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

train yesterday, it’s been quiet. Maybe the magic of sleeping in Daddy’s bed silenced it.

Once I’ve finished my toast, I clean up the kitchen, then take my phone back up to the bedroom, still admiring my view. I lie on his bed, ignoring a grumble from HIM about lying down after I’ve eaten. I open his robe, pull up the “Daddy’s Lil Monster” tee I wore to bed, and slide my fingers into my panties. I hold my phone over my hips and take a picture.

I check it, caption it, and send it to him.

My phone pings a second later.

Wait until I call you. If you come before I call, you won’t be able to sit down again. Ever.

I take my fingers out of my panties and cup them over my mons. Take another picture and send it to him. Waiting for you, Daddy.

I wait twenty-five minutes. It should be a long twenty-five minutes, but it’s not. The glow still filling my heart, and belly, and pussy, makes the minutes float by.

When my phone rings, I roll over and prop it against the pillow, so Logan can see down the length of my body.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper into the phone.

He groans. “I’ve had a hard-on for a half-hour. What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”

“Sorry, Daddy.” My giggle sabotages my apology.

“What time is it there?”

“Three hours later than it is there. I thought you were good with maths, Daddy?”

“Teasing me right now, baby doll, will get you a bottom so red the pursers on the cruise will be able to use it as a signal flare.”

I giggle again and pull down the neck of my tee with my thumb so he can see that I’m not wearing anything under it. “It’s almost noon here.”

“Taxi’s coming for you in an hour. Are you ready to go? Except that you’re not wearing any-fucking-thing?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Let me get to the bed. Hotel Wi-Fi’s crappy so this may cut in and out.”

“Okay.”

“While I’m doing this—” I’m not sure what this is, and the picture on his end is shaking so badly, I can’t tell what he’s doing. “I want you to get up, walk over to the big wooden dresser, the tall one, and open it. Fourth drawer down on the right side. “

I roll out of his bed and cross to the armoire. I love that he keeps his sex toys in a wooden armoire right out of the Victorian era. I’m sure it was his parents’ and that should be creepy but instead it’s subversive and wonderful. I open the outer doors and take a deep breath of the cedar exhalation that pours out. There are dozens of drawers inside and I’m so tempted to explore his sex toy collection. Instead, I open the drawer he told me to open. Love beads in three different flavors and a pink bullet vibrator, on the large size.

“Which one, Daddy?” I ask, loudly enough that he can hear me.

“Vibrator,” he growls.

I take the pink bullet and control pad back to bed and crawl up to the phone. Logan’s hugely erect cock fills the screen. His hand’s cupping his base, the way he did when he masturbated for me in the expo. bathroom. I liked the gesture then; now it makes hot shivers run through me. It’s so Logan: provocative and protective at the same time.

“Do you need lube, baby doll? It’s in the nightstand drawer.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I dutifully retrieve the lube, pick up the phone and hold it over me while I lie back and wait for his instructions.

“Put your fingers in your panties and rub yourself, like you were doing in the picture you sent me.”

I do, and sigh at the bright sparks that shoot up into my belly. On the screen, Logan’s big hand squeezes his base, then slides up his shaft, bunching his foreskin around his glans and then pulling it taut as his fist slides back.

“Daddy, your penis is beautiful,” I whisper to him.

“Not as beautiful as your cunt. Push down your panties and let Daddy see.”

I do, wriggling them down my thighs and angling the phone so he can see my pussy while I watch him stroke himself.

“Spread your lips for me. Let me see,” he growls.

I splay my fingers to part my lips while I keep working my clit with my middle finger.

Logan groans, a full-throated, masculine sound of desire. It makes me writhe.

“Daddy.”

“Baby doll, you’re killing me. I want to be there fucking you so damn badly.”

“I need you, Daddy.”

“I need you, too, baby doll. Take the lube and put it on the bullet, then put it in your pussy. Slow. I want to see your tight little hole stretch around it.”

I do, rubbing the slick bullet up and down my slit. Then I position the bullet at my entrance and push. It slides in the way Logan’s cock did. Stretching and filling me. I moan with the sensation.

“Yes, baby, just like that. Spread your knees. Let Daddy see.”

I do, and push the bullet deeper. “Daddy, Daddy,” I whimper.

“All the way in,” he coaxes.

I push it in with my middle finger and whimper.

“Good girl. How’s that feel?”

“Full. It burns, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s the big one. Pick up the control and show it to me.”

I fumble it out of the rumpled covers and hold it up to the screen.

“Orange button. Press once, then press again.”

There’s an incomprehensible assortment of buttons on the control pad, but only one orange one, so I press it, wait and press again.

The heat comes on, a gentle warmth that builds quickly, becoming as warm as Logan’s cock when he buries it in me, and then hotter, a burning coal inside me.

“Daddy, that’s too hot,” I whine.

“Bear it for me, baby. I promise it won’t burn you. Daddy takes care of his girl. Press the green button twice.”

I press the button as I’m told. As I’m trying to adjust to the heat, the vibrations start. I shudder. They’re not gentle. They’re hard