Page 52 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

“You’re breaking out the big eyes. Good lord, those are killer.” Daddy chuckles. “I’m not ever setting you up for failure, my baby. We’ll keep it at two days.”

I sigh with relief. “Ta very much, Daddy.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple.

After the horror of mass orgasm-denial, everyone settles back into their conversations. Sammi keeps questioning Matty about the gold she “gave up,” which makes her and Faolan trade knowing smiles. Faolan talks to Daddy and Max about the clues they found on their trip to Russia. Aggie regales our end of the table with the story of how Sammi cheated to win Chutes andLadders, with Fleur providing imitations of Sammi that have even Sammi cracking up. The only person who doesn’t seem to be participating in the conversation is Shannie, sitting on Daddy’s other side.

I don’t know Shannie very well. Unlike Skye and Zuki and some of the nightclub subs, it’s not because she’s standoffish. She’s always been really nice to me. I know she’s one of the last house submissives Daddy personally trained, which could make things between her and me weird but she hasn’t ever acted like she and Daddy were lovers. She treats him like a high school teacher, with a kind of distant respect and affection.

She came with Master Javier and Fleur. I figured Master Javier inviting her was a ruse cooked up by Daddy and Master Mac so they could talk to her in a non-threatening way. Particularly after I scuttled Daddy’sTitanicplans. Watching how she eats with her head down, silent and sad, I hope whatever they discuss helps turn things around for her.

Submission isn’t a guarantee of happiness. I know that. But it hurts to see the Blunts house subs so lost and withdrawn. Brenna found her happiness with Master Mac. It looks like Cappa might be finding some with Mr. De Leon. Surely the other house submissives can find theirs with some help from Daddy?

Livvy wakes up and starts to fuss just before dessert, which is non-dairy ice cream cake and cookies for the littles, tiramisu from the Italian deli down the street for the Bigs. I take Livvy out of her rocking seat and change her, then pop her on her sensory mat and fasten the soft toy mobile over her head. She wriggles and coos at the bright, dangling shapes, so I figure that will keep her entertained through dessert.

Bren and Mac have cleared the table while I’ve been dealing with the baby. I help them bring out fresh plates while Daddy passes out spoons and serves the ice cream cake.

Once everyone is enjoying their processed sugar, I lean into Daddy. “Can I put on a movie and put up the tent once dessert is finished?”

Having endured some mighty blanket-fort-building efforts, Daddy bought me a pop tent. It’s long and low so lots of my friends can sleep in it. The walls and ceiling are gossamer pink and Daddy fixed it up with tiny, winking lights so it’s like being in a fairy cottage. The last time Vashi visited, we painted mandalas all over it with fabric paints. I love my tent.

“Of course,” Daddy says. “And before you ask, yes, everyone can stay over but you’re in our bed.”

“Oookay.” I make it sound like a hardship in case anyone’s listening but I’ll always prefer to sleep with Daddy.

“What’s the movie tonight?” Daddy asks.

“Encanto, because everyone needs to find their own gift.”

Daddy kisses my temple again and smiles. “And because you like to sing along to the crazy flower song.”

I do like that song. Particularly with the alternative lyrics I’ve developed.

“I wish Laurel and Jiro were here so we could all be dragons together,” I tell Daddy. “Matty’s going to be an amethyst dragon but I want to be a flower dragon. Maybe a sundew dragon. They’re carnivorous, you know.”

“And a little sundew just won’t do. Yes, you’ve told me several times. I’ll be suitably wary around my meat-eating flower dragon.”

I grin at him. He doesn’t have anything to be wary about. Although wecouldrole-play the sundew dragon gives Daddy-dragon morning head ...

When everyone’s finished their dessert, I leave Daddy, Bren, and Mac to tidy up and watch the baby while I drag Matty and Sammi off with me. Matty, because I want to show her my little room. Sammi, because I don’t dare leave him to his own devicesfor more than a few minutes. Even with his daddy nearby, Sammi is a chaos gremlin and can cause an amazing amount of destruction in a very short amount of time.

Matty’s suitably impressed by my little room. She looks through my puzzles and board games, reads my mantra poster, and examines the tools of my latest hobby, calligraphy, which are spread out all over my desk. When Matty says she’d like to practice calligraphy with me, we set up a playdate.

“I’d like to do calligraphy,” Sammi says, just before he knocks three bottles of ink off my desk with an ill-timed, Tigger-type bounce.

Matty and I pick up the bottles, which were fortunately capped, with matching grins.

“We’ll make it an Art Attack playdate,” I offer to Sammi. “I’ll set up a calligraphy station, a coloring station, and a Play-Doh station.”

Sammi bounces again. “I like Play-Doh!”

I know. Play-Doh can distract Sammi from almost anything. “Run downstairs and ask everyone what the best day is for an Art Attack playdate?”

With a whoop, Sammi rushes out, waving his arms over his head.

“No calligraphy for Sammi?” Matty asks.

“No sharp objects or anything that can create a permanent stain,” I say.

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