Protect Me Daddy

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I awoke to the aroma of fresh coffee, my mind still hazy with sleep. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then, memories of the night before came rushing back—the bar, the danger, Dwight's protective arms.

Red Rabbit was still clutched tightly to my chest, her soft fur a comfort against my skin. I heard movement in the kitchen—pots clanking, water running. For a moment, I panicked, until I remembered that I’d asked Dwight to stay with me.

My heart fluttered as I padded barefoot into the kitchen, my stuffie dangling from one hand. I stopped short in the doorway, taking in the scene before me.

Dwight stood at the stove, his broad back to me as he flipped pancakes. Damn, he was strong. Just watching his shoulders ripple under his tight t-shirt was making me feel all . . . wobbly. The counters gleamed, dishes neatly stacked in the drying rack. Even the grimy linoleum floor looked freshly mopped.

He’d cleaned for me. I felt a strange, grateful feeling spread through my body. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked after me like that.

"Good morning, little one," he said without turning. Somehow, he knew that I was near. Hu must have heard me.

"Morning," I mumbled, suddenly shy. In the harsh light of day, last night felt like a dream. "You didn't have to clean . . ."

He turned then, a soft smile on his lips. "I wanted to. You deserve a nice space to wake up to."

My cheeks flushed at his words. Something stirred something deep inside, a longing I'd tried to bury.

But as Dwight's eyes met mine, I noticed the dark circles underneath, the tightness around his mouth. My stomach clenched.

"What's wrong?" I asked, clutching Red Rabbit closer. "Did something happen?"

Dwight sighed, turning off the stove. "Let's sit down. We need to talk."

Fear prickled along my spine as I sank into a kitchen chair. What if he regretted last night? What if he was leaving? Why did I feel like I needed him so badly.

"I've been up all night," Dwight said, setting a mug of coffee in front of me. "Making some calls, checking on a few things."

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, trying to stop their trembling. "About Earl and his friends?"

Dwight's jaw tightened. "Among other things. Tilly, there's something you need to know . . ."

I watched, heart pounding, as Dwight reached into his pocket. He pulled out a leather wallet and flipped it open, revealing a gleaming badge. My breath caught in my throat.

"I'm Detective Dwight Brookes, Vice Squad," he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've been working undercover to infiltrate a human trafficking ring."

The mug slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the table. Coffee spilled across the surface, but I barely noticed. My mind reeled, struggling to process his words.

"Trafficking?" I whispered, my voice small and shaky. "But . . . what does that have to do with last night?"

Dwight's expression darkened. He reached across the table, gently taking my trembling hands in his. "Earl and his friends, they're not just random harassers, Tilly. They're scouts for the operation, targeting vulnerable women in bars and clubs like O'Malley's."

Ice flooded my veins as the full implications hit me. My gaze darted to the door, half-expecting Earl to burst through at any moment. "You mean . . . they were going to . . ."

"I won't let that happen," Dwight said fiercely, his grip on my hands tightening. "Not to you, not to anyone else."

Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered Earl's words from the night before. A new home. The casual cruelty in his voice. How close had I come to disappearing forever?

"Why me?" I choked out, furiously blinking back tears. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't.

Dwight's thumb traced soothing circles on my palm. "They look for women who seem isolated, vulnerable. Your strength drew me to you, but to them . . . they saw someone they thought they could break."

A sob escaped me then, and Dwight was around the table in an instant, pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent as he stroked my hair.

"I've got you, little one," he murmured. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

I clung to him, my protector, as the full horror of what could have been washed over me. In that moment, I knew my life would never be the same.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself in Dwight's arms. His strength was reassuring, but my mind raced with questions.

"That's why I was at O'Malley's," Dwight admitted softly, his fingers still gently combing through my hair. "We had intel they were operating there. But I never expected . . ."

He trailed off, and I pulled back slightly to look up at him. His jaw was clenched, eyes fierce with a protective intensity that made my heart skip.

"When I saw how they were targeting you . . ." Dwight's voice was low, almost a growl. "I couldn't stand by. Protocol be damned."

I swallowed hard, memories of the night before flooding back. Earl's leering grin, his meaty hand on my arm. "A new home," I whispered, my voice trembling. "That's what he said. I thought he was just being a creep, but . . ."

Tears welled up again as the full horror of my near-miss hit me. I'd been so close to vanishing, to becoming another statistic. My legs felt weak, and I sagged against Dwight's solid frame.

His arms tightened around me, one hand cupping the back of my head. "I've got you," he murmured fiercely. "You're safe now, little one. I promise."

I pressed my face into his chest, letting his warmth and strength anchor me as I processed the terrifying reality of what could have been. In that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

I took a shuddering breath, inhaling Dwight's comforting scent—a mixture of coffee, soap, and something uniquely him. As my tears subsided, I felt his body shift slightly. He cleared his throat, his voice hesitant as he spoke.

"Tilly . . . about last night. When you called me Daddy . . . "

My cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. I'd almost forgotten that slip in the chaos of everything else. I pulled back, ready to stammer out an apology, but Dwight's gentle grip on my shoulders stopped me.

"I need you to know that's okay," he continued softly. His piercing eyes met mine, filled with understanding. "More than okay. I understand that headspace."

My heart stuttered. "You . . . you do?" I whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

Dwight nodded, a tender smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I do. I've had experience with littles before. It's a part of who I am—being a Daddy Dom, I mean."

I blinked, processing this revelation. Part of me wanted to hide, to curl up with Red Rabbit and pretend this conversation wasn't happening. But a larger part—the part that had instinctively reached for Dwight's protection—felt a surge of hope.

"When I saw you at the bar," Dwight continued, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my arm, "I felt this . . . pull. Your vulnerability, the way you carried yourself - it awakened something in me. I wanted to protect you, to take care of you, even before I knew you were in real danger. I guess my Daddy radar was going a bit crazy." He gave a warm, reassuring smile.

I swallowed hard, remembering how safe I'd felt in his arms, how right it had been to call him Daddy. "I've never . . . I mean, I've thought about it, but . . ."

Dwight's smile widened. "We can take it slow, little one. There's no pressure. But I want you to know that I see you—all of you. And I'm here, whatever you need."

My eyes stung with fresh tears, but this time, they were tears of relief, of feeling truly seen for the first time in my life.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Dwight's expression suddenly hardened. His piercing eyes locked onto mine, intense and unwavering.

"Tilly," he said, his voice low and firm. "You're not safe at that bar anymore. They know where you live. They might try again."

A chill ran down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed in my own apartment. Dwight's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he continued.

"I want you to stay with me. Come to my place. For as long as you need."

My heart raced. Part of me thrilled at the idea, but another part—the part that had learned to be wary, to protect myself—balked. "Dwight, I . . . I can't just-"

"Not just for protection," he cut me off, his voice softening. He reached out, gently cupping my face in his large, calloused hand. "I want to take care of you, Tilly. In every way."

My breath caught in my throat. The meaning behind his words was clear - he wanted to be my Daddy, my protector. Not just for play, but for real. I felt a dizzying mix of desire and fear.

"But . . . we barely know each other," I whispered, even as I leaned into his touch.

Dwight's thumb stroked my cheek. "I know enough," he said. "I know you're brave, and strong, and that you deserve to feel safe. Let me give you that, little one."

I closed my eyes, torn between the urge to throw myself into his arms and the instinct to run. Could I really trust him? Could I let myself be this vulnerable?

My emotions swirled as I looked up into Dwight's eyes. There was such tenderness there, mixed with a fierce protectiveness that made my knees weak. I saw in him what I'd always longed for - someone who could understand and embrace both sides of me.

"You really see me, don't you?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Dwight nodded, his expression softening. "I do, sweetheart. The strong woman who's survived so much, and the little girl who needs care. Both are beautiful, both are you."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized I'd found someone who truly got me. I saw the same duality in him—the fierce protector and the gentle caregiver.

"Okay," I said softly. "I'll stay with you."

Relief washed over Dwight's face. He pulled me into a tight embrace, and I melted against his broad chest.

"We need to set some ground rules," he murmured into my hair. "Both for your safety and our . . . dynamic."

I nodded, my cheek pressed against his shirt. "Like what?"

Dwight's voice took on a more authoritative tone, but it wasn't harsh - just firm and caring. "First, you don't go anywhere without letting me know. No exceptions. Second, you'll have a curfew . . ."

As he laid out the rules, I felt a sense of security settling over me. His authority wasn't controlling—it was comforting, making me feel protected in a way I'd never experienced before.

I nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness flutter in my stomach. "I should pack some things, right?"

Dwight's eyes crinkled with a gentle smile. "Of course, little one. Let's get you sorted."

We moved to my cramped bedroom, the floorboards creaking beneath our feet. I hesitated at my dresser, suddenly self-conscious about my meager possessions.

"What should I bring?" I asked, my voice small.

Dwight's large hand rested reassuringly on my shoulder. "Essentials first. Clothes, toiletries. And anything that makes you feel safe and comfortable."

My gaze drifted to Red Rabbit, propped against my pillow. Dwight followed my line of sight and his expression softened further.

“Red Rabbit?” I asked.

"Definitely Red Rabbit," he said, reaching for my stuffie. "And what's this?"

He'd spotted my battered copy of fairy tales on the nightstand. I felt my cheeks warm. "It's silly . . ."

"Not at all," Dwight said firmly, picking up the book. "This is coming too."

As I gathered clothes, Dwight carefully wrapped Red Rabbit in my softest blanket. The tenderness of the gesture made my heart swell.

"Ready?" he asked, holding my packed bag.

I took a deep breath, looking around the tiny apartment that had been my sanctuary. "I think so."

Dwight's hand found the small of my back as we stepped into the hallway. The touch was protective, grounding.

"I'll have a team watching Earl and his crew," he murmured, his voice low and determined. "But right now, my focus is on you."

We reached the stairwell and Dwight pulled me close, his eyes intense. "I've got you now, little one," he promised. "No one will ever hurt you again."

I believed him.