Page 45 of Daddy Defender
“Really?” I say, my voice small, my Little side peeking out. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m mad as hell,” Henry says, but there’s a flicker of a smile, his Daddy side showing through. “But I get it. You need your waves. Just don’t make me regret this.”
Before I can stop myself, the words slip out, soft and instinctive…
“Thank you, Daddy.” I say.
My face flames, and I turn, sprinting into the water before he can respond, my board slapping the surface as I dive in.
The first splash of cold water hits me, sharp and alive, and I laugh, a real, giddy sound that bubbles up from my core. I’m free, the ocean wrapping around me like a hug, washing away the fear, the kiss, everything.
I paddle out, the waves rocking me, my board steady under my hands.
The water’s chilly, seeping through my briefs so much they may as well not be there, but it’s perfect, waking every nerve.
I glance back at the shore, where Henry’s standing, arms crossed, his silhouette strong against the moonlight. He’s watching, like he promised, and my heart does a stupid flip.
I called Henry Daddy, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t mock me.
And he’s letting me surf, even after I broke his rules.
That’s not Vince. That’s…something else.
The first wave comes, a clean six-footer, and I’m on it, popping up on my board, my body moving like it always does, pure muscle memory.
The water roars under me, the wind stinging my face, and I carve left, then right, riding the curve like I’m flying. It’s just me and the wave, no Vince, no mercenaries, no complicated feelings about Henry.
I’m nineteen again, untouchable, the ocean mine.
I whoop, the sound lost in the crash of water, and for a moment, everything’s right.
I ride three more waves, each one better than the last, my body loose, my heart pounding with joy.
But I keep Henry in my peripheral sight, his figure a steady anchor on the shore.
Henry’s not moving, just watching, and it makes me feel… safe.
Not caged, but protected, like he’s got my back even when I’m out here, doing my thing. I paddle back toward shore, the coldstarting to bite, my flimsy briefs clinging to me like a second skin...
I’m shivering but grinning, my Little side and surfer boy side both buzzing, alive in a way I haven’t felt in weeks.
I haul my board out of the water, my feet sinking into the sand, and Henry’s still there, his eyes locked on me. I expect a lecture, but he just nods, his face unreadable.
“Good, um,sesh?” Henry asks, his voice low, that Daddy edge making my cheeks flush again.
“The best,” I say, breathless, dripping wet, my nipples stiffening as the breeze hits. I catch Henry’s eyes wander over my body, hungry like a wolf, but he does the gentlemanly things and averts his gaze. “Thanks… for letting me.”
I don’t say Daddy again, but it’s there, hanging between us, and my heart races, wondering if he heard it the first time, if it meant anything to him.
“Put this on,” Henry says, tossing me his jacket from the sand. “We’re heading back. And no more sneaking out, Little One. Next time, you ask. Or face the consequences…”
I nod, wrapping his jacket around me, the warmth and his scent—leather, salt, him—making my head spin.
As we walk back to Shred, my board under my arm, I feel the ocean’s pulse still in me, but also something new—a trust in Henry that’s growing.
Vince’s out there, but with Henry watching my back, I feel like I can face it.
Maybe even face whatever’s sparking between us, if I’m brave enough to try…
