Page 294 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

I feel a rush of something so deep and warm I have to sip my beer to keep a tear from escaping.

“I’d love that, Sir.”

“That the best you got?”

No, it’s not. I put my beer down on the bar and move into his arms as he opens them. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him hard. “I wanted to ask. I just didn’t want to take you away from your daughter.”

“I appreciate that,” Mac says in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “But let me worry about Naomi. You worry about me and you.”

Ruby said the same thing. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I might have to start taking tops’ advice.

“In that case, please come to Thanksgiving with me?”

“I’d be honored, girl.” He pulls back enough to give me a deep kiss that curls my toes and makes me lift one leg without even being aware of it until I have to put it back down. No, no, no, I’m not turning into that girl, who is so lost for her guy she doesn’t even know when she’s being sappy in public. That is not me.

When Mac releases me, I step back and clear my throat, intending to regain some of my shredded dignity. But Mac’s not that kind of Dom. He leans in and whispers, “Go to the bathroom, take off my damn shirt and your bra and bring them to me. I want you just in that cami you’re wearing. Those tits belong to me. I want to see them.” His long fingers trace the shadow of lace that’s visible through the shirt I stole out of his bag this morning so I could wear his scent all day. “Your jacket will keep you decent enough for this place. And the threat of me taking it off you will keep your sass under control for the rest of the night.”

I give him a shocked-innocent face that’s about as genuine as Briar’s whisper before I scamper off to the bathroom.

When I return in the camisole, Mac drags me back to the snooker tables and we square off against the older biker, Napa, and his wife, Tiana. Mac cops a feel under my leather jacket before his first shot—and I swear it only makes him play better, his aim is unreal—and I see the devilish gleam in Tiana’s eyes. She lifts an eyebrow at me. I nod.

Game on.

It’s not so much pool, or snooker as Logan calls it, from then on as a game of Tease the Doms. Every shot has to be considered from every angle, while bent over and wiggling our asses at our Doms. I pretend my jacket’s too tight and wriggle it off my shoulders while wrapping it around my boobs so I’m not flashing my hard nipples at the whole room before I shoot. Tiana fans herself like she’s hot before she strips off the sweater she’s wearing over a sheath dress. She struts over to Wreck and borrows his belt to cinch in her dress to keep it “out of the way” while she shoots, shortening the dress a good five inches, and damn does she have a figure on her.

Mac watches our display with a wry grin and a growing bulge in his pants. When I next line up my shot, he walks behind me and smacks me right on one of the whip-stripes as I shoot. The cue ends up half-way across the table and I miss every ball.

“Sir!” I protest. “That’s not going to help us win!”

Napa roars with laughter. “Pretty sure neither of you girls is playing to win anything but whose Dom can pop more wood. Tee, you want your spanking now over the table or back at Harry’s?”

Tiana sashays over to her Dom and runs her finger down the front of T-shirt. “You wouldn’t spank me here in front of all these nice people, would you?”

He would. Mac would, too. They line us up against the snooker table. We hold hands as our Doms bend us over. Mac only gives me three hard swats. My leathers provide a little protection, but I swear he has X-ray vision because each swat lands right on a whip-wheal. The renewed burn makes me yelp and swear. Tiana doesn’t get off that lightly. Napa and Wreck take turns spanking her until her eyes are glazed with both tears and subspace. I stay bent over the table, holding her hand, throughout the spanking. Wreck finally leans over her, kisses her cheek, and whispers “good girl” before picking her up and carrying her to a booth.

Mac helps me stand and gives me a kiss. “You ready to head home? Got something I want to show you.”

Home? Is he calling my apartment home? I get that funny, warm bloom in my chest again. “Sure, Sir. Is it a surprise?”

“If I tell you, will it still be a surprise?”

Because I can, because my chest is burning up with all these stupid emotions, I lean into him and lick his lips, flicking his upper lip with my tongue stud. When I step back, Mac’s eyes flare.

“What was that, girl?”

“If you like it, you lick it. Everyone knows that, Sir.”

Mac laughs and slaps my ass.

“Say your goodbyes, girl. You’ve got five minutes before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

I mean, I might not be a brat but who can ignore that sort of challenge?

Six minutes later, as I’m lingering saying goodbye to Emily, Mac grabs my arm, bends, and hauls me over his shoulder.

“Sir, your back!” I protest, but inside, I’m glowing. When Mac says he’s going to do something, he does it.

“You’ll be rubbing it for me later. And you’ll be doing it with a warm ass.”