by E J Frost
“Leave you behind? That wasn’t ever an option. I can’t wait to see you, baby doll. I miss you like fuck.”
I giggle. “I miss you, too, Daddy.”
“Good girl, Emmy, good girl. I’ll see you tomorrow night, huh? I’ll find somewhere nice for us to have dinner. Sushi sound good? I’ll find us some sushi and then we’ll take a walk down Hollywood Boulevard. See the stars, okay?”
“Yes, sir. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll do everything just as you’ve said.”
“You’ll be okay, right? I know this is a last-minute change, but I don’t want you reading anything into it, baby doll. No dark thoughts, okay? If you have any dark thoughts, you call me right away.”
He’s worried about me? That’s the last thing he should be worried about. And other than some snips while I was trying on clothes, HIM’s been pretty quiet since I got home.
“Please don’t worry about me, Daddy. If I have any dark thoughts, I’ll call you. But I promise I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, good girl. I’ll see you soon, huh? Just a little later than planned.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“See you then, sweetheart. I’m going to text you Manny’s number, just in case. Any problems, call me straight away.”
“I will, Daddy.”
The text with Manny’s number pings up on my screen a second after we hang up. I save it as a new contact, and while I’ve got my phone out, change Logan’s contact name to Big Daddy Dom NYC, which makes me smile despite the change of plans.
Sleeping in his bed without him is a little lonely, but his bed really is very cozy. I tuck a pillow behind my back and pretend it’s him spooning me. His sandalwood scent on the sheets soothes me. My belly’s full of the wonderful steak fajitas he had delivered for me. I sleep for nine hours without a single nightmare.
When I wake, my phone is full of messages from him. He always texts in full sentences, with punctuation. I’d adore him for that alone, without all the sex and kinkery.
Are you sleeping in my bed, baby doll? I wish I was there.
I’m thinking about you naked in my bed. Are the sheets brushing your skin? Are your nipples hard? Are you awake?
You must be sleeping. I should be. Time difference is messing me up. I can’t wait to see you. Sushi might have to wait. Someone I need to eat out first.
Are you up? Did you sleep OK?
Are you still sleeping, baby? There’s breakfast in the fridge. Grapefruit and the bread you like for toast.
Going to have breakfast with client. Text me when you get up. I want to know you’re OK.
I tap the screen to bring up the keypad and text him. I’m awake. I love your bed. I slept for 9 hrs. Feel great. I’ll have breakfast. Can’t wait to see you, Daddy.
I expect it to be several hours before he texts me back, but the phone chimes as I’m getting dressed.
Back at you, baby girl. I’ll call you after I’m done. You need phone sex.
I get phone sex? My heart, and my ovaries, leap. He said no masturbation until I was back in his bed, but, of course, I slept in his bed last night. I just did it without him. If that gets me phone sex, it was totally worth sleeping alone.
I abandon dressing, wrap myself in his huge terrycloth robe and take my phone with me down to the kitchen. I cut up the grapefruit and toast the Bateman’s Stone Ground he’s found for me and put the rest of the loaf in the freezer so it doesn’t spoil while we’re away. I arrange my breakfast on the table overlooking the garden, take a picture of it and send it to him. I’m eating breakfast overlooking your garden. Love your view.
I’m finishing my grapefruit when my phone pings. When I tap it, a panorama of downtown Los Angeles opens on the screen, the skyscrapers gleaming in the hard, red morning light. This is my view. Needs you in it.
How does he always say the perfect thing?
I rub my fingertip back and forth over the picture he’s sent me while I eat my toast. Why a picture of the Los Angeles skyline should make me feel ridiculously warm and fuzzy inside, I have no idea. Probably the same reason sitting in Logan’s bathrobe, which has the same warm sandalwood scent as his sheets and the spot under his jaw, eating the bread he must have gone to a specialty grocer to find for me, has silenced HIM, which should be screaming by now. After a long rant about my stupidity in going on a two-week cruise with a man I’ve known for less than a week on the train yesterday, it’s been quiet. Maybe the magic of sleeping in Daddy’s bed silenced it.
Once I’ve finished my toast, I clean up the kitchen, then take my phone back up to the bedroom, still admiring my view. I lie on his bed, ignoring a grumble from HIM about lying down after I’ve eaten. I open his robe, pull up the “Daddy’s Lil Monster” tee I wore to bed, and slide my fingers into my panties. I hold my phone over my hips and take a picture.
I check it, caption it, and send it to him.
My phone pings a second later.
Wait until I call you. If you come before I call, you won’t be able to sit down again. Ever.
I take my fingers out of my panties and cup them over my mons. Take another picture and send it to him. Waiting for you, Daddy.
I wait twenty-five minutes. It should be a long twenty-five minutes, but it’s not. The glow still filling my heart, and belly, and pussy, makes the minutes float by.
When my phone rings, I roll over and prop it against the pillow, so Logan can see down the length of my body.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper into the phone.
He groans. “I’ve had a hard-on for a half-hour. What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”
“Sorry, Daddy.” My giggle sabotages my apology.
“What time is it there?”
“Three hours later than it is there. I thought you were good with maths, Daddy?”
“Teasing me right now, baby doll, will get you a bottom so red the pursers on the cruise will be able to use it as a signal flare.”
I giggle again and pull down the neck of my tee with my thumb so he can see that I’m not wearing anything under it. “It’s almost noon here.”
“Taxi’s coming for you in an hour. Are you ready to go? Except that you’re not wearing any-fucking-thing?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Let me get to the bed. Hotel Wi-Fi’s crappy so this may cut in and out.”
“Okay.”
“While I’m doing this—” I’m not sure what this is, and the picture on his end is shaking so badly, I can’t tell what he’s doing. “I want you to get up, walk over to the big wooden dresser, the tall one, and open it. Fourth drawer down on the right side. “
I roll out of his bed and cross to the armoire. I love that he keeps his sex toys in a wooden armoire right out of the Victorian era. I’m sure it was his parents’ and that should be creepy but instead it’s subversive and wonderful. I open the outer doors and take a deep breath of the cedar exhalation that pours out. There are dozens of drawers inside and I’m so tempted to explore his sex toy collection. Instead, I open the drawer he told me to open. Love beads in three different flavors and a pink bullet vibrator, on the large size.
“Which one, Daddy?” I ask, loudly enough that he can hear me.
“Vibrator,” he growls.
I take the pink bullet and control pad back to bed and crawl up to the phone. Logan’s hugely erect cock fills the screen. His hand’s cupping his base, the way he did when he masturbated for me in the expo. bathroom. I liked the gesture then; now it makes hot shivers run through me. It’s so Logan: provocative and protective at the same time.
“Do you need lube, baby doll? It’s in the nightstand drawer.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I dutifully retrieve the lube, pick up the phone and hold it over me while I lie back and wait for his instructions.
“Put your fingers in your panties and rub yourself, like you were doing in the picture you sent me.”
I do, and sigh at the bright sparks that shoot up into my belly. On the screen,
Logan’s big hand squeezes his base, then slides up his shaft, bunching his foreskin around his glans and then pulling it taut as his fist slides back.
“Daddy, your penis is beautiful,” I whisper to him.
“Not as beautiful as your cunt. Push down your panties and let Daddy see.”
I do, wriggling them down my thighs and angling the phone so he can see my pussy while I watch him stroke himself.
“Spread your lips for me. Let me see,” he growls.
I splay my fingers to part my lips while I keep working my clit with my middle finger.
Logan groans, a full-throated, masculine sound of desire. It makes me writhe.
“Daddy.”
“Baby doll, you’re killing me. I want to be there fucking you so damn badly.”
“I need you, Daddy.”
“I need you, too, baby doll. Take the lube and put it on the bullet, then put it in your pussy. Slow. I want to see your tight little hole stretch around it.”
I do, rubbing the slick bullet up and down my slit. Then I position the bullet at my entrance and push. It slides in the way Logan’s cock did. Stretching and filling me. I moan with the sensation.
“Yes, baby, just like that. Spread your knees. Let Daddy see.”
I do, and push the bullet deeper. “Daddy, Daddy,” I whimper.
“All the way in,” he coaxes.
I push it in with my middle finger and whimper.
“Good girl. How’s that feel?”
“Full. It burns, Daddy.”
“Yeah, that’s the big one. Pick up the control and show it to me.”
I fumble it out of the rumpled covers and hold it up to the screen.
“Orange button. Press once, then press again.”
There’s an incomprehensible assortment of buttons on the control pad, but only one orange one, so I press it, wait and press again.
The heat comes on, a gentle warmth that builds quickly, becoming as warm as Logan’s cock when he buries it in me, and then hotter, a burning coal inside me.
“Daddy, that’s too hot,” I whine.
“Bear it for me, baby. I promise it won’t burn you. Daddy takes care of his girl. Press the green button twice.”
I press the button as I’m told. As I’m trying to adjust to the heat, the vibrations start. I shudder. They’re not gentle. They’re hard against my pubic bone. My pussy clamps down around the bullet. Cramps.
“Daddy, it hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart. Strong, isn’t it? Just like when I fuck you hard. Take it for me, baby.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper.
“Rub yourself. Imagine I’m there with you, little girl. Filling up that tight cunt and rubbing you with my fingers. Imagine my hand on your throat, holding you down while I pound your sweet little cunt.”
I’m gasping, straining against the hard thrumming inside me. It’s not as good as when Logan fucks me. There’s none of the wild friction of his body slamming against mine. None of his wonderful weight. But it still feels so, so good and the heat of the bullet, which really does feel like it’s on fire inside me, makes up a little for his absence.
“That’s it, sweet girl. I can see your cunt flushing. Reach for it.”
“I can’t,” I whimper. I can’t come like this. I need pain.
“Yes, you can. You can come for Daddy. I give you permission. Press the red button on the control pad.”
I thrash around until I find the pad and press the red button.
The bullet’s warmth intensifies until I scream with the heat of it. It’s burning me. It must be burning me.
And then I’m screaming with pleasure. My orgasm pulls the bullet deeper, until it feels like it’s searing my core. Just like when Logan comes in me, and I howl his name as the spasms of my orgasm slam me against the mattress like a rag doll.
“Good girl.” I hear Logan’s voice praising me, warm and close, like he’s whispering in my ear. “Let me see your eyes.”
I lift the phone up to my face. My arm’s shaking so badly I don’t know if he can see anything but I hold it there as the shocks and flares of my orgasm fade.
“Oh, that’s my baby girl. Look at me. Look at me like you will when I hold you down and come deep in that sweet cunt tonight.”
I hold the phone higher and roll my eyes up to him. As I do, he spurts with a heavy groan. I can’t see where it falls, just the thick white spurts, five, ten, a dozen. I’ve never seen a man ejaculate so much. I have no idea why that makes me hot, but I find myself licking my lips as I watch him.
“Daddy, I wish you were coming in my mouth,” I whisper.
Logan groans, impossibly deep. He spurts one last time, then cups his hand around his base, in that protective gesture that ignites something inside my chest.
I hear him panting. The phone drops and I have a view of an ivory ceiling with recessed lights. Then Logan picks up the phone. His face is flushed and sweaty. He looks at me with heavy, hooded eyes.
“Baby, so proud of you. Daddy’s so proud of his good girl. Turn the bullet off now. White button.”
Caught up in the beauty and power of his orgasm, I forgot about the thing still rattling my pubic bone. I turn it off and sigh with relief as the heat fades.
“Take it out, gently, sweetheart. Don’t hurt Daddy’s little cunt. I want you ready to be fucked when you land.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I fish around until I find the little rubber string and slowly draw out the bullet. It feels okay coming out. Only a little achy. “It’s out.”
“Good girl. Leave it on the table by the bed and I’ll deal with it when I get back.”
“Don’t you want me to wash it and put it away? I will. I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, if you’re okay with that. I can’t do your aftercare. Again. This is beginning to tee me off, all this long-distance bullshit.”
I giggle. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. And you don’t even have time for a shower, so this is going to be really abbreviated, but imagine it’s me doing this. Hug yourself tight and count to ten.”
I hug myself as instructed, which feels a little silly, but also nice, as Logan talks to me and tells me I’m his sweet baby girl.
“Now reach into the drawer by the bed and take out a baby wipe. Wipe yourself front to back, double the wipe over and wipe again, front to back. Show me the wipe when you’re done.”
I find the wipe and wipe myself as instructed, then hold the wipe up to the phone.
“Good girl. I don’t see any blood. Is there any blood?”
He checks to see if there’s blood? I didn’t realize that’s what he was doing. “No, sir.”
“Good. Throw the wipe in the bin under the nightstand. Then pull your panties up. Put a bra on. Don’t think I didn’t see that you’re running around without a bra. I’m going to paddle your tits if I catch you without a bra again.”
I giggle wildly. “I don’t like wearing a bra when I fly. It’s uncomfortable. If I don’t wear one on the flight, will you discipline me?”
“Yes, I will. What are you wearing on your bottom?”
“Shorts.” My butt’s healed in the days we’ve been apart, which is disappointing, so I could wear jeans, but I tend to bloat on long flights, so I packed soft, comfortable shorts and thigh-highs. I roll out of bed and move to my open suitcase. I take out the shorts and hold them up so he can see them.
“Okay, put them on. Let Daddy see.”
I hold the phone out as best I can while stepping into the shorts and pulling them up my legs.
“Socks and shoes,” he says. I retrieve them from under my suitcase and slip them on.
“You ready?”
I nod. “I just need to brush my hair.”
“Good girl. Do you wear it up when you fly?”
“No, but I spray some oil on it so it doesn’t dry out during the flight.”
“Do that now. Prop the phone on the dresser.”
I find a way to angle the phone between the dres
ser’s oval mirror and a long leather case on the dresser top. His horsehair brush feels good against my scalp, and it makes my hair gleam, even before I spritz on the Argan oil.
“Can I bring this brush with me?” I ask, holding it up to the phone.
“Only if you want to be paddled with it.”
I do. I tuck it into my suitcase and twirl around so he can see that I’m ready.
“Happy, baby?”
“Happy that I’ll see you in ten hours,” I say.
“Happy that I’ll be fucking you in ten hours and two minutes?”
I giggle. “That’s still inside the airport.”
“That’s right. I’ve got the handicapped bathroom all picked out.”
“Daddy!” I chide, but I love the idea he’s so hot for me he can’t even wait until we get back to the hotel. “I’ll be thinking about you the whole way.”
“Yeah? You want to wear something on the plane to help with that? There are more toys in the dresser.”
“I don’t need to wear anything on the plane, sir. I’ll be thinking about you anyway. I don’t want to come. I want to be so crazy when I get there that you can bend me over the sink in the bathroom and, um, put it in without any foreplay at all. I want you to be so rough with me, Daddy.”
“Fuck, you’re killing me, baby doll.” He moves the phone down his body to his groin. He’s put his pants back on, but I can see the bulge along his left thigh. “Look at that. How am I going to interview this fucking widow with that sticking out of my pants?”
I giggle. “You could console her in her widowhood.”
“Behave yourself, you and your dirty baby mind. Last thing I want to do is remind her of sex.” He moves the phone so I can see his face again. He hasn’t shaved and dark stubble frames his mouth, defines his sharp jaw. He rubs a hand over it. My skin aches to feel the bristle. “Word from the cruise company is that she wasn’t on the cruise with her husband.”
“That’s awkward,” I commiserate.
“Fucking understatement, baby doll. Not only has her husband died, but she may have found out he was having an affair and was into kink, all at the same time.”
