Single Dad SEAL Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Emma

  Chapter Two - Luke

  Chapter Three - Emma

  Chapter Four - Luke

  Chapter Five - Emma

  Chapter Six - Luke

  Chapter Seven - Emma

  Chapter Eight - Luke

  Chapter Nine - Emma

  Chapter Ten - Luke

  Chapter Eleven - Emma

  Chapter Twelve - Emma

  Chapter Thirteen - Luke

  Chapter Fourteen - Luke

  Chapter Fifteen - Emma

  Chapter Sixteen - Luke

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  Single Dad SEAL

  A Bad Boy and Virgin Romance

  By: Charlize Starr

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Emma

  Chapter Two - Luke

  Chapter Three - Emma

  Chapter Four - Luke

  Chapter Five - Emma

  Chapter Six - Luke

  Chapter Seven - Emma

  Chapter Eight - Luke

  Chapter Nine - Emma

  Chapter Ten - Luke

  Chapter Eleven - Emma

  Chapter Twelve - Emma

  Chapter Thirteen - Luke

  Chapter Fourteen - Luke

  Chapter Fifteen - Emma

  Chapter Sixteen - Luke

  Specially Selected Bonus Content

  Contemporary Romance Collection

  Vampire Romance Collection

  Cowboy Romance Collection

  Secret Baby Sports Romance Collection

  Paranormal Menage Romance: Mated to Two Beasts

  Paranormal Menage Romance: Her Two Alphas

  Paranormal Menage Romance: Claimed by Two Werebears

  About Charlize Starr

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  Chapter One - Emma

  Well, here goes nothing.

  As I peer into the dusty old attic, I try to imagine it filled with my stuff, looking more like a cozy bedroom than the unsettling scene for a horror movie. But this small triangle-roofed room is dark, musty, and even has a mattress that’s a foreboding blood-red. So, instead, I force myself to get to work. I unpack box after box. Sheets are first – nice baby blue ones to cover the red mattress. Next, it’s clothes. I quickly fold everything so I can put it into the three-legged wobbly dresser in the corner. Then, it’s time to move some of my shoes to the other empty corner, though I can already tell I’m probably going to have to buy a whole new shelf. Right now, I’ve set out about 15 pairs of shoes. I probably have around 76 altogether. I guess you could say I have something of a shoe problem.

  Once three boxes are unpacked and I’m about to pass out, I flop onto my bed. I close my eyes but keep my ears peeled. I have to listen for Luke’s arrival. I don’t want him finding me like this – in my sloppy boxers and t-shirt with no bra. I mean, nothing’s going to happen, obviously. But still.

  I get out my phone. Dad’s sent me a message: How’s everything going? I don’t respond. Really, this is all his fault. I was supposed to move in with him while my apartment was getting renovated for the next few months, but instead – surprise, surprise – Margot changed her mind last minute. I get out the drawing of Margot I made when they first broke me the sorry-we-don’t-want-you-here news: a literal stick-person with a scowling, stab-nosed face, but looking at it doesn’t make me feel much better now. I guess I should feel lucky that Luke overheard Dad talking to a colleague about my temporary homelessness problem and offered me his attic, but I don’t feel very lucky. No, I feel nervous.

  I venture downstairs to see if there are any pictures of Luke around. But the only thing on his fridge is a Maxim calendar with March’s hot Latino girl putting her hand on her ass. There is nothing marking the day I’m coming. Yes, this is just another day for Luke. It doesn’t matter that we went to school together and even hooked up one time. He probably barely remembers me – the good girl who had a secret crush on the bad boy.

  The only thing to do is to rummage through the fridge, grab some chocolate pudding I bought yesterday, flop down at the kitchen table and dig in.

  Why do I need a picture to confirm it? Luke’s probably as hot and unattainable as ever. And as much of a jerk. He was an unrepentant jerk all through school, why would now be any different?

  I take a big spoonful of pudding and swallow. I don’t see why I’m making a big deal of this. My life’s not going to change here – I’m going to work, eat, sleep; guys are going to keep being perverted idiots.

  I check my phone again. I consider calling Mom but think better of it. I’m not sad enough for that – not yet. Her depressing alcoholic ramblings are enough to put me out of even my best mood. Though I can hardly blame her. Dad cheated on her with evil Margot, of all people.

  Back upstairs, I unpack another box or two, but, really, I’m just waiting for the sound of the front door opening. I’ll have to change before Luke comes in. No way am I having him see me like this, with my hair in something of a rat’s nest on my head and my nipples showing through my thin turtle-covered t-shirt. Finally, in exasperation, I respond to my dad’s text: Great!

  Then, I take a nap, glaring at my ceiling before I finally nod off. When I wake up and a quick dash downstairs has revealed that he’s still not back, I’ve had enough. I make my way to the bathroom, throw off all my clothes and step into the shower. There, under the high-powered nozzle’s spray of generous amounts of water, I close my eyes and enjoy the warm beads running down my skin. It’s not long before I’ve lost myself in the feeling, in the hot pleasure sliding over my body…

  Chapter Two - Luke

  Work was shit, but when I get home, it’s worse. I see a used pudding container by the sink and then I remember. Shit – that Emma girl. My new roomie. I’m really not in the mood to deal with someone I barely know, but I don’t have much of a choice. Hell, I’m the idiot who – in a rush of nostalgia – hearing the Commander talk about his temporarily homeless daughter and his less-than-pleased bitch wife, offered to let the chick stay in my attic, of all places.

  Kinda stupid. I’m especially screwed if the Commander finds out we hooked up ages ago. But it’s whatever; he won’t and it’s not like we’ll be hooking up now.

  I fumble through the cupboard, but my Cheetos are nowhere to be found. When I sit down at the kitchen table, my gaze falls on Parker’s red Hot Wheels car lodged underneath the fridge. Ah, yes. Of course.

  When I walk to the bathroom, there’s the sound of water running inside. Shit – that must be where Emma is now. The only problem is, the Cheetos are in there too. I hide them in the cupboard under the sink so Parker can’t find them. That kid is a sneaky little devil, I swear. I basically have to hide any junk food the little guy has too much of a liking for chips, cookies, chocolate… You name it.

  Now I’m starving and the one thing I’m in the mood for I can’t get at. I knock on the bathroom door, but there’s no answer. The longer I wait, the more I think: Why not just slip in, grab them, and slip out again? If Emma couldn’t hear my knock, then she probably wouldn’t hear my quick Cheeto-grab. Even if she did come out of the shower, it wouldn’t be the worst thing… Besides, it’d be like a secret mission, like when my platoon used to sneak up on the enemy. Except this time the target wou
ld be a certain half-finished Cheeto bag.

  Smiling to myself, I slowly creak open the bathroom door open and dive for the cupboard under the sink. Just as I do, the water snaps off, the curtain opens, and someone screams.

  Freezing, Cheeto-bag in hand, I’m speechless. It’s Emma – hell, is it Emma? She looks hot as hell. Those curves, those thick thighs and huge, pendulous tits, it’s…

  “What are you doing?” Her desperate voice shrills as she tries to cover herself. It’s a silly gesture, useless to cover all that delicious flesh with her short little arms.

  Next thing I know, she’s shoving past me, rushing out of there. The towel falls to allow me a juicy look at her huge ass. I stand there for a minute, replaying what just happened and what I just saw. Goddamn – if I had known Emma had gotten this sexy, I would’ve tried to reunite with her ages ago.

  As I gaze into the mirror at the dopey, stunned look on my face, the commander’s words echo in my head: “Your generosity is appreciated, colonel. However, I have heard of your… reputation from the men; how you have a certain knack with women. So, let me say this to you straight: hands off my daughter. If I hear the slightest whisper of any funny business, you’re going to find yourself shipped off to Afghanistan faster than you can say ‘whoops.’”

  My hard-on droops at the thought of it: being sent miles away from home, into dangerous enemy territory once again, away from my friends, my family – hell – my son, and all because I got horny over some curvy chick.

  I turn on the sink, dip my hands in the cool water and splash some on my face. And yet, if something happened one night… One chance night where we just so happened to find ourselves in bed with each other – who would have to know?

  My dick is hard again, but I’m shaking my head. I leave the bathroom, Cheeto bag in hand. No. No matter how hot I find Emma, I can’t risk it. It’s not worth it.

  Flopped on my bed in my room, between handfuls of the crunchy orange things, I text a few girls. First I try Kiana and Jennifer. Then, a minute or so later, I impatiently text Yvonne.

  I’m soon rewarded. Literally a second later, the response to my “hey” comes back: “Can I come over now?” To which I respond: “The door’s open. I’m in my room.”

  And then I wait. It was pretty ballsy, my not even going to meet her at the front door. But I’ve been subtly lowering Yvonne’s expectations since day one. The first time we hung out was at a McDonald’s. I even made her pay for her Big Mac herself. Since then, it’s been all house hangs and chilling in my room. A few minutes later, sure enough, my phone beeps to show her message: “On my way”.

  I take another handful of Cheetos and grin at the ceiling. Looks like today won’t be a total shit show after all.

  ***

  Yvonne arrives late, as usual. Although, to be fair, we never really established when she was supposed to get here. Still, by the time my rickety old bedroom door creaks open, I’m more than ready for her.

  She’s wearing a modest white button-up with plain black pants.

  “What – we gonna roleplay teacher-student?” I joke, rising so I can shove her against the wall. She smirks.

  “Just got off work.”

  This is my cue to mash my lips over hers and have our bodies do the rest of the talking. Her tongue is slow and lazy, but mine is dancing everywhere, thrusting in her lips the way my dick is going to be thrusting in her other lips in a few minutes. I rip off her ponytail scrunchie. Her long, dark hair flutters down in shiny cascades. When I start devouring her neck, the moans start up.

  Huh. I’m getting hard without even getting to her pussy yet. I’d forgotten how noisy Yvonne was. I unbutton her shirt and rip off her bra. When I start stroking her breasts, the moans get even louder. She’s got nice pert little titties, perfect brown mouthfuls for me. I suck and suck and she moans and moans.

  Opening my eyes, my gaze shoots to the partially open door, but then I close them again. It would be kind of funny if Emma heard us. Besides, we’re not being that noisy – yet. No, the noisiness comes later. After I’ve kissed my way all over Yvonne’s tan, heaving body. After I’ve kneaded her ass and titties until she’s shaking. After I’ve ripped off her pants, discarded her panties.

  Yes, the moans really start up when my finger slips into her pussy. She’s already dripping wet, but I’m just getting started. I twirl my finger in her with one hand while I squeeze her breast with the other. It’s a slow, lazy sort of rhythm, and still, she moans like an animal in heat. It makes me feel oddly satisfied and derisive at the same time, the fact that I have such control over this poor woman. So, there’s nothing to do but up my pace and see how loud I can make her moan. Turns out, it’s pretty fucking loud. I don’t even have my dick in her but my finger alone is enough to do the job. Yvonne’s twisted in agony, her head thrown back, her eyes closed. The moans almost sound like they’re coming from somewhere else.

  I’m pretty hard myself just at the sight of this deliriously pleasured woman. Yet, whenever I close my eyes, there’s someone else I’m seeing. Someone I can’t quite make out. When I open my eyes again, however, my dick has waited long enough.

  I rip my fingers out and shove my dick in her. She cries out, and we both know it was what she really needed. And then, as I’m pounding her and her moans become howls, our bodies twist together with pleasure. Somewhere far away, I hear my rickety old bedroom door creak.

  Chapter Three - Emma

  Maybe I should just leave, find another place to stay. On my bed with the blanket wrapped around me like a mummy, I try to imagine where else I would go. Definitely not to Dad and Margot, who would demand proof – testimony from witnesses and evidence that nowhere else in a 500-mile radius would work before they’d let me stay with them. Gillian probably wouldn’t work either. All she could offer me was a living room with a sheet partition, after all. But wouldn’t that be better than this?

  I stand up and walk over to the mirror, letting the towel slip down and staring at my naked form. There. That was what Luke saw. Ha! “Saw” – that was what Luke gaped at.

  In the mirror, my cheeks are blushing furiously. I feel so humiliated and ashamed and yet… No, there’s no denying it – I feel turned on too. There was no mistaking that look on Luke’s face. That actually enraptured look as he took me in. Not to mention that he himself, with his chiseled face and close-cut hair, was even sexier than I’d remembered.

  Frowning, I return to flop on my bed, the wooden thing groaning as much as I feel like doing myself. I’m being ridiculous. What just happened – Luke spotting me naked in the bathroom – was embarrassing and horrible. If I have any sense at all, I’d get out of here as fast as I can.

  I close my eyes. But as my thoughts quiet themselves, something else slides into the quiet. Something that sounds like… moaning. I turn on to the other side of the bed. But as soon as I stop moving and the bed stops creaking, I hear it again. No, there’s no denying it. Yes, that sound is definitely, definitely moaning. Female moaning at that.

  In a sort of rapt haze, I make my way to my dresser, then take out and pull on my droopy knee-length Minnie Mouse sweatshirt. Now sufficiently covered, I follow the sound of the moans.

  Luke’s probably watching porn or something. I shouldn’t even be doing this, but something in me is determined. I have to find out. So, down the stairs I go, the moans growing louder all the while. They’re coming from the room at the end of the hallway, the one with the scratched-up door open a crack. His room.

  The closer I get, the more real I’m sure the moans are. They can’t just be from a porn video; Luke’s whole bed is jangling, for God’s sake. And yet, I can’t quite believe that there is a real woman in there. That Luke would be so inconsiderate to – on my first day here, no less! – not only invite a girl over, but to have loud sex with his door open as well.

  As I near the door, one last voice of reason and resistance reminds me: You should not be doing this. You should be going back up to your room – listening to mu
sic, watching a movie. Anything but this.

  But my hand’s already on the door now and it’s just going to be one peek, really, one glance – just to find out. That’s all. So, I put my hand on his door and peer in. It creaks a little, but something tells me that they aren’t really going to notice. Because – yes, there is a woman in there, a thin, tan, sexy woman, who is getting nothing less than pounded by Luke, his whole body rippling with muscles.

  I watch them in a daze. I’ve never really watched porn, but if I did and it was the good stuff, I would imagine it would have to be like this: noisy, unrepentant, almost animalistic. These two people – this man and woman – have been reduced to the essentials: noises, feelings, and an urge fulfilled. And oh, how beautifully they do it.

  My finger’s found its way to my pussy; I can’t help it. The sight is mesmerizing. His muscled idol of a body with his long pole of a dick, sliding in and out of her slick svelte form. They’re locked in a dance, in a trembling, yelled-out fuck. It’s pleasure like I’ve never seen before. Pleasure for purely its own sake. This fucking is something like meditation, like deliverance. Her moans bring a shiver down my spine that stops at my already wet pussy. My hand slips under my Minnie Mouse sweatshirt – under my lace panties. Now, there are no more thoughts. There is only my body responding to what their bodies are doing. I have no choice, really. No choice but to watch this pair of bodies pulse together. No choice but to respond to the arousal surging through my helpless form. And, fuck, watching it is so good and it feels so good. My clit is throbbing, but when I slide my fingers down to my wet pussy, it’s almost like he’s the one touching me. Luke. Luke, the glorious sex God, who’s flipping the girl around now so he can fuck her from behind, handling her as if she’s a doll – a sex object. Now I’m moaning too, softly. I’ve never felt anything that feels this good. But it’s ok because now her moans have amplified into one long scream. She’s cumming. Must be. He slams into her one last time and he collapses on the bed, groaning too, both of them cumming together. The sight excites me even more, has me pulsing my finger into my pussy even faster – more harried. I can feel the pleasure coming on like a tidal wave of warm tingling ecstasy. I close my eyes. Murmuring sounds come from the room, but it doesn’t matter. I’m locked in a movement, a feeling, a feeling. A fucking Godsend of a feeling.