#BABYFEVER: A Quintuplet Secret Baby Medical Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “Little girl,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got to have you.” And with a mighty roar, Drake stood and pushed into me, his ten-incher buried in me to the hilt.

  I screamed, my vaginal lips parting, cushioning that length, almost split in two by his magnificence. I’d never felt so filled than as at that moment, penetrated by my Daddy’s dong, riding his shaft to heaven.

  Like a drowning man, he took me with no mercy, possessed by demons within. His hips rocked furiously, pushing his dick into me again and again as my pussy was pummeled. The stripper in me exploded and I shrieked. “Ravage me, fuck my pussy, trash it, trash it.”

  The dirty talk propelled Drake to even greater heights and without missing a beat, he pulled out and shoved his dong into my anus. I screamed again, the penetration unbearable, like my ass had just been ripped apart by a massive poker. But Daddy didn’t stop. He just kept pushing until my sphincter gave in with an audible pop, and his rod was buried in my rectum, his balls snug against my ass.

  On the one hand, I was glad he’d pussy-fucked me first because his dick was coated in my juices, making the anal reaming more bearable, more tolerable as he picked up the pace. On the other hand, it was just so hard, so painful, to feel a monster in my butt, dicking me for all it was worth.

  But soon enough, my body relaxed and I was able to enjoy the dong pummeling my back channel. I felt my cunt begin to run again, the juices dripping down to lube his penis as it pounded my anus, and Daddy groaned with arousal, the cream a steamy aphrodisiac.

  “Fuck you’re dirty,” he rasped, and with a mighty roar, he came hard in my butt, releasing rope after rope of hot sperm into my anal chamber. His big body shook like an earthquake, and he held me tight to him as his penis erupted, jerking and twisting as the white spurted.

  I squealed too, my body convulsing on his rod, the hot friction making me orgasm. My pussy and anus clamped down, grabbing his dick, pulling the sticky sperm deeper into my body, welcoming the hot wetness as it sprayed.

  I sighed with satisfaction as I felt the final spurts pulse. Slyly, I reached down and squeezed Drake’s balls, making sure that they were completely emptied, that I’d milked him dry.

  “You’re such a little slut,” he murmured into my ear. “But you’re my little slut.”

  “Daddy!” I squealed, writhing in his grasp. “You’re the one who’s bad! What about all those people waiting still? They’re probably wondering where we are, and I don’t even have a dress to wear now,” I said, nodding at the torn scraps of red fabric on the floor of the car.

  “Baby, who gives a fuck what they think?” he rumbled into the soft skin of my neck. “They work for me, make them wait,” he moaned, as his cock twitched in me once again. “I’ve just rediscovered you, and I want to do it again … second times are always better,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

  And I smiled sweetly, clenching my bottom around his stiffening cock. Daddy was, and has always been, my love, my life, and this was only the beginning of our partnership.

  EPILOGUE

  Cleo

  After our abrupt departure, I can’t say that I was looking forward to facing the Hustler crowd again. I’m sure everyone was talking about the CEO of News Enterprises escorting a barely-clothed stripper out the door. And the hubbub of gossip was to be expected.

  “What the fuck happened in that room?”

  “Wasn’t Cleo Jones a stripper before?”

  “Did that whore just call Drake Markham ‘Daddy’?”

  The talk kept going for a while as rumors and lies swirled around us. But I just lay low, minding my own business. I’m not performing now, I let my stable of girls take the spotlight on CleoWorld, and the Donkey Club hasn’t come knocking, probably because of my changing body.

  That’s right, I’m pregnant … with Drake’s baby. Daddy had the vasectomy reversed at my request, and we weren’t sure if it was going to work, so I was ecstatic breaking the news to him.

  “Daddy,” I whispered, as his cock was still buried deep in me after another session of wild lovemaking. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Mmm?” he rumbled, his eyes still closed as his hands languorously traced my body.

  “I’m having a baby. He or she is due in July.”

  And his hands stilled immediately, although his eyes didn’t open.

  “Honey,” he rasped, “are you sure? You know it’s something that wasn’t guaranteed to happen, vasectomy reversals don’t always work.”

  “I’m sure,” I whispered. “I went to the doctor today and we saw the little one, heartbeat and all.”

  Drake swept me into his arms, burying his head in my neck, holding my curvaceous body close. “Cleo,” he ground out. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, you and this baby. Marry me?” he asked.

  I paused for a moment. “But you’re still married to Lorena.”

  That posed a difficulty. My mom was long gone but that didn’t mean that Drake was automatically divorced. Instead, we had to go through a lengthy process of trying to locate Lorena before going to court, and so far our investigators haven’t had any success. They’ve even gone to Lima, Peru, Lorena’s birth place, and talked to various Jones family members, but no luck yet.

  And so I grew large with our baby, basking in the loving, approving glow of Drake. We weren’t married yet, but will be once he gets a divorce. Did I feel bad that he was leaving my mom? Well yes, but Lorena had done such a trip on us that I just wanted her out of my life, and certainly out of my daughter’s.

  Because we know that the baby’s a girl, and Drake’s going to be a phenomenal Daddy. It’s ironic because I still call him “Daddy” sometimes, but he’s going to be my little girl’s Daddy for real.

  THE END

  BONUS CHAPTER

  Read about Drake’s wild past – a threesome with two nubile coeds when you subscribe to my newsletter at http://eepurl.com/cgt2DD.

  LIKED THIS BOOK? THEN READ THE VIRGIN SERIES

  The Naughty Virgin

  The Wicked Virgin

  The Dirty Virgin

  Delivering the Virgin

  Gifting the Virgin … coming soon!

  COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR

  Please find a bonus book, A Baby for the Billionaire, next. Enjoy!

  A Baby for the Billionaire:

  Having the Alpha’s Baby

  (Erotic Romance)

  © 2015

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Becca

  “Please Becca, for me?” my sister begged. I sighed. Our parents died when we were young, so I felt more like a mother than an older sister sometimes. Okay, maybe most of the time. But I was still grateful that the foster care system had never separated us because Trina was my only living relative.

  “Please?” Trina whined again, twirling her red hair, her eyes limpid blue pools. “The catering company called me last minute about this job, and I’ve had this salon appointment for months. It’s for my date with Caleb tomorrow, I need to look nice because we’re going to a really nice restaurant!”

  I sighed again. After aging out of foster care, we’d had to look for jobs immediately. Trina had gotten a job as a caterer, probably more based on her looks than any aptitude for serving others. She was eighteen and gorgeous. With luscious, fire-red hair and a smashing figure, she looked sexy in a maid’s outfit, complete with little apron. I’m sure the catering company made mad tips when Trina worked.

  And this guy Caleb. I sighed again. She’d met Caleb a few months ago at one of her jobs, which I’m sure was strictly against the rules. But rich guys are everywhere at these high-end events, and they’d struck up a “relationship.” I say that with air quotes because to me, Caleb and Trina were like two kids playing in love, with nary a care in the world. He’s the scion of some ric
h family, and had never had to earn anything on his own merits.

  “Trina, no,” I said exasperatedly. “I’m tired after working all day, and you’re only giving me two hours of notice. I can’t just drop everything to fill in for you!”

  “But Becca,” she said, big tears pooling in her eyes. “I think Caleb’s going to propose at the restaurant. It would be so horrible if I looked bad in the pictures!”

  I sighed again. God, she was dramatic. The thing was, they were both so impulsive that Caleb probably was going to propose … and they’d be married and divorced within a year. But I found myself caving in again. My little sister knew exactly which buttons to push.

  “Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “Just give me your outfit, I have nothing clean to wear.”

  “Thanks Becca!” she exclaimed, jumping up joyfully and giving me a hug. Of course, she was restored to happiness and light after getting her way … again. “I owe you a million. It’s a black-tie affair at the old Caldwell mansion, you’ll be in and out in a few hours, I promise.”

  I groaned internally again. Another fuddy-duddy black-tie affair where I’d be nothing more than furniture to the partygoers. Eff me.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Becca

  Oh shit. Trina’s outfit was ridiculous. We’re sisters, fraternal twins actually, but you’d never mistake us for one another. Trina got all the looks in the family. She’s tall and slender, with dramatic red hair and limpid blue eyes as clear as the sky. She’s often mistaken for a model or actress, someone with a dazzling future. I, on the other hand, have never been asked about a career in show biz.

  Sure, I have red hair too, but mine is more of a strawberry blonde, wavy and uncontrollable if I don’t give it a thorough brushing. Whereas Trina has blue eyes, I have caramel brown, and my nose has a sprinkling of freckles, my mouth too big for my pert face. Plus, I’m petite and curvy, if you know what I mean. So I was busting out of Trina’s dress in all the wrong places.

  The outfit was just too damn small for me. It was tight around the boob-section, hugged my ass and hips like a glove, and way too short just for starters. I tried to arrange the apron over the black fabric to be a little more decent, but that barely helped. The white frills reached mid-thigh at best, and the matching black pumps were borderline vulgar. Didn’t caterers usually have to wear sensible shoes?

  But what the hell, I just had to make it through a couple hours, and I had no suitable clothes of my own. I was a junior production assistant at the local TV station, and my wardrobe consisted of jeans and baseball caps most days. No little black dresses needed, no sirree.

  Sighing, I twisted my reddish blonde hair into a plait and placed the French maid’s cap onto my head, pinning it in place. I surveyed myself in the mirror once more, and gave another huge sigh. Trina was going to owe me big for this one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dominic

  I usually never went to these events, but the Caldwell benefit brought a grimace to my face. Some guttersnipe had hooked her claws into my younger brother Caleb, and I’d had a PI track her down. He’d said the slut would be working this function, and I planned on confronting her and sending her on her merry way.

  You see, we Phillips boys are constantly the target of gold-digging whores. Our money is old, our Long Island lineage esteemed, and the wrong girl has dollar signs in her eyes. Unfortunately, Caleb’s only twenty-one and hasn’t yet developed a radar for women obsessed by the family money.

  That’s where I come in. Caleb’s my younger bro by about fifteen years. When our parents died ten years ago, it’d been up to me to raise him. I’d put him in the best boarding schools, but made sure to visit as often as I could, developing a deep bond with my sibling. He trusted my word, his respect for me like a father more than a brother.

  But I hadn’t been able to get through to him with respect to this woman Trina.

  “How do you know her?” I’d asked Caleb.

  “I met her at a charity benefit,” he’d hemmed and hawed.

  “Which one?” I asked. “The Metropolitan Ball? The Zoological Society?”

  “Um, yeah the Zoo Society,” he said, but something about the way he said it told me he wasn’t being completely forthright.

  “Oh really? Is she from a nice family? Where did she go to school?” I’d pressed.

  “Well… um… she didn’t exactly go to college.”

  That wasn’t a problem. If you were artistic, college wasn’t a necessity. As a writer, I’d barely made it through Harvard myself, preferring to devote all my time to working on my first book.

  “Ok, well tell me more,” I’d insisted impatiently.

  “Fine … Trina was working the event,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.

  “She was staff?” I asked. “The host’s secretary? Personal assistant? What?”

  “She … she was the waitress,” he rushed out, still not meeting my eyes.

  Wow. So while on a job, a seductive server had managed to sink her claws into my impressionable younger brother. Ballsy. The worst part was that he’d completely fallen for it, hook line and sinker. But then again, at twenty-one, a guy’s not thinking with his brain … he’s thinking with his dick, if you know what I mean.

  But things had taken a much more serious turn recently.

  “Dominic, I’m going to propose to Trina,” he’d confided.

  “What?” I thundered. I’d never even met the girl due to my busy travel schedule promoting my latest book.

  “Yeah, I’m planning on giving her mom’s old engagement ring, you know the one with sapphires? I think she’ll love it,” he chirped.

  I was dumbstruck. At thirty-six, I hadn’t met a woman I even wanted to come close to marrying, and yet my twenty-one year old younger brother was about to throw away our mom’s ring on a worthless vamp. What the hell.

  “Think carefully,” I warned. “You’ve only known her … what, six months?”

  “Five,” he confirmed.

  “Then there’s no need to go so fast. You’re young, she’s young, what’s the rush?”

  “It just feels right,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I know Trina’s the one.”

  “Give it some thought, little brother,” I urged him. “Mull it over a bit.”

  “No, Dominic. This is it. She’s the one. I’m going to propose later this week.”

  Holy shit! This week? My mind spun into action.

  “Ok, ok,” I said, holding my hands up in mock defeat. “Completely up to you, I support you a hundred percent.”

  “Thanks!” Caleb grinned happily, a big smile on his innocent face. But I wasn’t so sure. I was going to prove once and for all that this Trina chick was just after our family money.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dominic

  I stepped into the ballroom at the old Caldwell Estate. The room was gorgeous, they’d filled it with flowers and candles, trying to raise money for children, cancer, animals, who knows. I didn’t care. I just had a mission to fulfill.

  Scanning the room, I watched as the staff finished setting up. I’d come fifteen minutes early on purpose because once the room filled, I’d never be able to find this tramp Trina. Trina the Tramp. That sounded about right.

  There were a dozen or so men and women clad in black, putting out vases of fresh flowers. I could hear clattering coming from another room, and no doubt there were folks in the kitchen preparing food as well.

  Slowly, I eyed the servers before me. Nope, none of them could be the famed Trina. The PI had told me she was striking, unmistakable with bold red hair and a pale complexion. There was no one here who fit that description.

  I made my way into the hallway, and peered into the kitchen. Nope, even through the hustle and bustle, I could tell that no one fit Trina’s description.

  As I turned away, suddenly someone bumped into me, the feel of soft breasts pressed against my chest arousing and unmistakable. A tray of drinks clattered to the floor, and the girl was immediately on her knees, tryi
ng to mop up the spill.

  “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, looking up at me from her prone position, futilely trying to wipe the floor with a napkin. “I’m so sorry sir!”

  I didn’t say anything because this girl had to be Trina. Wavy, golden-red hair was severely pinned back from her head, but that did nothing to detract from the perfection of her features. Big hazel eyes looked up at me, framed by long lashes, and she had a tiny nose and full, lush lips, perfect for kissing.

  Kissing? I shook my head in disgust. I was here to expose her for the gold-digger she was, not be put under her spell. But I could hardly tear my eyes away from the luscious, ripe figure under that ridiculous maid’s outfit. Huge, voluminous breasts swelled against the sultry vee of her décolletage, and an ample rear end was currently presented for my viewing pleasure as she tried to pick up the broken glass.

  “Stop, let me,” I ground out, pushing her away from the mess. “You’ll hurt yourself.” Her hands were small and white … what would they feel like on my body? I gave myself a mental shake again, disgusted with myself, and crouched down, using my handkerchief to pick up the largest pieces of glass.

  “Sir, please don’t,” she begged. “Management will be pissed if they see a guest cleaning up the mess. Please just let me, okay?” she said, reaching to take the shards from me.