Page 239 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
A nutty scent fills the warm air.
“Just double-checking, no nut allergies, right?”
“No, sir, no nut allergies.”
His warm hands settle on my calves, then slide slickly up toward my knees. His thumbs dig in, working the muscles. I feel my own face go slack and rub my nose into the quilt, so Mac doesn’t see how I’ve just melted.
“That feels really good, sir,” I mumble into the covers.
A warm, low chuckle from the man working every twitch of tension out of my thighs. “Not what you thought was coming?”
“No, sir. I figured I was getting the belt.”
“Maybe later. I’d never hurt you when I’m angry, Bren. I want to make sure you know that.”
Most Doms are careful not to bring actual anger into a scene, but not all, and I appreciate the assurance. “Thank you, sir. Are you still angry?”
“Yeah, more with myself than you. You were a hundred percent right. I was judging you, and I have no right to. We’ve done one scene. You don’t owe me anything.”
I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.
“And this is probably where being an old-fashioned guy bites me in the ass,” he continues as he settles his hands on my ass and digs in with those magic thumbs. I drool all over the quilt. “For me, dating is one man, one woman. But I know it’s not likethat anymore, and that’s definitely not what you’re used to. So bear with me and I’ll try to keep my head out of my ass.”
As long as he keeps rubbing my ass, I don’t actually care where his head is. But it’s really, really nice that he’s admitting he was in the wrong. I can’t remember the last time a Dom did that.
“Thank you, sir.” I let him pummel me into mush with those strong hands for a minute before I pull myself together enough to say something rational. “If it makes any difference, I told Theo before we did the scene that sex was off limits.”
Mac pauses with his hands on my shoulders. “You did?”
“Yes, sir.” I rub my face in the quilt and open up. Ruby told me to make him grovel, but I don’t think that’s a good look on Mac. I just want to clear the air between us and get back to the way I felt after our scene, when I was full of hope. “Sir, I’m no good at this. I’m probably going to screw it up. I tried to do things right. I thought about how I’d feel if you were in my place and it would have hurt me if you’d had sex with someone after our scene. So, I gave Theo his rain check but stipulated no sex. I thought I was doing it the right way, without hurting you, but I guess I still got it wrong, huh?”
Mac digs his hands into my shoulder muscles before sliding them down. “No, Bren, you didn’t do anything wrong. And I’ll figure out a way to be okay with it if you want to scene with the Blunts Doms while we’re dating.”
Do I want to? That stupid Emily Voice is telling me I don’t, and if I do, then I shouldn’t be seeing Mac.
“Sir, maybe I could take a hiatus from the club.”
“You could?”
I could. It’s not ideal because I count on what I earn as a house submissive when money runs thin from tattooing. But I have a little bit of a float at the moment. A couple of months’ worth as long as things don’t get too bad at the shop. If they do,I can always get a second job waitressing or something. Paying my bills on time is important, but exploring the possibility of something real with Mac? Much, much more important.
“Yes, sir.”
Mac works the muscles around my spine for several minutes before he says, “Bren, I feel terrible about leaving when you were dropping. And for making you feel that you were less important than my daughter.”
“You’re doing a really good job of making it up to me,” I mumble blissfully. “I don’t usually drop like that, sir.”
“Can you be honest with me next time? I’m sure I should have read between the lines of our six text messages and figured it out somehow, but I had no idea, bold girl.”
I wiggle my ass, both in discomfort at his request and in the hopes he’ll rub it again, which he does. “Sir, I’m really bad about asking for help. I just ... I’ve been dealing with my own shit for a long time.”
“I know you’re strong and independent. I’m not trying to take that away from you. I’m just asking you to let me in.”
I nod into the quilt. “I’ll try, sir. Could we set up a word? Something I can say when I’m struggling so I don’t have to?—”
“Admit you’re vulnerable?”
“Yes,” I say in a small voice, into the quilt.
