Page 215 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

“You are very welcome, bold girl.”

We talk for another hour before I lead her up to the guest bedroom, but I keep our conversation light and casual. She lied to me downstairs and there will be consequences for that, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to discuss them. Establishing that we’re both eager to see each other again has dispersed all the tension that built while I was cleaning her up. We talk aboutsports teams and she forgives me the Cowboys after I forgive her the Yankees. We agree on beer brands and disagree on politics. Her eyes go dreamy when she describes her ideas for my tattoo sleeves, and mine probably go the same way when she traces the outlines of her vision on my arm with the tip of her finger. She examines the portrait of Naomi on my shoulder and I tell her a few of my favorite baby stories. I don’t mention Naomi’s current problems and if my face reflects my concern, Brenna disperses it by asking about my pastimes. When I tell her about my bike and find out she’s never ridden on a motorcycle, I offer to take her for a ride on her next full day off.

“Sunday, sir,” she offers, much less hesitantly than she offered the day for our next scene.

“That works for me, girl.” At this rate, we’ll spend the whole weekend together, which bothers me not at all. The idea of Brenna behind me on my Chieftain, her long legs in those leather pants, her arms wrapped around my waist, is enough to wake up my dick again. Before it gets too interested, I grab our empties and stick them in the recycling before offering her my hand and leading her upstairs.

One of the bigger drawbacks of Logan’s townhouse is that it only has one full bath upstairs. The renovation plans he’s had drawn up—and evidently, he’s been planning to ask me to live with him for a while, because he trotted out a full set of blueprints already labeled “Mac’s Suite” to show me before dinner—add another full bath on the third floor. But until the renovations are done, we’re sharing a bathroom. When I reach the top of the stairs, I see the bathroom door is closed, so I can’t offer Brenna a shower before bed. I’m glad I took my time wiping her down. I might ask her to return the favor before I climb between Emily’s cotton sheets, because I’m still a little sweaty after the flogging.

“Ever lived other than on your own or with your parents?” I ask as I open the door into the guest bedroom. She probably knows where it is, since she’s been Logan and Emily’s guest, too, but she lets me lead her, like a good little subbie.

“Yes, sir. I lived in a couple of group homes when I was growing up.”

That surprises me. Why was she in group homes? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I remember when we were in her shop and she mentioned living in Lake Placid, it looked like a painful memory. I’ve just cleared the shadows from her eyes. I don’t want to bring them back with a careless question about her past. We’re on a high note now and this is where I want to end the evening, so instead of stepping into a potential minefield, I share as I open the door into the guest bedroom.

“Logan’s asked me to move in after we renovate the upper floors. I haven’t lived in a real home, you know, not a barracks, with anyone but my parents and my wife and daughter. I’m not really sure how it’s going to work, living with other adults.”

She gives me a muted version of her cocky grin and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s still recovering from the scene or because of painful memories. “Are you looking for tips, sir?”

“Got any for me?”

“Clean up after yourself in the bathroom and kitchen,” she says, perching on the edge of the queen-sized bed. “That’s always been the biggest rule everywhere I’ve lived.” Her smile turns sly. “Of course, living with Em, you’ll have to beat her to it.”

I chuckle. “She is a little uber-hostess, isn’t she?”

Brenna nods, her face alight with her affection for Emily.

I dig around in the dresser drawers, which contain several complete changes of clothes, speaking to how much time I spend here already. I pull out two clean T-shirts and a pair of boxers. “Not sure how you feel about sleeping naked, bold girl, but I’llhave an easier time waiting until Monday to fuck you if we both have some clothes on.”

“Is fooling around out of the question, sir?” She grips the edge of the bed and rocks forward a little, pushing her beautifully reddened breasts together. I’m not sure if she does it consciously or unconsciously. There’s no guile in her eyes. However she intends it, I’m immediately on-board with fooling around.

“Not at all out of the question.”

“Then can I just have the shorts?” She holds out her hand and I pass the soft cotton briefs to her. She stands beside the bed and pulls them on; the black fabric hangs a little loose around the indentation of her waist but hugs her hips just right. No lingerie for this girl. She wears my boxers or nothing from now on.

“Those look ridiculously good on you.”

She grins, then slowly sinks to her knees. “Can I help you undress, sir?”

Fuck, she’s super sweet under that sass. I hold my arms out to my sides. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

She starts at my feet and unties my suede Oxfords. I toe them off and she rolls my socks down and pulls them off. It’s where I’d start undressing, too, if only to avoid the silliness of being a naked man in socks after taking off my pants. Something to be said for this girl’s experience.

There’s also a lot to be said about how sensual she makes the task of taking off my pants. She runs her hands up the backs of my legs, lingering in the sensitive spots behind my knees, before she moves up to cup my ass. I let her play for a moment, stroking, squeezing, and pinching, while she grins that cocky grin up at me and I shake my head in amusement. Just as I’m about to stop her, she slides her hands around to the front, palming my very interested cock, and unbuckles my belt. Instead of pulling my pants down, she unzips the fly and reaches in. Shecloses her hand over my cock and my balls clench at the firm pressure and warmth of skin-on-skin.

“May I take it out, sir?”

“You may, bold girl. See what asking nicely gets you?”

Her grin is pure vixen. She folds my boxers down under my balls and brings my cock out, licking her lower lip as she takes it in, consuming me with her eyes.

“Sir, is there anything I can do to get you in my mouth tonight?”

I reach down and slide my hand around her neck, thumbing her smooth jaw. “What’d I say?”

“That condoms break, and you won’t risk my health.”

“That’s right. So, as tempting as it is, and it is very fucking tempting, bold girl, the answer is no. What are you allowed to do?”