Page 81 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

I’d fall over if he wasn’t holding my wrists. Wolfy-Daddy destroys me in every sense, including my balance. “Yes, Daddy. I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, little girl. Keep those legs straight.”

I lock my knees.

He slides his thumb out of my pussy and pushes it into my ass. Two long, thick fingers replace his thumb. He pumps his hand aggressively, the noise sloppy and obscene. Pleasure ripples all the way down to my toes. I shake so hard he pulls on my wrists to keep me on my feet.

“What are you thinking about, little girl?”

“You, Daddy.”

“That’s right. Your mind is on me. Always.”

“Always, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Bend your knees. You have permission to come.”

I don’t have time to thank him before he adds a third finger and pistons his hand in and out of me. I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood to keep from wailing as my orgasm breaks, thunderous and debilitating. He more than destroys me. Heannihilatesmy senses. I twist against his hold on my wrists, trying to maintain my position even as I writhe with release. Daddy’s grip never slips. He holds me through every gasp, every convulsion. When he wrings the last tremor out of me and slips his fingers out, I hang against his hold, my tears cooling on my cheeks, my lips forming the words “I love you” over and over.

“Ta, Daddy,” I finally manage. “Ta very much.”

“You’re welcome, little girl. When you can, stand up. Take your time. I’ve got you.”

I know he does. There’s nothing as sure in this world as the certainty that Daddy has me.

I open my eyes and blink to stop my head from spinning. I focus on the curtains, closed against the midday sun so Daddy could nap. There’s a bluish sliver of sunlight peeking through the left edge of the curtains. The winter sun in the City has a completely different quality than the summer sun. I love living here so much. I love watching the City change with the seasons. I love seeing the way Daddy’s home responds.

“I love living here with you, Daddy,” I tell him.

He runs the heel of his hand up my back. “Emmy, I’ve lived in this house most of my life but it wasn’t home until you made it our home.”

I stagger upright and turn around. “Really?”

He opens his arms and I rush in. He cuddles me tightly against his chest. “Really, baby.”

I bury my face in his warm neck and sniff his Daddy scent while I wet his T-shirt with happy tears. “Super-emotional, Daddy,” I tell him.

“Good tears, bad tears, or just surprise orgasm tears?”

“All of them. I’m feeling so much. I’m happy about everything. I’m sad for True. I’m overwhelmed by the surprise orgasm. Ta very much.”

He kisses my forehead. “You’re welcome, little wonder.”

“Also, and I’m not sure where this falls on the tear spectrum, I got a letter from Miranda this morning.” Daddy’s chest muscles go rigid under my cheek. “I left it on your desk. She wants me to bring Livvy to her hotel. I’m not going to. I’m not going to write her back, either. You don’t want me thinking about her and I’m trying hard not to?—”

“She’s not making it fucking easy, is she?”

“No, Daddy. And I still do feel sorry for her. But I won’t break your rules.”

He strokes his hands down my back. “If you were the daddy in this situation, sweetheart, how would you deal with Miranda?”

“Funny thing,” I say. “I was thinking when I read her letter that it’s a good thing I’m not a daddy because my heart is too soft. I couldn’t make the hard decisions you’re making. I’d cave. I admire you, Daddy. I’m a zillion times proud of you. I know it must be really difficult to be so strong.”

Logan blows out a long breath, weighted with pain and frustration. “The more she pisses me off, the easier it gets. Understand that she’s writing to you because she can’t get at you any other way. Do you feel unsafe?”

“No, just sad.”

He presses his warm lips to my forehead again. “You’re allowed to feel sad, Emmy. You’re allowed to feel sorry for her,pity her, wish her choices had led her to a different place. But you’re also allowed to be angry at her for harassing you.”

---