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

most Doms are respectful. Most protect subs. I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but the kink community down here, we take care of each other. No Dom here would do anything to harm me. And I’d bend over backwards to help a Dom who was wrongfully accused of a crime. I’m not saying I’ll help Rick, but I will ask permission.”

“Laurel.” I have to take a deep breath, because this woman’s courage and magnanimity make my throat tight. All for a man who did a scene with her without any negotiation or a safe word, and slapped her to the floor after he got off. “No one could ask more of you. Please tell your owner that you’ve been very brave and, in my opinion, you deserve a reward. He should be proud of you.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “Thank you. I’ll tell him.”

“Do you ever come to New York, or does it hold too many bad memories for you?”

“No, I’ve got nothing against New York. I’ve been up since. I kind of avoid Baltimore, though.”

“Understandably. When you speak to your owner, please ask him if he’d be willing to bring you to New York. We’ll handle your travel expenses.” Rick’s not going to like that, but if it saves him a six-figure pay-out, he can pay for their plane tickets and a few nights in a hotel. “I think if we could all sit down and talk, we could figure things out. Also, I’d like a chance to meet you, and introduce you to my baby girl.”

“You’re a Daddy-Dom? I should have known. Yes, I’d love to meet your baby girl. Can I give Jiro this number? I’m sure he’s going to want to talk to you.”

I give her my cell and the house landline. “I know you’ll appreciate this, my little and I are about to do a scene, so I won’t be taking calls for the rest of the night.”

“I totally understand. This doesn’t quite sound right, but it’s been nice talking with you.”

“It’s been nice talking with you, too, Laurel. Have a good night and I’ll look forward to speaking with your owner.”

After we say our goodbyes, I tap off the burner and sit staring at it.

Laurel’s not the stalker. I’d bet my life on it.

Then who is?

I think hard for a moment, then fire off an email to Rick.

* * *

I rock Emily, the floor-to-ceiling chains I have her cuffed to creaking with our combined weight. Forward and back, our bodies moving as one. I’m still inside her, her sphincter gripping the base of my softening cock. Whispering in her ear, I praise her, for taking a flogging for the hour it took to cleanse me of Miranda’s poison, for taking an ass-fucking as aftercare. She murmurs wordlessly as I rock her, her head lolling against my shoulder, limp in my arms.

I rock us until my leg twinges, and I’m reminded off all the things I still can’t do, like pick her up and carry her to bed.

Weakness. Lack of control. It comes flooding back with the bitterness of bile.

Emily lifts her head. “Daddy, are you okay?”

I drop my face against her nape, take deep, cleansing breaths of the smell of her skin. Sweat and sex. Earthy and dirty and good. “Yeah, sweetie. Just frustrated I can’t carry you up to bed.”

“Can’t we sleep down here? It’s nice and cool.”

That’s not a bad idea. I can manage the couple of steps over to the bed. I withdraw from her and wipe us both up with baby wipes before I pop the snaps on her cuffs.

She relaxes back against me. I sweep my free arm behind her legs, lift her against my chest and wait for a moment while I get used to the weight and pressure of her in my arms. When I’m confident my leg will hold us, I step over the booster step I had her standing on for the flogging and fucking, and carry her over to the bed. She winds her arms around my neck and looks up at me, not down. Her big, baby eyes are still a little glazed from the intense sensations I’ve given her, but there’s no fear in them. She trusts her daddy. Despite my injury. Despite all the uncertainty I’ve brought into her life. She still trusts me.

I settle her in the bed, remove her cuffs, and clean us up some more. I turn off the lights, then crawl in next to her and pull the thermal blanket we keep on the bed down here over the both of us.

“Bath and a bedtime story aren’t looking too likely tonight, little girl,” I whisper to her as she snuggles into my side.

“That’s okay, Daddy. Would you tell me a story instead?”

I kiss her temple. “Sure, beanie. What story would you like to hear? Beauty and the Beast?” I’m fairly sure I have that one memorized.

“Would you tell me the story of how you and Miranda met instead?”

A grunt escapes me. Why would she want to hear that?

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.” She nuzzles into my shoulder.

“Okay.” Still not convinced it’s a good idea, I try to think of the most sanitized version I can tell her, but the words don’t come. I insist on absolute honesty from Emily. Giving her less cheapens what’s between us. I won’t do that to her.

“It’s not the best story,” I warn her. “It doesn’t paint either of us in a very good light.”

She squeezes me with the arm she has across my chest. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Am I trying to hide it from her? Am I ashamed of my history? Remembering Laurel’s bravery, her insistence on “owning” her past, I clear my throat. “Where do I start?”

“Once upon a time,” Emily supplies.

I chuckle despite myself. This is what I love about my little girl. This sweet playfulness that lights up every corner of my soul. This is what I’ve missed in