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

When I finish the last stroke, she thanks me and reaches back to caress my knee, which is a sweet gesture. I praise her for it while I put her clothes back in order, help her sit up and then pull her across my lap and tuck her into my chest. She curls into me, head on my shoulder, knees up against my side. When I murmur to her what a good girl she is, she blinks huge, tear-stained eyes at me, and rubs her hand across her mouth.

“Please, Daddy,” she says in a tiny whisper. “May I suck my thumb?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Good girl for asking.”

She takes just the tip of her thumb in her mouth, watching me. When I smile down at her, she takes the rest, and sucks a little, her heavy eyelids drooping.

I cuddle her close and think about what I’m going to give her to suck in future.

Emily hums to herself. Self-soothing, I think it’s called. I rock her gently and listen to her breathing as it goes soft and shallow. When I’m sure she’s down, I shift so I can prop my elbow on the arm of the couch and cradle her in the crook of my arm while she dozes with her soft cheek against my heart.

Looking up from her peaceful face, I find most of my brothers have gone back to their reading, but Javier is still watching me, although he’s drawn his bottom’s head back into his lap and is holding her with her nose pressed to his groin while her hands twitch and flex on his thighs.

“That was nicely done,” he says.

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” I tip my chin to him. I was trained as a top before I joined Blunts, but I’ve learned a great deal from watching Javier and some of the other senior members work with their own subs and the house bottoms.

“I don’t think we’ve had a little girl grace us since Elaine and Gill moved away,” he observes.

I don’t remember them and tell him so.

He pulls his slave off his cock, lets her gasp for a few seconds, then shoves her back down. “They may have left the year you joined us.” He waves his free hand. “The years go so fast now.”

I nod. I’ve felt the acceleration.

“If you’re going to top her as her daddy, I hope you’ll demonstrate. It’s never too late to learn something new, particularly that transition into aftercare. Elegant.”

And totally unplanned. It just felt right. “Thank you. I hope to. This is actually our first real date.”

Javier chuckles. “What a brave little girl.”

She is. I appreciate her bravery even more now that I’ve gotten a peek at what lies behind her white silk bows and French poetry. That’s part of the reason I rewarded her with the orgasm. The other part is that I’ve actually forgiven her. She’s incredibly easy to forgive. Much easier than Rachel, who could have damaged what’s developing between me and Emily with her little scene, and appears to have pissed all my training in self-control down the gutter.

Thinking of Rachel, I ease my phone out of my pocket, thumb it on and navigate to my contacts list. I have all the club members in a sub-group. I find Sante and send him a text to let him know that his bottom was way the fuck out of line and that I’m turning her over to Maude for correction. Then thumb over to Maude and text her the same thing.

I lay the phone on the couch beside me once I’ve sent the texts. Before I’ve even wrapped my arm back around Emily, my phone pings.

Where are you? Rachel says you’re here. I’d like to speak with you.

Sante. Things I do not need tonight. I tried not to hate Sante for taking Rachel away from me, and he tried not to hate me for being her first Master. I don’t think either of us succeeded very well.

Library, I reply.

He must already have been looking for me, because the library door opens less than thirty seconds later. Sante crosses in front of me, with a nod to Javier, before sitting down on the couch beside me. I decide not to tell him he’s sitting where Emily was crying five minutes ago. Sitting in a wet spot is no less than he deserves for wearing a beige, Italian linen suit. Flash bastard.

He sprawls on the couch, spreading his legs, although he’s careful not to disturb Emily, and runs a hand through his longish black hair. I’m sure women love that messy hair; I have an urge to take a hedge trimmer to it.

“I want to apologize for Rachel’s behavior,” he says in a stage whisper, and I appreciate his attempt not to wake Emily. “She’s going through a rough time right now. I know that’s no excuse.”

“Apology accepted. I still think she should spend an hour with Maude, but you’re her Master.”

Sante waves his hand. “Absolutely, she spends an hour with Maude.”

He’s being awfully conciliatory. We didn’t exactly fall out after Rachel chose him. We weren’t close to start, and I just avoided him after things went sour. But our last few interactions were a lot more prickly than this.

“I will also discipline her myself,” he continues. Sante’s first language is Italian, and I’ve noticed that in times of stress, his English becomes a little stilted. It’s stilted now, and I wonder what the source of his stress is. “She knows better than to approach you when you are on a date. Please accept my apologies if she embarrassed you.”

I nod. “No great harm done.”

He runs his hand through his hair again, and drags it over his designer stubble. “Have you agreed to see her again? I know she planned to ask you.”

“No,” I say firmly. Emily stirs against me and I rub her back to send her back down. Unfortunately, my touch has the opposite