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

Besides, it’s not far and he carried me a few steps the other night.

He sits on the couch and draws me back into the same position, straddling him, koala-baby style. Only this time, he reaches between us, pushes his shorts down, lines up his cock and pushes into me as I’m sinking down onto his thighs.

I’m not wet, because nothing about the confrontation with Miranda or his profound disappointment in me is a turn-on, and I’m not ready for him. But it’s his right to take me whenever he wants, and I have a feeling that this is just the first part of a big punishment that’s coming my way. I close my eyes and grit my teeth and work my resisting body down onto him.

“Why am I putting my dick in you right now, Emily?”

I don’t know. This doesn’t feel fun or sexy or anything like that, and he doesn’t usually discipline me with sex, so I don’t understand what he’s doing. I shake my head as he holds it against his shoulder with his hand gripping my nape.

“Because you’re mine. Do you stop being mine just because I walk out the door?”

That, at least, I know the answer to. “No, Daddy.”

“No. You’re always mine. Show me you want to belong to me.”

I do. I work my hips, slowly to start until the friction begins to feel good and my body moistens, then faster. I figure he’s not going to let me come—whether because of our earlier bargain or because I’m being punished—so I don’t do anything to stimulate myself. Just ride him at the pace I know he likes and clench my inner muscles to give him as much pleasure as possible.

But he’s not content with that. “Grind down on me, Emily. All the way,” he growls into my ear.

I wrap my arm around his neck and grip his shoulder for leverage, then drive myself down onto him until his crown bumps my cervix and my clit mashes against his public bone. The impact makes me shudder against his hard chest and whimper against his neck as a hot tide of pleasure rises through me.

“Again, little girl. I want to feel that each time.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. How am I going to keep from coming? He knows what it does to me when he bangs my cervix. Is this part of the punishment, to force me to come so I’m in trouble for breaking that rule, too?

“Daddy, please, I’m s-s-sorry. Please don’t make me ride you hard. I don’t think I can keep from c-c-coming and I don’t want to break another rule.”

“Do as you’re told, Emily.”

I cringe and fresh tears sting my eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”

I ride him as hard as I can, forcing my body down on his, still crying, sadness and shame and arousal mixing in a toxic brew inside me. Turning me inside out. He doesn’t let me lift my head, doesn’t let me see his expression, but as he’s getting close, his hips rising to meet mine, his breath coming in harsh, sharp pants, he turns his head and presses his open mouth against my temple. His warm, minty breath blows over my face with each groan, and feeling his pleasure spikes mine even higher. My belly clenches and my thighs clench and each thrust of his hot length within me brings me closer to a very unhappy ending.

“Daddy, please. Please, Daddy, I can’t stop.”

He pushes his hand down between us and pinches my clit. “Come on me, baby girl. Come on me. You have permission,” he growls.

All the conflict bursts out of me in long wail as my body tips over the edge. It doesn’t feel as wonderful as usual. It doesn’t shatter me or send me flying. It’s just a release of tension. I lose my rhythm, but it doesn’t matter because my daddy has me. He releases my clit, wraps his arms around me and slams me down on him a dozen times as he comes with a long growl, his release scouring my insides the way tears are scouring my eyes.

He holds me through the aftershocks. He’s still firm within me, and I’m careful not to push him out because I know he likes this point of connection during the afterglow, even though I feel really raw inside. My tears have finally tailed off at least, although the shoulder of his T-shirt is wet when I rest my cheek on it.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he asks gently as his breathing steadies.

“Yes, Daddy.”

It is. I don’t know why it is. But it is.

“That’s my girl. We’re going to talk for a few minutes, and then you’re going to rest.”

My eyes are already closed and I feel completely wrung out, so I’d be begging for a nap even if he wasn’t telling me to take one.

“Yes, Daddy. Ta for taking care of me.”

“I will always take care of you, my good girl.”

That chokes me up again. “I’m not your g-g-good girl—”

He rubs his hand up and down my back. “Sh, sweetheart. You’re still my good girl. You broke rules and we’ll deal with that, but you’re still my good girl. You are always my good girl.”

I collapse against him, every ounce of tension draining out of me. I didn’t even realize how rigidly I was holding myself, clinging to my shame, until he absolved me.

“I bear responsibility, too,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I kept you here for selfish reasons. I’m absolutely bloody disgusted with Miranda, and she went much further than I ever thought she would. I thought she’d listen after I told her to stop poking at you. Clearly, I was wrong. I’m sorry, sweet baby, I wasn’t setting you up, I swear.”

I rub my face in his neck. My daddy’s not like that; he doesn’t set me up to fail just so he can punish me. I’ve been with Doms who did that, but Daddy’s not one of them.

“It’s muh-my fault,” I admit, feeling my