Page 178 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Shut up and cuddle. Em says you need cuddles. Accept your cuddles. Or I’ll tie you up and cuddle you that way.”
“Promises, promises,” I grumble.
He turns onto his side and kisses me on the forehead. “Next time you need cuddles, you call me. I shouldn’t have to hear about it third-hand.”
“I don’t need cuddles,” I grump. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Theo scoffs softly. “You aren’t this subdued after a full-on gang-bang, Bren. You’re not fooling anyone.”
I’m not?
“I hate all of you.”
“Yeah, we know. Shut up and go back to sleep or I really will paddle you.”
My ass is still sore from the scene with Ten, but it’s tempting. “Good night.”
“Good night, babe.”
It’s definitely despite his cuddles, and not because of them, that I fall straight back to sleep.
Max and Cynnie stay for pancakes but leave early. They haven’t even been gone long enough for Logan to clear their breakfast dishes when the doorbell goes. This place is a revolving door. I don’t know how Logan and Emily stand the constant parade of people. Even though it kind of feels like a big family. But I’d hate it. I need my own space. That’s why I have my apartment, which is too small for even a three-person scene. Which is why no one ever visits me. Obviously.
Logan shuffles off to answer the door. I don’t think sleeping on the floor was the best thing for him; he’s been limping all morning. He was badly injured over the summer and, for a while, it looked like he’d always walk with a cane. With a lot of physical therapy and a huge amount of care from Emily, he recovered fully. But sleeping on the floor has left him stiff.
The man who follows Logan back to the table also has a hitch in his gait. It’s not obvious, but I still have that old radar for any sign of weakness. If I had to face off against this man, I’d go for his knee or ankle. One of them’s bothering him.
Logan pulls out a chair for him when they reach the big dining table we’re all gathered around, drinking tea and coffee.The man sinks into it gratefully and rubs his knee. Definitely something wrong there.
Emily hands him an ice pack and a cup of coffee before she leans over to give him a hug. “Good morning, Master Chief Mac.”
He chucks her under the chin. “It’s just Mac, Emily.”
“Yes, Master Mac. Do you want a pancake? There’s still some batter.”
“Sure,” he says.
That’s my cue. “I’ll make it. One or two?”
“Are they any good?” He winks at me.
Man, he has nice blue eyes, even if he is old enough to be my father. After a second, I place that piercing blue. He was at Logan and Emily’s collaring ceremony last month. He’s one of Logan’s friends from out of town who got him drunk the night before and lost Emily’s collar. To be fair, he did help Logan find it again.
“Best pancakes you’ll ever have.” I wink back.
“Two, and I’ll hold you to that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Calling him “sir” feels distressingly natural. A man usually needs to flog me, or at least paddle me, before I’ll give him that. Unless it’s Theo; I’ve been teasing him by refusing to call him “sir” for months. It’s driving him bonkers. But I already know Mac’s a Dom from his attendance at the ceremony and Emily’s reminder in calling him Master; I’m guessing from his title that he’s Logan’s friend from the Navy who needs his tattoo fixed, so it can’t hurt to butter him up a little.
Emily’s got the nicest cookware. I like to cook, but shereallycooks, and she has all the best toys. On herLe Cruesetsquare grill pan, the two pancakes cook to a perfect, fluffy, golden brown. I pop them on a plate and set it down in front of Mac like a good service submissive.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’m Mike McNally. People call me Mac.”
“You’re welcome. I’m Brenna. People call me DirtyGurl. I think we might have met last month. Sorry, I’d had a crown put in and was off my head on painkillers, so I don’t remember all that well.”
He lifts brown eyebrows touched with gray, like his ashy-brown hair and short beard. I’m sure he was clean-shaven at the collaring ceremony, but I really like the beard. Dayum, silver fox.
