Total pages in book: 1
Estimated words: 24799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels:
Pregnant and Willing (Forbidden Fantasies #45)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
Christine: I never intended to get pregnant, but my a$$hole ex-fiancé pulled a fast one and now I’m all alone during my third trimester. My belly’s huge, I waddle like a lame hippo, and I need it so bad that it positively hurts. It’s the hormones that make me so h*rny, I swear. But who would want a woman in my condition? Fortunately, the escort agency tells me that there are clients who have a fetish for pregnant ladies. Evidently, some men prefer their women luscious, willing … and about to give birth. Even more, Damon Stanton is a billionaire with steel blue eyes, the physique of a Greek god, and *exactly* the right tool to keep me satisfied. But what happens after I have the baby? Will he still want me? Or is this kink only a passing fad?
Trigger warning: she’s huge … she’s expecting … and she wants it! This story is a follow-up to Dirty Sexy Daddy, where we meet Christine, the pregnant single mother who was in Simona’s labor and delivery class. The sassy woman’s facing challenges ahead, but with the help of a filthy billionaire who likes his women in a very particular state, she’s able to find her HEA. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a happily ever after for my readers. This book is a follow-up to Dirty Sexy Daddy, but all of my stories are standalones and can be read in any order.
|Books in Series:|| |
Forbidden Fantasies Series by S.E. Law
|Books by Author:|| |
Smiling, I look down at my belly, and place a hand over the spot where my baby just kicked. At that moment, he kicks again, jubilantly this time. During moments like this, I don’t think about the hardships we’re going to face on our own, since my no-good ex-fiancé Matt turned out to be an immature prick. I wish I’d never met that loser, but there’s no use crying over spilled milk, so it’s just me and my son now.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper to the child in my belly, “we’re better off without him.” And we are. We have to be because we have no other choice. Besides, I don’t want my son to grow up with a narcissist for a father, and Matt only cares about one thing—himself. At least this way, my child will know love and kindness, not to mention generosity towards others. It sickens me to think of the terrible example Matt would have set for our son, and if I’m being honest with myself, that loser dumping me is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life because at least now, I’m unfettered and free. I won’t have to worry about Matt’s presence darkening my child’s life.
Plus, I’ve carved out a comfy existence for myself, and a baby will be stretching things, but I can make it work. I don’t exactly make a gold mine as a clerk at Busy Books, but it’s enough to get by until I find something better. As a plus, I have health insurance, which was never even a blip on my radar until recently. Now that I’m saddled with constant appointments to my OB/GYN, I’m glad insurance is paying for it all.
Speaking of work, I better get back to it. It’s so easy to be distracted when I feel the child kick, and honestly, it’s still so surreal to think about the fact that I have a little person growing inside me. It’s almost like having an alien inside, or a parasite of some sort. I know that those are unflattering comparisons, but the baby is a parasite, isn’t it? He literally leaches vitamins, minerals, and nutrients from my bloodstream, which is exactly what parasites do. Of course, I suppose I should be used to it all by now, but motherhood continues to surprise me every day.
Grabbing the cart of books in front of me, I make my way towards the romance aisle to put up the new releases. Busy Books is just a small neighborhood establishment, but the owner does a great job of getting in highly anticipated new releases in all the best genres. I’m particularly partial to romance novels myself, so I love getting to peruse the newest books on my breaks.
Hmm, it’ll be so nice reading with my son once he’s born. I still get the warm fuzzies remembering how I’d recite The Moon in My Room and Steam Train Dream Train with my mom when I was little. It’s a tradition I hope to keep going with my child, and I smile dreamily at the thought.
As I work at stacking and sorting, one of my favorite songs comes on over the speaker system and I start humming to myself as I arrange new books on the shelves. I spot one that has a beautiful cover. Okay, the cover’s not exactly “beautiful” in the traditional sense because it shows a shirtless, handsome dude smiling at the camera while stroking his abs and pecs. It’s kind of a silly pose, but it’s not just his body, I swear! The model also has the most soulful expression on his face, and I swoon a bit before mentally adding this novel to my TBR list. I’m a sucker for good-looking guys, and devouring romance novels amps up my appetite.
“Christine,” a voice interrupts my daydream.
I nearly jump out of my skin. Turning, I see Benjamin, the store’s owner, standing behind me and laugh nervously.
“Sorry, Mr. Roscoe. I guess I was just lost in my head a little bit. Do you need help with something?”
He bites his lip.
“No, I mean, yes,” Benjamin mutters. That’s weird. The older man is usually really friendly, but now he pauses, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Christine, but I need to talk to you. Could you drop by the back office for a chat?”
I manage a bright smile while struggling to get to my feet.
Swaying like an overloaded ship, I waddle behind Benjamin to the back of the store. My heart is pounding and my palms break out in a cold sweat. What could he want? Honestly, Ben’s a nice guy and usually he walks around the store with a bright smile and a cheerful attitude. But right now, fire alarms are going off in my head because something is clearly wrong.
Finally, we get to the back and Ben lets me into a dusty office that’s filled with a small desk and cardboard boxes haphazardly scattered about.
“So how can I help you?” I ask as the older man closes the door with a solid thump. That’s when I notice a sealed white envelope on the desk with my name written on the front. Ominously, there’s also a paper lying next to it face down.
Ben walks around the desk, gesturing to the chair on the other side.
“Please, have a seat, Christine.”
A clammy sweat breaks out over my skin as I pull out the chair and slowly maneuver my huge form into place. Then, Ben regards me with a doleful look.
“Christine, I’m very sorry, but Busy Books is going to have to let you go.”
I gasp as tears spring to my eyes.
“But I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? You’ve never had anything bad to say about my work here.”
He shakes his head regretfully.
“It’s not because of your performance. You’re a wonderful employee and we really appreciate your cheerful manner, but the store hasn’t been doing well for a while now. Sales have been on a steady decline for the last couple years. For the last twenty years, if I’m being honest, because I just can’t compete with big online book vendors like Amazon. So I had to make a choice, and unfortunately, we can’t keep everyone. I’m sorry.”
Tears prickle my eyes as one hand comes forward to cradle my belly.
“But I’ve been with Busy for two years and I need this job. It’s all I have, and you know that, Ben. It’s all we have because I’m going to be a single mom after the baby’s born. Didn’t I mention that?”
The older man nods his head mournfully again, pulling at his goatee in distress.
“You did, but I just don’t have a choice, Christine. Even though you’ve been here two years, you’re still the newest employee and I decided to do this according to seniority. I’m so sorry.”
I look down and clutch my large belly while fighting back tears. This can’t be happening. Then, Ben flips over the paper on his desk and hands it to me.
“Here, take this. I wrote a letter of recommendation for you, and I’ll be happy to give you a great reference wherever you go next. And I put some cash in the envelope to help tide you over until your next gig,” he says, handing over the envelope. “You’re going to be fine, Christine.”
Tears overwhelm me as I take the letter and envelope and clutch them to my chest with trembling fingers. A large sob erupts from my throat, and as a last ditch effort, I try once more.
“Please Ben,” I say between wracking cries. “I’m in my third trimester, and I need this job for me and my baby!”
Begging isn’t something I am proud of, but pride doesn’t mean anything at this moment. I’m about to deliver, for god’s sake! Plus, I’m already living paycheck to paycheck, and the puny balance in my checking account isn’t enough to make it through even one more month of living expenses.
But my manager merely shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, Christine. There’s nothing I can do. My deepest apologies.”
Still shuddering with sobs, I nod and heave myself out of the chair before waddling out of Benjamin’s office. This doesn’t feel real, but unfortunately it is, and my eyes are blurred with tears as I make my way out of Busy Books for the last time. Where will I go now? What will I do? A fresh cry rises from my throat as I grab my bag and stumble to the sidewalk, devoid of hope for the future.
My legs feel weak and my breath comes in shuddering gasps. A few passersby cast worried looks at me, but I manage to keep moving along while ignoring their gazes. Of course, I don’t have a clue where I’m going. The city passes in a blur, with cabs whizzing on the streets while people argue, stare, and shop, but I’m oblivious. I can’t think, I’m so confused.
After all, I’m about to give birth, yet how will I afford the delivery? Can I just give birth at the hospital and then pay them back later? Does my doctor offer payment plans? Can babies be put on layaway? My stomach lurches and I hurry towards a rest area up ahead. Maybe if I sit, I’ll be able to catch my breath at least.
To my surprise, there’s an empty bench in the sunlight, and I sink down gratefully. Slowly, I rub my hands over my arms, trying to warm myself up. It’s surprisingly cold for a sunny day, and after giving myself a few minutes to calm down, I assess the situation. Oh right, the envelope. It’s my severance, so to speak. Quickly, I pull the envelope out of my purse before ripping it open. Benjamin said it was a little something until my next job, so hopefully it’s a week or two’s worth of salary. Anything will help at this point.
But tears well up in my eyes again as soon as I see the contents. There are only a few bills inside, and tallying them up, I see that it adds up to fifty bucks. Damnit! What good is a measly fifty dollars going to do me? My monthly rent is in the four figures!
I stuff the cash back into the envelope and then shove the offensive item inside my purse before burying my face in my hands to cry. The baby’s going to be here before I know it, and now I’m going to lose the roof over my head. Plus, there are still crucial items I need to purchase, like bottles, diapers, and infant formula. How is this going to work?
Biting my lip, I run my fingers through my hair in frustration, practically pulling out the soft curls. Then with a growl, I grab my phone out of my purse and pull up Matt’s name from my contact list. Maybe my baby daddy and I aren’t together anymore, but this is his child whether he likes it or not. I’m going to tell him to send us money, but that thought is so ludicrous that an insane giggle bursts from my chest. I shove my phone back into my purse. Who am I kidding? Matt never wanted this child, which is exactly why we split up. He wanted me to get a termination, and I refused.
Not only that, but my ex-fiancé is a hopeless slacker whose greatest dream in life is to become a professional poker player. I have nothing against dreams, but let’s be honest: Matt’s never won a tournament in his life. In fact, he’s never won any prize money at all, so my doubts about his career are fully justified. Besides, my ex is a total ass, so I doubt he’d answer even if I did call or text him.
But sitting on this bench is only bringing me down, so I decide to take a stroll to soothe my nerves. At least walking’s still free, and maybe I can enjoy the beautiful weather while the sunshine beats on my shoulders. Slowly, I get up and start lumbering down the sidewalk, hoping that I’m not swaying too much from side to side. But people give me kind smiles and even make way for me because I’m so obviously pregnant.
I mosey past a few clothing shops, an optician, and a bakery with macarons in the window in a rainbow of colors. Should I? But I shake my head and keep going because each macaron probably costs a gold mine. Then, a very pretty brassiere catches my eye in the window of the next shop, and I see that I’m now in front Lily’s Paradise, a fancy lingerie boutique.
Snorting, I look down at myself. I can’t even remember the last time I bought myself lingerie, and even thinking about the worn underwear I’m wearing right now makes me cringe. My grimy granny panties come up over my belly button, and the fabric’s now a dishwater grey from being washed so much. Ugh.
But as I stare into the store, my heart thumps with longing. There are mounds of beautiful satin and lace heaped in piles, and I see a mannequin wearing a particularly fetching pink bra and panty set. I shouldn’t even be considering this. The last thing I need is to be spending money on frivolous lingerie, especially when there is zero chance anyone other than me will be seeing it. But I desperately need a pick me up, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m opening the door to walk in. Maybe I’ll just look. I don’t have to actually buy anything.
Inside, the store smells sweetly floral, and it’s sectioned into an area for intimates, an area for perfumes and cosmetics, and another area for negligees and robes. Perfect. I head towards the bra and panty separates, ostensibly just to look, but right on the front table is a pink set with the cutest lace trim. They’re 100% cotton, and casually, I flip the tag to see the price. That’s when my lip begins to quiver. Twenty-five dollars for one pair of panties? And another forty-five for the matching bra? How can a simple lingerie set cost so much? There’s no way I can afford this, and these items are probably the cheapest things in the store.
Suddenly, my world comes crashing down again. I’m a poor, unemployed single mother about to give birth any day now. I don’t belong here, and a sob rises from my throat as I turn to leave. Lily’s is for pretty, chic women with doting husbands who buy them expensive strollers. It’s not for women like me, without a cent to their name. Tears fall from my cheeks as I put the panties back, and embarrassingly, an ugly sob escapes my throat as I rush to the front door. But then a voice stops me.
“Honey, are you okay? Can I help you with something?”
Quickly, I blink to clear my vision a bit, and turn to see a sweet looking middle-aged woman who’s holding out a monogrammed handkerchief. She’s elegantly dressed, and I see that the handkerchief matches the monogrammed purse she has slung over one elbow. Sniffing, I take the cloth and try to force a smile, but even that’s not happening today.
“No, thanks, I’m okay. I was just browsing.”
The woman smiles and nods with understanding. She’s maybe in her forties with dark brown hair pulled into a smooth, perfectly styled bun, while a black wrap dress flatters her curves. She holds her hand out to me, and not wanting to be rude I shake her hand.
“Well, I hope you feel better soon,” she says kindly. “We all have bad days. I’m Clarissa, by the way.”
I nod and sniffle pathetically again.
“Christine,” I reply. “Nice to meet you.”
She smiles sunnily.
“So when is your baby due?” she asks in a kind voice. “I remember pregnancy myself. By the time I got to my last trimester, it was so not fun.”
Running a hand over the swell of my belly, I laugh half-heartedly.
“He’ll be here in just a little over two months.”
“Then it makes sense you’re emotional,” Clarissa adds gently. “The hormones are crazy at that stage. I used to cry at every little thing.”
I sniffle again and manage a watery smile.
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling huge and just kind of down lately, so I thought something cute and sexy from Lily’s could be a pick-me-up.” But then I let out a bitter chuckle. “I should have known a place named Lily’s Paradise would be extremely expensive and way out of my price range.”
Clarissa nods and steps around me before picking up the pretty pink set I was just looking at.
“I’ll buy them for you,” she says. “It’s not a problem. From one mother to another.”
I shake my head quickly.
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly accept your gift, although thank you. You don’t know me!”
But Clarissa is insistent and smiles, gently pushing the lingerie into my hands.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a simple gift, and it’s not a big deal. I want you to have them if it makes your day better.”
Clarissa shakes her head once more, this time firm.
“No ifs, ands, or buts. Take it, sweetheart. It isn’t polite to refuse a gift.”
“I … I don’t know what to say,” I stammer.
“Just thank you is enough,” the middle aged woman says kindly. Tears fill my eyes again as I realize what she’s done.
“Thank you,” I murmur softly while fingering the soft cotton between my thumb and forefinger. “I really appreciate it. More than you know.”
The middle-aged woman merely nods and signals to a clerk.
“Please put these on my account,” she calls. Then, Clarissa turns back to me and pulls a business card out of her purse before pressing it into my palm. I look down at the small square, and it’s a flat square with the words City Girls emblazoned on the front with a phone number.
“What’s this?” I ask. “Is this you?”
Clarissa laughs gently.
“Not me exactly, but you can certainly reach me at City Girls. It’s who I work for. My employer is a dating site of sorts, and I think you might be a good fit for our company.”
My jaw drops as I point to my obviously huge belly.
“Um, but I’m not really on the market for dates, seeing that I’m in my third trimester and waddling like a hippo. I don’t think any men would be interested in meeting me.”
Clarissa lets out a kind chuckle.
“You never know,” she says mysteriously. “Men are fickle creatures, that’s all I’ll say.”
I stare at her again.
“But with a belly like this? I’m not so sure. Besides, how did you know I’m single?”
The middle aged woman merely smiles.
“I know,” she says. “I’ve been in this job for a long time. But I should also clarify that we’re not exactly a dating agency. We do escorting.”
Now I really stare at her.
“What does that mean?” I ask in a faint voice.
Clarissa shrugs lightly.
“We match beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated women with rich, handsome men who value discretion. It’s dating, but of a very high-end sort.”
“Is there any chance of a relationship? Or is this pure escorting?” I ask as my brain runs at a million miles an hour. “Not that I’m interested,” I add hastily. “Again, I’m hugely pregnant at the moment.”
Clarissa merely shrugs with another mysterious smile.
“These things can go any way, that much I can say for sure. Maybe not all of the assignations end with marriage and a baby, but I can say that it’s definitely happened. And again, Christine, being pregnant doesn’t disqualify you. In fact, I’d say that there are men with a fetish for pregnant women. They prefer being with fertile, lush women, if you understand my drift.”
To be honest, I don’t, and I stare at the middle-aged women with my mouth agape.
“Really?” I ask.
“Really,” she nods merrily before turning to leave. “I can’t talk now, but please, call me anytime,” she says. “Just ask for me, and I’d be happy to explain more about City Girls.”
Then Clarissa strolls out, leaving me in a state of shock with the card dangling from my limp fingers. I should definitely throw it away right now, but what’s the harm of keeping it? After all, I’m a woman with no options, and maybe this mysterious stranger has just shown me a path forward.
Looking around my small apartment, I have no idea what I’m going to do to make rent, but something has to happen that’s for sure. The property manager isn’t exactly known for cutting people breaks, and he loves adding a late fee just for the hell of it. Even worse, I live in a shabby little studio apartment on the Upper East Side which is in badly need of repairs, but I’m almost afraid to complain in case I get thrown out.
But I’ve done what I can to make my place homey and comfortable. A few rattan screens create a small bedroom area for myself, and recently, I purchased a white crib complete with a mobile made up of the cutest little zoo animals to place at the foot of my bed. Part of my living room is sectioned off into a “living room” by a comfy couch that’s at a ninety degree angle to the wall, and a colorful rug reinforces the feeling of warmth. My home may be small and quaint, but it’s mine and me and my baby will be comfortable here.
But what am I going to do to make rent this month? Heaving myself off the couch, I lumber to where my purse is on the mantel. Then, I pull out the City Girls card Clarissa gave me yesterday. The paper stock is a heavy cream, and the words “City Girls” are emblazoned in a classy, san serif font. It certainly screams money, even if their particular business is a bit seedy.
But what am I thinking? Never before in my life have I considered becoming an escort because what would that make me? A woman who sells her body for money, that’s what. But then again, what choice do I have? I need a job stat, and no one else is going to hire me when I’m showing like this.
Before I can overthink things, I sit back down and grab my cell phone and call the number on the card.
“City Girls,” a woman’s voice answers.
“Um hi,” I stammer. “Is Clarissa there?”
“Hold please,” she says in a professional manner. Then, there’s a swift clicking sound and the woman from yesterday picks up.
“Christine, is that you?” Clarissa hums. “I was hoping I’d hear from you.”
I nod even though she can’t see.
“Yes. Um, hi. How did you know?”
She chuckles on the other line.
“This is from an unknown number, so I just figured. Lucky guess, I suppose.”
I nod and swallow.
“Well, I thought I’d call to find out more about the opportunity. You know, the one where pregnant ladies work as escorts.” I almost choke on the words because they sounds so ludicrous.
“Shoot,” Clarissa says in a friendly manner. “What can I tell you?”
A million questions buzz in my brain.
“Well, how do you find your clients? The male ones, I mean.”
Clarissa laughs gently.
“City Girls isn’t your average agency. We’re a high-end escort agency and we only cater to an elite clientele of high net worth men. We have no female clients because our men are paying to meet the City Girls, who are our greatest assets.”
“I see,” I say in a slow voice. “But why would any of these high net worth guys even need a dating service? It doesn’t make sense.”
Clarissa’s laugh trills on the other side.
“Oh, but it does, honey. Our clients are busy running the world. You can find them in boardrooms, the halls of government, and the most selective bars and clubs in the world. A few even live in palaces, if you get my drift. But men like this are busy, and that’s where City Girls comes in. We provide the most stunning, charming, and sophisticated women for their pleasure on demand, if you will.”
That makes me frown.
“And some of them like pregnant ladies?”
Clarissa chuckles on the other line.
“They do indeed. It’s somewhat of a fetish, to be sure, but there are certainly men who adore a woman’s expectant shape. Our services are even more desired by these men because how would they go about finding pregnant women to date? They hire us to do that work for them.”
My eyes narrow.
“So are there a lot of guys with this particular fetish?” I ask in a slow tone.
Clarissa’s laugh trills on the other side.
“Oh no, certainly not. But your timing is impeccable sweetheart because we have a new client who’s made the request, and I think you could be a fit.”
“That sounds pretty coincidental.”
Clarissa laughs again.
“Yes, it’s coincidental, but it’s also fortuitous. Now, before I tell you about this particular client, is there anything else I can answer for you?”
I take a deep breath because in fact, there’s been something lurking in the back of my mind.
“Do I have to have sex with them?” I manage in a whisper. “Is that required?”
Again, Clarissa laughs as if I’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.
“Certainly not, hon. Sex is absolutely not required, and we make sure that the men know that they’re paying for companionship only. What happens afterwards is up to you, but feel free to say no if you’re not feeling it. It’s definitely not part of your job.”
I let out a big sigh of relief.
“Oh good,” I breathe. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had sex that I don’t even know if I could at this point.”
“Well, you had sex nine months ago,” Clarissa points out helpfully. “We know that for sure.”
“That’s true,” I acknowledge. “But still. I haven’t had sex since I got pregnant, so I have no idea how my body will react.”
Clarissa silent for a moment.
“I think you’ll be pleased, Christine,” she says in a light tone. “It’s not so different from the usual, and can be even better actually. This will be good for you,” she says in a persuasive tone.
Holy cow. I can’t believe we’ve gotten here. Clarissa’s actually telling me that escorting is going to help me? I suppose in a certain sense, it could.
“Okay, tell me about the client,” I invite. “And how much will I make if I do this?”
“That’s my good girl, keeping your eyes on the prize. But I’m happy to say that because we work only with an elite clientele, we are able to charge the top of the market, and for your particular situation, the rate is two thousand a night.”
She giggles merrily on the other side.
“Yes, but remember the agency’s cut is 20%, so you’d get only 80% which is a healthy sixteen hundred dollars. Still, it’s a lot and I promise this client is handsome, charming, and very, very wealthy. So what do you say, hon? Would you like me to set you up?”
My heart’s racing and one hand rubs absentmindedly at my chest, as if trying to slow the rapid beating. The truth is that even for that kind of money, I want to say no. My body’s not for sale, and it never should be, but at that very moment, the baby kicks, and my hand slides over my belly. I’ll do anything to take care of my son, and my choices can’t just be about me anymore. They have to be for both of us, and the money Clarissa’s offering could be a lifesaver. Slowly I nod.
“Yes. I’ll do it.”
She clucks approvingly.
“Great. I’ll put together some papers for you to look over, and just send them back to me after you get a chance. Then, I’ll be back with the details for your first date. Congratulations, Christine. You’re making a very brave, courageous choice for your child, but I think you’re going to have fun too. A little bit of fun before you give birth is warranted, right?”
“Yes, it is. Thanks.”
With that, we hang up and I stare sightlessly at the non-working fireplace in my small studio. I sure hope Clarissa’s right, because at the moment, I’m terrified I’ve just gotten myself into a mess that I’ll never be able to escape.
I smile to myself while taking a sip of bourbon. A younger version of me never would have imagined using an escort agency to find a date, but there’s a first for everything. So here I am, sitting at the bar of the Redwood Hotel. At least the escort agency has good taste. This place is high-end, from the huge oak bar to the pendant lamps throwing dim spotlights across the shiny surface. Elegantly dressed guests lounge on velvet covered sofas, chatting with their heads close together while enjoying top shelf liquor. This is my kind of place, that’s for sure.
But I’m antsy because I’ve never used an agency before. After all, finding women to date isn’t the problem. I’m rich as fuck, and that means a lot in a city like New York. Not only that, but I have jet black hair, blue eyes, and work hard to keep my body in shape. So yes, there are ladies galore throwing themselves at me at every chance they get.
The problem is my so-called “kink.” Not only do I like my women thick with ample curves, but I like them generous and fertile, and preferably pregnant. It’s something about the way a woman’s body grows and expands when she’s got a child in her belly. I love the fullness of their thighs, the softness of their upper arms, and the gentle glow that seems to emanate from within. Even the way women waddle when they’re pregnant hypnotizes me.
But that’s the problem: where am I going to find a bevy of beautiful pregnant women to date? Where would I find even one pregnant woman to date? I suppose I could get married and keep my wife constantly knocked up, but that hardly makes sense given my current lifestyle. I enjoy being a single man in Manhattan because I’m free to do as I please, with nobody to answer to other than myself. So City Girls seemed like a decent option seeing that I’m not exactly about to give up my playboy lifestyle.
My eyes flit to the entrance of the bar. Where is my date for tonight? The hotel itself is pretty busy, but still, there aren’t exactly a lot of pregnant women wandering to and fro. As I wait, a bartender strolls over to top off my drink.
“Another shot?” he asks.
I push the tumbler forward.
“Make it a double.”
With that, he nods and pours the amber liquid before throwing in some ice. I take a sip and the bourbon burns as it slides down my throat. Ah, perfect. But then, there’s a horrific crash over by the door and everyone turns to look.
“Shit, what was that?” a fellow patron mumbles. “An earthquake?” There was definitely the sound of glassware shattering, and I spot a waiter by the entryway getting down on his hands and knees, doubtless to do some cleaning. Wow, it looks like he had a full platter, judging from the scattered tableware and steaming mess of food on the floor. But then my breath hitches because there’s a woman hovering over him, looking horrified and ashamed. Even though she’s pregnant, she too tries to get down on her hands and knees to help, but the waiter stops her. I can almost hear him saying, “No madame. Please, let me. You’re pregnant.”
She flushes a bright red as the maître d’ runs over, gesticulating wildly, and tendrils of curls begin to stick to her flushed face. That’s my cue. Even from across the room I can see that she’s upset, and I immediately cross the room with a few long strides.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman apologizes. Tears are forming in her eyes as she clasps her big belly protectively. “Sometimes I forget I need extra space with my new form. It gets in the way and I brush against things when I don’t mean to. I’m so, so sorry.”
The maître ‘d bows.
“No need to apologize, madame. We can see that you’re in a delicate condition, so please, don’t worry about anything at all. Charles can handle the clean-up. Now, may I show you to your table?”
“She’s with me,” I interrupt in a low voice. “Hello Christine. It’s nice to see you.”
The pregnant woman’s gaze shoots up to mine and my heart jumps when we make eye contact. My date is absolutely gorgeous with thick, curly brunette tresses and big brown eyes. Her lips are kissably soft, and best of all, Christine’s hugely pregnant. She’s probably only a month or two from delivery, and my eyes caress her expectant shape, including her soft breasts, the round mound of her belly, and the thickness of her thighs beneath the hem of her skirt. She’s even wearing heels, although it must be difficult to balance seeing that she must be in her third trimester.
“Ah, thank you, sir,” the maître ‘d bows. “Your wife and a member of our staff collided, but it’s no trouble. We have everything under control.”
I nod and turn to the waiter with a tip in hand.
“Apologies,” I tell him, handing him the money. “Thank you for your help.” Then I take Christine’s elbow and guide her to the back of the room. “Come on, baby. We’re at a banquette in the back.”
Christine looks at me with wide eyes, but she nods and allows me to escort her to the rear of the bar, where a few tables are placed. It’s a luxurious, semi-private space set apart from the rest of the venue by a smattering of palm fronds, and I pull a chair out for her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, still looking down. “I’ve become such a klutz these days.”
Then she wipes under her eyes and takes a deep breath, composing herself. Christine’s gorgeous as her bosom rises, the swell of her breasts creamy and full. My dick grows hard immediately, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Fuck, this woman’s perfect. The beautiful brunette’s exactly what I like in bed, and this evening promises to be one of incredible pleasure. Yet I can’t jump the gun because like any woman, she needs to be wined and dined. As a result, I lean forward, ready for our date to begin.
The gorgeous woman bites her lip nervously, which is appealing in its own way, to be honest. I understand how any woman, even a professional, could get a case of the nerves. Yet, I want Christine to feel comfortable and appreciated, so I do my best to put her at ease.
“Tell me,” I invite, “how far along are you?”
She looks down at her belly, and a small smile crosses her pretty features as her hand skims over her bulging belly in a light caress.
“I’m in my third trimester already. It feels like it’s flying by so fast, and there are only ten weeks left until my due date.”
She lovingly strokes her belly then, and even through the velvet material of her dress, I can see her stomach ripple as the baby stirs.
“Is the baby kicking now?” I ask in a low voice. Shit, the sheer possessiveness surging through my veins is frightening, and I lean forward, my fingers itching to caress her bulge.
She nods and bites her lip, looking down.
“Yes. He’s very active, and even more so in the last week. Especially in the evenings. I think he knows when it’s dinner time and he’s more than happy to remind me to eat for him.”
“Then he’s a smart boy who has his priorities straight. But what about you honey? How are you feeling? I think it’s amazing that women are capable of bearing children. You’re gestating a little human, and it’s a remarkable accomplishment.”
She smiles and nods.
“It is amazing,” Christine breathes as her belly ripples again. “I feel lucky every day.” Then, she holds one hand out.
“Would you like to feel him kick?”
My dick jumps in my slacks and that insane sense of possession fills my chest again. Fuck, this is so intimate and yet I love it. We’ve barely even begun our date and I’m already aching for her.
“I’d like that very much,” I rumble in a low voice.
With another smile, Christine takes my hand and places it on her stomach, holding her hand over mine. A moment goes by, but then I feel it. There’s the very clear sensation of a small foot kicking out from the inside, and it’s utterly electrifying. This is truly one of the most incredible things I’ve experienced in my life, and God, I just want more.
My eyes shoot up to meet Christine’s chocolate gaze, and she smiles gently.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?” she whispers. “A baby is truly a blessing.”
I’m just about to say something profound when suddenly, we’re interrupted.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton,” a waiter says as he materializes at the side of the table. “Can I start the two of you off with a drink tonight?”
Christine drops her hand from mine and blinks, flustered.
“Oh, I’m not …” Christine starts. I know what she’s going to say, but I cut her off in a smooth voice.
“I’ll have another bourbon, and my wife will take a seltzer water. Also, a spaghetti carbonara with extra bacon for the lady. Thanks so much.”
“Of course,” the waiter nods. “I’ll get that right out for you.” He then does a little bow before scurrying off to fill our order. As soon as the young man leaves, my date shoots me a startled glance.
“Why did you say that?” she asks.
I raise my brow.
“Oh, you don’t like bacon?” I lift my hand up to wave to the waiter. “I’ll have him change the order.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” she says in exasperation. “You know what I mean!”
I pretend confusion.
“So bacon is good then? Or bad? We can always ask for chicken instead, if you prefer.”
Christine rolls her eyes, and then giggles.
“Okay, okay, have it your way. It’s just weird, don’t you think, that everyone thinks that I’m your wife?”
“I like it actually,” I say in a light tone. “Besides, you’re a pregnant woman obviously out for a night on the town, so it makes sense that they’d assume that we’re married.”
She lets out an exasperated laugh.
“But you don’t have to reinforce it, Mr. Stanton. I can take care of myself.”
I grin and shrug.
“I’m sure you can, Christine, but let me take care of you for tonight at least, because it gives me great pleasure. Besides, it would have taken longer to correct the waiter, so I just rolled with it. It’s a compliment that he thinks I’m handsome enough to be married to a beautiful woman like you,” I wink.
She giggles then.
A sweet smile tilts the corners of her mouth, and I’m utterly entranced as she caresses her belly again.
“So,” I growl, trying to settle my pulse, “tell me about yourself, sweetheart. Do you work for City Girls a lot?”
She pauses and shakes her head.
“Actually no. This is my first date through the agency.”
My eyebrows fly up to my hairline.
“Really? What made you decide to try now, especially in your state?”
She takes a long swallow of her seltzer water, collecting her thoughts before answering.
“Well, it’s kind of a long story. I got laid off from my job just a few days ago, and as you can imagine, it didn’t come at a great time. Not that getting laid off ever comes at a good time, but you know what I mean,” she adds hastily. “I’m having this baby on my own, and so I needed to make money fast and City Girls was it.” Then, she looks mortified. “I’m so sorry to dump my sad story on you, but it’s the truth. I need to make money before the baby’s born, and City Girls is the best way.”
I let out a low laugh.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m under no illusions as to why a woman might take this job.”
She nods gratefully.
“It’s not that I don’t want to work, but everyone works for different reasons, and for me, it’s my baby.”
I nod thoughtfully while sipping my bourbon.
“Yes, but what about your child’s father? Is he okay with this?”
Christine lets out a snort.
“Him? OMG, we broke up as soon as I told him I was pregnant. Matt didn’t want to be a dad, and so that was the end of the relationship.”
I grit my teeth.
“What an assfuck of a guy. You’re probably better off without him.”
Christine merely sighs heavily while looking down.
“Oh, I know I’m better off without him. Matt was a dud long before I found out I was expecting, but no, I didn’t think he’d react the way he did. But there’s a silver lining to everything, and the baby was the push I needed to finally drop him for good.”
I can’t help it and I laugh.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but ‘assfuck’ is probably too kind of a word for this guy then. Maybe something more along the lines of ‘triple buttfucker’ would be more accurate. I mean, who the hell breaks up with their pregnant girlfriend?”
She shoots me a rueful look.
“You’re right,” she admits with a smile. “’Triple buttfucker’ sounds more accurate. I like that one.”
I laugh again before going serious.
“Still, it’s probably difficult as a single, pregnant woman in NYC,” I say sympathetically. “That’s not easy, and the fact that you’re doing this on your own is amazing, so I admire that. But do you have help from other folks in your life?”
The shake of her head is slow.
“No, unfortunately not,” Christine says in a soft voice. “I haven’t told many people that Matt and I aren’t together anymore because I don’t want their pity, if that makes sense. So most people still think I’m in a relationship.”
“Okay. But how are you managing then?”
She shoots me a smile while squaring her shoulders.
“I’m fine actually,” she says in a slightly quivery voice. “I’m going to be fine,” she reiterates in a stronger tone. “More than fine. Me and my baby will be great together.”
Her courage breaks my heart even as I’m filled with admiration. Christine’s determination to make things work in a difficult situation provokes the alpha male in me again, and possession courses through my veins, making my eyes glow. I squeeze her hand and look deep into that chocolate gaze because I want to make sure she really hears me.
“I promise everything is going to turn out roses for you,” I say in a low voice. “You’re doing great, baby girl.”
Her eyes bore into mine, and her eyebrows lift as she bites her lip. After a moment she squeezes my hand back and a small, hopeful smile tilts the corner of her plush mouth.
“You really think so?”
Leaning in closer until I’m no more than a breath away from the alluring girl, I run my eyes over her delicate features and smile as her breath hitches.
“Yes, I definitely think so,” I say with finality before closing the distance between us and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The liplock is incredible. Her mouth is sweet and soft, and it parts willingly beneath mine, allowing me to taste the honey of her mouth. When I finally pull away, her cheeks are flushed and that enormous bosom rises and falls enticingly. Fuck, I’m as hard as steel after sampling her sweetness and small talk no longer interests me. Taking her chin between my fingers, I rub my thumb over her bottom lip and gaze into those caramel depths.
“What do you say we get the food delivered upstairs, baby? Spaghetti carbonara in the privacy of our suite?”
Christine bites that sexy bottom lip of hers again and I want nothing more than to follow up with a gentle bite of my own.
Meeting my eyes, she nods her head and softly says, “Yes, Mr. Stanton. I’d like that.”
In a flash, I’m up and gesturing to the waiter for the tab. After all, the sweet woman has given me the “go” signal, and now I’m going to sample these pregnant curves to my heart’s delight.
Damon’s so different from what I expected. I know Clarissa said that City Girls works with an elite clientele, but I took that to mean men of the upper class who have deep pockets and nothing else. I was honestly expecting someone short, fat, and ugly, not to mention old. After all, I’m a realist and money doesn’t care who it belongs to. You’re just as likely to get an old dude who looks like Willy Wonka, and not a handsome billionaire like George Clooney.
Yet Damon’s gorgeous with his night-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and athletic build. He’s tall and charismatic, and I see the way the women at the bar follow him with their eyes. Even more, their gazes then flick to me and I can see the envy there. They think I’m Damon’s very pregnant wife, and the jealousy burns them up from the inside out, while making my heart sing.
It’s so terrible to feel this way and yet I’m enjoying it. I love being seen with Damon, and I adore the possessive way he slings an arm around my waist, ushering me forwards. I love how he kisses the crown of my head while inhaling my scent, and the way his big hands trail over my belly as if he can’t help himself.
At that moment, the baby kicks as we take the elevator up, and he chuckles with amusement.
“He’s quite the little soccer player, isn’t he?”
I nod, blushing.
Then, the bell dings and Damon ushers me into a long hallway which only has one door on the right.
“Here we are,” he growls, fishing in his pocket.
I stare at him.
“There’s only one room on this floor?” I ask in a choked voice, still scanning the hallway. He nods and grins while swiping the keycard.
“Yep,” is his declaration. “The penthouse is a floor through. I wanted only the best for you, Christine.”
I swallow as we enter, and my eyes go wide while taking in the suite. To be honest, the place is probably quadruple the size of my studio apartment, and that’s only including the parts I can see. There’s a chef’s kitchen with marble countertops on the right, complete with gigantic, stainless steel appliances. In the living room, a large leather sectional dominates the space while facing a beautiful brick fire place with a massive television mounted above it. The floors throughout are a dark, cherry shade, complemented by beige and cream accent rugs.
“My goodness,” I breathe while looking around. “This is quite the place.”
Damon grins while dropping his eyes on a bowl in the foyer.
“Yeah, I like the Redwood Hotel,” he growls. “The owners went all out when they redid this place. Do you know them? Clay and Casper Richmond?”
I let out a muffled laugh.
“Oh no. I’m a girl who works in a book store, so I wouldn’t know folks like that. Or at least, I used to work in a book store,” I amend.
Damon shoots me a look.
“Which one? I love books, actually. The real kind and not the ones on your Kindle.”
I laugh as we move into the living area.
“I know what you mean. Everyone’s glued to their Kindle or their phone these days, and it’s pretty annoying. What happened to the days when you could strike up a conversation with someone on the subway based on the book they were reading? Now, it’s impossible,” I smile.
“Exactly. Although I’ve never picked up a girl while riding the subway.”
I shoot him an arch look.
“Have you ever been on the subway, Mr. Stanton?”
He throws his head back and laughs then, revealing even white teeth.
“No, I haven’t,” he admits. “I keep a car in the city, and when I’m too lazy to drive, I uber it.”
“So you don’t have a private driver?” I ask with amusement.
Damon shoots me another grin.
“You’ve caught me. In fact, I do, but I didn’t want to seem like a prick, so I conveniently left that out.”
Amused, I giggle and move to the double glass doors that lead out to a balcony. There’s a magnificent view of the city, and my eyes go wide while taking in the twinkling lights coming to life beneath the deep purple sky. Meanwhile, Damon steps up behind me and I can feel the heat of his body against my back. He brings his hands up to my shoulders, and gently traces them down my arms until he gets to my hips.
“You never did tell me which bookstore you worked at,” he whispers in my ear. “Or are you trying to hide?”
I shake my head even as my heart starts racing.
“It’s called Busy Books,” I whisper in return. “And I don’t work there anymore. They do have a great selection of children’s books though.”
With that, Damon gently turns my pregnant form around to stare into my eyes. I look back at him while heat rushes through my veins, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Clarissa’s words ring in my ears, and I remind myself that I don’t have to have sex with him if I don’t want to, but the fact is that my body’s craving his. Hell, at the moment, I’m aching to feel Damon inside, and I want to come hard on his massive shaft. After all, pregnancy’s made me into a horny beast. When I’m at home, I touch myself every night, and sometimes in the mornings too. My toys have gotten used so much that I actually burned out the battery in my vibrator, it’s that bad.
But right now, I have a rich, handsome man who desires me, and I want to explore that heat with him. So what if I’m getting paid? The money’s just icing on the cake at this point.
Slowly, I slip my arms around his strong neck.
“It’s been a long time for me,” I whisper. “Is that okay? I don’t know … well, it’s been a long time,” I finish lamely.
Damon cradles my face in his hands and stares into my eyes.
“It’s fine, Christine. There is nothing wrong with that, and if anything, I love the fact that you haven’t been touched in a while. You’re beautiful and I’m going to show you just how sexy you are.”
His blue eyes deep to an almost-black.
“Yes, absolutely baby. I promise you’re going to have a good time.”
With that, he leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. It starts out slow and sweet, but after a moment Damon pulls me closer, deepening the intensity as I moan into his touch. Seizing the opportunity, he swipes his tongue inside, making me gasp.
“Is that good for you?” he growls.
I twine my arms around his neck and dig my fingers in the back of his head while nodding.
“Yes,” I whisper hotly. “More, Damon. Make love to me.”
With that, the gorgeous man turns things up a notch. He runs his hands down my sides and over my belly to my hips before pulling me as close as possible. My big stomach bumps into him but I swear, it only turns him on more.
“I love a woman who’s expecting,” he rasps while looking down at the globe between us. “Fuck, you’re so ripe.”
I giggle softly.
“I’m ripe for you, Mr. Stanton.”
Damon groans low in his throat, and then sweeps me off my feet so that he’s cradling me bridle style.
“Oh!” I exclaim, startled. “Goodness!” In a panic, I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life, expecting him to drop me or for both of us to fall to the floor in an ungainly heap. But Damon is strong, even with my added weight, and I can feel the muscles in his arms flexing as he strides to the bedroom.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he growls, reading my mind. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”
Soon, we’re inside and Damon carefully puts me down so that I’m standing beside the enormous mattress. The bedroom is huge and done up in shades of gray. There are silvery drapes framing enormous windows, and also a cream colored carpet, but it’s the bed that has me entranced. It’s a gigantic king-size with a plethora of silver pillows done up in shiny damask, and I gasp at the luxury.
But Damon’s not here for the interior design. Instead, he tilts my head up, claiming my mouth and kissing me deep, whiles running his hands down the front of my dress. He breaks our kiss and reaches for the hem.
“It’s time to get you out of this,” he rasps, those blue eyes intense.
Within a few seconds, the velvet’s pulled from my body and I’m dressed in nothing but the laciest of lingerie underneath, as well as sheer stockings and my three-inch stilettos. Damon’s eyes become hooded and dark as his hungry gaze roves over my pregnant form.
“You’re gorgeous,” he groans, his eyes lingering on the wet patch at my panties. “Absolutely stunning.”
Never taking his eyes from me, he begins unbuttoning his shirt, and pushes the fabric off his shoulders to the floor. Oh my! A gasp leaves my lips because this man is carved from wood. He’s got chestnut-hued skin and a six pack that makes my mouth water. Not only that, but a dark trail of hair runs down into his waistband, creating an arrow that has my fingers itching.
“Let me see,” I breathe, reaching one hand down to touch myself. “I want it, Damon.”
His blue eyes flare as he unzips his pants before kicking them to the side. My temperature rockets up another thousand degrees as he reveals that thick cock, long and hard, pressing into his lower abs. The pink helmet’s already wet with need, and as I watch, a white pearl of pre-come beads at the tip before sliding down his girthy shaft.
“Oh my,” I breathe. “Goodness.”
It takes me a minute to pry my eyes away, but when I do, I look up and catch Damon giving me a knowing smirk.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
I smile while tracing a nipple with my finger.
“I like it very much, Mr. Stanton.”
He grins and stalks over to me before reaching around my back, taking the clasp of my bra between two fingers.
“Now it’s my turn,” he says in a low voice that vibrates over my skin, making me shiver.
With a flick of his wrist, my bra sags down my shoulders before dropping to the floor. Damon meets my eyes for a moment, but then his gaze lowers to my heavy breasts and the man literally stops breathing. I’ve always had a generous bosom, but in the last few weeks, my breasts have grown so that they’re mountainous now.
“So beautiful,” Damon hisses in a worshipful whisper. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
Leaning in, he kisses me as he cups my breasts in his hands, lifting and massaging the soft flesh. It feels so good to be touched, and I lean into his palms, moaning against his lips. He breaks our kiss and I whimper at the loss, but then he drops his head down to my chest, running his tongue around my sensitive nipples, and I let my head fall back.
“Oh!” I cry out. “That feels good!”
He takes turns, switching between massaging one breast while suckling the other, and it feels so amazing that my body’s already shaking. To be honest, I’m close to climaxing and we haven’t even really done anything yet. But then, Damon begins lapping at one nipple like crazy before settling in for a deep suckle.
“Fuck,” he groans. “This tastes so good.”
At first, I’m too dazed to even register what’s happened. But then my eyelids lift, and he’s sucking like a baby at my teat, making moaning sounds of pleasure while clutching his cock in one hand.
“God baby, this is so fucking sexy.”
He steps back for a moment and lifts my breasts in his hands, looking down with reverence.
“Look Christine. You’re lactating for me.”
I follow his gaze and my eyes widen when I realize that I’m leaking milk. My nipples are wet, and it’s not just from his saliva. I jump back with shock, cupping my hands over my breasts in embarrassment to hide them. OMG, is this really happening?
“I’m so sorry!” I cry out. “I had no idea this would happen. It’s never happened before,” I stammer, my cheeks going tomato red. After all, I’m producing milk at the moment. Of course, I’ve read about this phenomenon in the Mommy and Me books I’ve been perusing at night, but I had no idea it could actually happen. Evidently, a woman can begin expressing milk before giving birth, and especially if her due date is close. Now, my teats are dripping and I feel the warm liquid sliding down the undersides of my breasts.
But Damon’s not put off at all.
“No baby,” he rasps before stepping forward to pull my hands away from my body. “This is beautiful. It’s natural, and I live for this kind of shit.”
With that, he kneels before me and latches onto a pink tip, moaning while he suckles again. It feels heavenly and my knees go weak as I run my fingers through his dark hair. It’s so sexual and intimate, and clearly, Damon loves it. As the handsome man drinks, milk begins streaming from my other breast again, and quickly, Damon shifts nipples, latching onto my other nip. Then he pushes my teats together before taking both hard tips into his mouth and suckling deeply. It’s so dirty to see him double-drinking like this, but it feels so good too, and I gasp with pleasure as wetness stains my thighs. Mmm, who knew we’d be doing this on our first date?
Finally, the gorgeous man consumes his fill and he releases my teats with an audible pop.
“Mmm,” he rasps, licking his lips while eyeing the juicy orbs. “That was good.”
I blush again.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stanton. Like I said, that’s never happened before.”
Damon pins me with hooded eyes.
“Don’t apologize, baby. As you can tell, I loved it and it’s sexy as hell to drink from a lactating woman. I nearly came as soon as I tasted your milk on my tongue because it was creamy, sweet, and hot as fuck. You’re making a baby at this very moment, and I’m the lucky man who gets to be part of the process.”
Of course, I don’t mention that my baby was created with another man’s sperm, but Damon’s words make me go hot inside nonetheless. My skin flushes and I decide to just go with the flow. After all, what do I have to lose? It seems that we’re breaking all sorts of barriers during this date, and I want to lose myself tonight before returning to my old life.
Putting my hands on Damon’s shoulders, I pull the handsome man back to me and lean in to kiss him before pulling away. Then I push down on his shoulders so that he’s kneeling before me once again.
“Taste me again,” I say, my voice breathy. “I like it.”
“Oh fuck,” he groans, pulling me in close. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He takes my right nipple in his mouth, licking and swallowing once more. His erection feels even harder than before, and I can’t take my eyes off of him as he works my breasts. Milk leaks copiously from my left breast, and he massages it with his hand before swiping his tongue over my glistening tip, a deep rumble of satisfaction coming from him as he laps up my goodness. My sex is pulsing and I’m on the verge of combustion.
But Damon knows what I need, and he pulls away for a moment, sizing up my huge tummy. Gently, he presses a kiss to the bulging mound before running his fingers across my belly button and down to the top of my panties. He looks up at me from his position and the heat in his gaze knocks the breath out of me.
“You’re gorgeous, Christine.”
I bite my bottom lip as he hooks his thumbs in my panties and slowly pulls them down my legs, moaning as my glistening pussy is exposed. Then, he gently lifts my feet, careful to help me stay balanced, as he pulls the lace over my ankles before tossing them to one side. The handsome man kisses my belly once more before dipping down to lap wetly at my pussy.
“Oh!” I cry out, my knees wobbling. “Shit!”
He chuckles hoarsely against my swollen flesh before standing.
“Let’s lay you down, sweetheart, because I need to be between your legs. Come on. Here you go.”
Keeping me close, he helps me onto the bed and I lie on my back, huge and ungainly. My tummy’s like Mount Everest pointing to the sky, but my date doesn’t care. He merely arranges a couple pillows for my comfort, and then positions himself between my thighs before pulling them apart. I can’t imagine what he sees with me spread-eagle like this.
But evidently Damon’s turned on because the next thing I know, he’s running his tongue through my sex, lapping at the wet folds.
“Ohhhh!” I cry out, my hands gripping the sheets. “Fuck!” My hips jerk forward and I push my head back into the mound of pillows, moaning.
“You’re so wet for me,” he rasps hoarsely. “It’s sexy as hell and I need more.”
I lift my head just in time to feel his tongue licking up my sex again before swirling around my clit. Stars sparkle before my eyes and my hips jerk, but Damon holds me in place and devours my sweetness. He alternately licks and sucks my clit until my whole body is trembling and a hot sweat covers my skin.
“Oh!” I cry out. “Damon, I can’t … I’m going to …!”
He lifts his head and looks at me, those blue eyes gleaming.
“That’s it baby. Come for me. I want to hear you scream.”
With that, he drops his head back down and presses his tongue to my clit as he pushes two fingers inside my sex, pumping them vigorously. Ecstasy hurtles through my form and I scream, my back arching as my pussy spasms with pure pleasure.
“Damon!” I scream. “Unhh!”
My man continues drinking from my slit, swallowing again and again as hot gushes of female nectar stream down his throat. I shriek again, my pussy snapping as my breasts shake. My vision goes dim and I lose all sense of space/time as the world closes around me.
But as I come to, something nudges between my thighs and I open my eyes to see Damon’s huge chest hovering over me.
“Is this okay, baby?” he rasps, those blue eyes bright as he looks down at my pregnant form. “I’m not wearing a condom. I’m clean, and you can’t get pregnant if you’re already pregnant.”
Thoughts swirl in a flurry through my dazed brain but then I nod and part my knees wider before reaching down to hold my pussy lips open for him.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m clean too. Come in me raw, Damon.”
Excitement brightens his eyes, and he notches that tip in my hole before leaning forwards. The pressure is heavenly as my lashes flutter shut as a long, guttural moan escapes my throat.
“Mm, that feels good,” I gasp. “You’re big.”
“Yes, but you can take it,” he groans throatily. “You’re fully relaxed, baby. Just spread your legs and enjoy it.”
Then in one fluid movement, he presses inside, filling me completely. A strangled gasp escapes my throat at the sudden penetration and I’m full to the point of bursting. But Damon gazes down at me with appreciation in that azure gaze.
“Baby, you feel amazing and you’re taking it so well. I’m never going to get enough of this.”
His fingers burn into my skin as he presses my thighs apart, rolling his hips and pumping into me. My man goes slow at first, careful with my pregnant form. But then he picks up speed, his eyes never leaving the place where we’re joined.
“Your pussy looks so good getting fucked over and over again,” he moans throatily. “Goddamn, this is hot.”
I can’t answer but a high keening sound starts in my throat, and Damon nods in understanding. Keeping one hand on my thigh, he runs his other up, over the swell of my belly, and caresses my breasts. I’m teetering on the edge of the cliff as he pinches the nipple before flicking at the hard nub.
“Damon, oh!” I scream. “Shit!”
My back arches, and Damon digs his fingers into my thighs, pumping into me, once, twice, and then it happens.
“FUCK!” he roars. “Oh shit!”
That enormous cock jerks inside me, his body going rigid as he groans, spurting hot reams of seed into my sweetest spot. My pussy spasms again, the milking action bringing his fluid deeper into my body even as I see stars.
“Oh oh oh!” I cry out, losing myself. “Shit!”
He groans again, spurting wildly before collapsing on my form.
“Oh fuck!” he rushes, immediately levering himself up on his elbows again. “Did I hurt you, baby?”
I can’t answer because I’m still in the throes of ecstasy, but my head shakes and I let out another breathy moan.
“Good,” he groans as the last twitches of his orgasm die off. “Because I don’t want to hurt the child.”
Finally, we finish together, our breathing harsh, our chests rising in rhythm as we melt together. My skin is sheened in sweat and I feel a warm haze descend on my mind. But Damon’s not done yet. He pulls out, and the slippery pleasure makes me groan again. Then, my man sits back on his heels with both hands on my knees and pushes them up.
“Let me see your cream pie, sweetheart. It should be a big one because I’ve never come so hard before.”
Oh my god, is he serious? But his blue gaze never leaves my pussy as I push with my internal muscles.
“That a girl,” he rasps as a pearl forms at my opening. Then, the bead grows until it spills over, a hot trail of semen streaming down my pussy to cover my back hole. Damon chuckles and reaches one finger forward to massage the fluid into my anal pleats.
“Can you take it here, baby?” he rasps. “Or is this off-limits because you’re pregnant?”
I merely titter again while shooting him a naughty smile.
“Nothing’s off limits for you, Mr. Stanton. Just give me a second, and we can try it.”
He groans with anticipation, his finger dipping into my back hole as I let out a small yelp.
“Good, because tonight’s just beginning baby girl, and I want to do everything with you.”
Then, the storm starts again and I’m carried away. OMG, I had no idea being an escort could be like this, but then again, what were the chances of meeting Damon Stanton? He’s a billionaire with a taste for heavily pregnant ladies, and fortunately, I’m just the woman to satisfy his dirty desires.
If you’d told me a week ago that losing my job would turn out okay, I would have laughed in your face. If you’d told me that losing my position at Busy Books would be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I would have laughed in your face and maybe even slapped you silly. But it’s funny how the universe has plans for us that take us to new, unexpected heights just when we least expect it. After all, I have Damon Stanton now, and the experience is amazing.
For the last week, I’ve spent every day with Damon in his penthouse. Not the suite at the Hotel Redwood, but rather his real home on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. It’s a lavish space but to be honest, I hardly even see the outside of his bedroom because he’s got me locked up in there 24/7, subject to his lustful ways.
Yet it’s not just lust. Damon’s also passionate and tender, and he takes his time finding all of my favorite erogenous zones. This man is masterful in bed and always makes sure I’m fully blissed out before taking what he needs for his own pleasure. Then again, it’s pretty clear that he derives pleasure from my pleasure, and that’s an entirely new concept for me. It’s one that I’m loving, and I’ve certainly never experienced this before with another man.
But I want to roll with it because I’m due soon, and then the fairy tale’s going to end. I know that Damon’s intrigued by my pregnancy, but a living, breathing baby is another thing. Newborns are squishy and fun, sure, but they’re also high-maintenance and need to be fed every two hours. Not to mention the fact that my body’s going to be a deflated bag of fluids after delivery, and that I’ll be sore between the legs for god knows how long.
But right now, it’s fine. I’ve been totally focused on Damon, and have even turned down dates with other men. Who knew there was such a fetish for pregnant ladies? But Clarissa merely clucked her tongue with a sassy “I told you so,” and told me to stay safe. I have no idea what she’s talking about because I’m very safe in Damon’s arms. Last I checked, I couldn’t be safer.
But today, we’re going on a real date and I’m excited. Damon’s taking the day off from work, and it’s nice to know that he wants to take me out in public to be seen by the world. I already know he loves it when people refer to me as “Mrs. Stanton,” and this is adding to that. This date isn’t through City Girls, so I feel like we’re actually a real couple.
But now I’ve spent the last two hours rummaging through my limited selection of clothes. My man told me to dress comfortably, but what does that mean? Should I go cute and flirty (but still comfortable) or athletic and sporty (and also comfortable)? Men can be so exasperating sometimes.
Finally, I pull on a pair of maternity blue jeans with a big stretchy band that covers the lower half of my belly. A light purple long-sleeved cotton shirt completes the outfit, and I’ve got a special bra on in case I start leaking, not that Damon would care. He loves drinking my milk while in bed, and I fluff out my curls while giggling in the mirror. There’s a glow on my cheeks and I smirk because it’s not just from pregnancy; it’s also from unbridled, passionate, near constant sex with the billionaire, and I love it.
I brush on some mascara and a clear lip gloss, and then lumber over to the couch to start the battle to get my Converse on. These sneakers might be incredibly comfortable, but there’s nothing easy about putting shoes on when your huge pregnant belly makes it nearly impossible to bend over. I’m not even going to tie them. I leave them semi-tied now so that I can just pull them over the back of my heel and be done with it.
Finally, after what feels like hours, the task is accomplished. My shoes are on and I am dressed. I’m out of breath as I sit up, no doubt panting and heaving like a hippo. Seriously, getting dressed as a pregnant woman should count as an Olympic sport, and I rub my belly.
“You sure like giving your mama a hard time,” I joke with my unborn child. “Don’t worry though, sweetheart. I know you’re worth it.”
At that moment, the buzzer rings and I waddle to the front door, smiling ear to ear. Damon’s downstairs in the lobby, I think to myself. I feel the baby kick and smooth a hand over my belly, chuckling.
“I know you’re excited to see him,” I say to my child. “I am too.”
I lock up and take the elevator downstairs to meet my date. My lover is waiting in the massive foyer of the building, and he smiles as soon as he sees me, his blue eyes lighting up.
“Hey beautiful,” he greets while wrapping an arm around my waist to kiss me gently. Then he brings a hand to gently rest on my belly. “How’s the little stinker today?”
My heart flutters. I love how he always shows an interest in my child, like he really is a doting dad. I smile and then sigh.
“Other than making it a full-fledged workout just to get my shoes on, he’s doing well. I’m pretty sure he’s practicing to be a gymnast the way he’s doing somersaults in there.”
Damon grins, flashing even white teeth.
“That’s good. He’s probably just happy to have you as his mom.”
My heart lurches and I lean up on my toes to give him a quick kiss because it’s the best way I can think to say thank you, at least while we’re in public.
“I appreciate your support,” I breathe. “You always make me feel so good about myself.”
Damon’s blue eyes darken with passion as his arm around my waist tightens.
“Of course, sweetheart. It’s my job to make you feel like a million bucks. But now, let’s go,” he growls while taking my elbow to guide me outside. “I hope the shoes you worked so hard to put on are comfortable.”
I giggle, lumbering along behind him.
“Yes, I made sure to grab my most comfy pair.”
“So are we going for a walk?” I ask curiously. “Maybe around Central Park? The park’s lovely this time of year.”
He shakes his head. “No, not today. I have something else very special planned.” Then, the CEO leads me over to a black town car where a chauffeur waits on the sidewalk. As we step up to the vehicle, the man bows slightly and opens the door.
“Thanks, Harold,” Damon says.
“Of course, Mr. Stanton,” the older man replies courteously. Then Damon helps me into the back of the car before getting in beside me. The vehicle is astonishingly nice. The seats are soft black leather with shiny chrome trim on the handles and center console. To my surprise, there’s a privacy divider separating the front half of the car from the back, and I turn to Damon.
“I thought only limos had screens.”
He shakes his head.
“Nope. Some town cars do too, for privacy of course. Here, let me put that up.”
He presses a hidden button on his side, and sure enough, a whirring noise sounds and the screen rises, locking us into our own world. Then, before I have a chance, Damon leans over and pulls my seatbelt around me, buckling me in before strapping himself into place.
Turning to him, I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Do I still need my comfy shoes? Or should I have worn stilettos seeing that we’re in a car?”
The CEO smirks.
“I love you in stilettos honey because they push your big breasts out even further, and you know how much I love your breasts.”
I giggle while swatting playfully at his arm.
“You love my breasts because they give you milk. But seriously, where are we going? Are you planning on kidnapping me? I’ve already been locked in your bedroom for a week.”
“And you loved every minute of it, sweetheart.”
I grin before nodding.
“You’re right,” I smirk again. “But seriously. Where are we going?”
He leans over and places a sweet, quick kiss on each of my cheeks before placing a final one against my mouth. Then, leaning in close to my ear, his kisses the sensitive skin just under my lobe and whispers, “I’m taking you shopping, sweetheart. That’s why you need sneakers. We’re going to walk around a mall together, and that’s your workout for the day.”
My mouth drops, and my eyes bug out.
“What? No, you can’t do that. I can’t let you take me shopping, Damon. It’s just too much.”
He pins me with fierce eyes and I stop rambling.
“It’s not too much, and I want to do it,” he says while cradling my pregnant belly with tender hands. His eyes soften. “Besides, I want to buy some gifts for the baby so we’re going baby shopping.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“That’s really nice, but you don’t have to,” I whisper.
He presses his finger to my lips, silencing my protests.
“Shush. Now listen, sweetheart. I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Knowing I can give these gifts to you makes me happy,” he finishes with a simple smile. “What makes you happy makes me happy,” he clarifies. Then he leans over and presses a tender kiss to my tummy as my heart swoops and then soars. Tears swell in my eyes and I sniff, but I can’t stop the joy from spreading in my chest. How did I get so lucky? This beautiful man is not only wealthy and powerful, but he’s generous too, and enjoys doing things like buying gifts for my unborn child. Even more astonishing, the baby’s not his. I’m literally a woman whom he just met, and yet he’s spoiling me like a princess.
“You don’t have to do this,” I reiterate softly again even as tears prick my eyes. “You’re too kind.”
Damon merely ignores me and taps the divider, signaling the chauffeur to drive.
“Let’s go shopping,” he says with a grin. “It’ll be fun.”
My heart races as the car zooms through the streets of Manhattan, heading into Queens. Then, we drive through that borough as well and enter the leafy boulevards of Long Island. My nose is practically pressed to the window as I stare at the neighborhoods rolling by.
“Wow, Long Island’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” I marvel with wonder in my tone. “I’ve never been out here, actually.”
Damon’s brow wrinkles.
I shake my head.
“I don’t think so. I know it sounds silly, but I always take public transportation and it would take forever to get here on the train. I don’t even know how to get here on the train, actually, so this is totally new to me.”
“Seriously? You’ve never been to the Hamptons, Sag Harbor, or Montauk?”
I sigh wistfully.
“No, never. Those place are all very fancy, and you know I’m just a regular girl. So nope. I stay in the city during the summers, and it works for me.”
Damon takes my hand in his, squeezing hard.
“Well, you’re in luck, sweetheart. I happen to own homes in both Southampton and Montauk, so I know where we’ll be summering next year. You’ll be coming with me,” he says with finality.
My heart soars because that means there’s a future for us, right? A small smile decorates my lips and again, the baby kicks my belly as if he’s excited too.
For the rest of the trip, Damon’s got his hand on my belly, as if protecting the child within, and I’m blissfully happy. To be honest, we don’t have to do anything. I’m so content riding in this car that we could just go for a drive and then go home.
But soon, we pull up to an enormous mall and I gasp when I see the huge Buy More Baby building. It’s an enormous big box retailer, and inside promises to be a wonderland of baby goods.
“I love seeing you like this,” Damon winks.
I turn to face him, pretending surprise.
“See me like what?”
“Excited like this. It suits you, Christine.”
I snort a little.
“Pretty much anything revolving around the baby gets me excited these days.” I cradle my belly and smile as I feel a tiny kick against my palm. “Impending motherhood has really changed me. Before I got pregnant, everything was about me: what I wanted to eat, what I wanted to wear, and what I wanted to do. But now, nothing brings me more joy than knowing that soon, I’ll have a tiny person to love and adore. I want him to have the world; to have the universe, really, and everything in it.”
“That’s what I mean.” Damon squeezes my hand. “You’re radiant with joy and love for your child. He hasn’t even been born yet, but he’s already the luckiest boy in the world because you are his mommy.”
I smile again.
“Thank you for that. I do adore him already, and I don’t know how anyone could carry a baby for nine months without being completely in love by the time they’re born. I don’t know if that makes my son the luckiest baby ever, but I do know I’m going to do my very best to make sure he knows how cherished he is.”
“Trust me,” Damon growls while caressing my jaw with the back of his knuckles. “Your baby is very lucky because you’re already an amazing mommy, Christine. Don’t let anyone or anything make you feel any differently.”
My heart melts, and I can feel tears trying to make their way over the rims of my eyes, but these are far from sad tears. Instead, I’m radiantly happy, and my being feels like it’s glowing. Again, I could blame the pregnancy hormones, but I’m pretty sure these tears of happiness are one hundred percent related to the man next to me. Reaching up, I slide my hand up to his neck, and around the back of his head until my fingers are buried in the nape of that thick black hair. Damon smiles as he leans in, closing the small distance between us, and gives me exactly what I need.
This kiss isn’t sweet or soft at all. Instead, the kiss is deep, hungry, and mind-blowingly passionate. For a few moments, I completely forget that we’re in a car. The only thing I’m aware of is Damon Stanton and the thrills running down my spine.
I’m not sure how much time passes while we kiss, but I pout when Damon finally pulls away, making him laugh. He gives me one more chaste kiss, and caresses my bottom lip with his thumb.
“Don’t worry, honey. There will be plenty more time for more kissing later, but for now, we’re here.”
My brows draw together, and suddenly, I realize the car’s no longer moving. I shake my head and laugh.
“I guess I didn’t even notice. Chalk it up to pregnancy brain fog,” I joke. With that, Damon gets out before circling around to open the door for me and I step out onto the asphalt. It’s a gorgeous day without a cloud in the sky, and I stare at the enormous warehouse before us.
“Goodness, this place is huge. I’ve heard of Buy More Baby before, but I’ve never been to one of its stores.”
Damon merely laughs before nodding at the chauffeur.
“Just wait here, okay Harold? We’ll be back shortly.”
Then he turns to me and slings an arm around my waist as we stride across the parking lot and into the store.
“Well, it’s big because I wanted to make sure I took you somewhere that would have everything you might possibly need or want for the child.”
“I think they’ll have everything for sure. Otherwise, how would they fill up this space?” I ask as Damon holds the door open for me. Another gasp escapes my lips as I look around because this is the Costco of baby stores. Huge steel racks of products fill the enormous warehouse space. Poured concrete floors and towering ceilings reinforce the sense that we’re in a stadium-sized retail outlet, and people are literally hauling around dollies stacked high with their purchases. I turn to Damon.
“This is too much,” I say in a firm tone. “People are buying fifty-packs of infant formula!” I hiss beneath my breath, pointing my chin to a couple using a forklift.
Damon merely chuckles.
“Good, because I want to drive one of those forklift things,” he says before pulling me past the entryway and over to the first display. “Come on, honey. Go crazy. Knock yourself out.”
With that, my defenses melt. After all, my man is sincere and I’m tired of questioning his every move. It’s becoming tedious, not to mention tiring, and I smile and give him a quick kiss.
“Okay. I guess let’s start with baby furniture? I have a crib I picked up from a thrift shop, so maybe they will have something to match.”
Damon immediately frowns and shakes his head.
“No sweetheart, no need to bother. Why don’t we get a new crib? Your child deserves something new, and besides, you never know if old ones are even safe. You know how these manufacturers are always sending out product recalls for baby stuff.”
I hadn’t known, actually, but I nod. Damon’s right, of course. The crib I have looks decent because I sanded it and gave it a fresh coat of paint, but obviously, I didn’t verify its safety rating or anything.
“Okay,” I murmur. “You got me.”
“Perfect,” my lover grins. “Besides, I have something in mind.”
We stroll over to the furniture section, and immediately, the cutest set catches my eye. There’s a white crib made of wood, and both the headboard and footboard are decorated with tufted velvet in blue. There’s also a custom velvet underskirt, perfectly matching the material used at the ends of the crib, and I coo while fingering the material.
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” I sigh.
“That one’s got a lot of personality,” he says. “I like it. Let’s get it.”
But then, I see the tag on the crib and blink, sure that I missed a decimal somewhere. Nope, my vision’s fine, and I shake my head.
“Um, this is twenty-five hundred dollars. That’s too much for a crib.”
But my lover won’t be dissuaded. He turns me to face him, and lifts my chin so I’m looking right into his hard stare.
“There’s no such thing as too much for your baby, and you know that money’s no object for me, Christine, so I want you to get that out of your head. Don’t look at any more price tags if it bothers you. If you find something you want, just let me know and I’ll add it to the list,” he says, holding up a plastic gun that reads bar codes. “I set up a baby list for us, so we just need to scan each item that we want, and then it’ll be delivered once we’re done. I think this one’s perfect,” he says before scanning the crib emphatically.
I stare at him, my mouth open, not sure if I want to smack him or kiss him.
“Christine, tell me you understand,” he commands, looking back at me over one broad shoulder.
“Um, yes I do,” I say in a hesitant voice.
Damon plants a smooch square on my lips and then moves forward.
“Let’s see, what else is there?” he murmurs. “Oh yeah, there’s a matching dresser and diaper changer thingy too. Let’s get these.”
Before I can move, he’s already scanned the two additional items, leaving me in shock.
“Damon, I live in a small space,” I say in a warning voice. “I’m not sure these things will fit. In fact, I’m pretty sure they won’t fit.”
The CEO merely shrugs.
“We’ll find a way. Don’t worry about it, Christine. Let’s see what else. The baby will need his own rocking chair, of course,” he muses while walking before me, and soon, my man has scanned practically everything from this particular bedroom set. I’m in a daze because what’s going on? Damon seems to be buying the entire store and loving it too.
Before I know it, we’ve spent hours at Buy More Baby, and finally, we’re in the toy section. I turn around just in time to see my lover stroking a giant stuffed giraffe’s head before scanning it with purpose.
“Oh yeah, got this sucker,” he says in a satisfied tone.
I can’t help but laugh.
“OMG, you’re so crazy,” I giggle.
He nods and winks at me.
“And you love it.”
I laugh again because I do love it. Plus, the sight of Damon, billionaire CEO, cuddling a giant stuffed giraffe is the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a long time.
“I think you should keep the giraffe for yourself,” I tease.
He smiles slyly.
“Yeah. You look cute hugging it.”
“Cute?” He cocks a brow and closes the space between us, tossing the giraffe onto the floor. My breath hitches as he leans in, then he kisses me deep and I forget all my misgivings because Damon’s the only thing that exists. This man is consuming me, and when he breaks the kiss, sharp blue eyes bore into mine. I lick my lips wanting more as my pupils dilate, and he lets out a harsh chuckle. “I’ll show you cute as soon as we get home, baby girl.”
I have to fight the urge to tell him to forget the shopping and take me home right now because my temperature is spiking, and I want him to show me exactly how cute he is. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths to calm my speeding pulse and to get my mind back on track. We’re shopping for my baby right now, and if I didn’t have Damon, I’d be down to dime-store picks. There’s plenty of time to get naked later and I have to focus while I have the chance.
Meanwhile, my man’s still going crazy scanning multiple items in the warehouse. To be honest, he’s leading me around the store, giddy as a school boy as we skip from aisle to aisle. Blankets, clothes, and even some toys the baby won’t be able to play with for quite a while make it onto the list. Not only is Damon being unduly generous, but he’s also beaming with happiness. With every new item we choose together, his smile grows wider, and the sparkle in his eyes amplifies.
Watching him bounce around scanning items makes my heart swell, and it isn’t about the money he’s spending. It’s about how determined he is to provide for my child, ensuring every comfort. After my painful break-up with Matt, I wanted nothing to do with men, and love was the furthest thing from my mind. Sex, yes. I wanted it, and City Girls was a way to make it happen while earning a buck. But the world is so unpredictable, and this man, with his kindness and generosity, has captured my heart. But how long will it last? When does the coach turn into a pumpkin? I swallow heavily because I have a feeling this scenario’s going to disappear once I actually give birth. It’s fun to prepare for a baby, but an actual, screaming newborn is something else.
But I put those thoughts out of my head for the umpteenth time, and just smile. By the time we’re done shopping, my feet are sore and a bit swollen, even in my comfortable sneakers. Not to mention my stomach is growling pretty loud, and obviously ready for some food. Damon pulls me in and cradles my belly.
“You two ready for some dinner?”
He looks down at my swollen ankles and frowns.
“I’m thinking takeout so I can get you home and give you a nice foot rub. What do you say?”
I throw my arms around his shoulders and give him a slow, lingering kiss.
“That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
We head out to the car and suddenly, regret strikes again. I stop on the sidewalk and Damon regards me with a quizzical glance.
“What is it honey?”
“We bought so much, and you know it’s never going to fit in my studio. We’re going to have to return half of it. Should we just cancel the order now? I don’t mind. Truly.”
My boyfriend smiles and brings my hand up, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“Who says I’m having it delivered to your apartment?”
My jaw drops and I stare at him with wide eyes, but he just laughs.
“Don’t overthink it, baby. Now come on. I need to feed you and take care of those feet, remember? Then I need to show you just how cute I can be. In bed, of course.”
I don’t know what to say because my heart’s thumping hard in my chest now. If the furniture’s being delivered to his place, then he must see a long-term future for us right? Suddenly, I want to sing to the world because maybe my carriage will stay a carriage, instead of transforming into a vegetable. Maybe this Cinderella will get to enjoy the ball, without having to dash out at 11:59 p.m. Breathless with hope, I squeeze Damon’s hand and let him take me home so we can be cute together.
Two months later.
There are a lot of perks that come with being a billionaire, but right now, the perk that matters most is being able to get Christine into the VIP private suite at First Presbyterian Hospital. As one of their biggest donors, First Presbyterian rolled out the carpet for my woman and I’m beyond excited that the big day is finally here. Our baby’s going to be born, and I’m over the moon with joy.
It’s funny how things change. Two months ago, all I wanted was a beautiful pregnant woman to enjoy hot times in the sack with. I wanted to fuck her silly while watching her belly bounce, and to see those big breasts sway up and down as she rode my cock. But now, it’s so much more. Don’t get me wrong, Christine is an animal in bed and I love that about her. She lactates on command now, and we mix a bit of breastfeeding into all of our nocturnal activities, but that’s not the only thing. She’s giving, beautiful, and utterly charming. My world has shifted on its axis because of her, and my carefully planned future has completely changed. I know I want to be with this woman, even if I haven’t told her yet.
A nurse bustles into our room, cheery and upbeat.
“Hi folks, I’m Mary and I’ll be guiding you through labor today. Just one question: is Dad going to be cutting the cord?” she asks while checking Christine’s IV.
I share a look with my woman, and we both smile. Every time someone refers to me as the father of the child, it makes me so happy I want to shout it from the rooftops. It feels right too because I’ve attended every OB checkup over the past couple months, and am very much a part of the process now. Christine nods slightly and I beam at the nurse.
“I’d love to cut the cord,” I say.
“Perfect,” the middle-aged lady beams. “I’ll let the doctor know. She’ll be in shortly to check how you’re progressing, but everything looks fine to me.”
“Thanks,” Christine murmurs with a smile, even if she looks a bit tired. Then, the nurse leaves and I bend over and push Christine’s curls out of her face and kiss her forehead. She grimaces.
“I’m all sweaty and gross.”
“Yes, but you’re beautiful,” I say.
She starts to laugh, but a contraction hits at that moment and her eyes squeeze shut as her grip on my hand tightens to the point of pain. But I stay focused because her discomfort is real, and there isn’t much else I can do but allow my fingers to be crushed.
“Whew, that was a tough one!” she huffs out once the contraction passes. She’s flushed, her skin is coated in sweat, and her curls stick to her cheeks, but Christine’s never looked more sexy and I grin.
“You’re doing something amazing, honey. That makes you the most beautiful person in the world to me.”
She smiles at me through her tears.
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
I kiss her hand.
Her body tightens up again, and I hold her hand and do my best to help her through another insane contraction. By the time it passes, she’s panting hard with a desperate look in her eye.
“You okay, honey?” I ask while wiping her forehead with a cool rag.
“No,” she answers in a short voice. “I’m being torn apart from the inside out.”
What do you say to something like that? I merely shoot her an encouraging smile.
“You’re doing great, baby. Soon this will be over and we’ll have a squalling baby boy in our hands.”
Christine merely grimaces with discomfort.
“Yeah, if I’m not split in two by the process.”
Oh shit. It’s bad, isn’t it? But I try to play the part of supportive dad, and squeeze her hand again.
“Want me to get some ice cubes for you to chomp on?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her eyes squeezing shut again.
“No, just get the doctor because ahhhhh!” she screams. “Fuuuuuuck!”
My woman literally bucks a bit on the bed, her big belly shifting. In a panic, I hit the call button and her doctor, Dr. Lafferty, and the nurses come rushing in. The doctor seats herself between my woman’s legs and then peers up beneath Christine’s gown.
“You’re doing great,” she says. “It’s time to have this baby. I need you to start pushing for me, Christine. Push really hard with your next contraction.”
In about three seconds, Christine cries out again, and her grip on my hand tightens even more. She shuts her eyes tight and bears down, heaving with all her might while letting out another ear-splitting scream.
“Fuuuuck!” she shrieks. “Get this thing out of me!” Watching her, all I can think is how incredible this woman is, even given her rampant cursing.
“That’s it, Christine,” Dr. Lafferty says encouragingly. “His head’s crowning. I just need you to give me one more big push.”
Christine looks up at me with tired eyes.
The doctor shakes her head.
“One more and we get to meet the baby. You’ve got this.”
My woman nods, and a moment later she bears down again as an incredible contraction wracks her body.
“Fuuuuuuck!” she screams again, sweat literally pouring down her temples. “Shit! Fuuuuuck!”
Angry wails break into the air as tears spring to my eyes. Hot damn, it’s really happened. Dr. Lafferty reaches up and then catches something before standing with a baby in her arms.
“You did it,” she announces. “He’s healthy.”
Then, she places the squalling child on Christine’s chest and we both look down with shock.
“Oh god, he’s so beautiful,” Christine whispers with tears in her eyes.
I rub my fingers over his dark hair, looking down into the tightly screwed-up face.
“He’s perfect, honey. You did great.”
But then we’re interrupted.
“It’s time to do the honors, Dad,” a nurse says. She pulls the umbilical cord tight while another woman hands me scissors.
“Here you go, Dad,” Dr. Lafferty says, pointing to the middle of the umbilical cord. “Cut right here.”
I snip and it’s almost too easy. The cord falls away and the doctor does some tying stuff before trimming the cord further. Then, the baby’s whisked away to check his vitals and clean him up. Christine and I gape at one another.
“I’m so tired,” she sighs. “But I’m glad it’s done.”
I push her wet curls back from her forehead before leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek.
“You did great, honey,” I say in a low voice. “They’re bringing him back now.” Sure enough, they’ve wrapped our son in a swaddle, and a nurse presents him to Christine to cuddle. Then, everyone leaves and the door’s shut, giving us time to bond.
Christine scoots over and pats the bed beside her and very carefully, I perch on the edge on the mattress, both of us staring down at the child. He keeps making cute little faces, scrunching his little nose while moving his eyebrows. I touch his tiny hand, and he wraps his fingers around one of mine as my heart melts into a puddle of baby love.
Christine lays her head on my shoulder.
“What should we name him?” she whispers.
I look at my woman and blink a few times, trying to hold back my tears. She smiles at me once more and I lose the battle, feeling the waterworks start.
“How do you feel about naming him Patrick?” I manage to choke out in a low voice. “My father’s name was Paddy, and I’d love to honor him by naming our boy after him.”
Tears shimmer in my girlfriend’s eyes, and her smile is so bright that it lights up the whole room.
“Yes. I think Patrick is the perfect name for our little boy.”
I lean down, looking into the child’s face.
“Hey Patrick,” I whisper while playing with his dark hair. “You are one lucky boy. Your mommy is the best, did I mention that?” Then I glance at Christine and wink. “I’m pretty lucky myself because I get to be with her.”
She giggles and we lean forwards to kiss but then there’s a commotion in the hallway and the door flies open, banging hard as it ricochets against the wall.
“No. You have to let me in there! It’s my fucking kid, you morons!”
Christine and I jerk our heads towards the intruder and when I turn to my girlfriend, all color has drained from her face.
“It can’t be. He didn’t even want a baby. How could he know we’re here?”
A disheveled man stands there, wildly gesticulating. The guy is panting and sweating like he’s on something, but despite his puffy features, I can see he’s relatively good looking with brown hair and green eyes. Fuck. This must be Matt, Christine’s ex and the biological father of the baby. But what the hell is he doing here? Even more, what does he want? My hackles rise as I stand up, towering over the smaller man. I’ll defend my girlfriend and son until the day I die, so this Matt person better get ready for a fight.
A nurse pushes past Matt and tries to direct him out of the hospital room.
“Sir, you can’t just break into a patient’s room! Who are you, anyways?”
“The hell I can’t!” Matt bellows, side stepping her. “That’s my damn baby. Why don’t you ask who this asshole is?” he snarls, pointing at Damon with an accusing finger. “He’s the one who doesn’t belong.”
I can’t breathe. My chest is tight, and my heart is pounding so hard that pain rips through my chest. This can’t be happening. Matt can’t be here. Hell, we haven’t spoken in months and he’s shown no interest in his son. So why is he here now? How did he even find me?
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing this to be some kind of sick nightmare that will disappear in the bright light of day. But when I open my eyes, Matt’s still standing there, glaring daggers at us.
Damon steps forward, his body language threatening and I swallow hard. Oh god.
“You need to leave right now,” my boyfriend snarls. “Get the fuck out. She doesn’t want you here.” Then he turns his glare on the nurse. “And you need to get me the Chief because someone is going to explain to me how this man found us! What the fuck! This hospital has one hell of a HIPAA violation on their hands.”
Matt laughs and it’s a high-pitched, maniacal sound.
“I didn’t need to rely on the hospital to find Christine,” he spits before waving his phone in the air. “If you didn’t want me to know where you were, then you should have disabled the Find My Friend feature on your phone, you dumb bitch.”
“You were stalking me through my phone? Why? Who would do that?”
Meanwhile, Damon lunges at Matt.
“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, gripping Matt by the arm. “Don’t call her names, and get the fuck out now!”
But Matt shakes himself free.
“Man, fuck you!” my ex yells. “You can’t make me leave because I’m here to see my kid and you can’t stop me. If anything, you should leave, asshole.”
“Please,” I cry, tears spilling down my face. “Just stop. Please.”
In a matter of seconds, my ex has turned the happiest moment of my life into the worst, and I just want to him out of here, no matter what I have to say to convince him to go. “Nobody is denying you’re the biological father, Matt.”
“Really?” My ex throws his arms in the air. “Because it sure seems like you and this asshole were planning on pretending that he’s the dad. I guess I just don’t exist, right?”
I shake my head, tears dripping onto the baby’s head as I cry.
“Matt please, just go. I promise I’ll list you on the birth certificate as the father. The baby will even have your last name but just leave, okay? You’re not wanted.”
“Don’t lie, Christine,” Matt sneers. “I know your evil ways. I need to stay here to make sure my name is printed on that birth certificate otherwise you’d probably list him instead,” he says with venom in his voice. “You’re such a manipulative bitch, Christine. There you go turning on the waterworks for no reason. Is that how you convinced this idiot to step in, by making him feel sorry for you? You’ve always been so good at manipulating men, but I guess that’s just a part of the job since you’re nothing but a fat whore.” An ominous laugh barrels from his chest. “Oh, wait. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how you got this guy hooked, right? You were turning tricks and he was one of your johns. Man, you must have really put it on to convince him to pay for all this,” Matt says with disgust. “Not to mention supporting some another man’s bastard.”
As if he understands his father’s vile words, Patrick lets out a loud shriek and starts bawling, his beautiful face turning bright red as he wails in my arms. My tears become a waterfall as I rock him, cradling him to my body, trying to give him some comfort in an impossible moment.
“You didn’t want him,” I choke out on a sob. “You told me to get an abortion because you didn’t want this child! You didn’t want either of us, so I found someone who does. So please, just leave us alone.”
Matt stares at me.
“Did you miss what I said? You’re a whore, Christine. A prostitute. There’s no way I’m letting a prostitute raise my son,” Matt sneers. “If anything, I’m filing for custody and I’m going to get it, given your questionable career path.”
“How do you know that?” I scream, still cradling the baby against my chest. “You don’t know anything!”
But it doesn’t matter anymore because Damon’s had enough. The alpha male steps forward and with a powerful swing of his fist, delivers a mighty blow to Matt’s jaw. The smaller man sways, and then rotates about ninety degrees before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
“Get the fuck out,” my boyfriend hisses.
Matt is stunned on the floor, unable to move.
“You hit me!” he squeals.
“Yeah, and I’ll do it again if you don’t get the fuck out,” my boyfriend snaps again. “Now leave!”
But Damon’s still not giving up. He catches sight of a nurse passing by and screams, “Call social services! This woman is a prostitute and can’t be trusted! The baby needs to go with Children’s Services! Call the police while you’re at it too because I’ve been assaulted by a maniac!”
That does it. The insane accusation turns Damon into a monster and before anyone has a chance to act, he pulls Matt up by his collar before slamming his fist into Matt’s face once more. This time, blood spurts from Matt’s nose, splattering on the wall, the floor, and on my boyfriend’s shirt. Matt staggers backwards, his back banging into the wall behind him, before he finally collapses in an unconscious heap.
The nurse runs off, speaking frantically into her handheld walkie. Meanwhile, Damon literally grabs the unconscious Matt by his collar and drags him out of the room before slamming the door emphatically. Then he turns to stare at me as I cradle my baby.
A sob tears from my chest as I cuddle Patrick closer.
“What’s going to happen?” I whisper. “He’s calling Children’s Services. What if they take Patrick away?”
Damon hurriedly sits next to me on the bed before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let them take Patrick, and I promise you and your child are safe. I’ll make sure of it.”
I bury my face in his chest and sob more while holding Patrick close. I know Damon wields an ungodly amount of influence, but if social services intervenes, I’m not sure what will happen. After all, Matt’s accusations are true. I was a call girl working for money back in the day, and that’s how I met Damon. If my choices cost me Patrick, then I’ll never recover.
“I can’t lose him,” I sob, burying my face against the baby’s head. “He’s my son.”
Damon rubs his hand up and down my back, trying to soothe me, and presses his cheek to the top of my head.
“Shhhh, sweetheart. I won’t let that happen. I promise.”
I only hope so because the love of my life is here in my arms, and I can’t lose my baby. I can’t.
We’ve been huddled in the hospital room for a while now, fearing the worst, when the dreaded knock comes. I turn wild eyes to Damon.
“What’s going to happen now?” I ask, my throat dry. “What do we do?”
My boyfriend has a grim look on his face.
“We attack this situation head on, Christine. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
Then he opens the door, and my worst dreams materialize. A large man, clearly a security guard judging from the baton at his waist, is the first to enter.
“Everything alright here?” he asks, surveying the room.
Then the nurse from earlier enters too, as well as a young woman dressed in an ill-fitting suit. She’s got a clipboard and a name tag that reads “Children’s Services” and I gasp, clutching Paddy close to my chest.
“He’s mine,” I whisper, my eyes wide. “Please don’t take my son from me.”
The woman nods and introduces herself.
“I’m Hannah Jones from Children’s Services,” she says in a professional tone. “You are?”
“Christine Caldwell,” I whisper, literally clutching Paddy to me now. “I’m Patrick’s mother.” My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes and I start shaking my head frantically.
“No. No. Please. You can’t take my baby.”
Damon tightens his arm around me.
“They aren’t taking anyone,” he says in a firm tone. His eyes are unwavering as he stares a hole through Hannah, like he’s daring her to disagree with him, but the social worker’s unmoved. She merely nods and begins.
“I understand there have been some serious allegations made against you, ma’am, and it’s my job to investigate. Your ex, Mr. Knocks, has brought information to our attention, but I’m sure a few question will clear everything up.” She pauses and clears her throat again. “At Children’s Services, we’re looking out for the best interests of your baby.”
“Just ask your questions,” Damon snarls. “Then you can get out.”
Hannah stares at him.
“And you are?”
“Damon Stanton, Ms. Caldwell’s boyfriend,” he says in a cold tone. “I’m also a major donor to First Presbyterian.”
But Ms. Jones isn’t intimidated by my boyfriend’s declaration and merely turns in my direction.
“So long as you have Ms. Caldwell’s permission to stay, then I’m fine with your presence,” she says, looking at me.
“He does,” I say in a faint voice.
The social worker nods and lifts her clipboard.
“Well, let’s get started then. Again, I’m sure a few questions will suffice for now, seeing that you just delivered a child. First things first, Ms. Caldwell: are you a prostitute?”
I open my mouth to answer her, but the words stall on my tongue. How do I answer a question like that? After all, I was an escort for one night, even if it feels like the distant past. Or maybe escorting and prostitution are different? After all, in escorting we aren’t technically being paid for sex. My mind whirls as my mouth opens and closes silently. Oh god, what do I say?
But Damon swoops to the rescue.
“She is not a prostitute. Ms. Caldwell is my fiancée,” he says in a stony voice, “and I resent your question.”
Hannah Jones isn’t intimidated at all, and I have to admire her for that.
“Of course not, Mr. Stanton,” she says. “I understand these questions are intrusive, but we have to cover all our bases.”
But then at that moment, Matt pops in from where he was lurking behind the door.
“He’s fucking lying!” my ex screams from across the room. “Tell them how you met! How Damon paid to fuck you while you were carrying my baby because of some crazy fetish for banging pregnant women! They’re both insane!”
The very large security guard turns around before grabbing Matt’s arm.
“Let’s go,” he says in a grim tone.
“No no!” my ex screams as he’s pulled away. “I want to stay for this! I want to see the whore get her ass kicked!”
Damon doesn’t even acknowledge Matt. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on Hannah before expounding on his answer.
“Yes, Christine and I met through a dating service, which last time I checked, is not illegal. I paid money for an introduction to a beautiful woman, and they delivered. So yes, I met Christine through an agency. It’s not a big deal. Lots of men do it because we don’t want to put our profiles online for the world to see.”
Hannah nods, pursing her lips.
“Yes, but why would Mr. Knocks say that Ms. Caldwell’s a prostitute?”
“Hell if I know. That asshole’s clearly on drugs, and maybe he thinks that dating services always provide sex. But I assure you that it’s not true. I don’t need to pay for women.”
That statement has such a ring of truth to it that Hannah Jones is satisfied. Besides, my boyfriend is so obviously a desirable alpha male, that his words are irrefutable. There’s no way Damon would have to hire a prostitute.
“Like I said, Christine Caldwell is my fiancée,” he finishes. “There’s nothing untoward going on, and maybe she doesn’t have a ring on her finger right now, but it’s because she’s swollen from pregnancy. We’re going to get it re-sized, aren’t we, sweetheart?”
My voice comes back to me as I begin nodding and babbling.
“Oh yes,” I say. “The ring’s back at the house because I blew up with pregnancy and gained something like seventy pounds! So I’m a whale right now, but I adore the diamond you chose, Damon,” I say in a worshipful tone while staring into his eyes. “I’m so proud to be your fiancée.”
With that, Ms. Jones nods and begins gathering her things.
“Well, it seems that everything’s worked out and there’s no need for Children’s Protective Services to get involved. I’m not taking your baby, Ms. Caldwell. This was simply a formality to make sure that all parties, including the hospital, were protected. It’s clear your relationship with Mr. Stanton is a real, loving relationship, and I’m very sorry to have disturbed your time with your newborn son.”
I nod, tears trickling down my face, and try to give her a small smile of gratitude.
Then, everyone leaves and it’s just me and Damon in the stillness of the room again. I look down at Patrick, sleeping nuzzled against my chest and smile tearfully at him.
“You’re okay, baby,” I whisper while pressing a kiss to his downy head. “Mommy loves you.”
Damon comes over to sit by me once again, looking down into Paddy’s face.
“I’m so sorry, Chris,” he growls. “I wanted today to be special for you and I can’t believe that asshole Matt showed up. Obviously, he’s not interested in your child at all. That fuckboy didn’t even ask what Paddy’s name is, nor try to hold him. What father does that? I’m going to kick his ass once we get out of here. What a fucking loser.”
I look down at Patrick and tears fall from my eyes before landing on his blanket. Sniffing, I wipe my face before trying to pull myself together.
“You don’t have to do that, Damon,” I say in a low voice.
My boyfriend puts a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him.
“What do you mean? I’m going to kick that loser’s ass, trust me. He deserves it.”
I blink rapidly, trying to clear my blurry vision.
“No, not that. I mean the engagement. You don’t have to marry me because I know you were just saying that to convince the social worker that I’m not a prostitute. I don’t expect you to marry me just to keep social services off my case. I appreciate it,” I say, taking a deep breath as my heart cracks, “but it’s too much. You don’t have to pretend.”
Damon gently takes my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes, straight to my soul.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t say you’re my fiancée for the benefit of the social worker. I said you’re my fiancée because I want to marry you. That’s probably the only thing good that’s come out of Matt’s freak out. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and his actions spurred my proposal, although I agree, it wasn’t very romantic. I love you honey, and I want to marry you.”
I gasp, my eyes going wide.
“You do?” I ask in a trembling voice.
“These past months with you have been the best months of my life, Christine, and I’ve fallen deeply in love with you. I can’t imagine spending even one day without you and Paddy by my side,” he says, looking down at our son. “This boy’s the bomb. I already love him so much and I meant it when I called him ours because he is my son. I want it to be official. I want to marry you and adopt Paddy. I want the three of us to be a family, so what do you say, honey? Will you make me an honest man?”
My smile is so big that my cheeks hurt, but it’s the best kind of pain that exists. I burst into tears again, but they’re the kind of tears I live for.
“Yes, yes!” I cry while leaning into Damon’s embrace. “I’d love to be your wife.”
He leans in close and presses his lips to mine before reaching down to stroke Paddy’s downy head again.
“Good,” he says in a voice thick with emotion, “because I adore you both and I’m keeping you with me always.”
Then, he’s kissing me again and my heart cracks open wide with love as our souls entwine. After all, I met Damon because of his fetish. The CEO has a kink for pregnant women, but little did he realize what he was getting when he agreed to a date through City Girls. Now, the billionaire has a fiancée, a son, and a new family all rolled into one.
Six months later.
Having a baby shower for a baby that’s already been born is a little out of step, but I guess we’ve kind of done things out of order from the very beginning. But it doesn’t matter because looking across the room and seeing my handsome husband cradling our beautiful boy, Patrick, makes this the best baby shower in the history of babies.
After all, my fiancé wasted no time after we got out of the hospital. Within a week, we were married at City Hall, and although it was just a small affair, it was absolutely perfect. I wore a simple, billowy white gown, and my man looked dashing in a grey suit. It was just the two of us, the officiant, and the photographer, but now, we’re throwing a party to show off our new son.
People mill about the penthouse, eating snacks and drinking champagne as kids scamper to and fro. Damon’s got Paddy cradled in his arms as he talks with various guests, and I swear they look like twins. Even if they’re not biologically related, Paddy’s got Damon’s dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. They could be father and son. Or rather, they are father and son.
Even better, Matt’s out of our lives for good now. I have no idea how that asshole figured out that I used to work with City Girls, but I don’t care anymore. We haven’t seen or heard from him since that day at the hospital, and clearly, he doesn’t care about Paddy at all. He signed away his parental rights without a peep, and now, Damon’s in the process of officially adopting my boy.
“You guys really do make a beautiful family,” a voice sounds from over my shoulder. I turn to look at Hannah, the social worker from the hospital, and smile.
“Thank you. I love them both more than I thought possible. If you’d asked me even nine months ago where I imagined myself, I never would have thought it’d be here.”
In a funny turn of events, Hannah has become a friend of ours, and that’s why she’s at the shower. Even though our marriage put her concerns to rest, there were still a few home visits she had to do in order to close the case. Her sessions turned into conversation over tea and snacks, and we talked and laughed and got to know each other. I even went so far as to tell Hannah about my start with City Girls, and although she was scandalized, she was also very accepting and non-judgmental. Now, Hannah and I talk almost every day, and the pretty brunette comes to visit Paddy as often as she can.
But then I catch Hannah watching Patrick with a peculiar look on her face, and my sixth sense goes off. She’s utterly radiant today, and my head quirks to the side with interest.
“Something on your mind, girlfriend?” I query.
She turns back to me and smiles.
“Yes, sort of.”
I lean over closer so that only Hannah can hear.
“Are you pregnant? You’re glowing right now.”
My friend flushes bright pink, but she nods while biting her lip.
“Yes. OMG, I didn’t think anyone could tell.”
“I think it’s a mom thing since I was just in your shoes not long ago. How are you feeling?”
Hannah takes a deep breath as one small hand goes to slip over her belly.
“Well, I’m happy I’m pregnant because I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but it’s a tricky situation because it’s my ex-boyfriend’s baby, and we’re not exactly on good terms anymore. He was such a lout and to be honest, I don’t want anything to do with him. But I guess we’re kind of bound together forever now, aren’t we? I mean, now that I’m having his kid.”
I nod thoughtfully.
“Yes, but distance can definitely be achieved. I mean, you know about me and Matt. He signed away his parental rights without a peep, and now we never see him.”
Hannah nods, looking dejected.
“Yeah, and I know that’s what’s best for you guys. But still, the situation is depressing because you know I don’t make much as a social worker, and Manhattan is really expensive! What am I going to do?”
Unshed tears shimmer in Hannah’s eyes and I grab a tissue from the coffee table to pass to her. I smile gently.
“You know there are ways,” I say.
She sniffles again.
“You mean, find another man asap?”
I throw my head back with laughter.
“Yes, but also City Girls is an okay option, if you’re open to it of course. They do take women who are expecting.”
Hannah looks up again, still sniffling.
“I know, because they took you when you were deep into your pregnancy. Still, it seems crazy!”
“It seemed crazy to me too, but expectant mothers command a premium, making it an attractive route.”
The pretty social worker bites her lip hesitantly.
“I’m going to have to think about it.”
I slip my hand gently over hers.
“Of course, and in the meantime, things are going to work out. Trust me.”
Hannah looks up, still blinking with tears. “You think so?” The hope in her voice is palpable.
“I really do. I’ll share more with you later, but just relax for now, okay? Enjoy the party.”
She smiles and gives me a hug before slipping off to use the bathroom, and then Damon strides over with Paddy in his arms.
“Hey babe,” he says with a worried frown. “Everything okay? I thought I saw Hannah crying.”
“Everything’s fine, don’t worry. How’s this little fella?” I ask, tickling Paddy under the chin. The baby yawns sleepily and then promptly falls asleep. Damon leans forward to kiss my cheek.
“The little stinker’s doing well, but how are you? How’s my wife holding up?”
“Pretty good aside from the huge mountain of sardines I sprinkled on top of my bowl of chocolate ice cream.”
My man looks revolted for a moment, but then his eyes light up.
“Baby, are you saying what I think you are?”
“Yes,” I laugh. “I’m pregnant again! Baby number two is on his way.”
My gorgeous husband pulls me close and kisses my mouth passionately.
“I guess this means you’re ecstatic,” I breathe when we finally break apart. “You love being a dad, don’t you?”
Damon nods while cradling Paddy close.
“I do and I’m incredibly happy, honey. This is the best news ever and the perfect ending to our first baby shower because we’re laying the foundation for a second one … and then a third…and then a fourth.”
I raise my brow and stare at Damon.
“Wait a minute, is this all part of a diabolical plan? To keep me pregnant forever so you can make love to a pregnant lady as much as you want? I know how much you adore a woman’s body when she’s expecting.”
His blue eyes dance as he leans forward to seize my mouth with his own again.
“I do adore the body of an expectant mother, don’t I?” he whispers so that only I can hear. “It’s a fetish of mine, with the huge breasts, heaving tummy, and thick, soft thighs. So yes, I do want to keep you pregnant constantly… for at least ten years.”
I stare at him.
“Ten years? How many children is that?”
He merely smirks and shrugs while cuddling Paddy in his arms.
“Maybe seven or eight. Or even more, if we get lucky with twins. What do you say honey?”
With that, I merely laugh and wrap my arms around Damon’s shoulders for another intense liplock because I’ve been aware of my husband’s predilections from the very beginning. He adores women who are fertile, and he especially worships me when I’m creamy, round, and with a baby in my belly. But what Damon doesn’t realize? That I love his particular kink, and that I want a dozen children until our hearts are full.