Baby for the Beast

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Baby for the Beast Page 27

by Penelope Bloom


  She gives me a crooked smile. “What, so you thought I was a weak son of a bitch?”

  I chuckle. “No. I thought you were delicate.” I kiss her forehead. “You may be able to fight your own battles, but it doesn’t mean you can’t be pampered and spoiled from time to time--or all the time, if you let me.”

  She bites her lip and cuddles herself back into my arm. “I wouldn’t complain about a little pampering.”

  “Good,” I say abruptly. I lower my voice, which is a not-so-subtle way to remind her this request is coming from her dom. “Then go upstairs to the dark room. Get on your knees like before. You can leave your clothes on.”

  “Clothes on, sir?” she asks with a playful pout. “Are you sure?”

  I grip her cheeks with one hand, letting the faintest shadow of my amusement show through. “You wouldn’t question your dom, would you?”

  “No, sir,” she says.

  “Then go.”

  She hurries upstairs, glancing back at me with an excited smile before she disappears up the stairs.

  I had planned to wait a few more days, especially when I heard what happened today. But I can’t wait any longer. When it comes to my princess, I have the patience of a child.

  37

  Miley

  I wait in total darkness on my hands and knees. The larger, circular room outside was so dark when I came in, I couldn’t even see when I opened the door. So I did my best to crawl forward from memory, trying to get as close to the foot of the bed as I could. I’m wearing jeans today, which I hope won’t be too hard for him to get off in the dark, but I’m sure he’ll find a way. I have to admit I was hoping to see inside one of the other rooms next time he took me, but being taken in total darkness by him was such a thrill that I can hardly complain.

  It’s nearly five minutes before I hear the door open softly behind me.

  “You may be wondering why we’re using this room again before you’ve even seen the others,” he says. “But it’s because I have a surprise for you.”

  I raise my eyebrows, trying to imagine what kind of devious, kinky thing he could be hiding in the dark.

  I almost scream when his hand gently comes down on my ass.

  “Ah,” he says. “There you are. Now I need you to obey me exactly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  “Good. Crawl forward with one hand out-stretched until you feel the bed.”

  I do what he says a little awkwardly, almost losing my balance several times, but then I feel the comforter of the bed.

  “Now,” he says, “put your hand beneath the bed and feel around. Carefully.”

  I do as he says, sliding my hand along the soft carpet until I feel something cold and metallic. I frown in the dark, running my fingers over it and picking it up. “A ring?” I ask, heart already pounding.

  I clap my hands twice, jumping to my feet as I look at what’s in my hands.

  “Hey!” says Jayce. He’s grinning wide and chuckling. “You’re not supposed to clap on the lights yet.”

  “So punish me,” I say through a broad smile. “Is this what I think it is?”

  He comes closer, taking my wrists and kneeling. “Probably, unless you’re thinking it’s the prize out of a cereal box.”

  “That’d be some prize,” I say, eyes already watering.

  “Will you marry me?” he asks.

  “Oh, let me think about that for a minute…” I say sarcastically. I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around him and crying into his neck. “Yes. This is crazy, but yes.”

  “Crazy would’ve been waiting another minute to ask you, princess. Now let me see how this looks on you,” he says, gently pushing me back so he can slide the ring on my finger.

  I sigh down at it in disbelief. It’s obviously ridiculously expensive, but it’s not so big that I look like a trophy wife or a gold-digger. It’s exactly what I would’ve picked if price was no object. I just can’t believe he already asked me. “What if you don’t like the way I snore?” I ask. “Or how I can’t seem to brush my teeth without getting water spots all over the mirror?”

  He shrugs. “I’m a heavy sleeper, and I have a maid.”

  I give him a stern look. “A sexy maid?”

  “Hmm,” says Jayce, who makes a show of stroking his chin in thought. “I guess when he wears this one particular outfit, he does look pretty muscular.”

  “Oh my God,” I say, slapping his arm. “You seriously have a male maid?”

  “Yeah, his name is Jayce.”

  “Okay, now I know you’re lying. There’s no way you keep this whole place clean on your own.”

  “When I’m staying here, I do,” he says. “Cleaning is my stress relief. I enjoy it.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Are you sure someone didn’t make you on an assembly line somewhere?”

  “Hm,” he says, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “That’s a good question. Why don’t you give me a full body exam to look for a barcode.”

  38

  Epilogue - Jayce

  Three years later

  The entire house smells like Thanksgiving. As a self-proclaimed disaster in the kitchen, I let Miley, Leo, and Lysa cook up the feast while I was left on baby wrangling duty. Leo’s kids are content playing with the train set we have set up in the playroom, but Amelia is on some kind of mission where the only objective is to see how many ways she can almost off herself just before I save her. I lost count of how many times we narrowly avoided losing her today between the fact that she learned how to pull the child safety plugs out of the outlets and the unfortunate combination she has of loving heights and having no sense of balance.

  “Daddy chase me!” she says happily as she weaves through the house and shows no signs of tiring despite what seems like the marathon of a chase she has led me on.

  She has only really been talking for a few months now, but in the last few weeks it seems like she’s learning a handful of new words a day and even stringing them together into sentences. I haven’t gotten tired of hearing my little girl call me daddy yet. I think of how badly I thought I wanted her to be a boy and it seems unreal. I still want a boy, but I wouldn’t trade Amelia for the world. She’s my little girl, and if I had a boy like I thought I wanted first, we wouldn’t have her.

  I snatch her up and roll her into my arms, blowing raspberries on her belly until she giggles. “Hey,” I say, kneeling down and setting her back on her feet. “Go tickle mommy’s toes.”

  “Yeah,” whispers Amelia, who waddles off toward the kitchen.

  I only have to wait a few seconds before I hear Miley scream with laughter, followed shortly by Amelia’s giggles.

  It’s only a half hour later when we’ve all sat down for dinner and have the kids at their own smaller table in the playroom so they can wander around and eat at their leisure--because when it comes to Amelia, there’s no tying that little lady down in a high chair. She’s a roaming eater and there’s hell to pay if we try to take that freedom away from her.

  Leo and Lysa sit across from Miley and I, while Lysa’s mom, Rachel sits at the head of the table. Miley’s brother Kyle and his girlfriend are on the other end of the table as well. As usual, Lysa’s mom is glaring at Leo and I, but more of her glares go Leo’s way. I’ve gotten to know her through the few times a year we all meet up for holidays now, and despite having some overwhelmingly off-putting qualities, like her tendency toward name calling, glaring, crude jokes, and aggressive finger poking, she’s actually pretty nice to have around.

  “We going to eat?” asks Rachel, “Or are we just going to eye-fuck the food all damn night?”

  I cover my mouth, snorting out a laugh as Lysa gives her mom a look of disbelief. Leo doesn’t even look phased, which is a testament to how used to her he has become. Miley gives me a subtle bulge of her eyes before she reaches to plate herself some food with a barely hidden grin.

  Kyle nudges his girlfriend, who smirks up at him.

  After dinner, we pu
t on Aladdin for the kids, who surprise us by actually sitting down quietly to watch. Rachel literally fell asleep at the dinner table, where Lysa was nice enough to prop a pillow under her forehead while she sleeps off the bottle of wine she drank mostly by herself. I spend the entirety of the movie with Miley in my arms, running my fingers through her hair and across her back. I look between her and Amelia and think of how I never thought I’d deserve a life as good as this.

  “I love you, princess,” I whisper to her.

  She looks up at me with those big, gorgeous eyes that only seem to get more beautiful every day. “I love you too. Sir,” she adds with a flirtatious wiggle of her eyebrows.

  Fuck. I glance at the clock. Just a few minutes and we’ll be kicking everyone out so we can get Amelia to bed. Just a few minutes before I can take her upstairs, but I don’t think I can even wait that long…

  39

  Epilogue - Miley

  Jayce announces to everyone that we’ll be right back because we need to go clean up the kitchen before it starts to smell. It’s an odd excuse, given that we already cleaned up most of the food, but everyone is too drowsy to seem to notice or care. If Darla had been able to come, I’m sure she would’ve had some sarcastic comment right about now, but she’s still too obsessed with Matt, the dark haired EMT she met the night I got Cade arrested. She hasn’t made much time to hang out with me since they got together, but I can’t be too upset because she actually seems happy for once.

  Jayce half-drags me through the kitchen, where he shakes a pot in the sink around for a few seconds and then takes me outside on the darkened patio by the pool.

  “What are you doing?” I laugh.

  “Shh,” he says. We move outside and he doesn’t waste any time pinning me to the wall of the house, just out of view from the windows. “What I’m doing,” he whispers, “is fucking my dirty wife, who doesn’t know better than to tempt me.”

  I close my eyes and lean my head back because I know how he loves to kiss my exposed neck. Just like I expect, the warmth of his mouth finds my neck and takes my breath away. “God,” I gasp. “You always know exactly what I need.”

  “Quiet,” he growls. “I don’t want to have to fuck you in front of my brother, or yours.”

  I bite my lip to stay silent, but the idea that he needs to fuck me so badly even after he has had me so many times makes my heart flutter. “Then hurry up,” I whisper in his ear teasingly.

  He grunts, lifting me by my legs and pinning me harder to the wall. He pushes my dress up and pulls his pants down within seconds. In his hurry to have me, he just yanks my panties to the side and guides his cock in. I was worried I hadn’t had enough time to get wet for him, but as usual, I’m already soaked after only a few words and a few moments of contact.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, not even needing the extra layer of excitement BDSM brings, and apparently he doesn’t either. Over the last couple years, I’ve found that sometimes we both seem to enjoy just normal, vanilla sex--though it always feels miles beyond just sex with Jayce. Whether he’s binding me and punishing me or just holding me as he uses my body, there’s a tender, possessive quality to his touch that only gets more addicting with time.

  He treats me like his most prized possession, like the thing in the world he would do anything and everything to protect and keep. When I’m being held by him like this, even when he’s driving his length into me again and again, drawing my orgasm closer with every thrust, my world feels right. I can feel his love for me in the way his fingers thread through my hair and he never seems to stop caressing and touching me, exploring my body like it’s the first time he’s ever felt me.

  I’m his. He said it when we first met, and he has never stopped making me feel it. “Oh God,” I whisper. “I’m going to cum.”

  “I fucking love you,” he breathes into my ear. He tenses, filling me with his hot cum. My own climax comes as soon as I feel the kick of his cock inside me, making my walls tense and pulse, my whole body filling with a warm, fuzzy heat.

  I slump back as he pulls himself out and slides back into his pants. All I have to do is shift my panties and shimmy my hips to fix my clothes. “There’s something I want to tell you,” I say, barely able to hold in my excitement. “I was going to try to wait until I was more sure, but I think I know. It feels the same as it did last time…”

  Recognition sparks across his features. He frowns and smiles at the same time, lips parting into a confused smile.

  “We’re pregnant again. My period was due a few days ago and the tests are coming up positive already. I’ve already taken four.”

  Jayce picks me up like a sack of potatoes, throws me over his shoulder, and runs inside. I try to tell him to stop being a maniac and put me down, but he doesn’t hear me because he’s already shouting the news to everyone. “We’re pregnant!” he yells as we come around the corner into the living room.

  Everyone looks up at us, but Rachel is the first to speak. “I think you’ve got to give it more time than a few seconds to happen, hotshot.” She winks knowingly.

  My cheeks flush red to think that Rachel knew what we were out there doing.

  “No,” says Jayce, who’s clearly too excited to get her joke. “She already took four tests. All positive!”

  “I guess we’re telling everyone,” I say a little sarcastically. I’m not irritated though. I’ve never been much for keeping secrets like this--except when I thought Jayce was going to hate me for being pregnant, at least. I definitely didn’t keep it a secret when I got word that Cade was going to be behind bars for at least fifteen years because two other women came forward about the way he abused them. “Could you put me down now?” I ask.

  Jayce seems to realize he’s still hoisting me on his shoulder and eases me to the ground.

  “Baby?” asks Amelia.

  “Yes, sweetie!” I say scooping her up and hugging her tightly. “You’re going to have a little sister or brother.”

  “Brother,” says Jayce. “Definitely a brother. Or mommy’s not done getting pregnant.”

  Want more from this series?

  I hope you enjoyed Knocked Up and Punished. I’ve written two more standalone books in the “Knocked Up” universe, and book two even features Jayce’s brother, Leo. You can find both books here.

  40

  Bonus Content - Dark

  I’ve also included one of my standalone mafia books from the Citrione Crime Family series. Dark is technically the third in the series, but they can be read in any order. I hope you enjoy!

  She had my baby and now she’s mine.

  Women know I’m a bad boy. They know that they should keep their distance, but they never do. All they ever get is one night. The dirtiest, wildest, hottest night of their lives.

  Court appointed shrink Dr. Julia Connors shouldn’t have been any different. She shouldn’t have changed me. But she did.

  She asked me to tell her how I felt. All I wanted to do was lay her down on that couch and make her scream my name.

  She was the only one I ever wanted a second night with. She was the only one I couldn’t take it from. And when old rivalries flared, I had to leave to keep her safe…I had to break her heart.

  When my enemies find her, nothing’s going to stop me from coming back to protect her and the son I never knew I had.

  I made a mistake by letting her go once, but I never make the same mistake twice.

  41

  Julia

  I lean back in my office chair, looking at the wall where my credentials are on display. Julia Connors, PhD. Psychologist. I still remember hanging it proudly on the wall a year ago, thinking how my life was finally about to change for the better. I’d be able to buy a cocktail or go out to dinner with my friends once in awhile without feeling like I was breaking the bank. That was true for a while, at least, until I got the news about my mom.

  I look at her smiling face on my desk and already feel tears pricking at my eyes. For as long as I’ve known her, she h
as been like a rock in my life, the one steady thing that I could always go back to and get my footing. Cancer? It still doesn’t seem real. My training kicks in against my will: Denial, the first stage of grief according to the Kübler-Ross model. I shake my head in frustration, wiping away tears and feeling like the one who should be sitting on the couch while someone else doodles on a legal pad and pretends to listen. You’re losing it, Julia.

  I check my schedule for the day and wince. It’s 9:57 a.m. already? My 10:00 is a parolee named James Delany. I specialize in abnormal personality disorders, which my boss, Ted, knows perfectly well, but he insists on scheduling these parole cases with me. There are two general types of clients I deal with on a regular basis. The legitimate patients who need my help, and the criminals who are forced to come see me as part of their parole. They’re easily the worst. They’re usually belligerent, rude, and often want to be anywhere but in my office. It’s more a test of patience, but as Ted says, they help keep the lights on. If he really wanted to keep the lights on, he would work more than three days a week.

  I mentally brace myself, remembering to project calm. Project confidence. One of the first steps to establishing an effective patient-therapist relationship is in the first impression. There’s a knock at my door. Ted refuses to pay for a secretary, so the patients just knock or sometimes barge in, interrupting sessions if they come too early. I move to the door and open it. A rail-thin man with tattoos on his face and neck walks in, scratching his forearm. Substance abuse and dependence. He glances around the room, shuffling his feet as he moves toward the couch and then hesitates. He finds the chair furthest from my desk and sits. Anxiety. Sits near the closest exit. Possible paranoia.

 

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