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

tummy. Even as he fills one void, he leaves another achingly empty. After servicing him, an act that sometimes feels more intimate than penetration, I’m trembly with need, feverish and wanting. Daddy kisses the tears off my cheeks, wipes the spit off my chin with a baby wipe, but does nothing for my clenching, shaking, empty neediness.

I can see from the glint in his eye that he’s not going to any time soon, either. Uht-oh, the meanie light is on. Logan likes orgasm denial. I don’t, and I can tell from that light that it’s coming my way. Frustration should appeal to me as a masochist, but it doesn’t. I want gratification; I want to know my suffering will end with the reward I’ve earned. Sexual frustration just makes me resentful.

Logan knows this. He also knows I’ll put up with orgasm denial for him, even though it’s my least favorite thing. He’s earned my trust and submission. If he wants me to endure frustration today, I will, just like I’ll endure whatever he wants me to wear, even though I’d really like to look pretty. Pleasing him is more important than either my desire or my ego.

His intention to keep me on simmer all day is evident as he dresses me. Over white thigh highs with pink bows along the back seam, he puts me in a tiny, pink, pleated skirt, a bustier edged with white lace and embroidered with pink and white butterflies that pushes up my breasts enough to give me a hint of cleavage, and over the top, one of his white dress shirts. It’s out of the clothes hamper, a little creased, but it smells deliciously like him. He rolls up the sleeves and buttons the two middle buttons like a blazer but leaves the top and bottom open so he can see the cups of the bustier and my mini-skirt. I don’t feel pretty, but I feel sexy and that’s more than good enough.

Logan sits on the edge of the bed and draws me to him so I straddle his thighs. He runs his hands up the backs of my stockings, then cups my bare bottom and massages me with his warm fingers until my wetness is smearing his fingertips and I’m gripping his shoulders to keep myself from writhing off his lap onto the floor.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t plug you, little girl,” he growls.

Because my butt feels like he’s been using 200-grit sandpaper as lube, but I’m fairly sure that’s not what he wants to hear.

“You should plug me if it pleases you, Daddy,” I say, through only slightly gritted teeth. “But my bottom is really, really sore.”

He chuckles, but it’s a very wolfy chuckle; a plug is coming my way. “Mm-hmm, is that the only reason I shouldn’t plug you?”

“I’ve kept my mind on you since dinner like a good girl?”

He rubs my bottom, his fingers exploring my crease, and I’m fairly sure I’m going to faint before he makes a decision about the plug.

“You are my good girl. And I know you have a sore bottom. But it’s Daddy’s bottom, isn’t it? And Daddy wants to see a cute, pink jewel winking at him every time you bend over. Give me a kiss, then go into the armoire and open the fifth drawer down on the left and bring me the pink one.”

Fuck, I’m getting plugged. And with a plug I haven’t seen before, it sounds like, since Logan’s never sent me to that drawer before.

I give him a kiss, which he extends with a hand in my hair. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him for as long as he lets me. Lapping at his tongue, savoring the lemony-buttery taste in his mouth. When he finally lets me up, I stagger over to the armoire, dazed and a little dizzy. The drawer he’s directed me to has five, stainless-steel butt plugs in it. They’re small, not much longer than my thumb, shaped like an acorn, with a narrow neck, and a wide bottom inset with a jewel the size of a quarter. Pink, blue, red, black, and clear. I pick up the pink one and hold it out to Logan on my palm.

“Get some lube from the nightstand, sweetie. I’m not going to make you take this dry when you’re already sore.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Ta very much.”

I retrieve the bottle of Swiss Navy, a silicone lube, which is safe to use with a metal toy and stays slick for a long time. It’s the lube I like best for anal sex and I have it stocked all over the house. Logan bends me over the bed beside him and works the plug in gently. There’s a little burn as my sphincter stretches around the widest part of the plug, but once it’s in, it doesn’t hurt.

“Let it settle a moment and then stand up and let me inspect you, Emmy.”

I follow his instructions carefully and stand in front of him with my hands at my sides and my head down.

He has me turn and his warm hands slide under my skirt, lifting it to my waist. Good shivers run all through me at his scrutiny. “Mmm, that’s gorgeous, little girl. How does it feel?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s because it’s not a training plug. It doesn’t stretch your sphincter or pull on your muscles. It’s just for show.” He pats my bottom and curves his warm hand around my hip to turn me around to face him. “I’m very pleased with you, sweetheart.”

I catch the hem of my skirt with the tips of my fingers and dip him a curtsey. He slides his hand under my chin and looks me in the eye.

“I’m heading over to Hendry’s in half-an-hour. I’m taking Miranda to the airport at four. Manny’s picking me up at seven to do a face-to-face out in Queens. I should be back by ten. You have a choice—”

Oh, boy, here it comes. One of Daddy’s devil’s bargains.

“Either