Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles by Frost, J (reading eggs books TXT) 📗

you and I’m sorry you thought that for a second. I wanted to hate the act. I wanted it to feel bad, because it shouldn’t feel good when I’m thinking about my sister. I didn’t think you’d pick up on it. You’re very sensitive, aren’t you, sweetie?”

She shrugs.

“I really am sorry, baby doll. I swear to you it will never happen again.”

“No,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “Don’t promise that. If you have those feelings again, I want you to share them with me. Even if they’re horrible. Now that I know that you’re not trying to humiliate me, I’ll deal with it better. It helped, right? You said it helped.”

“It did. I’ve been carrying this around with me for a long time,” I admit. “Today’s made me realize just how long. I’ve taken it out on my bottoms before. I’ve been an utter bastard to them after interviewing widows. There’s just something about being helpless to take away their pain that triggers me. But I’ve never told anyone why. Only you. And I know that must be a small fucking consolation after what I put you through, but it’s true. I want you to know that.”

Her hand steals up from my chest and cups my jaw. “Thank you. That’s not a little thing. It makes a big difference.”

“Sweetheart.” I capture her hand, draw it to my chest and hold it over my heart. “I went about it all backwards today, taking it out on you but not telling you what it was about. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do that to you again. That breaks trust. We’re building trust here.”

She turns her face into my neck and kisses that spot under my jaw that makes a hot shiver run down my spine. “Ta very much, Daddy.”

Those words and her sweet gesture fill the hole that Reggie Black tore open in my gut. “You’re welcome.” I hold her for a minute, then say, “This is way too deep for our second date.”

She gives a soft giggle. “It could almost be our third date, if you count the phone sex.”

“Date two-point-five. You know what I usually do with my bottoms on the second date?”

“Tie them up?” she asks.

She sounds hopeful and I chuck her under the chin.

“Good guess. Second date is usually dinner and some light bondage, but nothing as intense as spanking. I don’t want to scare off a new bottom. We’ve jumped straight into the deep end, haven’t we?”

She shrugs. “I don’t mind the deep end. Honestly. Just as long as I know what’s going on.”

“I won’t keep you in the dark again, baby.”

“Ta very much. After dinner, could we have your usual second date?”

I shake my head at her. “I was planning on a bath and bed, sweetheart. You’ve had a long day.”

“I’d love a bath, but I’d love being tied up even more. I’m not tired. I slept really well in your bed last night and I napped on the flight for an hour, just like your schedule said.”

“You did, huh?”

She nods and turns her big eyes on me again. They’re deadly for my good intentions.

“How’s this? A little bondage, maybe a toy, absolutely no spanking, then a bath, more cream, and bed. I’ve set up interviews with Bill Black’s assistants before the taxi comes to take us to the port tomorrow. If my lazy baby doesn’t sleep away the whole morning again, we’ll have time for a little play before breakfast and a longer play when we get on the ship. Deal?”

“Deal.” She slides her hand out from under mine and offers me her pinkie, which I hook and shake.

“Have you had enough sushi?”

“Please, can I have the rest of the Hamachi?”

Fuck, those eyes.

“Yes,” I groan.

* * *

An hour later, I’m groaning again, and back inside her. She’s spread on the bed, her wrists bound over her head with the soft cuffs. Unlike the cruise, the hotel’s not targeted at the kinky crowd. It shows in the bedframe, which has no rails, slats, or posts for anchor points. Fortunately, I brought enough coil to run around the headboard. Emily’s not as securely restrained as I’d like, but it’ll do for a low-key play session.

And low-key is all we’re doing until both of us heal. Her ass looks better after another application of T-Relief, but it’ll be a few days before the bruises fade.

Neither of us can see the bruises on me, they’re inside, but I can feel them all the same. They need some time to mend, too.

Emily’s pleasure acts like T-Relief for me. She’s writhing under me as I thrust deeply, then pull back, teasing her G spot, before sliding all the way home again. The little butterfly clit stimulator I’ve strapped to her buzzes between us. Her ass rubs across the towel I’ve put beneath her, which is all the pain I’m allowing her for the foreseeable future, no matter how much she begs. With her wrists restrained and her arms over her head, her motion’s limited, but that’s not stopping her from wriggling. Her belly undulates against mine: warm, damp kisses of skin. Her legs draw up, knees clamping my sides, before she rolls her hips and her knees go wide, little toes digging into the backs of my calves. I love how much she moves, how her body arches to meet each thrust, her head going back, whipping from side to side in the frame of her arms. She’s so involved in our fucking. When her eyes meet mine, they’re glazed, pupils blown. When I thrust deeply enough to bump her cervix, her eyes roll back to white. That’s what I want to see: her out of her mind with pleasure. She whimpers, moaning, begging me to let her come. That’s what I want to hear: her need that only I can fulfil. Those sights, those sounds soothe the pummelling I’ve given my soul.

“Hold on to it, Emmy,” I tell her, leaning over her and bracing