The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (i love reading txt) 📗

this time, just below my eye. I feel the impact all through my skull. Wet heat runs down my cheek. Lightning shoots through the side of my head where the fire extinguisher cracked my skull.

Emily screams, “Daddy!”

Theo shoves me to the side while roaring at Rick, “You calm the fuck down or I will fucking arrest you.”

“You motherfucker!” Rick howls. I’m not sure if he’s shouting at me or Theo.

“Manny, get him to a hospital,” I yell over my shoulder as I shrug Theo off.

As soon as my arms are free, Emily’s in them, one soft hand cupping my bleeding cheek, the other tugging my wrist. “Come on, Daddy. We need to go.”

“Emmy—”

“We have to go. We have to get you to a doctor. Come on, Daddy.”

Resisting her is like resisting the tide. She’s such a tiny thing, but so determined. She pulls me toward the door. Jiro crowds in on my other side, shielding me from Rick, who is still cursing at my back. In a flash of blue, DirtyGurl pushes in behind Emily, dragging Daisy with her.

“Party in the ER!” DirtyGurl crows as we troop out.

* * *

It’s not much of a party, either in the East Fourteenth Street Urgent Care Center, or back at my house afterwards. We’re a subdued group, particularly after Daisy’s blood-test shows the punch was spiked with a huge amount of ketamine. They send her to Bellevue for observation overnight.

They debate sending me, too, but after two hours’ worth of tests, they release me once they’ve glued and bandaged my split cheek. Even though I don’t have a concussion, the doctor tells Emily to wake me every two hours through the night and to head straight to the hospital if I start showing any symptoms, which does little to alleviate my baby doll’s visible anxiety.

I hate that I’ve made her worry for me again.

Broader worry for everyone who drank the punch makes the gathering back at my place feel more like a wake than a party. While we wait for news from the various hospitals where Rick and other guests have been taken, our numbers swell. Javier, Maude, and Max show up first. Max gives me the longest hug I’ve ever had from another man, particularly one I haven’t fucked, and tells me to stop trying to give him a coronary.

While still patting me on the back, he explains his calls during the party. “I found Glory’s Ohio driver’s license from before her marriage and divorce. Gloria Griffiths was born Gloria Evonne Wilson.”

I spare a moment to get him to forward the drivers license to Theo. Then I put it out of my mind. Whatever happens after tonight, Rick’s security is no longer my problem. Even stupid drunk, I’ve never taken a swing at a friend. Rick may have been off his head on this stuff Glory put in the punch but, in my experience, drugs just bring out the worst of whatever’s in someone’s soul.

What’s in Rick’s soul is not my friend.

We’re gathered around the dining room table, sipping tea that Emily’s made, or, in Javier’s case, wine that DirtyGurl’s poured, when the doorbell sounds. I growl that it’s nearly one in the morning and no one should be ringing the bell, but Emily skips off and returns with Dana, Austin, and Cappa. By the furtive look in DirtyGurl’s eyes, I know who to blame.

DirtyGurl throws up her hands as Austin gently peels back the bandage and examines my cheek. “He threatened everyone with crucifixion if you were ever injured again and he wasn’t the first call,” she says. “I like to avoid crucifixion when I can.”

“I did, sir,” Austin admits.

Javier points at Austin, “You, stop threatening the other subs, that’s my job. And you.” He points at DirtyGurl. “Big trouble. We’ll schedule your crucifixion for tomorrow night at nine.”

DirtyGurl sighs. “Master Theo owns my ass until Sunday at midnight. I came without permission.”

Javier chuckles. “Definitely crucifixion, then. Tell Theo I’ll be joining the two of you tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, sir.” DirtyGurl rubs her hand over her face resignedly and takes out her phone.

Austin pronounces the gluing of my cheek acceptable and starts discussing a schedule for waking me in the night with Emily and Cappa.

“I’m sitting right here,” I growl. “And I’m perfectly capable of setting an alarm every two hours.”

Cappa’s hand flutters to my shoulder. “Please, sir. Please let us take care of you. We weren’t there with you in San Diego.”

“That’s not a failing, boy. You were on the other side of the country.”

But I evidently didn’t train anyone to obey a Dom’s commands well enough. I end up in bed with Emily on one side, Cappa on the other, and Austin downstairs on the couch with Dana. Max takes the day bed in Emily’s little room. Jiro and Laurel are back in the guest bedroom. Emily opens the playrooms so Maude, Javier, and DirtyGurl can bed down in the inner playroom.

“I’m going to start charging rent,” I grumble to Emily as she settles in my arms.

She giggles. “We could swap out the couches for sleeper sofas and have slumber parties every weekend, Daddy.”

“I’d be up for that,” Cappa says from behind me.

“If you’re going to be in my bed, boy, be useful and spoon up.”

“Yes, sir,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice as his warmth wraps around my back.

* * *

Cappa wakes me at two. Austin wakes me at four. Emily wakes me at six and offers me her mouth, which I take sleepily. When Cappa stirs at my groans, I direct him through edging himself for the duration of my blow job.

Having both subs squirming, unfulfilled, against me fills my soul. I know it’s doing more for Cappa, who kinks hard on orgasm denial, than Emily, but I’ll make it up to my little girl after everyone’s left. I cuddle them back to sleep, then drift off myself for another hour. Cappa’s sprawled face-down on the mattress and Emily’s curled