Page 18 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Richie

The rain pounds the truck’s roof, a relentless drumbeat that drowns out the world beyond the parking lot, the downpour blurring everything beyond the car’s windscreen.

I’m still catching my breath from our dash through the rain, the towel damp in my lap, my otter book tucked in my backpack with Fizz.

Cole’s in the driver’s seat, his flannel shirt clinging to his rain-soaked shoulders, droplets trailing down his strong jaw, his dark hair slicked back.

The air inside the truck is warm, heavy with the scent of wet clothes and the faint cedar from the safe house lingering on us.

My heart’s still racing, not just from the run but from the way Cole looked at me in the bookstore, his voice soft as he read, his Daddy side wrapping me in safety. I glance at him, my cheeks flushed, arousal simmering from that moment on the sidewalk when his hand held mine like I was his.

Cole turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, the wipers swiping at the deluge on the windshield. He pauses, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and turns to me, his dark eyes catching mine in the dim light.

We shouldn’t…

We can’t…

But, I want to more than anything…

There’s something in Cole’s gaze, an intensity, warmth, a spark that mirrors the heat in my chest. My breath catches, and I lean in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, my body moving before my mind can catch up. Cole leans in too, closing the space between us, and our lips meet.

The kiss is electric, a surge of connection that sets my heart ablaze. His lips are warm, firm, tasting faintly of espresso and rain, and there’s a hunger in the way he kisses me, a passion that matches the storm outside.

I melt into the kiss, my hands finding his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart through his wet shirt. I want Cole more than anyone I’ve ever met, more than the flashy Daddies in the city clubs, more than any fleeting crush.

This isn’t just attraction… it’s a need, a longing for the Daddy who’s held me through fear, who’s seen my Little side and cared for it.

Cole’s hand cups my cheek, his touch gentle but possessive, and I feel it – he wants me too, the intensity in his kiss a mirror to my own desire, a promise of something deeper than words.

Then, Cole pulls back, his breath ragged, his eyes dark and troubled.

The sudden distance is a jolt, like cold water dousing a fire, and my stomach twists with worry.

Did I do something wrong?

Was the kiss bad? No, that can’t be the case, can it?

My mind races, replaying the moment. Were my lips too eager, maybe, or my hands too forward?

It doesn’t make sense. The passion was there, undeniable, his desire as clear as mine. I search his face, my cheeks burning, confusion knotting my throat.

“Cole,” I say, my voice small, shaky, “Is everything… okay ?”

Cole exhales, running a hand through his wet hair, his jaw tight.

“Yeah, Richie, it’s okay,” Cole says, but his tone is strained, like he’s forcing the words. “But we can’t do this. It was a mistake.”

Cole’s eyes flick away, focusing on the windshield, the wipers’ rhythmic swish filling the silence.

A mistake .

The word cuts, sharp and cold, slicing through the warmth of the kiss.

My chest tightens, and I feel a surge of anger.

A mistake?

How could Cole call that a mistake when it felt so right, so real? I trusted him, let him see my Little side, called him Daddy, and now he’s pushing me away like I’m some kid who misread the signs.

I want to demand answers, to yell, but the hurt chokes me, my eyes stinging. I turn to the passenger window, my reflection blurred in the rain-streaked glass, and fold my arms, the otter book in my backpack forgotten.

Confusion swirls inside me. Did I misjudge him? Was the connection I felt just my imagination, built on silly bookstore moments and stormy nights?

I don’t understand what just happened, and the not-knowing burns as much as his rejection.

Cole shifts the truck into gear, pulling out of the parking lot, the tires hissing on the wet asphalt. The rain batters harder, matching the storm in my heart, and I keep my gaze fixed outside, the cozy town fading into a smear of lights and shadows.

I’m angry, hurt, confused, and the safe house looms ahead, promising answers or more walls between us.

For now, I’ll hold onto my silence.

But if Cole thinks he’s going to have it all his own way with me, he’s got another thing coming...

“ Urgh . Why so slow?” I grumble.

I see the rain hammer the truck’s windshield, a relentless pelting that fills the silence between Cole and me as we continue the drive back to the safe house.

The wipers swipe frantically, barely keeping up with the downpour, the road ahead a blur.

I slouch in the passenger seat, my damp hoodie clinging to my skin, the towel bunched in my lap, my otter book and Fizz tucked in my backpack at my feet.

I stare out the side window, the forest a smear of green and gray, my reflection pale and pinched in the glass.

My heart aches, a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion from that kiss—electric, passionate, everything I wanted—until Cole called it a mistake, shutting me out like I’d crossed a line I didn’t even see.

I sneak a glance at Cole, my eyes flicking to his profile.

His jaw is set, his dark eyes fixed on the road, cold and focused, like he’s a million miles away.

He’s all Night Ops Guard now, the warmth from the diner and bookstore gone, replaced by a steely resolve that makes my chest tighten.

It’s a look I know too well, one that pulls me back to childhood memories I’ve tried to bury…

Pop was loving, kind, his hugs strong enough to chase away any fear, but there were moments, and too many, when he’d drift, his eyes distant, his mind somewhere else.

I’d catch Pop staring out the kitchen window, his coffee untouched, or pacing the living room late at night, murmuring about coordinates or contacts.

Night Ops Guard missions past and present haunted Pop, pulling him away even when he was right there.

I’d lie awake, wondering if he’d come back from the next trip, if the phone would ring with the news I dreaded.

All I wanted was my Pop to be with me and present.

But those gaps, those silences, shaped me, made me cling to Fizz, made me act out to feel seen.

I look at Cole again, his hands steady on the wheel, and a new worry gnaws at me.

Could I be with a man like that?

Cole’s everything I want in a Daddy… strong, stern, protective, with a gentle side that shines when he reads to me or teases me over pancakes. The way he held me through the storm, the way he makes my Little side feel safe, it’s perfect.

But he’s a Night Ops Guard, like Pop, bound by a code that demands his focus, his heart, his everything .

And to me, that means secrets, detachment, a knowledge that sometimes, maybe even often, he won’t be available to me, or to my needs.

Would I spend my life waiting for Cole to come back, wondering if he’s lost in some jungle or desert, reliving the same fears I carried as a kid?

Urgh . I hate that I have to think like this.

The thought twists my gut, a cold counterpoint to the warmth of his kiss, the passion that felt so right. I want the Cole from the bookstore, the one who sat on a beanbag reading about otters, or the Cole who laughed at my milkshake challenge in the diner.

Can that Cole exist alongside the Night Ops Guard, or would I always be second to his missions, left in the silence like I was with Pop?

The rain grows heavier, sheets of water slamming the truck, the road narrowing as the forest closes in.

Cole slows once more, his eyes scanning the curves, cautious, deliberate, and frustration boils over, sharp and petulant.

Suddenly, it feels like we’re moving at a crawl!

I don’t want to be here, trapped in this silence, his rejection burning in my chest.

“Hurry up,” I snap, my voice biting, bratty even to my own ears. “I want to get back to the safe house, to my bedroom, so I don’t have to look at you anymore.”

Cole’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“I’ll do what’s best for your safety, Richie,” Cole says, his voice low, firm, the Daddy tone that usually steadies me now stoking my anger. “Whether you like it or not.”

Cole’s words are a wall, unyielding.

I huff, turning back to the window, my arms crossed, the rain’s rhythm matching the storm in my heart.

I feel small, hurt, my Little side bruised by Cole’s sudden distance, my hopes tangled with doubt. For now, I sink into my anger, the truck’s rumble carrying us through the deluge, Cole’s silence a mirror to my own, and the kiss a memory I can’t reconcile with the man beside me.

And I’m going to make Cole pay for making me feel like this too…

“Cole, make me a drink of water, I’m thirsty,” I say, walking into the safe house and tossing my backpack onto the floor. “And a sandwich too. A big, juicy sandwich.”

I turn and watch Cole shutting the safe house door behind him. He doesn’t look impressed.

But right now, I don’t care what Cole thinks. If he didn’t want to kiss me, he shouldn’t have kissed me back. So if he really does just want a professional arrangement, then he can start acting like it himself.

“You work for Pop, so basically you work for me too,” I say, taking a bite from an apple and putting it straight back down into the fruit bowl. “ Yuck . I’m leaving that one. Don’t like it.”

I see the anger building inside Cole. This is too easy. He might think that his square jaw and stoic expression fools me, but it doesn’t. I’m getting to him.

“I’ll try another apple instead,” I say, picking up another rosy-red apple and taking a single bite before putting it down again. “Nope. That one sucks too.”

And just as I’m about to pick up one more apple, Cole strides over to me, takes me by the hand and bends me over the kitchen table.

“Cole!” I gasp, all my frustration and embarrassment from the kiss spilling over. “I hate you!”

“Maybe so,” Cole answers. “But you will respect me. And you’ll respect this safe house too, along with the food in it.”

With that, Cole yanks down my jeans and briefs in one swift movement. I feel an expectant surge of adrenalin course over my body.

I know what’s coming.

I know it’s going to hurt.

And yet… I know from the bottom of my heart that I need it too.

“A wooden spoon will remedy your bratty behavior,” Cole says, picking up the well-worn, smooth wooden spoon from the kitchen table. “Now do I need to hold you down, or are you going to be a good boy and save your Daddy some effort?”

“I… I… I’ll be good,” I say, my dick achingly-hard as a feeling of total submission comes over me. “I’ll be good and stay still, Daddy.”

“Without further ado then,” Cole says, drawing the spoon back and bringing it down on my left cheek with a hard, accurate thwack. “Bad boys get their bottoms heated up. And after such a wonderful morning too…”

I yelp in pain as the wooden spoon cracks and splats down onto my wobbling, rapidly reddening cheeks over and over. I lose count after ten, my cries of pain going unacknowledged by Cole.

“Daddy! Daddy!” I squeal, the glowing sensation from my butt spreading all over my body, my cheeks flushing red as Cole wraps up the spanking with a burst of four final swats. “My bottom!”

“I know, I know, boy,” Cole says, putting the spoon down next to my face. “Now stay in position and Daddy will cool your butt down.”

I gasp as I feel Cole crouch behind me and begin to slowly but surely kiss my ass cheeks, his cool lips the perfect antidote to my delicate, glowing butt.

“Good boy,” Cole says in between kisses, his breath near the gap at the top of my legs making me quiver with excitement. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t kiss again. You mustn’t overreact. Daddy knows what’s best. And sometimes that means taking a step back. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” I say, almost letting out a moan of pleasure as Cole’s kisses move up the crack of my ass and down again, each one sending waves of pleasure through me. “I… mmmph … understand.”

And with that, Cole stands up from behind be and leaves me bent over the table.

“Stand up when you’re ready,” Cole says, a knowing warmth in his voice. “Take your time. I want you to feel the moment, steady yourself, and then you can come and join me in the living area. We’ve got things to discuss. Important things.”

I nod, my body in a state of heightened, delicate arousal.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper, doing my best to calm myself down, my cock throbbing and close to sending me into a full-blown orgasm. “I’ll be through in a minute…”

I shut my eyes and smile.

I feel exposed, submissive, and totally at Cole’s mercy.

And despite my misgivings, I wouldn’t have it any other way…