Page 284 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
I pinch the nape of her neck. “Now, you know that’s just a challenge, girl. Should we make a little wager on how many orgasms I can get out of you with plain old vanilla sex?”
She shivers under my hand. “Sucker bet.”
“That’s right, girl.” I draw her to me until I can nose aside her dreads and nip the soft shell of her ear. “I don’t need fancy toys to make you come. Just my cock in one of your warm holes and my voice in your ear. If you’re a good girl, I’ll even play with those pretty tits.”
She shivers harder. “Sir.”
“Yeees,” I drawl. “Something you need more than the rest of your lunch, girl?”
She pokes the cucumbers again with her fork. “Food here’s really good, Sir.”
Oh, that smart mouth.
“It is,” I concede, picking up a mini sandwich and checking it for excess hot sauce before I wolf it down. “I think orgasms are better. But that’s probably just me.”
I trace my finger up and down the back of her neck, just to get her shivering again.
“Sir.”
Such a sweet, needy whine.
“Eat up, girl. If it’s better than orgasms, don’t let it go to waste.”
She wriggles in her chair. “Sir.”
“Take your shirt off. Down to your bra. I want to see those pretty tits while I finish this better-than-orgasms lunch. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you come while I fuck that ass later.”
Brenna shudders, but unbuttons the white dress shirt she’s wearing. Is that my shirt? I think it is. Bold girl, stealing my clothes. She’s wearing a white lace camisole underneath that looks stunning against her colorful skin. When she left Logan’s this morning, she was wearing a sweatshirt with a gold heart over the left breast circled by the letters “IDGAF.” I had no idea she had all of this hidden underneath. Sneaky girl.
She drapes the shirt over the back of her chair. The table’s gone silent as she’s disrobed, and Bren flushes a gorgeous shade of pink with all the eyes on her. She’s been naked in front of everyone at the table, I’m pretty sure, but it’s different when I’m making her undress while everyone else is fully clothed. Under the camisole, pushing against the soft fabric, her nipples are tight points. No barbells today by the outlines, which is a shame; I absolutely love the blue metal against her pink skin. She shifts in her chair and keeps her eyes on the food. I soak up her sweet, embarrassed arousal.
Conversation starts up around the table again and I whisper into her ear, “I can’t see those tits, girl. Don’t hide what’s minefrom me. Push the straps off your shoulders and let the camisole fall down to your nipples.”
She squirms so hard I think she might be on the edge of an orgasm, but she does as she’s told, flicking the camisole straps off her shoulders and letting the silky fabric slip down until it’s clinging to her nipples. She’s crimson all the way down to the edge of the camisole.
“Beautiful, girl,” I purr in her ear. “That’s what I want to see. Close your eyes while I feed you. Honor blindfold.”
Her fluttering eyelids close and she goes nearly limp under my hand. I spoon up some of the incendiary-looking cucumbers and hold them to her lips. She opens her mouth without hesitation.
As she chews, I whisper to her, “Everyone in this restaurant is looking at you. Everyone can see how beautiful you are, with your glowing skin and your hard nipples. Every man in here wants to suck on those nipples, even the gay ones.”
She chokes on a laugh.
“I’m the envy of every single fucker in here, my dirty girl. They’re watching me feed you and knowing I’ll be fucking that mouth and that pussy and that ass later and they’re wishing they were me. They’re swallowing hard thinking about how those tits taste, but the only mouth on you is going to be mine.”
“Sir,” she mumbles.
“Eat, girl.” I feed her one of the mini sandwiches off my plate, leaving my fingers to tug and play with her lower lip as she chews. After she swallows, I push my fingers in between her teeth. “Suck off the crumbs.”
She does, eager, hungry draws against the pads of my fingers. I reward her obedience with a nuzzle and a nip on her ear.
“Logan wants to do a breeding scene after lunch,” I tell her, playing with her plush lower lip before feeding her a forkful of pulled pork. “But I’m not interested in putting you in somesoft breeding stall with cushions under your knees. I’m going to harness my mare, make her spread her legs and take it while I breed her holes. Think you can come while you’re bent double, girl?”
“I never have, Sir.”
“Mmm.” Maybe I won’t bend her all the way over. “Do you have any tack, girl?”
She chews a second mouthful of pulled pork before she answers. “Yes, Sir. I’ve got hoof boots, a face harness, reins, a tail, and a horse mask here.”
