bathroom, put it on my night table, and lie face-down on the bed. Since you’ve been such a good girl this morning, Daddy will use lube.”
My sphincter tries to crawl up my spine. I really, really, really do not want the rectal thermometer up my butt this morning. But Daddy’s already inspected me; I’m not split, just bruised. I trust my daddy. He won’t give me bad hurts. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl, Emmy.” He rinses off his hands, dries them on his shirt, and cups my face. “I saw you struggle for a moment there. I know submission’s hard sometimes, particularly when you’re in pain. I’m proud of you, my girl.”
The glow from his words relieves my owies better than codeine. “Ta, Daddy.”
I find the echinacea, and the rectal thermometer. Daddy squeez
es me a glass of orange juice to take the pills with and uses the lube when he takes my temperature. That makes me grateful he’s not the kind of Dom who insists on using all his subbie’s holes after a punishment, because, even with the lube, ow-ow-ow. He sits next to me on the bed and strokes my back while we wait for the reading. My temperature’s a little over a hundred, so Daddy gets me Advil and another glass of orange juice before tucking me back in bed.
He brings up our laptops and props a lot of pillows against the headboard. I love writing when I’m cuddled up with Daddy and that’s exactly what we do. I tuck up against Daddy’s warm side and we work together in companionable silence.
After an hour, Daddy closes his laptop and kisses the top of my head. “Time for a break.” He reaches around and cups the back of my neck. “Feels like the Advil’s working. How’s your head?”
“Better, Daddy. Thank you for taking care of me.”
“It really is my pleasure, little love.” He leans onto his elbow in the pillows. “What have you been working on? The werewolf book?”
“Uh-huh.” While we were on the cruise, my Wolfy-Daddy inspired me to start a new series, about a pack of desert werewolves. I decided to set it in Egypt in the 1920s, when Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon were excavating the Valley of Kings. The research has been extensive, but I’ve loved every minute of it and since I’ve had a lot of time to write while Daddy’s been recovering, I’m already working on the second book. I haven’t told Daddy much about it, in part because he’s my muse and I don’t want to mess up my muse, and in part because most people aren’t actually interested in the details of my writing. Daddy’s super supportive, but romance novels are definitely not his thing and I don’t want to bore him talking about my work. “What have you been doing? Solving Rick’s case?”
He chuckles and kisses the tip of my nose. “I wish. I’ve been putting my notes together for Theo. He wanted everything by noon. I don’t want to keep the nice detective waiting.”
I screw my face up, still not at all impressed at how Master Theo treated my daddy. “Except he’s not very nice.”
“He took his frustration at Rick out on me, that’s true. But he was helpful during the interview with Dovie Donegan. I’m not sure I’d have gotten as much as I got from her without him being there.”
I know Daddy’s really pleased about getting a name, even if the name’s not on Rick’s list of conquests. After seeing the awful box, I was so sure the person who made it was someone Rick had been intimate with. But I guess I was wrong. “He’s still a meanie, Daddy.”
“According to you, little girl, I’m a meanie, particularly in the morning.”
He does get a serious morning mean on him some days. I’m glad today hasn’t been one of them.
“Your mean is sexy and playful. Master Theo wasn’t playing.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Daddy sighs. “Anyway, I’ve sent him everything and now it’s time for us to have fun. We didn’t get to work on the puzzle yesterday. Would you like to now?”
I nod eagerly and hold my hands out so he can help me out of bed.
* * *
While we’re working on my Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them thousand-piece puzzle, Max calls. Daddy sets his phone on the puzzle table and taps on the speaker while he continues to hand me pieces to fill in Newt Scamander’s sleeve.
“Twenty-three Wilsons on Rick’s fucking list, but it could be two hundred and twenty-three ’cause he doesn’t have last names for half these girls,” Max says.
“Yeah, I know,” Daddy responds. “But let’s start with the Wilsons we have.”
“I’ll get you what I can, man. Without addresses for most of them, it’s going to be pretty fucking thin.”
“Understood. Thanks for this, Max. NYPD is on it but I feel better knowing you are, too.” Daddy watches me pop in three pieces and reaches across the table to brush his knuckles down my cheek. “Clever girl.”
“Hope you’re talking to Emily rather than me,” says Max.
I giggle. “He was.”
“Yeah? What have you done now, clever girl?”
“Found three pieces of the puzzle we’re doing.” I turn another piece around as I try to find the right spot for it. “Daddy says you’re coming to playgroup with us on Sunday.”
Logan chuckles.
“I haven’t decided,” Max says.
“We’re making pizza,” I tell him, slotting in another puzzle piece. “I don’t eat pizza and Daddy can’t eat a whole pizza on his own. Too much cholesterol. If you don’t come, the pizza’s going to waste. Also, if you were going to be there, then I’d have a reason to bring some green tea cupcakes.”
Max swears softly. “You know how much I like those.”
I do.
“With the cream-cheese frosting,” I say.
“That’s bribery,” Max says. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
Logan laughs. “Definitely not. Emmy can bribe anyone anytime she wants, particularly if I get leftover cupcakes. C’mon, mate, it’ll be fun.”
“Swear you won’t try to set me up with anyone,” Max growls.
“I swear,” Daddy says.
I put in another puzzle piece and carefully avoid making any promises because there are two unattached littles in the group that I really, really want Max to meet.
“Emily,” Max grumbles.
Damn, he’s just as observant as Daddy. It’s not fair.
“I have a really sore throat, Max.” I fake a cough. “Hard to talk.”
“I only need one word.”
I fake another cough, trying to make it sound even more pathetic than the first.
“Emmy,” Daddy warns. “The sore throat’s not a lie, but that cough definitely is.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” I blink at him beseechingly. “It’s just that I really want Max to meet Amy and Cynnie but I don’t want to make a promise and then break it.”
Daddy gives me a very stern face.
“No, baby girl. I promised Max we weren’t going to push. If he meets Amy and Cynnie while we’re there, that’s great, but we’re not forcing anything.”
I give him the puppy dog eyes again, and, when Daddy’s expression doesn’t soften, my best pout. “Cynnie’s really lonely now that she doesn’t have a daddy anymore, and she only needs spankings to keep her in line. Max wouldn’t have to give her a paddling or a caning.”
“Em-i-lee.”
I know by the way he says my name that he’s losing patience. “Sorry, Daddy.”
“Promise Max,” Daddy insists.
“I promise, Max.”
“Thank you, Em. I’ll see you guys on Sunday. I still want those cupcakes. I might even be convinced to share one with your friend.”
I wiggle in my comfy bean bag chair, in part because I’m getting my way and in part because I need a bathroom break after two cups of tea and a glass of orange juice. “Thank you, Max.”
Max chuckles. “Behave, sweets, you’re killing me. Logan, I’ll send you whatever I’ve got tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, mate.”
Daddy taps off the phone and lifts an eyebrow at me. “What are you playing at, baby doll?”
“Max is a daddy and Cynnie needs a new daddy and if he doesn’t like Cynnie then he might like Amy and she needs a new daddy, too.”
“I understand that Cynnie and Amy are looking for new daddies, but I promised Max we wouldn’t try to set him up. You have to help Daddy keep his promises, sweetheart.”
I melt. Of course, I want to help Daddy keep his promises.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll help you keep your promise and I won’t say anything to Cynnie and Amy if you don’t want me to.”
“You can point them out to Max, but no trying to throw them together.”
“Yes, Daddy. Sorry.”
Daddy’s mouth twitches and I know he’s fighting a smile. He’s not angry with me. “You ready to have some lunch and then we’ll head over to the Museum? Manny’s picking up Jiro and
Laurel at the airport and bringing them straight to the Museum so they have plenty of time to meet the Rexes and still hit the shops.”
I would bounce in my seat if my bottom wasn’t so sore. “Could I bring Laurel one of my little Larrys?”
I have a whole herd of stuffed T-Rexes in different colors that I’ve bought at the museum. If Daddy approves, I’ll take Laurel a purple one. They’re the best.
“I’m sure she’d like that. I don’t know if I told you, but Laurel’s a pet.”
“Like a furry?” I ask, trying to remember the pets I’ve met at dungeon parties and munches. There don’t seem to be any pets at Blunts, although I know there are two pony-girls I haven’t met. I’m not sure if they’re pets, though.
“I’m not sure if she’s a furry or if she’s just wholly owned, but her Dom said she’s a pet all the time and she’d be comfortable with you both as my little and as a kinky, ninja puppy at Rick’s party.”
That idea does make me bounce, then wince and whimper.
Daddy slides around the table and pulls me into his arms. “Easy does it. I know you’re excited, but no more bruising my baby’s sweet bottom. That’s Daddy’s job.”
That makes me giggle against his neck as I snuggle into him.
* * *
Laurel’s not a furry. She’s a scaly.
I recognize her even through the crowd at the Museum’s entrance. Not from the horrible pictures in the box the stalker sent to Rick, but because she’s wearing an iridescent, white-and-green mini dress, white tights patterned to look like scales, and white, heeled boots that flare at the toes like claws. Her dark red hair is shaved at the sides and gelled up like a crest. She’s eye-catching and fierce and looks like she could breathe fire. I’m torn between running up to her and giving her a hug, or snatching her rolling luggage and pilfering her wardrobe. I’m wearing one of the pretty dresses Daddy bought me for the cruise with ankle socks and white Mary Janes and I feel cool and cute and little, but damn, I’d rather be a dragon.