Have My Baby: Baby and Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  “Bigger on the inside,” he said with a smirk.

  His choices made, Rhys secured the most dangerous of artifacts in the depths of his most secure case. The protection sigils carved into the front of the pure silver latches. The better to keep the magic in.

  Like thunder across a prairie sky, my stomach rumbled, tugging me out of the story. ‘Better than food’ might work in hyperbole, but not so much in practice, and despite my reluctance to pause in my reading, I knew it was time to take a break.

  I’d always heard the kitchen was the most social room in any house. It seemed to me like it should have been the bedroom, that was likely a different kind of ‘social.’ Still, when it came to togetherness, I couldn’t really argue. I’d mostly grown up in the kitchen. Learning how to cook at my grandmother’s knee.

  “This will come in handy when you’re married,” she would say.

  I would agree, not really understanding the implications. Very few of the women in my family worked. Those who did were regarded as a little bit weird. To be fair it was the mid-1990s and we lived in a rural part of rural Spain where television was considered a radical new technology. I was 22 before I saw an episode of Seinfeld

  The skillet was heavy and familiar in my hand. The very same one I’d used to learn on, Grandma leaving me her entire cooking set in her will. I didn’t know if she meant it that way, but I could hardly fry an egg without thinking of her.

  Things were getting serious with the book, and I knew something a bit more substantial than an egg would be required, however. Fortunately, fast fry was one of grandma’s specialties. Something she was more than happy to teach me. On the off chance my future husband wanted something quick. At least in the food department.

  Plate loaded up with greasy goodness, I returned to my home office ready to multitask. Filling my mind and my belly at the same time. If I accidentally stabbed my self in the gums with the fork on occasion, so be it.

  It was an angle to make Pythagoras dizzy. It didn’t seem right for a hill to be so steep, but it was still only the fifth strangest thing Rhys had seen that morning. His primary concern at that moment was for the Emperor, the old Bentley’s suspension not what it had once been. Despite being technically street-legal.

  “Watch me soar,” Rhys whispered.

  The Bentley wafted into a spot in the long term parking. His foot nowhere near the gas.

  It was a pleasant scent, familiar. Like cookies cooling on a counter. Rhys hadn’t been expecting to detect magic on the ferry. The rules were clear that it was for mortals, paras arriving by portal. Not that he was one to freak out over the unexpected.

  Following his nose, the smell, similar to cooking mushrooms, getting stronger with each step, he spotted the source.

  She was beautiful. Dark and exotic, dressed modestly in a peasant dress and sandals. Her eyes closed as she seemed to draw. Most would wonder how that was possible. Rhys recognized her instantly as an Oracle. One of the subtler para subsets, connected to mind witches, it was usually very easy for them to pass as mortal. Particularly if they were raised has human. He had no intention of outing her.

  The submarine sounds pulled me back to the real world. Very much against my will. My attitude to the interruption softened, however, when I saw the name on the alert.

  “Hey, rebel girl.”

  “Maya! I thought you were in Rome.”

  “Oh, I was. Turned out to be a bore. I skipped to Amsterdam for a couple of weeks and decided I might as well come back.”

  Maya Domingo was my best friend by default. We never officially decreed each other as such. Not even when we were younger, but we didn’t really have to.

  We’d grown up together, her house next to mine in our old neighborhood in Catalonia. A key point of overlap, and the basis of our relationship, was a shared sense of wanderlust. One that entailed an interest interest in English.

  We could certainly be hardheaded in some ways. Despite my lack of computer, let alone the internet, Maya’s parents never denied her anything. No matter how strange it might sound to them.

  So, when their little princess said she wanted to learn English, they got her the best, non-digital system they could find. Internet connection not a problem for the Domingos. Many where the hours we would spend in her room, deciphering the strange looking symbols and sounds until they made sense to us. There were many advantages to being two of the few English speakers in town.

  One of the greatest advantages to the alien tongues was that it served as a sort of code. Keeping our secrets from our parents as well as our classmates. More than once we embarrassed a teacher who intercepted a note we’d passed with the intention of reading it out to the class. Most of them stopped trying after a while.

  “How’s the job search going, working girl?

  “You could make me sound less like a prostitute,” I giggled.

  “Right, sorry.

  “It’s stopped actually. I’m still a bit dumbfounded, but I got a post at Boucher Books.

  “Boucher, as in Hugo Boucher?

  “The same. He even sent me the acceptance himself.

  If there was one word to describe Maya Domingo, it would be unaffected. She never put up any sort of front, what you saw was what you got. I also had no memory of her getting flustered. Yet, in that moment, she gasped.

  “It’s not that strange,” I said, her reaction confusing me.

  “You know he’s been in hiding, right?”

  “Like from the police?

  “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. Thought maybe he pulled a Polanski or something.

  “Not that I know of. No one really knows for sure, what happened. He just disappeared one day, about five years ago. The rumor is he’s living at his vineyard upstate. Runs the publishing house over email.

  Just when I though Hugo Boucher couldn’t get any more mysterious and fascinating, Maya goes and tells me that.

  “Interesting,” I stammered hoarsely, trying to hide my surprise.

  “Kinda sexy though, yes? Makes him even more mysterious.

  I couldn’t admit it right then. My trained shyness getting in the way of my natural curiosity. If I was honest, even only with myself, Maya was absolutely correct. It wasn’t much of a surprise to me that he disappeared.

  He’d always been media shy, even at the best of times. I always thought it was to maintain his mystique. Maybe he just genuinely disliked the attention. He would hardly be the first. Plenty of creatives withdrew from public life.

  As much as a contradiction as it might sound, building fame only to hide from it.

  “Do you think you’ll get to meet him?”

  “I doubt it,” I said, my hopes deflating a little, “I mean, I’m just a lowly newbie.”

  “I dunno. You’re pretty sexy, hon. He might want to whisk you away.”

  “That’s crazy talk,” I denied, a distinct heat raising in my cheeks as I laughed, “I work remote, he’ll never even see me.

  “You sent in your picture with your application, didn’t you?

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Just saying, don’t count anything out. I never do.

  Wasn’t that the truth. Still, I couldn’t really criticize, Maya always seemed to land on her feet.

  “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  “See that you do.

  A note alert came up out of nowhere. The little alert popping up in the lower corner of the phone screen.

  “Duty calls?” Maya asked.

  “So it would seem.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a giggle before hanging up

  Sound advice indeed. Switching gears to a more professional setting, I joined in the Slack group chat. Even though I didn’t actually remember joining it. It was all something of a giddy blur. Everything I did after receiving the acceptance was kind of lost to me, except by way of evidenc
e after the fact.

  The Slack group was all women. Not the oddest thing, but something I took notice of. Another similarity I’d picked up on was that they had all been there for at least two years. I was a bit surprised I was accepted into the group, being the new girl and all.

  As good as my English had gotten over the years, parts of the conversation were lost on me. Opening another window, I tried to keep up as things went by, translating any words I didn’t understand. Slowly, things became clear.

  The heat returned to my cheeks, joined by another heat considerably further down. My embarrassment collided with a deep desire. From what I now understood, Hugo Boucher wasn’t quite as reclusive as some people believed.

  Every year, he brought a single female employee to his vineyard to work on a ‘special project.’

  Even if I hadn’t read between the lines, the gossip from the others in the group made things clear, and I couldn’t help but feel an immediate stab of envy. They’d not only gotten to meet my idol, but they’d gotten to live my fantasy.

  They’d gotten to sleep with him.

  I didn’t honestly think I was even in the running, not least because I was so new, and it was deeply disappointing to think about. But after all, why would he pick me?

  Chapter Four - Hugo

  Everything was set. The table as well as otherwise. I liked everything to be just so. I didn’t think of it as being fussy, so much as organized. The ease flowed in my life, an argument in favor of the approach.

  There were still problems. As there were in every existence. At least I had the comfort of knowing I hadn’t created any of them for myself. The psychological set would, no doubt, have some fascinating theories on the roots of my need for order and control. Though the truth was much more boring and sad. Not the sort of thing that papers tend to get written about.

  The great room was on the small side, compared to other examples. Mostly named so in relation to the other rooms in the house. Sizable in its own right, built in an 18th century French vineyard style, it fell just short of a palace. Still more than enough for my needs, even with the in-house staff. Most of whom knew enough to keep out of the way. I’d honestly lost track of how many there were. I remembered there being ten, though it was anyone’s guess whether that was still accurate.

  The pattern on the rug pointed the way as I made my way down from my quarters. Winding down the levels, which seemed longer until they usually did, until I eventually touched down on the solid floor of the ground level. The plush, Persian carpeting gave way to smooth stone floors, the occasional rug still making an appearance here and there, mostly for show.

  Not that I particularly had anyone to impress. Other than the live-in staff, there were maybe forty people who had ever been to the vineyard. And the majority of them were kept under the strictest secrecy.

  It was a joyful day. The enthusiasm barely contained within me. Were it not likely to be considered a crime against humanity, I would have burst out in song. While painting and writing came easily to me, music definitely did not.

  The clocks had timed tortuously, counting down the teasing minutes until her arrival. I looked forward to meeting her face to face, and not only so we could get started. I’d been through so much conjecture. So many scenarios of how things might go. I wanted to know if any of them were correct. Or if the universe had something else entirely in mind for us.

  I had put in my best effort. Though any improvement was likely to be immediately noticeable, and more than likely shocking. The general state of affairs, particularly in terms of my appearance, could typically only be charitably described as ‘disheveled.’

  Freshly bathed with my hair combed, encased in a suit I hadn’t worn in literally years, I entered the dining room., resisting the urge to jig as I did so. I perched on my chair at the head of the table. Eyes closed and mind attuned. I could almost hear it as the limo approached. A physical impossibility, considering how well I kept it maintained, but a nice illusion nonetheless.

  The doors, I did hear. As well as two pairs of shoes as they approached the house, one set of footsteps slightly lighter than the other. She had arrived. It was time for the preliminaries to commence.

  She glowed like a goddess from a long forgotten religion. The candles caught her at just the right angle to create a soft halo around her silhouette.

  So this was Vega Alejo face to face. While I wanted to say something witty, something charming, my mouth went dry and my mind went blank at her approach, and the only words I could conjure were: “Please, take a seat.

  She sat down gingerly in the chair I’d pulled out for her. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” she says shyly

  “The feeling is mutual,” I replied with a smile.

  Vega looked up, her brown eyes wide in surprise, but her lips curling up into a smile both flattered and a little nervous.

  I know I’m being hasty, but I can’t help myself. “This project is on contract,” I said, sliding over a hard copy, “please read it over carefully and ask any questions you may have. You do not have to agree if you are uncomfortable.”

  She already knows what this “project” of mine entails. For the next two weeks, Vega Alejo was going to be my “Valentine.”

  Some might find the arrangement disagreeable, sleeping with my employees, but the women who come out are always informed beforehand, and willing. And Vega, at least from the e-mails I’d exchanged with her over the last few weeks, was more than willing.

  My initial instincts about her had been correct, and her work had been more than impressive, too. Something even in those simple digital correspondences with her had been enchanting, so I’d broken my own rule, and extended the prized invitation to her in spite of her newness.

  For an additional five, torturous minutes, she read the contract, taking care to go over each page, her lovely face unreadable until finally, a smile spread over her lips. “Do you have a pen?” she asked, looking up from the last page.

  Using the 1956 Waterman I always kept in my shirt pocket, Vega signed the contract, her hand gliding across the page like a figure skater.

  “When do we start?” she asked, replacing the cap to the pen like a punctuation.

  “Now, if you’re up to it,” I said, curious to see just how willing she is to dive into this

  Her eyebrows raised in surprise, but the excited sparkle in her eyes was unmistakable. “You don’t mince words, do you?

  I shrugged. “Do I need to?

  “No,” she admitted, “I know why I’m here.

  “Good. Stand up.”

  At my word, Vega got to her feet. Not so fast she knocked over the chair, nor so slow she prolonged my suffering. A simple straight, upward stroke, that let me see her in beautiful profile. Her chest and ass were the most prominent of her gentle curves. She had worn a dress to see me.

  Even if she didn’t particularly like them. Then tension in her shoulders betrayed this immediately. As an act of mercy as much as lust, I unzipped the back, letting it drop from her shoulders, falling around her feet. In spite of being exposed to a man she’d only just met, she honestly seemed more comfortable in just her underwear. Sheer white, soft cotton things. Virgin white. Speaking to her youth and inexperience

  The first touch was light. I didn’t want to shock her. A gentle hand on her shoulder, I watched and listened as I caressed her from behind. My other hand joining in the exploration as enjoyed her tender, untouched body. Easing her back so she was pressed up against me, I slid a hand down over the front of her panties, tenderly cupping her pussy through soft cloth. She let out a soft gasp but didn’t pull away. In fact, she arched back into me and her hips bucked against my hand

  Stroking the tips of my fingers inside the waistband of her panties, from hip to hip and then back again, I went down inch by inch. Kissing her on the neck as I did so.

  She did not sigh. It was more of a deflation. Her body relaxing, pressing back against mine as I caressed her s
ilken lips. Tender, yet rigid under my finger tip. Her clit, well closed off.

  I added another finger and eased her pussy open experimentally. Her lips barely moved, instantly returning to their previous position when I let go.

  Removing my hand from her womanhood, I looped both though the sides of her panties, easing them slowly down. Ending up on my knees beneath her as I lifted each of her feet, getting her panties free.

  Stroking both hands all the way back up the length of her, I undid her bra. Her full, firm breasts were liberated in short order. My hands explored her upper levels, sliding over the peaks and valleys of her chest, making her hum softly with gentle pleasure.

  She turned like a dancer. Smooth and tight. My hands on her ass, lifting her up onto the edge of the table. Vega moved with me easily as I lay her down flat. She propped her feet up on the edge of the table, giving me the most beautiful view. I ran my hands tenderly along her inner thighs to help calm her. Vega palpably relaxed as the reactions of her body synced with the intentions of her mind.

  Lowering my head as though to pray, I worshiped at her altar, devouring her sweet young pussy like a starving man and causing Vega to buck and moan beautifully in response. Her delicious responses only made me more emboldened. I reached up and held her hands with both of mine, Vega squeezing back with more intensity than I would have expected. I could tell that she was already getting close.

  She came so hard her whole body trembled, making the solid oak table shake. Were there any dishes setting places, they wouldn’t have been there long.

  I licked and kissed her pussy, still holding her hands as she returned to equilibrium. Her pussy relaxed considerably, while still remaining rather tight. Wetting a finger, I pressed the tip lightly against her vulva. Taking it slowly, I slipped my finger in inch by inch, stopping on occasion to give her time to breath. Eventually getting in up to her sweet cherry.

  “Good girl,” I cooed.

  Taking things very easy, I started to move. I slid my finger lovingly inside her, lightly brushing her clit on occasion, making her moan joyously with every instance. I was rapidly easing her towards another orgasm. Her hips moved along with me, in a gorgeous synchronicity.