Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles Frost, J (acx book reading txt) 📖

watching the circles of his hand against my skin with wolf-hot eyes.

“What is this, Emily?”

His voice is just as wolfy as his eyes. No disappointed rasp. That tells me I haven’t done anything wrong and wearing his come is part of my reward.

I venture a guess. “Daddy’s gift?”

“That’s right. Daddy’s gift to his good girl. Is it disgusting to have Daddy’s come on you?”

Kinda? But I’m pretty sure that’s not the right answer. “No, Daddy.”

“That’s right. There’s nothing disgusting about it. This is my gift to you. You’re going to wear Daddy’s gift until after breakfast. Then you’ll have a chance to wash. While you’re wearing Daddy’s gift, I want you to think about why Daddy gave it to you, then at Knee Time we’re going to talk about it.” He shifts and lies down beside me. When he opens his arms, I go into them a little self-consciously, not sure he’ll want me to touch my sticky tummy to him. But he does, pressing me close with his big hand in the small of my back. “Now we’re going back to sleep for an hour, little love.”

I wriggle—this new endearment makes me crazy happy—and settle against him. “Okay, Daddy.”

“I’ll wake you at eight and we’ll have a nice breakfast together. Then you’re going to get your reward for being such an angel last night.”

I should probably be worried about my reward, since I’m super-sore in lots of spots, but all I feel is a swell of adoration for this man. He thinks I deserve a reward? I want whatever he wants to give me. “Ta, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Sleep now.”

In this moment, sleep sounds better than anything else. I snuggle in and close my eyes.

* * *

My tummy is dry, and only a little crusty, by the time we wake up and he dresses me for breakfast. I still feel funny about wearing his come, but I keep reminding myself that it’s Daddy’s gift to his good girl. Another soft, baby doll dress goes over my crusty tummy and sore back, this one in small pink polka dots with white daisies around the neckline, sleeves and hem. I love the dresses he’s brought for me. I love that he brought dresses for me. He said I blew him away last night, but he blows me away all the time with the amount of thought and effort he puts into topping me.

I pair the pretty dress with my stripy pink and white thigh-highs and hope he doesn’t mind dots with stripes. He seems crazy for my thigh-highs and this morning’s no exception. As I’m brushing my teeth, he comes in and strokes my legs, front then back. He never goes high enough to touch my pussy—bare because he’s said no undies today at all, which is freaking me out a little—but I start throbbing again at his touch. Owie. Sooo sore.

He kisses the back of my head while he watches me, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

“Good morning, beautiful girl.”

I feel beautiful this morning. Really beautiful. Maman and the mirror are liars. In the pretty dress he bought me, with his come on my tummy, wearing his marks all over me, my insides super-sore from his wolfy loving, I feel beautiful. “Good morning, Daddy.”

“How are you feeling? Any spots that need cream?”

I wriggle while I work the toothbrush around my back molars. Lots of aches and pains, and sitting down is going to be a challenge, but nothing painful. Considering how much his hells-bells flogger hurt when he was hitting me with it, I should be crippled, but nothing is screaming at me.

I spit and rinse before I say, “No, Daddy. No really bad spots. I’m sore and achy but nothing needs cream.”

“How about your sunburn?”

I tap my fingers against my upper chest, testing the skin. It’s cool now and only a little stingy. “Maybe a bit more aloe.”

“Okay.”

He finds the green tube with my toiletries, squirts a little on his fingers and rubs it in while I watch him in the mirror.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy. Ta very much. Is there anything I can do for you?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“You were in the sun yesterday, too. I could rub lotion on places you can’t reach?”

“All right.” He kisses the top of my head before disappearing. I brush my hair out while I wait for him to return. When he does, he hands me a small plastic tub. “This is unscented. You can rub it into my back.”

Happy I can take care of him, and filing away that he doesn’t like scented lotions on his body, I lift the white button-down he’s wearing, scoop a little of the lotion out of the tub, work it between my fingers to warm it and then rub it all over his back. It’s amazing to touch him. His warm skin and heavy muscles are satin over iron under my palms. More than that, knowing I can touch him any time is wonderful. None of my other Doms have let me touch them without permission, but Logan said during our first date that little girls should feel free to touch their daddies whenever they need to, so they feel safe. I love-love-love that. I usually wait for him to initiate contact anyway, but the idea that I can touch him whenever I need to is still wonderful.

When I’m done with the lotion, I straighten his shirt and tuck it into his belted jeans. His look is so simple, but so hot: white Oxford with the sleeves rolled up to show his strong forearms, jeans that frame his butt and long legs, and the thick leather belt that makes me nearly salivate. I lean against his back and wrap my arms around his waist, before pressing kisses to his shoulders.

“Thank you for that, little girl. I appreciate you taking care of me, and asking before you did.”

“A little should take care of her daddy, too, and I feel