Have My Baby: Baby and Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  Chapter Sixteen - Skye

  I couldn’t quite move properly. Not at first, anyway. My nerves had recovered from the previous night’s activities, but my muscles hadn’t.

  Forcing myself to get up off the couch, I gathered the scattered clothes and went up the stairs to my room. After dumping the stuff in the laundry pile, I looked for something to wear.

  I put my bra on but decided not to wear panties. The decision was partly practical. I couldn’t imagine having anything close to me down there— I was so sensitive after how good Simon had made me feel.

  But it was also for experience. I’d never really gone ‘commando’ before and was curious as to what it felt like. Not dumb enough to go walking through a winter wonderland with my nether regions unprotected, I wriggled into some comfy yoga pants before pulling a woollen skirt up over them and putting on my socks and a sweater.

  I didn’t look particularly fashionable, but I would be warm, which was much more important in New York in December.

  Doing up my Nordic hiking boots, I cocooned myself into my Russian style overcoat and set out into the polar vortex in search of the bus stop, feeling a lot like Robert Falcon Scott.

  Even on such a dreadful winter day, the bridge looked beautiful. And that was with the stalagmite-like icicles hanging from it, ready to perforate any boat that happened to pass underneath it at the wrong time.

  I’d really thought I’d made it. The bad news hit, as bad news so often did, when I least suspected it, which was just as I was stepping down off the bus into a passing ice flow. I’d been so caught up with Simon and discovering previously unexplored dimensions of my sexuality that I’d neglected to get a present for my Secret Santa recipient.

  Determined to fit in with the office culture, I set off in search of something. Finding a local drug store, I looked until I found a blank greeting card at three times the price of the highest-grade Hallmark card back home.

  With the expensive bit of cardboard tucked safely in my pocket, along with its included envelope, I trudged to the café. Fueled by a small hot chocolate with whipped cream, I got out my best pen, which was still nowhere near as beautiful as the pieces that Simon used, and I composed a poem.

  Playing it safe, I stuck to inoffensive and mostly generic winter and wilderness imagery, rendered with poetic flourish. Even with the slight set back, I managed to make it across the street to the office with ten minutes to spare, always glad that I was the type to be early.

  Sam had the book ready for me to sign as I arrived at the security desk. I nodded and he winked. It was good to have allies.

  I got past Inga without a peep. I was beginning to wonder if she ever actually left her desk. I’d never actually seen her legs. Could she have been an urban mermaid of some kind?

  Then I set about my mission to get the poetical card on my target’s desk without him noticing. I snuck my way to the cubicle without anyone really noticing. With my poetic stylings safely on the desk of my intended audience, I went to my own cubicle to see what Simon had in store for me.

  Shock held me paralyzed. There was nothing. At least not what was nothing that wasn’t supposed to be there. The space in front of the computer where the first three gifts had been were now as empty as the feeling in my stomach.

  Explanations spun in my head. The most logical, although upsetting, was that he regretted what we had done. To be fair, there was an age gap, and he was in a position of power over me at work.

  But, I argued mentally with myself, the gap wasn’t that big, I was old enough to make my own decisions and everything we’d done had been completely consensual. Plus, Simon had gone a long way to build my trust in him. Despite the short time we had known each other, I trusted him completely, and felt certain that he only had good intentions and that he would never harm me.

  Just as I was trying to think about how I was going to live without him if Simon really was gone from my life, another notion hit me.

  What if he hadn’t come into the office at all?

  This possibility was more than enough to drive me to get the current book finished and the analysis is typed up. I needed an excuse to go see him, and check on whether or not he was actually here.

  Lunch rolled around at about the same time I’d finished the assignment. I had never typed an analysis so fast. With about forty minutes to spare on my lunch break, any semblance of appetite long ago leaving me, I went to Simon’s office and knocked on the door.

  There was silence.

  I waited a while, shifting a bit from foot to foot. Trying the knock again, I was faced with the same stony silence.

  The office was in such a position that Simon was able to come and go without anyone in the cubicle farm noticing. This gave me just a little bit of hope. Hope that he hadn’t even come into work that day, rather than thinking that he was snubbing me. It was just possible I was making something out of nothing.

  Feeling much more relieved, I went back to my cubicle to surf the net for the rest of my lunch break, ready to keep going until Simon came in. Handing in the analysis was my last job of the day, of course.

  I gave a thought to emailing it to him, which he had said was the normal custom. At least then there would be a record of me finishing it. The only problem with that plan was I wouldn’t be able to see him. As well as the fact that there would be a record of it, and strictly speaking, I shouldn’t have been given more work according to the company’s policies.

  It shouldn’t matter too much, Simon having broken the stupid rules before, but it could also show favoritism on his part because he only had only given me more work, and not other editorial assistants who may have finished their prior assignments early. In our precarious position, any kind of scrutiny wouldn’t be good.

  Despite my impatience, Simon never came. I waited right up until Ingra was getting ready to lock up for the night. At least I knew, almost for sure, that Simon had never showed up at all, rather than thinking he had been hiding in his office.

  I was out of the building by the time I finally got an answer as to whether or not he was going to come in at all.

  “Skye.”

  I turned so fast I nearly got whiplash, fairly sure I was hallucinating as I saw Simon approaching me. He must have been waiting by the stairs for me to come out.

  “Simon.”

  “Hey,” he said, lovingly.

  With a quick look around for anyone we knew, Simon embraced me, giving me the most warm and tender kiss.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t come in today. I hope I didn’t scare you. I was shopping all day, looking for just the right gift.”

  He slipped the nicely wrapped package carefully into my pocket, acting all coy and super spy.

  “Don’t open it now,” he whispered.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Would you like to come to my place for dinner?”

  “Yes, please, sir,” I said, nearly crying with relief.

  He kissed me again, quicker this time, and took me by the hand, leading me to his nice warm car.

  Chapter Seventeen - Skye

  I was overwhelmed by a flood of feelings, all of them good. Everything was fine between me and Simon, great even. I was back in his luxurious car, the soft leather creaking under me.

  Despite being a rich guy with a fancy car, he didn’t seem to think it put him above the law, or at least not that I could tell. He drove defensively, taking the safest option in every situation.

  I had to wonder if that was at least partly because I was his passenger. Not that I thought he would be a speed demon normally. But I just like the thought of me being his precious cargo.

  Feeling spontaneous and full of cheer as we whizzed past stores decorated for Christmas, I kissed him on the cheek. He didn’t look, but he smiled as I settled back into my seat.

  When we got to his place, I saw that it was a fucking mansion. I had no idea there was enough space left on the island to have a house that siz
e, but apparently, there it was.

  Technically it was a townhouse, but it was the biggest townhouse I’d ever seen, constituting three entire floors of wow. As we scaled the stone steps to the fancy front door, I felt Simon put his hand on my lower back, possessively.

  I smiled as a little thrill went through me. I thought of myself as being his, but was glad that he seemed to see it that way, too. Frankly, I would have let him carry me in if he’d felt so inclined.

  The place even smelled good. Like cinnamon and after shave. Manly, but still welcoming, in no way offensive to my nose. If anything, it made me want to stick around. Not that I would have wanted to leave otherwise, of course.

  Helping me with my coat, Simon hung it on the honest to goodness coat rack hanging next to the door. It looked like something out of a black and white movie. Our coats taken care of, he assessed the rest of my outfit.

  “Cute,” he said.

  Taking off my boots, as well as his shoes, he took my hand, leading me into the dining room and sat me down at the table, actually pulling the chair out for me, and pushing it back in. I was already so wet that it was a struggle not to squirm.

  It was arousing enough just to be around him, never mind him being so damn gentlemanly and casually touching me. I loved it and would honestly take any touching he saw fit to give me.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he suddenly said, causing me to feel disappointment.

  I couldn’t imagine where he was going.

  To call a takeout place, maybe?

  He had invited me for dinner, so I assumed there would be food at some point.

  The sounds were strange at first. Rhythmic tapping, as though metal on wood. Of course. He was chopping veggies.

  Simon had invited me to his house for a dinner he was going to make himself. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was still awake. The pain mixed with my elation as the distinctive sound of an oven door opening echoed through the house.

  “What are you making?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  “Pizza,” he said, popping a bottle of wine from the nearby rack.

  “You can make pizza at home?”

  “Ate lots of take out as kid?” he asked, not unkindly, setting a glass of wine in front of me.

  “No, but when we did it was pizza. I’m not really old enough to have wine, by the way. The bottle at my place had been there when I moved in. I was trying to impress you.”

  “Ah, gotcha,” he said, dumping my half glass into his and making a full one. “To answer your question, yes, though to be fair, it can be difficult to do well in a domestic oven. Most pizza ovens, which are a very specific design, have what’s called a heating stone. You can get those for regular ovens now though. Otherwise, it’s important to set the heat high enough. I mean really high, like 450, or around there.”

  “Interesting. Where did you learn how to cook?” I asked, curious.

  “At my grandma’s side. She’d tell me how to set the oven for different dishes before I was tall enough to reach the knobs. I never forgot. She wanted me to be self-sufficient in the essentials of life, so I learned how to cook all my favorite foods, as well as how to wash and fix clothes. I didn’t think she was suspicious about my ability to get married but she wanted me to be independent just in case.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said.

  “I also wouldn’t want to put all of that on my partner anyway,” Simon continued. “I think she knew that. I have a thing about being the driver of my own bus. Not liking to have to rely on anyone else.”

  I wanted to say something, but nothing came readily to mind. Besides which, the smell of the pizza had started to capture most of my attention. The scent was wonderful. Real gourmet stuff. My tummy started to rumble just from catching a whiff of it.

  “Patience, darling,” he said, playfully patting my tummy through my sweater.

  I couldn’t help but giggle, sparks crackling between us as our eyes met. An unspoken connection had been made.

  Before long, the pizza was done, just as Simon had promised. Another point in his favor, in terms of trust. Ordinarily I would have been scared about going to a guy’s house, no matter how well long I had known him, which wasn’t even all that long in Simon’s case.

  It didn’t matter, though. I felt a strong connection to him and wanted to be around him as much as possible.

  “Wow,” I marveled, as he set a truly lovely slice of pizza in front of me on an ironstone plate. “That looks delicious.”

  “Thanks,” he said, beaming.

  Once I took a bite, it was like an orgasm in my mouth. The pleasure center points in my little brain lit up like the 4th of July sky. I felt like a princess sitting in this fancy kitchen of this awesome house, eating the best pizza ever.

  Before long, the pizza was gone. I’d eaten my share and then some. I always loved food of pretty much any kind, but that was simply amazing.

  “Sorry,” I said, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “I really scarfed that down. I hope I left enough for you!”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I made it to be eaten.”

  As he said this, he lay a hand on my thigh.

  “Well, thank you,” I said. “It was so great.”

  I could feel the warmth of his hand through my yoga pants and I was getting super excited. I wanted him to touch me more but I didn’t dare ask.

  “Would you like dessert?” he asked, backing off.

  “Yes, please,” I said, my voice still barely a whisper.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  After what felt like an eternity, the sweet smell of fresh blueberry pie came into the dining room from the kitchen, followed closely by Simon.

  “My favorite,” I said, as he put the pie down in front of me, a blob of whipped cream on top.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said, giving me a tender kiss.

  I fought the urge to blush. I reminded myself that there was nothing wrong with the kiss and I refused to allow myself to be embarrassed. I loved what was happening and was determined to enjoy it.

  We ate in silence for a while, Simon’s eyes on me the entire time. After several moments, he took hold of my wrist, stopping me lifting more bites to my mouth. Placing his other hand on my cheek, he turned my face toward him and licked away the pie filling I hadn’t noticed that I had gotten on there.

  I thought maybe he was going to put his tongue in my mouth. My excitement mixed with anxiety. I wasn’t the best at making out because I hadn’t had much practice— just a couple geeky guys I’d tried to date in high school— but I was willing to try, just hoping he would be patient with me.

  Rather than going for a kiss, though, he went back to his pie. He finished most of it. Even with my appetite and love of blueberry pie, my progress was slower because I was still full from the pizza.

  “You can open your gift now,” he said, taking his plate into the kitchen.

  Like a shot, I was up and out to the front hall, getting the gift from the pocket of my coat. Then I was back at the table, meticulously deconstructing Simon’s careful wrapping job as he returned from washing the dishes.

  Inside the wrapping, I found a box that looked like it would hold a necklace. It wasn’t a Tiffany’s box, but was still fancy, nonetheless. The lid opened with a characteristic creak, slowly revealing what was inside.

  The problem was that I didn’t recognize it at all.

  “What is it?” I asked, trying not to be rude.

  “They’re nipple clamps,” he said placidly.

  I’d never even heard of such a thing, but I could guess what they were for, based on the rather specific name alone.

  “Would you like me to show you?” he asked, touching my thigh again, this time under my skirt.

  “Yes, please, sir,” I managed to get out, slightly surprised he was able to hear me.

  Withdrawing his hand from under my skirt, he pulled my sweater up over my head. I lifted my arms to help him out
. Caressing his way down my neck and over my shoulders, both his hands dipped down behind my back. He had my bra unfastened and off in one, smooth motion.

  “Wow,” I whispered, despite myself, still having trouble doing it on my own.

  His hands moving down to my sides, Simon stood me up from the chair, and took down first my skirt and then my yoga pants, folding them up and putting them on the chair next to him the other way, where my sweater and bra already sat.

  In lieu of taking down my non-existent panties, Simon traced his skilled finger down the front of my pussy, making me hum.

  Leaving it there, for the moment, Simon sat me back down onto the chair. Starting out with gentle, closed-mouth kisses, Simon soon worked his way down a familiar path. Lips to neck, neck to upper chest, upper chest to breasts.

  Taking his truly sweet, wonderful time, he applied tender loving care to one nipple and then the other, alternating with a bevy of different sucking, licking and nibbling styles, all of them great and coaxing my nipples to full attention. Keeping up the stimulation with one hand, nearly making me cum again, Simon reached over with the other, bringing the nipple clamps tinkling into view.

  “They’re a beginner model,” he said, opening the first of them, “so they don’t go on nearly as hard and are lightly padded so that it isn’t metal on flesh.”

  I smiled so he knew I’d heard him, and that I was honestly ready for anything he wanted to do to me, trusting him not to harm me. I probably should have said something, but I could no longer find my words.

  I gasped at the touch of the first clamp. It hurt while it went on, but I soon got used to it. It felt like the constant, if gentle, pinch of a hand. Caressing my back the entire time, Simon put on the other clamp, the two joined by a glinting, silver chain.

  “How’s that, darling?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I confirmed. “It hurts a little, but I like it.”

  He kissed me on the cheek in approval, filling me with pride. I felt like I’d passed the test, despite not being sure that giving me a test had been his intention. It was more like a test I was giving myself. It was important to me to be a good girl for him, and I was thrilled to be able to do that for him.