Daddy: A Billionaire Baby Romance

by Katy Kaylee

  She let out that same squeal she had made in my office, the one that made me feel like a warrior taking his conquest to his tent, and she wrapped her legs around my waist to support herself.

  “Good girl,” I growled into her neck, still holding her bottom as I marched towards my bedroom door.

  It was still cracked from that morning and I kicked it open, walking until I could deposit Bev on the bed. Although I set her down, I didn’t let go of her, and instead leaned over her once again with my lips pressed to hers.

  Her hands gripped my shoulders, fingers tensing and untensing against my suit jacket. I could tell she was nervous, and I did my best to assuage her fears by nipping and licking down her neck and then to her shoulders.

  The straps of her dress were in my way, but I pushed them off her to allow me to kiss more of her. I waited until I was at a patch of skin that wouldn’t show in her professional clothes before giving her a love bite that was just a taste of what I could do to her.

  She hissed, and my whole body throbbed at the sound.

  “Do you know what you do to me, sweetheart?” I growled right back, kissing across the other way before worrying another patch of skin between my teeth.

  Her fingers moved from my shoulders to the buttons at my shirt, but I gripped her wrists and set them gently down at her sides.

  “Let me take care of you, baby girl,” I murmured, voice low as I looked at her like the goddess she was.

  “But shouldn’t I-”

  “All you’ve got to do is let me show you all you’ve been missing,” I interrupted. As many times as I’d thought about her lips around my cock, or any other thing, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to make this night about her. “And if you ever need me to stop, you just say so, alright?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide, her pupils blown out and her mouth open in a faint panting. She looked like lust incarnate, and I was ready to revel in her sin.

  I reached behind her, sliding the top zipper of her dress all the way down until the fabric was sitting in a pool at her waist. She was trembling ever so slightly, but she didn’t seem even remotely inclined to tell me to stop.

  But still, it wouldn’t hurt to double check. I would throw myself off a mountain before I did a single thing that she wasn’t comfortable with. It was strange, but I only wanted goodness and comfort for the woman. I didn’t know much about her, but I knew that she had been handed far too much sour and deserved a whole lot of sweet.

  While I hadn’t been lying when I told her that I preferred only enthusiastically willing partners, I had never cared about any of my conquests like I cared about the woman staring at me. But I tried to not let myself think too much about that, because if I did, it might lead to questions that would ruin the moment.

  I pushed her back gently, just enough for her to lift off her hips a little and allow me to pull her dress down her legs and onto the floor. Then, once she was in just her underwear, I pulled her up and took a step back.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up and trying to cover herself with her arms.

  But I just shook my head and gently put her hands back down at her side once more. “Just admiring.”

  “You’re making me blush,” she said, and sure enough her cheeks were quickly flaring pink once again.

  I drank her up, taking in her long, flowing hair, her broad, proud shoulders, her full breasts that were nearly overflowing the cups of her bra. Her soft middle and the little fold in the center of it, just above her belly button. The pudge that settled onto her wide lap, thick thighs enticing me to touch her once more.

  “Can you blame a man for wanting to stare at a goddess.”

  “I’m not goddess,” she whispered, shivering as my hands reached around her to undo the clasp of her bra. Then, I hooked my fingers in the front center of it and pulled it from her form.

  I could see the red lines it left in her flesh, and I pressed my lip to the closest line. She let out another impossibly arousing little gasp, and I followed it all the way up to her shoulder, kneeling on the edge of the mattress so I could post myself over her.

  I kissed her all over her shoulders, collarbone and right down to the top of the swells of her breasts before finally pulling back again. Her perfect, bountiful chest was rising and falling with heated breaths and I wanted nothing more than to completely ravage her.

  Instead, my hands finally went to my own clothes, slowly baring myself to her. But I paid little mind to my own body, my whole brain caught up with how she looked spread out on my bed. Pale skin practically glowed against my grey sheets and her hair spread across the comforter like some sort of renaissance painting. She was a temple, a sanctuary, and I was more than ready to worship.

  Beverly

  Being made fun of for my weight my entire life had allowed me to build up quite the thick skin. I knew that I had a pretty face and that a section of the population liked my curves, so that allowed me to ignore most of the rancor that wanted me to hate myself. That confidence that I wasn’t a complete piece of shit just for being plus sized was part of what made my second foster mother not work out. She was borderline obsessed with my weight and tried diet after diet, which I never followed.

  But splayed out on Mr. Fitzgerald’s insanely comfortable mattress made me that much more acutely aware of my body and how much bigger it was than average.

  He was looking at me like he wanted to devour me, and I couldn’t help but shiver again. I had never been naked in this kind of context in front of another person and it was something else entirely. I felt my stomach clenching up like it had during my road test, and during my finals, and even during a lot of my interviews.

  Yet even with all that fear, I didn’t want to stop. I was so intensely turned on and keyed up that I felt I might explode if I didn’t find out exactly what all of my friends had gone on and on about in college.

  Thankfully I was distracted by some of my nerves by the strip show at the end of the bed. I wanted nothing more than to sit up and peel his clothes from him myself, but Mr. Fitzgerald seemed content with me being some sort of pillow princess.

  I watched as bit of bit of his tan, muscled skin was revealed to me. His shoulders were rippling with muscle as he removed his button up, and then his undershirt. When his hands went to his pants, I thought I might just combust there on the spot, but I managed to keep it together as more and more of him was revealed to me.

  God, he was ripped. Shredded to absolutely high heaven and I was once again struck with why someone like him would want to sleep with someone like me. But then his fingers were at the waistband of his boxer briefs and he was pulling them down his thick, muscled legs.

  Oh.

  Oh shit.

  His manhood was standing quite erect, it’s swollen, red head already glistening with moisture. It looked like the thing was straining against itself and I couldn’t believe that just seeing me laid across his bed had made him like that.

  He knelt on the bed again with one knee, his length bobbing like a threat or a promise I couldn’t tell, but then his other knee was on the bed and he was settling over me.

  I didn’t know what I expected, maybe for him to just shove it in and call it a day, but instead he just kissed me warmly, adoringly. The press of his lips to mine were so sweet that it was easy to forget that I was just his employee, and this was definitely a one-night stand.

  As his mouth kissed me senseless, his hands were on the move. They ghosted over my sides, barely touching but just enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. He kept going until he reached my hips, where he massaged my love handles gently.

  “God, you’re so soft,” he breathed into my mouth like a prayer.

  And maybe it kind of was, because the way he was treating me certainly made me feel holy.

  He shifted slightly and for a moment I didn’t know what he was doing, but then one of his hands slowly slid up my soft stomach, over my protected ribs, until it was gently encompassing one of my breasts.

/>   My breath hitched again, and I instinctively pushed up into his palm, feeling shocks of pleasure shoot down my spine. Holy hell, it never felt that great when I touched my own boobs, why did his caress make me feel like I was having a heart attack?

  I didn’t know, and I didn’t get an answer before two of his fingers took my nipple between them and gently squeezed.

  “Fuck!”

  I hadn’t meant to swear, but how could I not? The lightning bolt of pure pleasure that shot through me was like a freaking bomb and it was becoming even harder to breathe.

  “You like that?” Mr. Fitzgerald murmured against the side of my face as he kissed a path to my ear.

  I nodded and tried to answer, but the most I managed was a heady little whine. He seemed to approve of that sound, however, and pushed himself up just slightly enough so he could look at my face.

  I had to be an absolute mess at that point, with my lips kiss swollen and sweat starting to bead on my forehead. My hair was everywhere, and I wasn’t entirely sure that my cheeks weren’t literally on fire. But he looked at me like I was something perfect, and it was a bit intimidating, if I was honest.

  His fingers pulled at my nipple yet again, teasing and worrying at it until I was writhing against him. Just when I thought that I was being stretched tauter than a bow and couldn’t get any more tightly strung, his hand left my breast to slide between my legs.

  “Oh, oh my God,” I whimpered beneath him as his fingers slid easily through me. I could feel how wet I was, and it was vaguely embarrassing. Did it make me seem easy? Or desperate? I didn’t have enough experience to know, but judging by the groan that Mr. Fitzgerald let out, it wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

  “You’re a fucking dream, Bev,” he whispered hotly into the side of my neck before his teeth caught me again. The dull bit of pain just intensified the impossible pleasure going through me, and I didn’t even think to worry about getting a mark that someone might see.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but then his fingers were at my apex, circling around that little button that was oh-so-ready to be touched.

  He teased me, winding around it over and over again until I felt like I might just go insane right then and there. Finally, just when I wanted to hit him in frustration, he put direct pressure on that bundle of nerves.

  I let out a wanton moan, head falling back against the pillow, but I could hear the smile in his voice as he talked.

  “That’s in, sweetheart. Let me take care of you. Just let go.”

  Oh, I wanted to, I did, but I felt like I was being wound tighter than a top, all the muscled in my body bearing down on a single point of sensation that was driving me utterly insane.

  Then his hand shifted, turning so that it was his thumb stimulating my clit. I didn’t get why the change was necessary until I felt a finger slide into me.

  “Oh!”

  There was a slight pinch, then a feel of slightly uncomfortable stretching. I tensed, and Mr. Fitzgerald was pressing gentle kisses all over my face.

  “Just relax,” he soothed, his finger gently pulling out of me before sliding in again. “Breathe for me, okay?”

  I nodded, drawing a deep breath in and then letting it out. Once I got over the foreign surprise of the pressure, it wasn’t that bad, and the pleasured throbbing from his thumb’s work quickly overrode it.

  “You ready to keep going?” he murmured, deep, dark eyes seeming to stare all the way through to my soul. “We don’t have to.”

  “Please,” I panted, my arms wrapping around his shoulder to try to yank him to me. “Please, keep going.”

  “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the side of my head.

  All I could do was hang on as he slid another finger into me. Now the pressure was more intense, and I found my lower half trying to bare down on his digits, as if I could push them out of my body.

  “You’re so tight for me, sweetheart. You’ve gotta relax, okay?”

  “How am I supposed to relax?” I panted, that hot rise of a climax burning towards me once more.

  “Like this,” he responded, applying more pressure with his thumb and curling his fingers inside of me while making a ‘come here’ motion.

  I didn’t know what he touched, but whatever it was felt like it caused an explosion inside of me, and then I was coming even harder than I had on his desk. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. Everything in the world vanished, leaving only the unadulterated waves of ecstasy that were shorting out my brain.

  “Shit, Mr. Fitzgerald! Shit!” I cried out between my wanton moans, no other words coming to mind. He held me until I finally let go of him and melted into a mess on the sheets.

  “You can call me Fitz at this stage of the game.”

  “Oh, so this is a game then?” I wheezed, feeling like a sack of putty. I didn’t care what I looked like or how sweaty I was, I was far too blissed out. “In that case, new high score.”

  He laughed slightly then pulled away from me enough to lean over the side of the bed. I just watched him, only vaguely curious, until I saw him pull a condom from his nightstand.

  Oh. Right. Safe sex.

  After all my thinking that I was a clever, put together woman, I had completely forgotten about protection. Thank God Mr. Fitzgera- Fitz- was experienced enough to keep his head about him.

  But if he had a condom, that meant that it was about to happen, right?

  He posted himself on his knees, his thighs on either side of my hips and his length was bobbing against my soft, round stomach. I didn’t think it was possible, but it looked even more angry and needy than it had before.

  I swallowed several times, not sure what to think, and then Mr. Fitzgerald’s gaze found me again.

  “Is this alright?” he asked, pausing with the golden foil packet still in hand.

  I looked from him to his erection, which was practically weeping for me. It made me feel a little intimidated, but at the same time a little powerful. I had done that to him, just by virtue of being attractive.

  Wow.

  “Isn’t it, uh,” I scrambled to find my words again. Geez, I missed the day when I was eloquent and snarky. “… a little big?”

  He grinned wryly at that. “It’s above average.”

  “And it’ll fit?”

  “If we’re careful,” he answered, his voice strained. “We don’t have to, though.”

  “But you’re already like this!” I objected.

  To my great surprise, he just shrugged. “My state doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to change your mind at any time and I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

  I looked up at him in wonder. “What about blue balls?”

  “A myth made up by weak men who have to pressure women to have sex with them rather than finding a willing partner.”

  I found myself swallowing harshly again. “You’re a lot more understanding than anyone else who’s tried to get into my pants.”

  He almost growled at that and suddenly he was kissing me again. When he pulled away from me, he looked so solemn that I wondered what I had said wrong.

  “Then none of those men deserved to even look at you. You owe your body no one, not me, not them. That’s what makes sex so intimate. It’s a choice between two people, not something you owe someone or a transaction.” He kissed me once more as if he was trying to make sure I got it. “That’s why it makes me so hot that you chose to share this with me.”

  “Oh,” I murmured, his words making me flood my panties yet again. “I think I’m ready.”

  “You think?” he murmured ruefully.

  “I am ready.”

  He nodded and sat back up again, tearing the little packet open with his teeth. I was still a bit too embarrassed to watch him put it on, so I closed my eyes until I felt something pressing against my entrance.

  …it felt a whole lot bigger than two fingers. My eyes flew open in worry but then he was doing that thing where he kissed me all over again.
/>   “Just breathe for me, sweetheart. Breathe and relax.”

  I tried to do as he said, but each time his hips slid forward it felt like he was trying to shove a soda can into me. The stretch was intense, and the burn was something else. I’d always had a high pain tolerance, but this was something else entirely. Something that made my toes curl and my heart skip a few beats.

  But the thing that kept me going was that it would only take a single word and I knew Fitz would stop right then and there. He wouldn’t pressure me to keep going, he would just listen and pull out and then that would be that.

  I held onto that idea as he kept going, pushing in bit by bit, the lubrication my body provided helping out a whole lot. I only let myself focus on breathing until finally, he stopped, his hips flushed to mine.

  “That’s it, baby girl, you’re doing so good for me. So good.”

  He held himself still above me and for a moment I didn’t understand why, but then he gave a little rock of his hips that caused a wave of discomfort through me.

  “Ow,” I murmured.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself adjust. I won’t move again until you’re ready.”

  And the crazy thing was I absolutely knew that he wouldn’t. He would wait there until the world ended if I made him.

  And that idea was so utterly intoxicating that I felt myself relax.

  Sure, the feeling of being stretched wide open was weird. Alien. Uncomfortable. But with each second that passed, with each kiss that he pressed to my skin, I felt that pinch turn around until it was something else entirely.

  I couldn’t say how many minutes had passed, a handful, maybe more, but after long enough there was a strange sort of need in me. Like I had been filled but that wasn’t enough. It wanted movement. I wanted stimulation.