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

smoothly. “Dinner tomorrow? I don’t think our conversation’s quite finished.”

“We’ve got . . . a guest coming. She’ll be here until Wednesday.”

“Ah,” Javier begins.

“Actually, fuck it. Dinner tomorrow’s great,” Daddy says. “Our place. Bring Maude and whomever else you want. Text me how many you’re bringing. We’ll make it a High Protocol dinner. Be nice not to be outnumbered by submissives.”

Javier laughs. He has a deep, scratchy laugh. Like his laugh-box has been roughened by cigarettes and alcohol. Top shelf alcohol, of course. Even though I wouldn’t ever want Master Javier for my Dom, his laugh makes me press my thighs together and wiggle a little.

“I’ll bring Maude and Austin and make sure we’re not outnumbered,” Master Javier promises. “I’ll bring the wine. Maude will bring dessert. Emily, I’d like the reddened pork chops. No beans, and for God’s sake, no chia seeds. There’s a good girl.”

I’d never, ever put chia seeds on Master Javier’s favorite pork chops. Although I might put them on a side salad or two.

“Yes, sir.” I dip him a little curtsey.

“C’mon, Emmy. We’ve got to move.” Logan pulls our bags out from under the table and slings them over his shoulder. He wraps his other arm around my shoulders. I nestle into his side and let him lead me out.

The day security guard at the front desk calls us a taxi from the stand a few blocks away. Usually, Logan and I take the train from his club, since it’s only a short walk to the station, but we’re in a hurry today.

He buckles me into my seat, fastens his own belt, and gives the driver Rick’s address. As the cab pulls into the morning traffic, he puts his arm around me, pulling me as close as the seat belt allows.

“When we get to Rick’s, sweetheart, I’m going to put you in High Protocol. Do you understand?”

Not really. He’s never put me in High Protocol anywhere but at the house or at the club. High Protocol’s usually for scenes. And, evidently, for dinner tomorrow. But Logan has the right to put me in High Protocol whenever he wants. Today’s not the day to question him. I look up and nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Daddy.”

I beam up at him. I always want to call him “Daddy,” and I love that he tells me when it’s safe for me to do so.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. If you need to get my attention for any reason, you may tap my hip, knee, or foot. I want you to pay attention. I’m going to ask you afterwards what you saw and thought. But I want you silent in front of Rick.”

That stings a little. But Logan never does anything without a reason, and I trust him. I nod.

“No matter what happens, how freaked out Rick is, or what you see, Daddy holds you in his hands, little girl. You’ll be by my side the whole time. No harm will come to you.”

I feel a prickle of anxiety. That he feels the need to reassure me like this tells me how bad it could be. But looking up into his dark, steady eyes, the prickle smooths away. I whisper my mantra, and Daddy kisses my forehead.

“We might be on the minutes, little love, depending on how long this takes. If I have to leave straight from Rick’s to go to the airport, are you okay to get home on your own?”

“No problem. I’ll take care of the bags and put everything away. Should I make dinner for everyone? I mean, will Miranda come to dinner?”

He squeezes my shoulders. “Do you want her to?”

That’s kind of a trick question. No, I don’t want Miranda to come to dinner. I don’t want to meet her. I don’t want to look at her and think about Logan doing kinky things with her. I don’t want to see her baby bump and wonder if Logan put the bun in that oven. But Logan asked me to stay with him, help keep him calm, and a little takes care of her daddy.

“It might be a relaxed way for us to meet. If you don’t think it’ll give you indigestion?”

“Mmm, have the Pepto Bismol ready, little girl. I’ll invite her and text you, so you know how much to make. Keep it light, please.”

I nod, understanding. “She’ll be off a long flight. Her tummy might be rocky. With the baby and all.”

Logan snorts. “I don’t care about Miranda’s stomach. With the best will in the world, her being here is going to suck giant rotten monkey balls. I’m going to need to take you down to the playroom tonight and work off some tension. Big scenes and full stomachs aren’t a good mix.”

Another big scene? After last night? I figured that would hold him through Miranda’s visit. Wow, he is really needy. “Okay.”

“That means you snack this afternoon, little girl. No later than sixteen hundred. If I’m not back from the airport, you text me when you’ve eaten.”

“Yes, Daddy.” That’s not part of the rules. If we’re apart, I have to text him my total calories at the end of the day. For him to be laying on new rules right now feels a little unfair. Is it because of Miranda arriving that he feels the need for such iron control?

He kisses me on the forehead again. “Thank you for being such a good girl, Emmy. I really couldn’t deal with bratting on top of everything else right now.”

I’m not a brat. Well, not outside of scenes. I brat a little in scenes. Does he think I’d brat now to get attention when I know he’s already stressed? I wouldn’t do that. Maybe his previous subbies have, but I won’t.

As we drive down First Avenue, I give myself a little mental lecture about being super-super good for the next three days while Daddy’s dealing with the stress of the Mir-Beast’s visit.

Chapter Ten Logan

Rick’s got the penthouse of a low-rise apartment block in Murray Hill. With the glass lobby on the