“I will. I’m leaving right now.” Kellie hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt from college, ran a comb through her blonde locks, then pulled them up with a hair tie. In a rush, she brushed her teeth before running out the door. When she realized she’d forgotten her keys and purse, she had to come back.
She drove quick as possible to the hospital nearest her parents, where her father had gone for his last heart attack. Why would Alex have gone to her father? Some misplaced sense of guilt, a need to ease his conscience for breaking her heart?
What if they'd told him about the baby? Surely not—she'd begged them not to tell anyone. She couldn't think about all this right now. She just had to think positive, healing thoughts for her father.
In the emergency department lobby, Alex sat not far from where she'd sat and waited to find out more about her father just… what? Seven weeks ago. Please, not another heart attack.
If Alex had told her father, then that would've been quite a shock. Their knocked up daughter had an affair with her dad’s business partner. She stalked up to him. “What did you do?”
“Me, really? You're fucking pregnant, Kellie. Were you even going to tell me?” Alex stood up, his voice rising.
She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder, running her fingers through the strands. “No. I don't know. You were pretty clear about not wanting to be trapped.”
“This is different—you’re different.” He pulled a box from his pocket and flipped it open. A big, clear diamond sparkled at her. “Marry me, Kellie.”
“Stop it, Alex. People are staring.” Kellie glared at the people looking at them until they turned away, one-by-one. “This is the last thing I want, you marrying me because I’m pregnant.”
“It’s not because you’re pregnant.” He grasped her by the elbow and tugged her to a corner of the lobby. “I’d planned to do this so different. I was going to have that music we picked out at the bookstore playing and make you dinner with candles.”
“You’re not making any sense. You couldn’t have known I was pregnant before this morning. I didn’t know myself until yesterday.”
He took her other arm and pulled her closer, into his embrace. “Think about it, Kellie. Why do you think I went to see your dad today?”
“I don’t know what you were thinking. I just hope he’s okay.” Tears brimmed her eyes.
He squeezed her tight. “He will be—he has to be.”
“Let’s just wait until we hear something about my dad before we talk about anything else. I can’t think while he’s in danger. I can’t—”
“Shh.” He kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to.”
Together, they sat. Alex was perfect. He went to fetch her coffee and made her eat a breakfast sandwich, he held her hand, he asked the nurse for status updates. It was a shame he was only offering to marry her because of the pregnancy because she loved him and he was a good man.
She sighed, worried she was going to cry again. This was all too much—the pregnancy, her dad, her broken heart. She couldn’t take much more.
The doors whooshed open and her mom walked out, arms crossed over her middle. She looked shaken but not broken, but what if it was shock?
Kellie jumped up and ran to Diane. “Mom? Is he okay?”
Her mother took her hand and nodded. “He’s fine. It wasn’t a heart attack. The stress just… overworked his heart a bit.”
Diane gave a pointed look in Alex’s direction. He stood a respectable distance away. Far enough that he wasn’t eavesdropping but close enough if Kellie should need him. “Did you work things out yet?” her mother asked her.
“Mom, these are not the times when a man and woman have to get married because they made a baby. I won’t do that.” The nurse at the reception desk near them jerked her head up, openly listening to their conversation now.
“But, Kellie… he came this morning to ask your father for his blessing. He wanted to marry you before he found out about the baby.” Diane shrugged. “Do what makes you happy, sweetie. I don’t approve of him getting involved with you, but the man doesn’t want you because you’re pregnant.”
Her hands flew to her mouth as it all clicked into place. She’d been too upset to realize it earlier, but Alex already had a ring. He couldn’t have gotten one this morning, after he found out. He’d been planning to propose to her when he went to her parents’ house today.
Kellie flew into Alex’s arms, holding him tight. She’d never let him go again.
“Kellie? What is it, honey? Is your dad okay?”
She blinked back tears of happiness this time. “He’s fine. I just… I need to hear what you want.”
“I want to marry you.” He took her by the shoulders and held her, gazing into her eyes.
“One question, I need to know one thing. Why? If it’s not the baby, then why?”
He tucked a finger under her chin and used the other to pull her close. “Because I love you. I’m so in love with you, I can’t bear the thought of being away from you.”
Releasing her, he got down on one knee and opened the box. “Will you?”
Kellie looked around. Everyone in the room was actively watching them now. And that was okay because she wanted to remember this moment, when Alex proposed and they became one sweet little family forever. “Yes.”
*****
THE END
Single Dad SEAL
Description
He was my secret high school crush. He gave me my first kiss. Now he’s a Navy SEAL and the most infuriating pr*ck in the world. But I’m stuck in his attic. And he just caught me naked in the shower. It’s all daddy’s fault.
Luke
They all want me to steal their V-card, and I happily oblige.
I’m a player and it’s my game.
I have no time for love. I’ve seen too much in the war zone. Plus I have a small son to take care of.
But there she is. My new housemate.
Little Emma’s all grown up.
She’s beyond off limits. She’s the Commander’s daughter.
But those curves beg to be touched.
So when I catch her red-handed watching me with one of my ladies, I know exactly how she’s gonna pay me back.
She doesn’t stand a chance.
I’m gonna take her virginity.
I’m gonna command her what to do.
And she’ll beg me for more.
Until I’m the one begging. Where the hell is she? Where’s our baby?
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-wan
t-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 would be a certain half-finished Cheeto bag.
Smiling to myself, I slowly creak open the bathroom door 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 h
eard 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?
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