Negotiation: Daddy P.I. 0.5 by E Frost (e ink ebook reader .txt) 📗

I close my eyes and melt into him. He holds me for a long time. He doesn’t grumble or seem impatient. Just holds me and occasionally circles his hand around my navel.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do your aftercare yesterday,” he murmurs to me. “I didn’t like that, leaving you to drive home alone. I’ll try to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for calling me.” Which he did, just as promised. We only talked for a few minutes, and not about anything important, but it left me warm and happy. And much too excited to sleep. “I really appreciated it.”

“Any time. I mean that, baby doll. I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but I want you to know that if there’s anything you need, I’m here.”

Well, as long as I pass tonight’s audition. And maybe after that only for two weeks. But that’s okay. Ashley taught me nothing’s forever and I’ll take a few weeks with Logan over being alone any day.

He presses his lips against my temple. “When I let you go, you’re going to walk down to the bathroom and wash your face. Brush this pretty hair. Use the toilet if you need to.” He reaches up and runs his hand through my hair. I’ve left it down and loose, although pigtails would probably fit better with my outfit, but Logan seems to like touching my hair, and I don’t want anything to deter him. “When you’re done, come back to me. I’ll help you get dressed and then we’ll have a drink before we pick up Rick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything else you need, baby doll?”

“Could I have a kiss, sir?”

“Of course.” He turns me around in his arms, then he lifts me with one hand under my ass, the pressure from his palm reigniting the inferno he’s lit there, the other across my shoulders. He holds me against his chest, and I’m just getting my head around him holding me off the ground like I weigh nothing, when he kisses me. It’s not a sweet kiss like yesterday, that soft but lingering goodbye. This feels like he’s eating me, sucking my lower lip into his mouth and scraping his teeth over it. He doesn’t stick his tongue down my throat. Thank the Lord. Instead, he devours me, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue against my teeth or the corners of my mouth, before returning to sucking and biting my lips.

When he finally lifts his head, my lips are burning, and almost as swollen as my ass. My head’s spinning. His fingertips, pressed along the gusset of my panties, are damp. If he pushed me up against the wall now, he could shove anything inside me without resistance, even that mouth-wateringly thick dick of his. Instead, he kisses the tip of my nose and gently sets me back on my feet.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Is all I can manage.

He smiles down at me. Taps the tip of my nose with his forefinger. “If you’d been a good girl, I’d be inside you right now and we’d see how many orgasms I could bang out of you before Manny gets here. Instead, you’re going to have to wait until I decide you’ve learned your lesson. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to lie to me. Go do what I told you.”

Omigod, is this Logan in Dom-mode? My brain implodes.

“Yuh-yuh- yes, sir.”

I flee, the smooth soles of my flats slipping a little on the carpet, one hand dashing tears from my cheeks and the other clutching my burning ass. He doesn’t follow me, and for some silly, stupid reason, that makes me cry even harder.

Splashing cool water on face, and between my legs, finally calms me down. I clean myself up and borrow the thick horsehair brush in his bathroom cabinet—much nicer than my plastic one—which leaves my hair gleaming and silky with fat curls at the ends that I couldn’t achieve with an hour and a curling iron.

The first chance I get, I’m buying a horsehair brush.

Émilee, don’t you dare waste money on such a frivolous thing, you stupid, wasteful girl.

I grip the hairbrush between my hands while the voice hisses in my ears. Then I turn, open the bathroom door and walk down the hall back into the bedroom.

Chapter Three Logan

Something’s wrong.

She was fine when she left. I’ve been watching her closely for any sign the belting was too much, but everything was fine when she left. Now, all the color’s drained out of her face and her eyes are red, but not from those sweet little tears of frustration she was shedding as she ran out.

She comes straight to me and hands me a hairbrush.

“Please, sir, could you punish me again?”

I take the hairbrush from her. “Take your shoes off. Lie down on the bed. On your stomach.”

She does it without meeting my eyes. Something’s really wrong.

I sit down on the bed beside her, pick up her left foot and hold her ankle. I massage the delicate bones with my thumb and forefinger while I rub the back of the brush over the arch of her foot. She curls her toes at the sensation.

“Did you do something naughty in the bathroom, baby doll?” I ask. I followed her down the hall after a minute and listened at the door to make sure she wasn’t too upset. I didn’t hear anything that sounded like a problem, but she might have bitten a towel or something to silence her cries.

“No, sir.”

“Then why do you need to be disciplined again?”

“For lying to you.” She crosses her forearms under her head.

I don’t think that’s why. “For lying to me about your name, or for lying to me right now.”

She turns her head sharply to look at me. “I’m not lying to you right now.”

“No? Then tell me why you really need to be disciplined again.”

“I need the pain to distract me, sir.”

“Distract you from what?” I ask, shifting so I