Page 527 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Yeah!” Sammi say, pounding on my back. “We caught you.”
“Hm.” I lean in and blow a raspberry in Cynnie’s neck, which makes her squeal so loudly she can be heard on the moon, much less the rest of the maze. “Feels like I caught you.”
“I sting you!” Cynnie protests, wriggling wildly. She’s going nowhere. I shift so my hips press on her thighs. Each wriggle works her legs further apart.
“I don’t think so.”
Keeping her hands pinned above her head, I reach back with my free hand and pinch whatever I can reach of Sammi. Feels like a thigh. He yelps.
“Ouch, Mister Max!”
“Get off me, Sammi. Your elbows are sharp.”
“But I’ve got you,” Sammi protests.
“Doesn’t feel like you do. And there’s no way your daddy hasn’t heard this. So, you might want to run.”
The other little, lying across my legs and trying to wrap something around my ankle, squeaks. “We should run.”
“Never give up, never surrender!” Cynnie protests.
I chuckle, loving that she know all my favorite movies now. I’m still getting her up to speed onX-Men, but at least she knows the difference between Earth-616 and Earth-199999.
“I question the commitment of your fine crew, baby,” I say as the weight across my legs lessens.
“We stand as one!”
Cynnie tries to rally her team, but whoever is pinning my legs is spooked. Even Sammi’s sharp elbows are digging a little less fiercely.
“I think I hear something,” the leg-pinning little says.
“You sure do,” growls a voice from below. Sounds like Bravo.
“Flee!” The little pinning my legs squeals and scrambles away. Sammi crawls off me with less alacrity and a few more elbow-jabs.
“Yeah, run for your lives,” I call after them. I begin pushing along the floor with my knees, clearing the fake-box blockade and working fully into the loft space, opening the way for anyone coming up the rope net. “I’ll just claim my Christmas prey.”
“I’z not prey, Oppa!” Cynnie protests, struggling ineffectually.
“Prize? Present? I’d unwrap you like the best little present I could ever get except that I don’t need to, do I?”
“Bad Oppa,” Cynnie scolds. “You sabotaged my costume.”
“I certainly did.” I lick and nibble along her jaw. “I’m getting all of your clothes altered. Crotchless everything from now on.”
“Oppa!” Cynnie bucks and wriggles, but I’ve got a good hold on her and I outweigh her by a hundred pounds. She doesn’t have a chance at getting away from me. All she’s doing is rubbing those lush curves against my chest. Which is probably her real motivation. Although she enjoys our hunts and genuinely tries to hide and to escape if I don’t capture her firmly, I think she enjoys the “claiming” part more, the same way I do.
I dip my head to her ear, worrying her little lobe between my teeth before I growl, “I’m going to fuck you so hard, my bumble. Right through your cute costume. You’re going to have my come running down your tights.”
She thrashes. “No, bad Oppa!”
“Oh, yes?—”
I cut off as a big body crawls past.
“Good job, Max. I see you got yours.”
“Uh-huh,” I tell Bravo. “They went that way.”
