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

I brought for you, and you show me what’s in that bag?”

He’s not angry? I look up. He’s undoing one of his cases, eyes on the combination lock as he turns the tumblers, but he’s smiling.

I take Peter Aloha Bunny’s bag back out of my suitcase. Logan’s got his massive, black, hard-sided case open. He must have paid a small fortune in excess baggage charges, because the suitcase looks like it weighs more than I do. His suitcase is filled with flat plastic bags. He vacuum-packed. I want to laugh at his anal retentiveness, but I’m still shaken at the idea of showing him my stuffie. What if he laughs? What if he takes Peter Aloha Bunny away as punishment? I don’t think I could handle that.

He takes one of the flattened bags and opens it with a whoosh. Inside the opaque bag, there are neatly folded clothes. My mind’s just registering that they’re all pink and white when Logan takes out the bundle on the top of the pile and shakes it out.

It’s a cap-sleeved, baby doll dress in soft, white cotton, with ribbons threaded through the lace at the sleeves and hem. My heart catches again, for a completely different reason.

“It’s beautiful, Daddy.”

“I would very much like to see you in it.”

I tip my head to the side. Isn’t that what the creepy, French Egyptologist said to Marion Ravenwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark?

“Raiders, Daddy?”

He grins and beckons with two fingers. I shuffle forward, feeling small and mean for my reluctance to show him my bunny, and stunned that he’d buy me clothes. When he said he was bringing things for me for the cruise, I assumed he meant sex toys.

Logan loosens the white towel. Holding my eyes, he runs his fingertips from my shoulders to my waist, tracing the shallow rise of my breasts until I shiver.

“Daddy.”

“Sweet baby. Your skin’s so soft. I love how pink you are after a shower. Let’s get the dress on and then I’ll show you what I brought for you.”

It’s not the dress? There’s more? My throat tightens. This is beginning to feel like too much. I didn’t get a single thing for him. I just selfishly bought bathing suits and jammies for myself.

He tugs the towel free so it drops to my feet, following the path of the fabric with his fingers. Heat tingles through me, tugging and tightening my nipples and belly. I should be sated, but his touch brings my body alert again, and I want more. How can I want him all the time like this?

“Daddy,” I whisper, and it’s a plea.

“Mmm?” He looks at me as he cups my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples. I stand naked and trembling in front of him, and not because of the overly enthusiastic air conditioning. “Are you needy again, sweetheart?”

I nod.

“You just had an orgasm twenty minutes ago. I think another before lunch is a little greedy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I admit.

“Then you’ll have to wait. But I adore how needy you are. Can you stay needy for Daddy for a few hours? Wear some Ben Wa balls for me?”

I nod eagerly.

“Good girl.” A shiver runs through me at his praise. “Arms up.”

I follow his instruction and he slips the dress over my head. It floats down over my skin, a feathery brush like his fingertips, and I shiver, my toes digging into the plush carpet.

Logan smooths the dress down, his fingers finding and lingering on my nipples, tracing them through the soft cloth. “Now that we’re aboard, no underwear unless I tell you otherwise. You’ll be ready for Daddy’s touch whenever I want to give it to you. Today, you can have panties, but no bra.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I catch one of the ribbons trailing from the sleeve between my fingertips. It’s embroidered with tiny roses. Super girly. I wouldn’t have picked it for myself, but I love that he did.

“Good girl. Now, something to go with this pretty dress.” He turns back to his case, pulls out another vacuum-packed bag and opens it. This time, he doesn’t let me see what’s inside. He takes out a velvet bag. My breath catches when I see the jeweler’s name and logo embroidered on it.

He takes out a silver chain. Short and delicate. The chain hangs loose from his hand, without a clasp or charms.

I stop breathing.

He bought me a collar.

He reaches back into the bag and takes out a clasp with a pink pearl dangling from it.

“This is not a collar,” he says as he holds out the ends.

My breath rushes out on a disappointed sigh. I shake myself as I lift my hair so he can fasten it around my neck. Of course he’s not offering me a collar. We’ve only known each other for a week.

“This is a memory chain.” He clips the pink pearl clasp to the ends of the chain, closing it around my throat and centering the jewel between my collarbones. “The pearl’s for the cruise, our first adventure together.”

I put my hand over his. “Daddy, ta so much. This is beautiful. I’m really—I’m overwhelmed.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Now it’s your turn for show and tell.”

I pick up the bag, tug on the drawstring and slowly draw out my teddy bear. Peter Aloha Bunny is a floppy, brown and white bunny dressed in a miniature Hawaiian shirt. His fur is a little matted in spots, a little thin in others, and one of his ears has a line of white stiches along the seam where I had to patch a tear, very inexpertly.

He’s the only thing I have from my father.

“Who is this?” Logan asks.

“Peter Aloha Bunny,” I tell him, feeling the prick of tears behind my eyes. I don’t want to cry. Logan’s being wonderful again. Gentle and generous. That shouldn’t make me cry.

“Did he come from Hawaii?”

I nod. “My dad brought him back for me.”

For my sixth birthday, I think, although my memories of it are