Page 77 of Finding His Silver Fox Daddy

“Really?” Henry looked like he might start tearing up. Again. “Oh, baby. I always want to be here for you. In anything, everything. Sickness and health . . .”

His eyes shot wide, and I chuckled. “I know what you meant. And I want to be here for you, too, Daddy.”

His answering chuckle sounded a little nervous.

“It’s really okay, Henry. I know I’m skittish, and I have a lot of healing to do to become the best partner for you, but if you’ll have me while I figure it out, I’d like to try.” I drew in a shaky breath. “Ethan gave me the name of a therapist, and I have an appointment with them next week. All that shit I went through with my parents and Chad, my high school boyfriend—it’s time to heal. I don’t want to bring that into this relationship. I want to handle my shit so I can be the best man—the best boy—for you.”

A tear welled in the corner of his eye and slipped down his cheek. “I would love that, my sweet Angel Baby.” Then he shifted his gaze to an indistinct point on the wall behind me. “In fact, I may need to find a therapist myself. One of my friends online keeps saying it has done wonders for her, helped her heal from a lifetime of religious trauma. You will be putting in the work—it’s high time I did, too.”

Elated at his words, I leapt forward and pulled him into a bear hug. “Really?” I asked into his shoulder.

“Really, baby. Let’s heal together. For ourselves, and for each other.”

I pulled back a few moments later, nodding. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

We fell into a soft silence then, spending time gazing into each other’s eyes. As sappy as that sounded, there was no other place I wanted to be.

Then Henry’s expression changed, turned thoughtful. But the twinkle in his eye told me he had something up his sleeve.

Then he spoke. “So I fucked up.”

I raised an eyebrow, knowing we’d already covered this and I’d forgiven him for it. Which meant he had something else in mind, and I suspected I knew where he was going with this. “Yeeeeees?” I asked, drawing out the word.

“I think I might need my Devil Daddy to punish me for it.”

My dick twitched in my pants at the thought. I could definitely get down with that. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

He caught my gaze, smirking as he said, “I think you should edge me. Make me beg. And then not let me come.”

Holy shit. “That sounds so fucking hot, Henry. But that could take . . . god, you fucked up pretty badly. It might take you hours, all day maybe, to pay that debt. You up for that?”

He nodded, playing right along. “Hell yeah, Devil Daddy. Do your worst.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Henry

Truth be told, I was nervous as hell for Tris to turn his devilish instincts against me in a punishment of sorts, but I wanted him to unleash his latent sadistic tendencies on my body at least once. And this seemed like the perfect opportunity, a way for me to pay penance for my mistake.

It wasn’t needed, of course—I knew this was just sexy role play. But there was something comforting in knowing my boy could take me in hand when I wanted that.

And Jesus fuck, I wanted that.

“Okay, Henry.” Tristan pushed to his feet, an air of authority around him that had me shaking, just a little. “On your feet.”

I nodded, following his instruction eagerly. Though I was a couple of inches taller than him, in this moment, he had all the power. And I was giving it willingly.

“Good boy.”

Shit, why was that so fucking hot?

“Strip. A boy like you doesn’t deserve to wear clothes. You have to earn that.”

Damn. I stripped my T-shirt and gray sweatpants off in a hurry, tossing them on the large couch beside us. My dick was hard, and it stuck out in front of me, pointing the way to the man who owned my heart.

And my body.

Tristan’s eyebrow raised at me, and the sheer haughtiness in the look had me struggling not to cover myself up. “No underwear? Naughty boy. That may earn you an additional punishment.”