Page 262 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Sir, if I ask very, very nicely, will you please take this pussy-wrecking thing out of me?”
“I could be persuaded.” Mac chuckles. “Or I could decide you need to sleep with it in.”
“I’d honestly murder you, sir.”
That earns me another slap, but I’m so giddy from the endorphins and the relief of some of the gut-destroying pressure that I just laugh.
“All right, girl. You’ve done very well, so let’s take this beast out before you cramp.”
“That was a half-hour ago, sir. My pussy is now RIP.”
“I’ll give you an hour to recover, then we’ll see if I can resurrect it.”
No possible way. “Sure, sir.”
He snaps the dildo belt against my hip. “You can try to sleep in this for an hour if you keep up the sass, girl.”
“I promise to be the most angelic subbie you’ve ever met if you please-please-please take it out.”
“Angelic, huh?”
“You’ll be able to see my halo from Queens, sir.”
Mac snorts but unbuckles the belt and eases the dildo out of me. I swear I hear my pussy sigh with relief. I feel the touch of cool airinsideme. That’s the weirdest thing. It’s like an OB/Gyn exam. I try to squeeze my internal muscles, but they’ve gone on strike.
“Please can I lie on my side, sir?”
“Give me a second here, girl. I’m just going to clean you up and move everything off the bed. Then we’ll get comfortable and have a cuddle.”
That sounds good. I draw my legs together as much as I can with him still kneeling behind me and that helps with the weirdness of everything being so open down below. Mac moves around, wiping me up, unclipping and uncuffing me, and finally taking off the blindfold. The room’s almost dark, with a dusting of light from the bathroom illuminating the edges of my furniture and the curves of Mac’s shoulders as he leans over me.
“Eyes okay, girl? You’ve been blindfolded for quite a while.”
“Mmm-hmm. I’m good, sir. Thanks for having the lights off.”
He kisses my cheek. “You’re welcome. Do you sleep with the bathroom light on?” At my nod, he gives me another kiss. “Roll over onto your side. I’m going to grab a T-shirt, so I don’t stick to you and then it’s time for some shut-eye.”
I am so fucking ready for that.
I’m already drifting a little when Mac climbs over me again and pulls the covers up over us. “Here, girl. Make your safe call before you nod off.”
He remembered that? I’m so glazed I didn’t remember, and I’ve never forgotten a safe call.
He offers me my phone. I prop myself up on my elbow but instead of calling, I send Austin a quick text, then pop my phone onto the nightstand. I’m too wasted to talk to anyone and Austin’s going to want the tea. Before I’ve even slumped back into the pillows, Mac’s gathering me up in his arms and tucking me into his chest. I shift until I’m comfortable and settle my head on his shoulder, breathing in the warm scents of his cologne and sweat. He slips his hand up my neck and strokes through my hair. I help him pull out the clips that are keeping my bun together and let him smooth the mass of dreads over the pillow. He does it without any painful yanking on my scalp, which is pretty surprising. Or maybe my nerve-endings have gone on strike.
“You’re good at that, sir. With my dreads. Like you know what to do,” I mutter. “I can’t see you dating someone with dreads before.”
“No, girl, I haven’t. I’m just treating them like rope. Any sailor knows better than to thread his fingers through rope. Unless you want to be a nine-fingered sailor.”
I chuckle sleepily.
He murmurs, “Settle, girl. I’ll wake you in an hour.”
“You can try, sir.”
“Sounds like a challenge.”
“Mrrsrr,” I grunt, right on the edge of sleep, cuddling as close as I can to his comforting warmth and Mac-scent.
