Negotiation: Daddy P.I. 0.5, E Frost [best thriller novels of all time txt] 📗

a closer look? Sure. But you’ll need to be on your knees. Put some tissue down so you’re not touching the floor.” The tile looks clean enough. But you never know what’s on the floor of a convention center toilet.

She quickly unwinds some toilet paper from the holder, places it on the tiles at my feet and kneels. She really is well-trained. Kneeling can be uncomfortable if you don’t know how to do it, but she goes down onto her knees like she’s never known any other position. Kneeling, she’s close enough that I can feel her breath on my thighs, stirring the small hairs there.

Touch me, baby doll, touch me. Show me you can’t keep your hands off me, and I’ll spank you just as much as you want.

She raises her hands and my breath catches. Is she going to give in and touch me? Just when I think she’s going to, she reaches behind me and braces her palms against the title. She leans in and examines me from a hair’s breadth away.

I let her look her fill, enjoying her soft breaths as they patter across my thighs. “See anything you like?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “How big do you get—?”

“Erect? Want me to show you?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“You have to stay right there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” I reach down to grab my dick, then slow my movements. I don’t want to startle her when she’s inches away, and it can’t hurt to make this seductive. I rub my palm down my groin, up and down my thigh, before thumbing my base and cupping my balls. She watches each movement, bare breasts shivering with her shaky breaths.

Under that scorching gaze, I take my shaft in hand and begin stroking. It only takes a couple of strokes to get me hard with her watching. Once I’m standing at attention, I stop stroking, cup my base in my hand and let her stare.

I should flag now that I’m not stimulating myself, but I don’t. I get harder. Her nearness and obvious excitement crank me up. The temptation to reach out and cup her sleek head, draw it to me, is almost irresistible. If she’d glance up, look at me, instead of gobbling my cock with her eyes, I’d give in. Break my own rule. Instead, she just kneels in front of me, riveted. Her warm breath trembles across the skin of my corona as she exhales.

I hear her take a deeper breath.

“What do I smell like, baby doll?” I whisper to her.

“Peanuts.” Her hazel eyes dart up to mine. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

I grin down at her. “You don’t have to sugar-coat anything with me. If I smell like peanuts down there, that’s what I smell like. You allergic?”

“To peanuts?” She gives a soft laugh that gusts warm, then cool, over my glans. I swallow a groan, and start stroking again. “No, I like peanuts.”

“Good. Do that again.” I pull back my foreskin with my thumb and forefinger. “Breathe on me.”

“Yes, sir.” She blows out a breath across the taut skin of my head and this time I can’t muffle the groan. It’s loud in the small space, and the next one’s louder when she blows another breath across me, not just warm now but moist. The way the first touch of her lips would feel.

“You know how much I want to be in your mouth right now?” I growl at her.

“Yes, sir.” She lifts her chin and opens her rosebud mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. I want it. I can imagine the steamy slickness of her mouth closing on me—how good it will feel—but I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to break my own rule. That’s the mark of a weak top. I’m not a weak top. I can control myself, and be patient.

When I open my eyes, she’s still kneeling between my feet, her eyes rolled up to me, lips open.

“No, baby doll. Not this time.” I reach out and hold my palm just above her cheek, so she can feel the warmth of my skin the way I can feel the heat of her breaths, but still not touching. “Watch. Breathe on me. Then I want to see you.”

She settles back onto her knees. “Yes, sir.”

She tips her head to the side and purses those soft lips, exhaling over me as I stroke myself. There’s no point in prolonging this. That can wait until next time, when I can play with her. I cast about for something that’ll help me get there quickly. As always when I masturbate, memories of Mir rise like a black flood. I shouldn’t think about her. Each memory has a bitter patina now. But it’s hard not to. We did so much together. I think about one of her favorite games: suspension and anal. She used to squeal with each thrust. Those squeals made me crazy.

A soft noise draws my attention back to the woman kneeling at my feet. She’s still looking up at me with those big hazel eyes. Still breathing warm, moist breaths over my cock as I work it in my fist. Looking down into those eyes, I imagine fucking her the same way, while she squeals and whimpers and begs Daddy to stop.

My balls pull tight unexpectedly, pleasure shooting up my spine. I groan, “Get me a tissue, baby doll.”

“Yes, sir.” She’s up off her knees in a second, wobbling a little from kneeling on the hard tile. She grabs a handful of toilet paper and returns to me, kneeling and cupping her handful under my cock.

I’m tempted to squirt into her hands, or better, onto her breasts. I can imagine it so clearly: the white spatters covering her freckles, the shocking heat hitting her cool skin. But is that what a daddy would do? Would he jizz all over his little girl’s chest?

I take the tissue from her with my free hand and hold it over my tip as I jerk hard. One, two,