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

“I’ll take that as a yes. See you soon, mate.”

I hang up with a smile, the small dent in my happiness hammered out, and go to find Emily.

She’s not hard to find. I just follow her singing. Sounds like Pharrell William’s “Happy,” which suits my mood. She’s in the kitchen, topping up the cat’s water fountain and setting out dry food for him. I’ve told her to expect to stay at the club overnight since I have a management committee meeting in the morning. I’m pleased to see her taking care of her kitty before we go.

I lean against the corner between my office and the kitchen and take in my gorgeous little girl. She’s already dressed for dinner. Since it’s a weekend, the club’s restaurant is open to the public. That means no scenes in the restaurant, and submissives have to wear clothes. I prefer weeknights, when there’s usually a scene or two to watch while I eat with Emily naked and kneeling at my feet.

However, given how adorable she looks, there’s something to be said for going to the Trattoria on weekends. She’s picked her own outfit for tonight, but I can tell she’s dressed to please me. She’s playing to my fetish for seeing her in pink with a sleeveless shift in a soft rose that floats to midthigh, skimming her curves. As she bends over the cat’s bowl, I can see the contours of her ribs and spine through the back of the dress, which is a sheer panel from shoulders to waist. There’s a little lace collar at the demure neckline and more lace dripping off the hem. The lace brushes the tops of her white thigh-highs. She’s drawn her curls back and secured them at her nape with a big, floppy, white bow, the same way she wore her hair the first time we met. The memory of looking down at that bow as she knelt, watching as I jacked off for her, during our very first scene, sends a warm rush through me.

“Ready, little girl?”

“Oh! Sorry, Daddy. I didn’t realize you were there. Yes, I’m ready. I packed the things you told me to and put the bag on the bottom of the stairs. I brought your toy bag, too.”

“That’s my good girl. Let’s see you, pretty baby.”

She grins and twirls around so the dress flares around her thighs. The platinum around her throat and little diamond studs in her ears catch the light, but they’re nowhere near as bright as her eyes.

“Gorgeous, little girl.” I open my arms; she runs to me. I give her a big hug and kiss the top of her head.

“Mmm, you smell good, Daddy.”

“What do I smell of?”

“Sandalwood. That’s your aftershave. And starch. That’s your shirt. I like the smell of your shirts when they come back from the cleaner. And Daddy. That’s just you and that’s the best smell of all.”

I chuckle and hug her tightly. “You smell pretty good yourself.”

Emily doesn’t wear perfume, because I don’t like it on my little girl. She uses a coconut shampoo, which reminds me of the tanning oil smell of August afternoons at Coney Island. Underneath, there’s the soft, warm fragrance of her skin. My little girl smells like a beach party.

“Any questions about tonight?”

“Is there anything you want me to be during the scene?”

Sweet, sweet submissive, who loves to role-play as much as I do. “Did you pack the ruffled nightgown and thigh-highs like I told you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Then you’ll be my pirate baby tonight.”

She bounces a little on her toes, rubbing her soft breasts against my chest. “And Captain Daddy has to ravish my throat.”

“Uh-huh. You can be cheeky and smart off and resist, but remember the rules.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” I kiss her forehead. “Did you pack a bedtime story?”

She nods. “Where the Wild Things Are.”

“Ah, are you my little wild thing tonight?”

“Can I be? I packed my panda onesie.”

I’m instantly hard. So hard it hurts. I came less than an hour ago, rocking inside Emily as I made love to her, slow and sweet, but her pink onesie, with the little bottom flap that I can fuck her through, turns me on like nothing else.

“Yes, little girl. You’ll be my pirate captive for the scene and my panda baby for bed.” I rub my nose against hers. “Daddy’s wild about you, sweetie.”

“Wild about you, too, Daddy.”

Before I bend my little wild thing over the kitchen counter and make us very late for dinner, I hustle her out the door.

* * *

Bright eyes holding mine, Emily wiggles in her seat as I dip my pinkie in her tea. Once I’m satisfied the liquid’s cool enough for my little girl, I hand her the cup.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says before she takes a sip. “Ta very much.”

My mouth twitches. She’s being super-polite, as she has been all through dinner. Saving up all her cheekiness for the scene, no doubt.

“Someone’s on her best behavior,” Javier drawls from across the table, before sipping from his own cup.

“Someone was raised right,” Maude says from my right. “Emily, show Master Barn-Manners here how to hold a teacup properly.”

With a devilish gleam in her eyes, Emily demonstrates, holding her teacup daintily by the handle, her pinkie finger raised.

“Unmanly,” Javier scoffs. “The only reason to stick my little finger out like that is to put it up a subbie’s bottom.”

Maude and I chuckle, and Emily’s cheeks flush a shade to match her dress.

“I dread to think of where your pinkie has been,” Maude says, waving her hand at him.

She can talk. Her fingers have been up just as many behinds.

Javier evidently has the same thought. “Glass houses, Maude. Anyway, stop changing the subject. You haven’t answered me. How are you voting?”

They go back to the quasi argument they were having before the tea and coffee arrived. They’re bickering over one of the proposals before the committee tomorrow. I’m not invested in that vote, which is on the club offering regular classes in