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SEAL Daddy Next Door
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Being a SEAL brought me everything.
My wife died giving birth to my precious girl. Since then it’s been me and my girl against the world.
I burst into her house one morning to retrieve my wayward pup.
I’m twice her age, she’s hot as f*ck and I think she’s a virgin.
SEALs don’t take chances.
* SEAL Daddy is a hot and heavy 33,000 word novella with a guaranteed HEA and no cheating. Strap in and enjoy. ;) *
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Last night, I had this whole morning planned out perfectly. I was going to wake up an hour and a half before I wanted to leave. I was going to shower. I was going to have plenty of time to dry myself off, make myself look nice for my first day at my new job and make a good impression.
It all went south pretty quickly.
I wake in a pretty good mood. I’m in my new house, there are birds chirping outside the window of my picture perfect suburban home. The fancy digital alarm clock on the bed stand is staring back at me. It’s 7:30 and I slept like a rock. Life is great.
I scramble out of bed and hold the clock up to my face. 7:30?! That can’t be right. I set the darned thing to go off at 6:30am so I’d have plenty of time to get ready. I throw myself over the other side of the bed to grab my phone in hopes that the clock is wrong. Nope. It’s definitely that time, and I definitely have to be at my new school in the next thirty minutes. Okay, take a breather for a moment Chance. You still have plenty of time to get ready and be at your new job nice and early.
I do some quick mental math. The school is a five minute drive away. Providing that my hunk of junk car gets me there without any problems, I still have 25 minutes to get myself prim and proper.
I do a quick under arm check to see if I can get away with not showering. Yuck, okay. Definitely not. Yesterday was a big day moving all my stuff off the truck and into the house. Apparently lugging all those boxes put my sweat glands into turbo mode. Speed shower it is.
I jump out of the bed, run around the maze of boxes that are littering the floor of the master bedroom and burst into the en suite. I turn the shower head all the way to right and a second later a jet of steaming hot water is cascading down onto the smooth tiles below.
Have you ever wondered if you hold any unofficial world records that go undocumented? I hadn’t given it much thought before that morning, but I think there’s a reasonable chance I’m an unofficial world record holder for stripping, showering, getting out and getting dry. I practically spin in the shower like Clark Kent when he’s in the phone box changing into superman. Truth be told, I’m a little less graceful than Clark Kent. I get shampoo in my eyes, I drop my nice bottle of fancy body wash and cry as the cap splinters into a thousand pieces. I somehow get the loafer hooked on the shower door and spend thirty seconds I don’t have trying to get the darn thing unhooked.
I consider shaving my legs. It’s been a few days and lord knows it’s due. I look at the frog themed clock on the bathroom wall beside the mirror; the same one that Uncle Joe somehow thought looked good. 7:35. Legs be damned, I’m on turbo mode and I’m only covering the essentials. Hair, armpits, and any other area that gets unnecessarily sweaty.
I shut the water off and fly out the shower, nearly tripping over the shower mat and breaking my neck in the process. Take it easy Chance, you’re not going to make a good impression on your first day at Springbok Elementary if you turn up dead.
I grab a towel off the wall and wrap it around me, turning myself into a fuchsia colored burrito. After drying my hair I throw on some eyeliner and blush. Normally I like to spend more time making my face up, but the frog clock says it’s now 7:40. Makeup be damned. I’m on turbo mode and I need to throw some damned clothes on. I run into the bedroom and straight to the open suitcase on the floor. It’s empty. Why is it empty? That’s when I remember.
I sprint out of my bedroom, skid onto the landing and take the stairs down to the laundry room three at a time. After I finished pulling all the boxes in last night I opened a bottle of wine and got the fantastic idea that it was a great time to do laundry. The last thing I did before climbing into bed, was throwing the freshly washed laundry into the dryer and letting it tumble overnight. Fingers crossed my wine lapsed judgment hasn’t shrank everything I own.
I run across the cold kitchen floor and into the laundry room to hear the dryer is still running. Crap. I throw open the door and pull my laundry out into a steaming heap onto the cold laundry room floor. I pick up the first pair of panties I see and hold them in my hands. They’ve shrunk to half their original size. Double crap.