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

I set the bottle on the floor, prop the phone against the bottom dresser drawer, bend over until I can touch my toes, squeeze a dollop on my hands and rub it in, smoothing it up the backs of my calves, my thighs, over my bottom, in slow, circular strokes.

Logan groans. “You’re killing me.”

“Am I, Daddy?” I turn around, feigning innocence, while I smooth the lotion up and down my arms, stretching my hands to him.

“Tease me and your ass will regret it. Forever.”

I giggle and rub lotion over my breasts, pinching my nipples as I rub. When my nipples are hard and slick, I slide my hands down over my belly and rub lotion into my mound, thinking of Logan’s hands on me and biting my lip as I look into the phone.

“For ever and ever,” Logan promises with a growl.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Put your pajamas on before my balls implode.”

I took my best pajamas to his house, but didn’t wear them. They’re still in my overnight bag, waiting to be transferred to my larger case. Why don’t I have more? Because, at most, I spend one night per weekend with my Doms. I should have ordered more when I bought the swimsuits.

I fish them out of my overnight bag. White satin with pink hearts. He should love them. I pull the cami on first, so I can wave my bare ass at the phone as long as possible. Logan’s appreciative groans make me draw out the reverse strip-tease, but finally, I finish sliding the shorts up my legs and there’s nothing left to do but carry the phone to my bed and prop it on a pillow as I climb in and snuggle down in my pillows and covers. Logan’s bed was wonderfully cozy—particularly for a man’s bed—but nothing beats my bed with its memory foam mattress and mountains of pillows.

Logan watches me settle, his eyes hooded and dark. “If I was there with you, baby doll, I’d be tying you to that brass bed frame.”

“We didn’t do that last night or this morning, Daddy.” Even though his four-poster had conveniently placed bars at head and foot that I’m pretty sure are for exactly that purpose.

“No, but we will. I’ve got so much planned for you.” He reaches out of the picture frame and pulls back a little black notebook, like a pocket diary. He thumbs it, flipping pages, and I can see neat printing on dozens of pages. “After you left, I sat down and wrote out ideas for hours.”

“Would you read some to me?” I ask, clasping my hands under my chin. “Please-please, Daddy?”

“One. Otherwise it’ll spoil the surprise.” He turns the notebook around so it’s facing him, flips pages and reads. “High school date. Take BD, that’s you, little girl, out to dinner and a movie. Rent old GTO. Drive out to suburbia and find dark street. Make out until dawn. Eat out BD on hood. If BD doesn’t want to fuck because she’s a good girl, tie her up and fuck her in back seat.”

“Daddy!” It comes out on a gasp, because excitement has grabbed my throat and squeezed. “I would love to do that. Do you plan out all our scenes?”

He tucks the notebook away as he nods. “Gives me something to do when you’re not here.”

No wonder he’s such a wonderful Dom. “Please, one more, Daddy, please!”

“No. Behave yourself and stop thinking about me stretching you over the hood of a big old muscle car while I lick and suck that sweet cunt.”

Like I’m ever going to get that image out of my head now. “When can we do that?”

“Second date when we get back from the cruise.”

“Second date?”

“I’ve got something else planned for our first date.” He gives me his wolf grin.

Despite the crazy heat of that grin and his plans and lying in my bed talking to him, still feeling the fading burn across my ass and the twinge of soreness between my legs, I feel a niggle of insecurity. “You might be bored by then, sir.”

Logan chuckles. “Baby, I’ve got months of ideas already. And I haven’t even gone down the rabbit hole of bad-baby play yet. What’s that all about?”

I wriggle with delight. Months? He wants months with me? I know this won’t last. Forever’s a myth and most kinky relationships don’t last any longer than vanilla relationships. We’re just in that honeymoon period where anything seems possible. Still, I would love months with him.

“Did you read anything about it?” I ask, forcing myself back to the topic. “Diapering and putting me to bed in a crib and stuff?” It’s not really my thing, but if he wants to try bad-baby, I’ll do it for him.

“No. Is that what it’s all about? Would it turn you on?”

I shrug. “I haven’t done it for real before. Lew made me wear a diaper once and it wasn’t a turn-on. It was kind of ridiculous, actually. But he didn’t go the whole nine yards.” Logan himself kind of diapered me with the towel after our werewolf sex, for which I was grateful, but he didn’t want me to actually use the diaper the way Lew did. Which I refused to do. Which led to the first of several big arguments about the limits of my submission, not that I even knew what hard and soft limits were back then, but those arguments, and maybe my ignorance, and definitely my cowardice, eventually split us up.

“Would you like to do that, though?”

“I don’t know.” Thinking about it doesn’t feel very sexy. “I’m not sure how I’d feel about sex when I was that little.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “That’s a point. I’m not sure how I’d feel about that, either. What age do you usually play?”

Oh, no, I thought he understood? “I don’t, um, play an age.”

Those dark eyes search mine. “Sorry, that was the wrong question, wasn’t it? What age do you usually feel?”

I feel like I’m thirty-two, but that’s not