Dad’s Navy SEAL Friend (Dad’s Best Friend #9) Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Dad's Best Friend Series by Lena Little
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Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
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As a very recently retired Navy SEAL I’m no stranger to trouble. I used to go looking for it, Uncle Sam sending me to the most dangerous places in the world.
But today?
Today it’s found me…because I’ve found her.
She’s too young. Way too young.
But there’s just something about this woman, something unlike I’ve ever experienced before, that makes me certain she belongs to me.
The woman of my dreams…the one I want to fill with my seed, make that belly round with my child and bond her to me forever.
And I will. She will be mine.
This feels a helluva lot like a mission, but the stakes are higher. This is personal. This is about my woman, my family, my everything.
And of course my friendship with the man whose family took me in all these years ago, my very best friend.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

1

Soren

“How does it feel to be retired, buddy,” my best friend, Senator Rick Prescott says as we enter the local watering hole that’s been in this town for longer than I can remember.

“It feels…,” I begin and then I freeze in my tracks, Rick walks past me and then turns back to see what the hold up is.

The hold up is her.

Every part of my body freezes except my eyes, which glide over the curves of her hips. For the first time in my life, I can imagine having a child, a baby growing right there in her tummy, passing through those child-bearing hips, and entering the world as my offspring. My own little warrior. Son or daughter, it doesn’t even matter.

There’s just something about this woman, something unlike I’ve ever experienced before, that makes me know she belongs to me.

My black pants tent and I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to get relief in my groin, and failing miserably.

“You okay?” Rick asks, but my eyes stay locked on her, the woman of my dreams…the one I want to fill with my seed, make that belly round with my child, and bond her to me forever.

And I will. She will be mine.

My chest rumbles as I groan at the visual in my imagination of me taking her, claiming her as my own.

But there’s only one problem. Make that two. She’s too young. Way too young. And she has half the bar wrapped around her little finger. All eyes are on her as she moves rapidly from table to table to fill orders while men look at her and not the multitude of sporting events on the TVs mounted seemingly everywhere.

I grit my teeth, my molars grinding as my nostrils flare as I see the other men’s eyes rake up and down her body, dragging over those short shorts and her top which reveals her stomach, the low-cut fabric revealing the top of her cleavage.

Fists form at my sides as I’m tempted to rip a tablecloth from a table, march right over there and wrap her up in it so no one else can see. No one but me.

As a very recently retired Navy SEAL I’m no stranger to trouble. I used to go looking for it, Uncle Sam sending me to the most dangerous places in the world. But today? Today it’s found me…because I’ve found her.

“Soren, let’s go man. The beer is getting warm and the aircon is flying out of this place at a record speed. I know you’re used to Afghanistan but the rest of us like it a bit cooler,” Rick adds, taking a step back toward me, grabbing me by the shoulder, and guiding me towards a table.

“The bar,” I say, my expression not changing.

“You want to sit at the bar?”

I nod, the strength of my legs and body changing direction as I move toward it, needing to be closer to her despite Rick trying to guide me to some table in the corner which is being cared for by another woman, one who, like every other woman on the planet, is not relevant to me. Only her.

As I move, I have to reach down and adjust my crotch, my cock rock hard and demanding to be freed from its denim prison.

“You sure you’re okay, buddy?” Rick says just as the waitress sways her hips back toward the kitchen, my eyes glued to those short shorts and the peek of cheek that’s hanging out below.

She disappears into the back and just like that, I snap to. “Yeah. I’m good,” I say, bellying up to the bar as I shake my head from side to side.

“Whatcha drinking?” he asks.

“Whiskey neat Two fingers.”

“Going straight for the hard stuff. Not playing around.”

Rick uses the circular horizontal foot stand of his stool to stand up, to make himself more visible as he whistles loudly and motions with two fingers.

I look in the direction where he’s looking, the waitress I’m obsessing over is back on the floor, looking at my best friend and smiling before rushing toward our table.


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