The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

He nods and releases my other wrist. I roll off the bed faster than The Flash, zip into the bathroom, and close the door behind me. I don’t lock it because I don’t know how he’d react to that, but he’s so polite that I figure he’ll at least knock before coming into the bathroom, which will give me a minute to compose my face. Which, in the mirror, looks purely hateful. All this morning’s beauty is gone. My hair’s a rat’s nest. My face is red and sweaty. I’m not quite at Chernobyl levels, but all I’m really lacking is the snot, and now that I’m upright, I’m managing to produce that, too.

Charming.

I blow my nose, then run the cold tap until the water’s really cold, wet a washcloth, and rub myself down. After I get his jism off my belly and cool off my poor vagina, I add soap to the washcloth and wash everywhere else. Much, much better. I’m not usually concerned about how I look during a scene, unless my nose starts running, but something about the edging is making me not only self-conscious, but horribly vulnerable. I want the thin defense of clean skin.

A towel’s an even better layer of defense, and after a moment’s indecision, I wrap one around me and tuck the edge in across my chest so it stays.

After I use the toilet and brush my hair and teeth, I open the bathroom door and peek out, half-expecting Logan to be gone. He said he’s doing interviews this morning. I’m not sure when they start, but it’s got to be around nine now, so probably soon.

He’s lying on the bed, stretched out on his side. He took off his shirt before edging me, so he’s just wearing his jeans and belt. His bare chest’s firm with muscle, even relaxed. His skin glows a deep gold in the stormy light through the balcony doors. He looks pretty Greek God-like, except that he just gave me one of the more frustrating half-hours of my life so I’m not feeling particularly worshipful in this moment.

“There you are, little girl. Nice and clean now?”

I nod.

He pats the bed and I start to climb up onto it.

“Emmy, lose the towel.”

I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to. It’s keeping me warm in the cool room. More than that, it’s a barrier between me and the mean man on my bed.

But that mean man is my Dom, and he’s given me an order. I slowly loosen the towel and let it fall.

“Good girl.”

His praise warms the goose bumps that rise over the skin I’ve just bared. I’m warmed further when he pulls me into his arms and wraps me in my Ravenclaw blanket. Once he’s got me settled against his chest, he rubs noses with me and gives me a daddy smile.

“Better? I know you’re not happy with me right now, but can I be Daddy again or am I still in bad books?”

His humor pulls the plug on my frustration and anger. I nestle into him and nuzzle under his jaw so I can smell his woody, spicy scent.

“You can be Daddy again.”

He makes a happy humming noise in his chest. “We’re not going to talk about your feelings about being edged yet, little love. I’m pretty sure I know what they are, but I will ask you about them later. Stick with it for the forty-five minutes after lunch, huh?”

I nod into his neck, which is all I can manage.

“Good girl. What are you going to do while Daddy’s working?”

“Blog tour and write for a while. The bondage marketplace is open after ten. I might check that out when I need to stretch my legs.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m going to the gym at eleven. You’re welcome to come if you want, but I haven’t put it on your schedule since you’ve had a lot of exercise over the last couple of days.”

“I’d like to come.” If only to watch my daddy while he’s lifting weights and grunting and being all studly. So hot. Of course, that might not be a good thing today when I’m already frustrated, but I’m still not going to pass it up.

“That’s my girl. I’ll knock on your door at eleven.”

“I’ll be ready, Daddy.”

“There we go. Now you’re sounding a little happier. Look at me, baby doll.” He tips my head up with a finger under my chin and when my eyes meet his, he burrows through my brain and into my soul with that dark gaze while I squirm under his scrutiny and feel like the worst little girl in the world for not appreciating what he does for me. “No, none of that.” He bops the tip of my nose with his finger. “I know you’re frustrated and annoyed with me, but that’s not a reason to doubt me, is it? Or yourself. No bad thoughts. If you start having bad thoughts, you knock on the door. I don’t care what’s going on, I’ll answer and take care of you. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m not having bad thoughts.”

Which is the truth. And reassuring. Doubting my Dom does bring on bad thoughts, but my hateful internal monologue is silent, so I can’t really be doubting Logan down at the level where my worst insecurities operate.

“Mmm, just very self-critical ones. I know that look. Give me one happy thought, little girl.”

I’m going to get mind-blowing orgasms after nine o’clock. That’s a happy thought. If we ever get there. It’s feeling very far off. And potentially unachievable. I settle for a less controversial happy thought.

“I’m going to see you again at eleven.”

He kisses my forehead. “We’ll see plenty of each other today and have lots of fun, even though I know it doesn’t feel like it right now. Enjoy your blog tour and if you leave the cabin, remember to take your phone so I can reach you.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Chapter Thirteen Logan

I leave her with