CONTENTS
Dad's Fireman Friend
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Extended epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
DAD'S FIREMAN FRIEND
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
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A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 155
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
DAD'S FIREMAN FRIEND
Brittany
I thought it would be a bit strange coming back and working with my Dad, and that I might end up wanting to get away by the end of it, but I never imagined I would feel this way about him. Dom, my Dads crew mate and best friend.
Being near him, every day - I don’t want it to end. I want Dom…and I think he wants me too.
This is so wrong, isn’t it? Going after my own father’s best friend? I mean, he is literally old enough to be my Dad himself. Even if he’s a couple of years younger than Dad.
But when I look at Dom, and he looks at me, I don’t see an older man. I see the man of my dreams.
Dom
I think back to the last time I saw Brittany, seven years ago, and the beautiful young woman standing before me. The girl in front of me is not an awkward fifteen-year-old with braces. No, she’s grown up - in a lot of ways.
In that moment, I know. It doesn’t matter that she’s Cyrus’ daughter, my best friend. She’s going to be mine. As much as I love my best friend, nothing’s going to stand in the way of me getting my girl. And making her mine forever.
*Dad's Fireman Friend is a SHORT insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
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CHAPTER ONE
Dom
I laugh, shaking my head as I give my best friend a once-over. “Damn, Cyrus,” I say. “You really did a number on yourself.”
Cyrus Warren, the man I’ve served beside at the Fire Department of New York for almost twenty years now, heaves a sigh. His shoulders droop down, only serving to accentuate the crutches propped under his shoulders. “It’s not like I asked for it,” he says, sourly. “I had no way of knowing the boards were going to give way like that.”
I lean over and clap him on the shoulder heavily, then dodge back, enjoying the fact that he can’t chase after me to punch me back. “Well, partner, good job I always have your back.”
Cyrus screws up his face like he wants to disagree, but he can’t. It was me who pulled him out of the burning warehouse, with his leg bent at an unnatural angle. Not the first time, either. It’s always me pulling him out of dangerous situations. Being firefighters, we tend to see a lot of them.
“Dominic Tempest,” he says, using my full name – a trick that usually means he wants me to pay special attention. “Stop being a dick and listen. I need your help.”
“Alright,” I tell him, giving up on my teasing. I might be playing around, but it’s true, I always have his back, and he always has mine. If one of us needs something, we get serious about it.
“It’s Brittany,” he sighs. “She’s just finished college and she was supposed to be coming down this week to start helping out.”
“I remember,” I tell him. How could I forget? Cyrus’ daughter was a fixture in my life from the day she was born to when she was fifteen years old. That was when her mom moved out of state, and Cyrus agreed it was better for her to go stay with her mom full-time. Cyrus was a shell of a man when she was left. Sure, he was able to visit, but with our schedule it was never easy. He’s been looking forward to her coming home for months.
“I was supposed to keep an eye on her,” Cyrus explains. “Show her around on her first day, introduce her to everyone, get her settled in. Make sure no one gives her a hard time. But with this mess, I’m out for at least six weeks.” He gestures to his leg, the white cast peeking out from under his jeans on one side.
“And let me guess,” I interrupt. “You want me to pick up the slack.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus says, giving me a sheepish smile. “Save my ass and look after my daughter. I don’t ask for much, huh?”
“I’ll do it,” I tell him. Of course, I’ll do it. I don’t even have to think about it. I haven’t seen Brittany in seven years – it will be interesting to reconnect and see how she’s changed. Plus, it’s not like it will be too strenuous of a job. Brittany’s just here for a short internship, to get some experience in the workplace and help her decide if she wants to work with her old man. I won’t have to get too involved.
“Thanks, man,” Cyrus says, then flashes me one of his trademark smiles. It’s an expression I know all too well after two decades of friendship, and it usually signifies some kind of mischief. “I’m glad you said that, because I already told her you agreed. She’s coming down here soon.”
I stare at him for a moment, then shake my head in amusement. “It’s a good thing you know me as well as you think you know me,” I say. “What would you have done if I said no?”
“Beaten your ass with these crutches,” Cyrus grins. His cellphone starts to ring in his pocket, and I lean back with my arms folded across my chest to watch him fumble to get it out without dropping said crutches. If he hadn’t just threatened me, I might have helped him out. That’s what he gets for being presumptive.
I let my mind wander back to the last time I saw Brittany. She was an awkward fifteen-year-old, with braces on her teeth and Miley Cyrus posters all over her bedroom walls. She was always a little quiet, a little nerdy. I guess it’s no surprise that she ended up getting into a great college and, by all accounts, graduating with great success.
Now the rest of her life is ahead of her. I think back to being twenty-two, how things were back then. I wince, a remembered pain causing me to rub my left shoulder. It wasn’t a great time for me. I shut out the memories, and try to think of how it was right before everything came crashing down. I was young, full of optimism, hope about the world. I imagine Brittany will be the same.
“She’s outside,” Cyrus says, ending his call and bringing my attention back to the present. “Would you go l
et her in? She doesn’t have a pass yet, and it’ll take me forever to hop over there.”
I nod, grinning at him. “Alright, hopalong. You just wait here.”
I leave Cyrus behind and cross the floor of the station, passing by several engines ready and waiting to go with their crews, to the main entrance. I push a button beside the door to unlock it and wrench it open, ready to give Brittany my best cheesy welcome.
And I falter.
The girl in front of me is not an awkward fifteen-year-old with braces. No, she’s all grown up – in a lot of ways.
She turns to me as I open the door, a sweet smile lingering on her lips that shows off her perfect, white teeth. Blonde hair curls gently falling down over her shoulders, lingering over the straps of a white dress that clings to her body. The light of the morning sun conspires to hit such an angle that I can see the outline of her legs, the curve from her hips up to her chest, through the fabric.
Her wide blue eyes look up at me, an affection and excitement faltering into concern. I should say something. I should cover for the fact that I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing.
“Hi, Brittany,” I say, my voice a surprised croak. I wrench my eyes up from her pert, round breasts, outlined clearly in the sundress. “Long time, no see.”
CHAPTER TWO
Brittany
I adjust the straps of my dress one last time, waiting for Dad to come and get the door. I’m excited and nervous, ready for my first real day of work. The morning sun is casting a golden light across the street, and I turn to take it in. Dad’s going to take a while to get across the station floor, but impatient energy thrums through me.
The door opens faster than I expected, and I spin around to see a familiar sight, Dom Tempest, my Dad’s best friend for as long as I can remember. I break out into a smile to see him, reliable as always.
I expect him to greet me, but he says nothing – just stares. My smile falters. Have I done something wrong? His eyes sweep up and down my body, was this the wrong outfit to wear?
“Hi Brittany,” he says, his voice strangely choked. “Long time, no see.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It has been. Nice to see you again, Dom.”
I step forward almost automatically, into the embrace of greeting that seems natural. I slip my arms around him just under his shoulders, and he leans down to fit his arms around me. Even though I’ve grown a little since we last met, he is still so tall – and muscular, his biceps flexing around me as his back muscles move under my hands.
I feel my face heating a little at his touch. I guess it never occurred to me that Dom is, well, a man. I had a little bit of a crush on him when I was a teenager, but that was all it was. He was a hunky firefighter – of course, I was going to feel something. Mostly I just looked up to him and the work he did, and the way he helped out my Dad. But it had faded away when I left to live with Mom.
I hadn’t expected to come into contact with him again like this, as a woman now. To realize that he is a man – a real man. All strength and power and confidence, with tanned skin from his work outdoors and rough angles to his face that make him seem like a carved statue. A gorgeous statue. The kind that would sit in an art gallery for the next hundred years.
As we pull away from each other, I take him in properly. He’s wearing the dark blue trousers with fluorescent stripes of his uniform, combined with a tight V-neck dark blue shirt emblazoned with the FDNY logo. It clings to his body, showing the lines of his pecs and his six-pack underneath, while his biceps bulge out of the sleeves.
Okay, Brit, get a handle on yourself. This is Dad’s best friend you’re thinking about. Uncle Dom. The guy who lifted you onto his shoulders when you were a kid. Just because you’re all grown up now, doesn’t mean you have to pant like a dog over his muscles.
I let him lead me across the station, my eyes wide as I take in all the machinery, the engines, the crews in their protective gear. The walls are covered with replacement hoses and maps of the city, red paint marking out different areas.
And my Dad – standing next to one of the engines, one of his hands loose of his crutches as he waves at me.
I rush forward to hug him, happy to see him. I’ve been home – my old home – for a few days already, but we haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together. Trust him to break his leg right before I was due to arrive. He’s been getting his cast and his check-ups while I settled in, setting up my room to be more suitable for my age and meeting up with a few old friends.
“Hey, Cupcake,” he says, the old nickname that he will probably still be using when I’m his age. “You ready to get started?”
“Yeah,” I say breathlessly, stepping back carefully to avoid knocking his cast or his crutches. “I’m really excited.”
“You’re gonna do great,” Dad says, giving me a wink. “Dom’s going to look after you. Aren’t you, Dom?”
I want to roll my eyes, do I really need to be looked after? But Dom is nodding beside me. “That I am. You need anything, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thanks,” I say, in spite of myself. The idea of getting anything I want from Dom is suddenly far more appealing than asserting my independence. I’ve been self-sufficient through my years of college, but maybe it will be nice to rely on someone again.
“Alright,” Dad says, picking up his crutch and then hesitating. I can see that he doesn’t want to go. “And you’ll call me if anything happens, won’t you?” His voice is strangely thick, like there’s something caught in his throat.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I assure him. “I’m not going to be in any danger. I’m not going out with the crews. You just go home and rest.”
Dad clears his throat, looking at Dom with watery eyes. “You promise you’ll look after her, won’t you?” he asks again.
“I promise,” Dom says. He grips Dad’s shoulder with one firm hand, giving him a light shake. “Like she was my own.”
Having Dom think of me as his daughter doesn’t sound sexy at all, and I try to hide the slight disappointment at that to smile and nod at Dad. At last he seems satisfied and starts to hop away.
“See you tonight, Cupcake,” he says, making his way towards the door I just came through. He doesn’t wait for me to reply or give him a parting hug. I get the sense that he’s feeling far too emotional to stay any longer.
Which leaves me standing watching him go, with Dom right next to me. I become aware of the heat of his body, flowing off him in waves, and I almost jump away. “Right,” I say, hastily, smoothing my dress down across my thighs. “Are you going to give me the tour, then?”
CHAPTER THREE
Dom
Like she was my own? Why did I say that? What an idiot! I can’t stop groaning internally as Cyrus turns to leave, hearing my own words over and over in my head.
I definitely don’t feel like Brittany is my own daughter. That would be weird, and extremely inappropriate, given how attracted to her I am.
Which is definitely also something I should not be feeling. Her father, who I apparently need to remind myself is also my best friend, is right there.
“Right,” Brittany says, her hands fluttering across her thighs and only serving to draw my attention to the curve of her hips and outline of her thighs that I saw in the sunlight outside. “Are you going to give me the tour, then?”
I send a kill signal to the twitching in my cock at the thought of those thighs and try to switch on professional mode. “Yeah,” I agree, shifting and running a hand back through my hair to try to get some focus. “Let’s start with the engines. We have three here, as you can see. No one’s out on a call at the moment, which is good news for the city.”
I start going through the motions of the standard tour, something I’ve done before for other new employees and even members of the press. I’m usually the one that gets chosen to show journalists around, given that I’m one of the members of the team here who has managed to maintain my good looks over the years.
It’s not vanity, it’s just wanting to do my job right. The more fit I stay, the easier it is to run into a burning building and make a rescue. That means eating right, working out, getting fresh air, and looking after myself. Apparently, those are the ingredients you need to keep your body young for longer.
All of which means I am super good at giving tours, and I can do it almost without even switching my attention on. I can point out the break room, the rest rooms, our emergency exits and gathering points, all without having to stop drinking in the sight of Brittany.
She’s attentive and responsive, which doesn’t hurt. Still the bright girl that I remember. She steps in front of me as I show her one area of the station and my eyes are drawn to her firm ass, just begging for me to spanked and find out exactly how firm it is. Her long, shapely legs are bronzed and toned. Even so, as I found out when she stepped into my arms at the door, she’s still short on me, but just the right height to tuck her head into my chest.
My hands ache to encircle her hips. I didn’t expect any of this at all. I can’t be feeling this way, can I? Really? This is Cyrus’ girl – I remember her as a little kid. She has no right growing up into a woman like this.
But I am feeling this way.
“This is my crew,” I tell her, leading her over to the group of men and women lounging in the break room. “Charlie, Meg, Ashton, Frankie, and Jake, who’s standing in for your Dad for the next couple of weeks.”
All of them wave at her in greeting, and I catch Jake and Charlie eyeing her up and down in a way that tells me in no uncertain terms they see it too. The attractive young woman she has become. It sends a sharp sting of rage through me, at the thought that one of them might try to get their grubby little hands on her. Not on my watch.
In that moment, I know. It doesn’t matter that she’s Cyrus’ daughter, not really. That won’t be enough to make me stay away. It couldn’t possibly.
The thought of her with one of these other guys makes my blood boil. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let anyone else sully her with their touch. No, Brittany is going to be mine. I will make her mine.
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