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

like you. You took care of her. You never did anything about those thoughts. They’re just thoughts.”

“Sweetheart.” He gathers my hair in his hand and smooths it away from my face. “You cannot understand how bad they make me feel.”

Oh, I can.

“They’re just thoughts,” I repeat. “You didn’t act on them. You didn’t hurt your little sister. You protected her, Sir. Even from yourself.”

“How in the ever-loving fuck can you be okay about this?”

Because he said no instead of yes, and because I know all about hating yourself.

“A monster doesn’t worry about being a monster, Sir. The fact that you felt bad about it shows you’re a good person.” I rub my sticky eyes. “And it’s natural for a Dom to want to punish and protect his sub. I mean, that’s what she was, right? Your first sub?”

He nuzzles the soft spot behind my ear, his lips buzzing against my skin as he speaks. “I never thought of it that way, but, yes, she was.”

“Have you always known you were a Dom?” I ask hesitantly. Not all of my Doms have wanted to talk about their Dom-ness.

“You mean, have I always been a bossy asshole?” That would make me giggle if I wasn’t still sniffling. “My sister would probably say yes, but I only figured out my kink in my twenties.”

But it was always in him. Just like mine was always in me.

“I felt really, really bad about my kink at first, too, Sir. I thought it was wrong and degrading and made me a bad person. Just like you. You just felt it a lot earlier. It must have been even harder to deal with those feelings when you were so young.”

“Emmy.” He blows out a warm breath across my ear. “Are you really okay with this? Are you okay with me?”

Am I? I let the questions settle for a heartbeat, two. Nothing in me rejects it. I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

He rubs his hand up and down my back. “Will you let me take care of you, sweetheart? It’s okay to say no. I’d understand if you didn’t trust me after this and wanted me to leave you alone. But, please, Emmy, let me take care of you.”

I still trust him. Maybe I trust him more now than I did when I got off the plane. No one is perfect, but other than a bad moment in New York when I thought he was going to hit me in anger, I hadn’t seen any of Logan’s flaws until today. That he has some, and that they only illustrate what a decent person he is, make me trust him more.

“Yes, Sir, I’d like you to take care of me. Please, can we go back to the way it was in New York?”

He leans over to kiss my cheek, trail his lips down my neck. The erection that’s been a steel bar against my hip while he’s been spanking me throbs so hard I can feel it through his jeans. “Yes, little girl, of course we can.”

* * *

He makes me come twice, first with his fingers and then with his cock and that amazing hip action. But it’s more than just giving me orgasms. He cups my face, holds my throat, envelops me in his body, while he fucks me. He masters me, controls me, with every thrust, in each position, creating that intense intimacy he created in New York. I’m overwhelmed the first time, and cry during the aftershocks while he holds me and calls me his good girl.

The second time, I gray-out under him, both from the overstimulation of every nerve and from the pain of his thighs hitting my ravaged ass cheeks. His orgasm seems to go on for a full minute, and he collapses on me afterwards, crushing me down into the thick rug where we’ve ended up.

I wrap my arms around him and stare up at the ceiling. Floating, even though I’m pinned under his weight. Feeling nothing but bliss despite the burning, itching pain in my ass and thighs. I float, and feel, until Logan rolls off me and bumps his elbow into the wooden base of the couch with a muttered curse. Thinking of what he’d do to me if I said that word makes me giggle. I grab the edge of the table and the lip of the couch and begin to pull myself up off the floor unsteadily.

Logan’s hand on my shoulder presses me back. “Wait there, baby. You need cream and painkillers. Do you want a blanket?”

I haven’t been cold while we’ve been fucking. Now the air-conditioning is chilling the sweat on my skin and it’s as good a time as any for Logan to find out about my fuzzy. “Sir, in my big yellow case, there’s a blue blanket. Can I have that?”

“Sure.” He bends over to kiss the top of my head. “Give me a tick.”

He pads across the living room and into the bedroom. I watch his ass, which really is spectacular, while pulling myself into a slump against the couch. Under the haze of sex chemicals I’m still riding, there’s a pretty sharp bite in my butt. That’s going to hurt so much once the endorphins wear off.

He returns, carrying my fuzzy folded in his arms. He lays the blanket on the couch and spreads it out before lifting me onto it. I love how easily he handles me and tell him so as he turns me over and positions me with my arms folded under my head.

He smiles down at me, and now it does reach his eyes. I start to smile back when he frowns at something out of my line of sight.

“Sir, what’s wrong?”

“How does this feel?” he asks, running his fingertips very lightly over my left ass cheek.

At the moment, it just feels hot, but I can tell it’s bruised. “Not as bad as the times I’ve had the soles of my feet caned.” Which is the truth. “How does