Page 6 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Richie

I push my empty porridge bowl aside, the taste of brown sugar still lingering on my tongue, and lean back in the kitchen chair, sizing up Cole.

He’s sipping coffee now, his eyes scanning a map like it holds the secrets of the universe. Cole thinks he’s sooo smart. Well, maybe he is… in a big, dumb bodyguard kind of way.

He’s all focus, all duty, and I’m about to play him like a fiddle.

“Hey, Cole,” I say, keeping my voice soft, a little vulnerable.

“I’m feeling kinda overwhelmed. I know I’ve been acting out.

And I feel bad for that. I think I need some alone time to journal.

You know, process stuff. Can you give me some space?

Like… keep a respectful distance if I head to my room? ”

Come on, fall for it…

Cole looks up, his gaze sharpening, but there’s a flicker of something softer… concern, maybe.

“Journaling, huh,” Cole says, his tone neutral. “Sure. Take all the time you need. I’ll be out here. I know privacy is important. I get it.”

I nod, biting back a grin as I stand and head to the bedroom.

Hook, line, sinker.

Journaling? Please! I’ve never scribbled a single page in my life. But Cole bought it, didn’t he? Big, dumb bodyguard, thinking he’s got me all figured out. I close the bedroom door behind me, the latch clicking softly, and let out a quiet laugh.

This is almost too easy.

“ Hehehe ,”I giggle, looking over toward Fizz staring back at me on the bed. “Silly Cole just got played!”

Fizz looks back at me, and I know he’d laugh out loud along with me if he could. The safe house is still, sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming the wooden floorboards.

I perch on the edge of the bed, my mind racing. Cole thinks he’s keeping me safe, locking me away like some prince in a tower. But I’m Hunter Selleck’s son, and I don’t wait for rescue. That’s not who we are as a family, and it’s certainly not who I am as a son.

I’m getting out of here, heading to the nearest town.

From there, I’ll borrow a phone – maybe at a diner, charm some trucker or local – and get online. I’ll track down Pop, plot a route back to the city, and work with him to crush whoever’s behind this threat.

And Cole? Oh, it’ll be hilarious when he realizes I’m gone, chasing my dust while I’m ten steps ahead!

I grab my backpack from the corner, my heart thumping with excitement. I stuff in a water bottle, a granola bar, and a hoodie, then hesitate.

Fizz.

I can’t leave him behind. He’s been with me through every move, every loss, his worn fur a reminder of all our days and nights together. I tuck him carefully into the bag, zipping it shut.

“You’re coming with me, Fizz,” I whisper, patting the backpack. “We’re gonna show them all how it’s done.”

The window’s my way out.

It’s old, with a heavy sash, but I’ve spotted the security trip – a thin wire that’ll scream if I don’t disable it. I rummage through the desk drawer, finding a paperclip, and kneel by the sill. My fingers are steady, years of sneaking out past Pop’s rules paying off.

I slip the paperclip under the trip, holding the wire in place, and ease the window open. Cool air rushes in, smelling of pine and damp earth.

No alarm.

No Cole bursting through the door.

I’m golden .

I sling the backpack over my shoulder and climb out, one leg at a time, dropping onto the soft grass below. The forest looms around the cottage, trees whispering in the breeze, and the gravel path to the road glints in the morning light.

I dust off my jeans, pride swelling in my chest.

Richie: one . Cole: a big fat zero .

I’m halfway to the city in my head, picturing Pop’s proud grin when I show up, ready to fight beside him. He might be mad for a minute, but deep down he’ll be full of so much pride that I’ve shown initiative and fought my way back to be by his side in our time of need.

Then I look up, and my heart stops.

Cole towers over me, arms crossed, his face a storm cloud.

Oh crap…

Cole’s eyes are blazing, not just angry… but furious , like I’ve betrayed some sacred trust. My stomach drops, and I freeze, the paperclip still clutched in my hand like a guilty kid caught stealing cookies.

“Cole,” I say, my voice wobbling despite my best effort. “I was just, um, I was, um, I…”

“Save it,” he snaps, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the morning quiet. “Inside. Now .”

I swallow hard, my bravado crumbling.

Cole’s not just mad; he’s disappointed, and that stings worse than I expect. I clutch my backpack strap, Fizz’s weight a small comfort, and trudge back to the porch, Cole’s presence looming behind me like a thunderhead.

The cottage door creaks as he opens it, motioning me in with a jerk of his head.

Part of me is furious that my plan has been foiled. But I’m also scared. Like, actually a little bit scared of what Cole might do…

“Sit,” Cole says, pointing to the couch. His vest stretches tight across his shoulders, and those light blue jeans make him look annoyingly good, even now.

I drop onto the cushions, my backpack beside me, and cross my arms, trying to salvage some defiance. But my cheeks are hot, flushed red, and my heart’s still racing from the shock of being caught.

Cole doesn’t sit. He paces, slow and deliberate, like a predator deciding what to do with its prey.

“Journaling, huh?” he sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That was a cute story, Richie. Almost had me. But you think I don’t know a lie when I hear one? You don’t think a Night Ops Guard knows every trick in the damn book?”

I bristle, lifting my chin.

“I wasn’t lying. I just… changed my mind,” I say, knowing how silly I sound even trying to wriggle out of this. “I needed some air.”

“Air?” Cole stops, pinning me with a look that makes me feel about two feet tall. “You were sneaking out to who-knows-where, with no phone, no plan, and a threat out there that could kill you. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die.

Cole’s right, and I hate it.

I wasn’t thinking about the threat, not really—just about proving I could do this, about finding Pop. My plan feels childish now, flimsy as the paperclip in my pocket.

“I can handle myself,” I mutter, but it sounds so weak even to me.

Cole’s jaw tightens, and he leans down, hands on his knees, eye-level with me.

“You’re smart, Richie,” Cole says. “Smarter than most, that’s for sure. But you’re not invincible. And you’re not alone in this. Under your father’s instructions, I’m here to protect you, but I can’t do that if you’re running off playing hero.”

Cole’s voice is softer now, but it carries that steady, grounding weight that makes my chest ache. That Daddy vibe again, the one I swore I wouldn’t think about. It’s not fair, how he can be so furious and so… safe at the same time. I look away, my fingers twisting in my hair.

“I just want to help my Pop,” I say, my voice small. “I can’t just sit here, Cole.”

Cole sighs, straightening, and for a moment, he’s quiet, like he’s weighing his words.

“I get it,” he says finally. “Your father is a good man, and you’re his son—stubborn as hell, just like him. But running off won’t save him. It’ll get you killed, and then what? You want to break his heart?”

My throat tightens, and I blink back the sting in my eyes. I hadn’t thought of it like that. Pop, losing me. The image hurts more than I can stand.

“So what do I do?” I ask, hating how lost I sound. I’m not used to feeling weak like this and it’s not a pleasant feeling. Far from it.

Cole’s expression softens, just a fraction.

“You trust me. We work together,” Cole says. “I’m not your enemy, Richie. I’m on your side.”

I nod, not trusting my voice. I feel like I might burst out into tears at any moment.

My grand escape is in tatters, and Cole’s still here, towering and steady, like he’s ready to carry the whole world for me. I don’t know if I want to hug him or scream at him. Maybe both.

But one thing’s clear: outsmarting him won’t be as easy as I thought.

And if I thought that my escape was going to go unpunished, I have another thing coming too…

“Now, this isn’t quite finished yet,” Cole says, a knowing look on his face.

Cole stands over me, his arms crossed, the weight of his disappointment heavier than the backpack on the cushion beside him. I’m sunk into the couch, my escape plan in ruins, and I know I’ve lost this round. My heart’s still racing from being caught, but I lift my chin, bracing for whatever’s next.

I played my hand, and I’m ready to face the consequences.

Or at least, I think I am…

“Richie,” Cole says, his voice firm but not cruel. “You can’t pull stunts like that. Not here, not now. You put yourself in danger, and that’s not okay. There must be consequences.”

I swallow, my defiance flickering.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound tougher than I feel. “What’s it gonna be? Lock me in the bedroom? Take away my snacks?”

Cole doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften just a fraction.

“No. You’re going to have some corner time, Richie,” Cole says. “It’ll give you a chance to think about what you did, calm down, and approach this whole situation with fresh eyes.”

My jaw drops.

“Corner time? Are you serious? I’m not five!” I snap. The words spill out before I can stop them, my cheeks burning with indignation.

Corner time ? Like some naughty kid? I’m in my twenties!

Cole doesn’t flinch. He leans closer, his voice low and steady, like he’s stating a fact.

“Littles benefit from corner time, Richie,” Cole says, his voice controlled and clear. “It’s a way to reset, to reflect. You need this, and you’re going to do what I say.”

I freeze, my breath catching.

Littles .

He said it, plain as day, like he sees right through me.

My heart skips, a mix of shock and something else—something warm, like being seen for the first time. I’ve never told him I’m a Little. But the way he says it, so sure, so calm, makes me feel… safe.

I open my mouth to protest, to deny it, but nothing comes out. Instead, I nod, my face hot, and stand up, my legs wobbly.

“Twenty minutes,” Cole says, pointing to the living area’s corner, where the stone fireplace meets the wood-paneled wall. “Face the wall, hands at your sides. Not a second less than twenty minutes. Got it?”

I trudge over, my sneakers scuffing the rug.

Humiliation burns in my chest as I plant myself in the corner, staring at the wall’s grainy texture. This is ridiculous. I’m Hunter’s son, not some kid who needs a timeout. Anger flares up inside me, my fists clenching, and I want to spin around, tell Cole to shove it.

But Cole’s presence behind me, steady and unyielding, keeps me rooted.

I take a shaky breath, and something shifts. As the seconds turn into minutes, the anger ebbs, replaced by a strange calm. Maybe Cole’s right. Maybe I need this, just for a moment, to stop running and think.

The minutes slowly but surely pass, the cottage quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire. My thoughts settle, the chaos of my escape plan fading. I think about Pop, about how scared I am for him, about how Cole’s trying to keep me safe.

By the time Cole’s voice breaks the silence—“Time’s up, Richie”—I’m steadier, like the storm in my head has passed.

I turn, my face still warm, and meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Cole,” I say, the words spilling out, genuine. “I shouldn’t have tried to run. I just… I want to help my Pop.”

Cole nods, his expression softening.

“Apology accepted,” Cole says. “You’ve got a good heart, Richie, but you’ve gotta trust me. How about a mug of warm milk and a chat? We’ll figure this out together.”

I smile, relief washing over me.

“Yes, please,” I reply. “But, um, can I use the bathroom first? I’m kinda desperate after standing like that…”

Cole chuckles, a low, warm sound.

“Go ahead,” Cole says. “I’ll heat the milk.”

I feel my cheeks blaze red and scurry into the bathroom. But far from being desperate for a pee, there’s something else I need to do.

I lock the bathroom door behind me and in a flurry of activity I unbutton my jeans, and pull them down to my knees along with my briefs. I lick my fingers to moisten them and then work them over my throbbing cock and jerk myself hard and fast, barely taking time to breathe I’m so horny.

“ Mmmmph ,” I gasp, surprising myself at how quickly my climax comes over me as I shoot my load into my hand, my breathing heavy and my face flushed.

I can’t remember cumming so hard before. I almost feel dizzy.

The way that Cole put me in the corner and saw me as my purest Little self felt incredible – but it was incredibly hot too at the same time.

As I feel my dick throb and twitch, I have to cover my mouth with my spare hand to stop myself from moaning out loud as Pump out the last of my thick, salty cum.

“Milk’s nearly done!” I hear Cole holler from the kitchen.

The milk might well be ready, but the only thing in danger of boiling out of control right now is me.

Suddenly, this situation has taken a whole new turn – and a hot, sticky, super-horny turn too…