The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection, Frost, J [famous ebook reader TXT] 📗

“What do you drink when there’s more than water on offer?”

“Tea.” She gives me a swift grin, reminding me of the tea we shared after our mutual masturbation at the expo. “Cranberry juice. Milk.”

“I’m guessing not together,” I say and smile at her giggle. “No soda?”

“Carbonation.” She shakes her head.

“Mmm-hmm. What’s your favorite food?”

“The thing that’s hardest to get in upper New York state: authentic Mexican. And sushi. I adore sushi.”

“I like sushi, too,” I say, and feel a moment’s regret that we’re not going to my favorite sushi place, which is just a short walk from my club. But sushi isn’t to everyone’s taste, so I didn’t book it and we’ll never get in without a reservation on a Sunday night. Besides, eating at the club’s Italian restaurant works around Rick’s intrusion into my night. There’ll be other opportunities for sushi. “There’s plenty of authentic Mexican where we’re going.”

She grins, showing even, pearly teeth. “I saw that on the itinerary you sent me. Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlán, Puerto Vallarta and Zihuantanejo. Wow.”

“Wow?”

“Wow. I’ve never been anywhere south of Oklahoma, but I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico.” She bites her lip and hides her grin in a sip of water.

“Where have you travelled?”

“Europe.” She shrugs. “Research. I’ve run out of new places to go in Scotland. I wrote a book set in Germany and another in Northern Italy, so a couple of trips to each. I stayed for a month in Greece and almost didn’t come home, it was so beautiful. And all over France, visiting my mother’s family.”

“No trips west?” I ask. West is my preferred destination. Sun, sand and spanking.

“I’ve been to the West Coast, but not as far south as L.A. I went to visit friends in San Francisco and Seattle.”

“Friends? Not Doms?”

She shakes her head and I watch the swing of her shining hair with fascination. Since I can now touch it whenever I want, I lace my fingers through it and enjoy the silky slide against my skin.

She looks up at me with a smile. “I never tried long-distance topping. All my Doms have been here in the city or in Syracuse.”

“Yeah? How many have there been?”

She takes a sip of water. Stalling.

“There’s no right or wrong answer, sweetheart,” I say, to reassure her.

“Five. Physical ones, you know, like you.”

“Including the one that didn’t have sex with you?”

She nods. “Please don’t think badly of Matthew. He’s a nice man.”

“Not so nice you’re still with him.”

She hangs her head. I catch one of the locks of hair that falls against her cheek between two fingers and give it a tug. “I’m not being critical, baby doll. I know submission’s sexual for you, so you couldn’t have gotten everything you needed out of it.”

“Not everything I needed, no. But it was really good for me.”

“How was it good for you?”

“It got me out of myself, sir.”

“A distraction from bad thoughts?”

She nods without looking up at me. “I get too involved in my own head.” She waves her hand vaguely at the offending appendage. “What I do makes it worse. I can go for days without getting out of my pajamas or leaving the house. Being with Matthew made me realize how important human contact is for me.”

I twist a curl around my fingers and tickle her nose with the fluffy end. “Is that why you were advertizing for a new top?”

She gives me another little nod. “I was doing it again. Going days without seeing anyone. It’s been four months since . . . well, since I’ve been with someone. I thought it was time.”

“Here’s to good timing.” I clink our glasses again.

“Sir,” she says softly, looking up at me. “Can I ask . . . how long have you been split up from your sub? The lady who wrote the letter?”

“Miranda. I stopped topping her six months ago.” I take a long swallow of my drink, letting it burn down my throat and incinerate the lingering bitterness of her walking out on me. “Just so you know, we’re still in touch. I don’t cut people out of my life.”

“Oh.” She sips her own drink and I give her a minute to consider. “It hasn’t been that way for me,” she says. “When it’s ended, it’s really ended. Sometimes not very nicely. I don’t stay in touch.”

“No permanent attachments,” I say, remembering her sign.

“No.”

“Have you always been the one to break it off?” I ask.

“No, sometimes it’s just ended. I stopped calling or he stopped calling. With one, we agreed we didn’t really have anything in common other than our kinks. And there was the guy who found someone else and showed up with her at the dungeon party I thought we were going to together.”

“That’s very immature.” I tickle her chin with the captured curl until she smiles. “I like communication. I’m very open with my bottoms and I expect openness in return.”

She nods. “No lying.”

“No lying, no secrets. If you’re not happy, say so. If I’m not giving you what you need, tell me. Part of what I enjoy about topping is figuring out what really pushes my bottom’s buttons, but I don’t get it right every single time. If I’m missing the mark, let me know.”

“Not so far.” She gives me a smile that’s very different from the sweet little girl smiles she’s been giving me. This is secret and sly and sexy.

It pulls an answering grin out of me. “I should probably tell you that I haven’t been a daddy before,” I admit. “It’s working for me so far, and I can see there are things about it that I’ll really get off on. I did some research last night, so I think I understand the basics.” I did a lot of research last night, when I should have been researching the cruise job. The more I read, the more things clicked together in my head. “But if there’s something I’m not doing that you expect your daddy to do, let me