Daddy's Best Friend Read online




  Daddy’s Best Friend

  Olivia T. Turner

  Contents

  Copyright

  About

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  More OTT

  Bonus Chapter: Mountain Man Obsessed

  Daddy’s Best Friend

  By Olivia T. Turner

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Please respect the author’s hard work and purchase a copy. Thanks!

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contains explicit love scenes and adult language.

  18+

  Copyright© 2017 by Olivia T. Turner

  My Dad always thought of him as family. Would it be so bad if I made it official?

  I’m in love with my Father’s Best Friend.

  But as a nineteen-year-old virgin, I’m just a kid in his eyes.

  At least that’s what I thought…

  When I get into some serious trouble, he’s the only one I can call.

  Logan saves me.

  He’s all that I ever wanted but this older man who I lust for has a secret.

  He’s Over The Top obsessed with me.

  But I have a secret too…

  I’m pregnant with his child.

  You down with OTT? This is an Olivia T. Turner book, which means it features a possessive and totally obsessed Over The Top male who isn’t afraid to take what he wants! If you like your book boyfriends sweet and cuddly than shut the computer off and walk away. If you like your heroes, rough, dirty and possessive to the extreme, come on in and have some fun…

  This book is for all the women who like their men like they like their wine

  smooth, rich, bold

  and perfectly aged.

  1

  Candice

  “Is this really necessary?” I ask with my heart pounding.

  “You’ve been arrested,” the cop snaps back in a gruff voice. He squeezes my wrist a little too hard and yanks me forward. “Yes, it’s necessary.”

  “It was an accident,” I say as he opens the plastic case sitting on the table. It’s a fingerprinting kit complete with the sponge that’s stained with regrets.

  The cop chuckles. “It’s always an accident, or a misunderstanding, or a mistake. Finger.”

  He grabs my hand when I don’t listen and pulls my index finger forward, nearly ripping it out of the socket.

  “Ouch,” I complain as he presses my fingertip onto the dark sponge. All of a sudden this is all feeling very real. I’m starting to get nauseous. I hope I don’t puke on the table.

  My finger is covered in black ink as he pulls it away and presses it onto my fresh new police file. He rolls it to each side and when he releases me, I’m the brand new owner of a criminal record.

  “What happens now?” I ask as I try to wipe the ink off my finger and onto a Kleenex. It’s not coming off. I’ve been branded a thief.

  Too bad it’s summertime and I can’t wear gloves.

  “Now you go to the holding cell,” he says, closing my file. “Until someone comes to bail you out.”

  “Is that really necessary?” I ask again, getting desperate now. I can’t call my Dad to come bail me out. He’ll murder me. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  The cop chuckles again. “He’s in the hospital right now getting stitches in his head. I would hate to see what you do when you’re trying to hurt someone.”

  He deserves every painful stitch in his asshole head.

  I exhale long and hard, trying to calm my swirling emotions. This is all happening too fast. I can’t process it.

  The cop brings me to a bare room with only a table, a chair, and a phone. It’s one of those old, black rotary phones. I’ve never used one and I’m not sure if I even know how to.

  “One phone call,” he says.

  I linger in the doorway, not wanting to come to terms with reality. Maybe if I stay here long enough he’ll get bored and let me go.

  Nope.

  He pushes me into the room and grabs the door handle.

  “Wait,” I say, the word catching in my throat. “Who am I supposed to call?”

  He shrugs. “Your parents?”

  I shake my head. That’s not an option. My strict military father would skin me alive and hang me from his mailbox as a warning to any other kids who considered breaking the law.

  “Any other family?”

  I shake my head again. Just my dictator of a dad and his bitch of a wife, my new stepmom. I’d rather rot away in a prison cell for all eternity before asking her for help.

  “Lawyer?”

  I shake my head again. My chin is starting to tremble. My eyes are burning. I want to go home.

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you,” he says like he doesn’t give a fuck. He slams the door closed, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

  My heart is pounding as I walk over to the table and slip into the hard chair. I already know who I’m going to call but I just don’t want to admit it.

  I don’t want him to see me like this. He already thinks that I’m a child. I don’t want him to think that I’m a spoiled brat and a criminal delinquent too.

  I pull the phone over and drag my fingertips over the cold metal as I think about him.

  Logan.

  Just the sound of his name sends warmth flooding through my body.

  He’s the reason why I’m in this shitty town. Brander, Colorado. I came for him.

  Logan has been my crush for years. He’s also my father’s best friend.

  My father, Brian, is a very strict military man. He was in Iraq when I was just a cluster of cells in my mother’s stomach. One day, just after I was born, he was on patrol with his squad when they got ambushed. My dad was in the front and got shot in the leg as all hell broke loose around them. He went down and was immediately surrounded by three enemy insurgents who were dragging him back to be captured and tortured when Logan rushed out and saved him. My father never did tell me what Logan did to save his life. Whenever I asked, his face would go serious and he would get that distant look in his eye.

  “It’s not a story for children,” he would always say in that condescending way that he still speaks to me in.

  That’s how Logan came into my family’s lives. My Dad and he always kept in touch even though Logan lived in a different state. We would see him on special occasions, some holidays, birthdays, stuff like that. Logan never had his own family so he kind of adopted ours.

  I never really paid much attention to him until I saw him at my father’s wedding. I hadn’t seen him in over five years, since before I hit puberty, but I saw him then.

  Holy shit, did I see him.

  I was sixteen and a hot mess of hormones. My emotions and mood were all over the place but everything seemed to just click when I saw Logan walk into the church.

  I still remember how my body shook when I first caught a glimpse of him. My heart was pounding in my tight chest as my breath quickened and my fingers ached with the need to touch him.

/>   I can still remember every stunning detail. I’ve been picturing it every day since. He was wearing a dark gray fitted suit that is burned into my brain forever. His broad shoulders were making me lightheaded, his big arms making my mouth water.

  “Hello, Candice,” he said to me as he walked over. I was frozen to the spot, my pulse racing as he reached out his hand.

  I gulped as I shook it, looking down as his sleeve rose up his thick forearm, showing off his sexy tattoos. I dragged my eyes up his muscular arms, to the red power tie that I just wanted to grab and yank toward me until his lips came crashing down on mine.

  He looked just as shaken as I felt as he gazed down at me with his dark brown eyes that were brimming with something. I didn’t recognize it at the time but now, looking back on it, I think it was desire.

  Logan swallowed hard as he ran a hand over his strong jaw, while slowly looking me up and down. “You’ve…developed so nicely,” he said, his voice low and grittier than I remembered.

  A warm shiver cascaded through my body under his intense gaze. It was such a turn on to see an older man attracted to me, especially one as hot and off limits as Logan.

  He was the best man at my father’s wedding and I was the maid of honor even though I hated the bride and she hated me.

  I always thought my father was strict until I met my stepmother. She is a real ball busting bitch.

  Throughout the ceremony, I kept stealing glances at Logan as we stood across from each other. I saw him glance over at me a few times as he checked out my body and breasts, and every time it made me beam with pride.

  I couldn’t stop having dirty thoughts of him and I kept making plans throughout the rest of the ceremony on how to get him alone but it never panned out. I was too nervous.

  He was a real man. Built like a truck and as sexy as a motorcycle. He wouldn’t be interested in me.

  Just when I was spiraling into a depressive funk, he asked me to dance and it was like my eyes were open for the first time.

  He held me so close as we slow-danced. My nipples were painfully hard against his massive chest and all I could think about was losing my virginity to him. He was the only man that I’ve ever wanted and even now, I still hold my V-card. All because I haven’t met anyone who could stack up against Logan.

  “Hey!” the cop says, banging on the window and startling me out of my daydream. “You got one minute.”

  He gives me a nasty look before disappearing down the hall again.

  I gulp as I pick up the phone, running my fingers over the rotary dial.

  The last time that I saw Logan was two years ago when I was seventeen and leaving for University. All I wanted was to be close to him so I picked a University that was twenty minutes away from his house.

  I was thrilled when he showed up to my going away party and was over the moon when he offered to drive me back. I couldn’t sleep or eat for days. I would be alone in the car with Logan for two hours. So many dirty thoughts raced through my mind and I wanted to make every single one of them come true.

  But he wasn’t interested. He was tight and awkward the entire time, like he was afraid to talk to me. It was only when he dropped me off at the dorms when we finally had the connection that I craved so much.

  He scribbled down his phone number on a paper and placed it in my hand. “Candice,” he said, cupping my hand with his two big palms. I felt so small as his powerful hands swallowed mine.

  His dark eyes met mine and my mouth became moist as I pictured leaning in and kissing his soft lips. I could barely breathe in the car under his gaze like that. I would have gone anywhere with him at that moment. I would have done anything he asked.

  “Here’s my number,” he said in his deep raspy voice that sent warm shivers flowing through me. “If you need anything. Anything. Call me. Day or night.”

  I needed something right then but I was too afraid to ask and unfortunately, he kept his pants on.

  That was two years ago but I still have that number memorized. That paper is still under my pillow beside the picture that I stole from my Dad’s photo album of Logan in his military uniform. I don’t know how many times I touched myself while staring at it.

  “Thirty seconds!” the cop says, banging on the window again.

  I straighten up in my seat and start dialing.

  There’s a pain in my chest as I do what I’ve dreamed of doing every night for the past two years: call Logan and ask him to come save me.

  It’s the middle of the night and after a few rings a groggy voice picks up the phone. “Hello.”

  I picture him lying naked in his bed, his hard beautiful body lit up by the rays of the moonlight drifting in through the window.

  “Hi Logan,” I say.

  His heavy breathing stops.

  “It’s me.”

  2

  Logan

  My dick is rock hard as I hang up the phone.

  Just the sound of Candice’s sweet innocent voice in my ear is enough to get my cock raging.

  “Fuck,” I groan as I sit up in bed.

  It’s the middle of the night and I was in a deep sleep but just the thought of my Candice scared and locked in jail has me exploding off the mattress and flying around the room in a rush of adrenaline.

  I throw on my jeans and a tight shirt and race out of the house. She hasn’t seen me in two years and I would like to take a few minutes to smooth out my hair and make sure I’m looking good for her but there’s no time. Her safety is the most important thing to me anyway. More than my looks.

  It’s late and the neighborhood is asleep but that doesn’t stop me from peeling out my driveway, probably waking half of my street up as my tires squeal in protest.

  “Fuck.” Her voice is haunting. It makes me harder every time I replay it in my ear.

  I get to see her. I can’t believe it. It’s been so long.

  The need to see her is ripping at me. It’s clawing at me like an out of control beast. My foot is slammed onto the gas pedal, wedged to the floor and I’m still frustrated that I’m not getting there fast enough. I’m pissed at the world that I can’t see her immediately.

  Candice is my secret obsession. But it’s starting to get out of hand.

  I want her.

  And no matter how many times that I tell myself that she’s too young, she’s too innocent, or that she’s my best friend’s daughter, my need for her grows.

  But lately, it’s been growing out of control.

  The late night drive-bys, the social media stalking, the campus visits.

  This obsession is beyond me now. It’s taken on a life of its own like a raging beast. It’s consumed me.

  And I can’t stop.

  My sweet, innocent Candy. I even got a tattoo of a piece of candy on the inside of my arm in her honor. It’s hidden in the others but every time I see it, it calms me and settles me down. I just love knowing that it’s always there with me. I’d rather she be the one who’s always there, but this is all I possess.

  I peel around the corner, just barely missing the curb as I speed onto the main road toward the police station. It’s killing me that I’m still ten minutes away.

  I take a long deep breath to calm myself but it doesn’t work.

  The last time we spoke was when I drove her from her house to her new dorm room on campus. She was seventeen. Too young. Too innocent for what my filthy mind dreamed up for her.

  I still remember the car ride like it was yesterday. She was wearing these tight little shorts that made my dick ache the entire way. I tried not to glance at the smooth milky skin of her soft thighs but we were in the car for two hours and I’m not that strong. Her white tank top was loose and baggy and every time she looked out the window, I would glance down at her round, supple tits, jiggling with every bump and making me dizzy.

  It took everything that I had not to pull the car over and ravage her on the spot. But she wasn’t legal. I shouldn’t have been looking at her like that but she was an angel to me.
A perfect fucking angel.

  I can still picture every detail. Her brown hair was flowing in the wind, occasionally tickling my cheek and teasing me in the cruelest possible way. Her flawless face would light up with a smile with every joke, her bright innocent green eyes shining as she looked up at me. Every movement of her soft pink lips had my pulse spiking and my heart racing. I was a mess with her beside me. Consumed with both desire for her ripe body and guilt for wanting this underage beauty in the dirtiest possible ways.

  I’ve been living with this intense desire for years. I haven’t told anyone. But who could I tell? My best friend who is also Candice’s father?

  That wouldn’t go over too well.

  If Brian knew that I had these feelings for her, I’d be a dead man. It wouldn’t matter that I saved his life back in Iraq.

  That was when we became friends. We were on patrol and gunfire erupted out of nowhere around us. Brian took a shot in the leg and crumpled to the ground. Three insurgents ran out of hiding and grabbed him. He tried to fight back but the largest one kicked his teeth in as they dragged him away.

  I exploded out from behind the Humvee and took them all out with only my knife. I stabbed the first one in the back, stopping his heart before he even knew that I was there. Next, I sliced the throat of the large guy and then sank my blade to the hilt in the third guy’s chest. I still remember his eyes widen as his mouth dropped open, staring at me as the life left his eyes.

  Brian and I had been best friends ever since. He tells me all of the time that he owes me his life.

  I don’t want his life. I want his daughter.

  The yellow light ahead of me turns red but I blow through it anyway. I’m not slowing down until I see her face. It’s the only thing that calms me anymore.

  Sometimes when I’m feeling worked up from thinking about my Candy, I drive by the campus to try and catch a glimpse of her. I rarely do and it usually makes me feel worse as I start to think about her with those college boys.