Second Chance Baby Daddy: A Billionaire + Virgin Romance

by Vivien Vale

  Because there’s one thing I’m certain of: I want to move forward with Rose, whatever that actually means.

  Rose

  I keep my eyes on the passersby outside the passenger side window. The problem is too personal to just blurt out in the car. Of course, I appreciate his concern, but I don’t want to raise it like this.

  Anyway, how do I approach the matter? Do I just come out and tell him, Hey, so why are you carrying like a hundred condoms with you at all times? No.

  I mean it’s not really a problem, is it? I shake my head a little. Of course not. It’s totally okay to wear a condom. Good, actually.

  Mentally, I make a list of all the reasons why wearing a condom during sex is a good thing. It’s a pretty long one.

  Next, I compare the list to why it’s a problem. Of course, I can really only come up with one reason—a pretty major one, though.

  Let’s face it, girlfriends. If I’m going to have his baby, he will need to fuck me without a condom at some point in time.

  But this might be where my problem is. I’m getting way ahead of myself.

  We haven’t actually agreed to that, so maybe I’m the one being obsessive here. Maybe he’s just looking out for me, protecting me in case we call the whole thing off.

  When he pulls up outside his luxury penthouse, I stay in my seat.

  “Um,” he starts and looks at me. “Are you not getting out?”

  It’s my turn to be confused.

  “Are you leaving your car?” I ask and bite my tongue. I wish I hadn’t said that. Standing on the curb is a smartly dressed man. Why am I letting all my insecurities about the status of our relationship/business deal come out as scathing remarks?

  “Not for long,” he replies and comes over to hold my door open.

  When we walk into his penthouse, I hold my breath for a few seconds and let my eyes feast on what’s on offer.

  The most exquisite nutmeg-colored wooden floorboards gleam in the artificial light, offset by a beige-gray wall color with fancy artwork hanging here and there. Like the gentleman he is, Daniel takes my coat and places it on a hook near the door. Then he walks me into the living room.

  Here, I’m greeted by huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a half-moon black leather lounge.

  It’s minimalist, but tastefully decorated. I slip out of my shoes and walk over to the grand piano I spot in a corner.

  I let my fingers move over the white keys, playing the E-major scale. Old habits die hard.

  “You play?” I ask, a little surprised to find such a valuable piece in his apartment.

  Daniel shrugs. “A little.”

  I squint and stare at him. I don’t think he’s telling me the whole truth.

  From the piano, I move to the huge windows and feast on the view. It’s breathtaking.

  Below me is the entire cityscape. The lights make it look like a fairy village. I smile.

  “Wow,” I say and turn to him.

  Daniel is standing by a small bar. For the first time, I notice the large spiral staircase leading to an upper floor. I wonder if that’s where the bedroom is.

  “Drink?”

  “What can you offer?” I try to sound playful, but my mind is still elsewhere. From time to time, I’m like a dog with a bone—I can’t let go of something when it starts troubling me. And unfortunately, the whole condom thing is troubling me.

  God, I wish I could just let it go.

  I can’t explain it. I’ve always been like this. As soon as I fixate on something, I can’t let it go until I’ve got an explanation or a solution.

  Apparently, this obsession of mine used to drive my poor mother insane. No one was safe from my questions and persistence if I couldn’t understand something right away. Like one day, Dad brought home a word search, and I didn’t rest until I completed every last exercise.

  “Martini, cocktail, vodka and orange.”

  I laugh. “How about a lemon-lime and bitters?”

  I watch Daniel’s expert movements preparing drinks for a while, then I turn back to the view. I know it’s not of mountains or the ocean, but it’s pretty amazing.

  To think, below us are people going about their business, partying in nightclubs, and finding their way to their little homes. And here I am on top of the world.

  His arms wrap around me from behind and hand me my drink. A little of the pink bubbly liquid spills onto the shiny floorboards.

  “Oops, sorry,” I mumble and go to bend down and clean it up.

  But his arms stop me from moving. He’s kissing me on my neck, nibbling on my ear lobe, and sucking on the spot just underneath.

  My knees instantly turn to jelly, and my head leans against his chest.

  “Something’s bothering you,” he whispers into my ear. “I can tell.”

  It’s strange how Daniel is also not letting go of the matter. We’re more alike than I thought. I mean, in a way, we seem worlds apart. Just looking around here where he lives ―compared to my little sardine tin of a flat―only highlights this to me.

  And yet, he’s also not letting go of my change in mood. He’s totally in tune with me.

  I turn to face him. He doesn’t release me, and I’m still trapped in his arms. It makes me feel secure, wanted, almost loved.

  The words I want to say die on my lips. I can’t possibly tell him what’s troubling me. I mean, it’s just ridiculous. Let it go, Rose, I tell myself. Let it go.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I try to put as much emphasis on the nothing and wrong as I can.

  It really shouldn’t matter.

  I try to tell myself to relax. I mean, I should look around and live in the moment. Enjoy the luxury. When was the last time one of my ex-boyfriends took me to their place, and it looked like this?

  That’s an easy answer.

  Never.

  I have to remember: Daniel isn’t an ordinary run-of-the-mill man. Daniel is special, and we’re still in the getting-to-know-you phase to see if—and I have to remember it’s only an if—I should take it to the next level by having a baby with him.

  “It’s because of the condom, isn’t it?”

  I’ve just taken a sip of my drink when Daniel puts my concern into words.

  I nearly choke on it. I cough and splatter and cough some more. Tears stream from my eyes.

  Daniel rubs my back gently. It’s a very caring, personal gesture.

  Then he takes me by the hand and leads me to the black leather lounge.

  I feel as if I’m melting into the leather. I’ve never sat on a couch as soft as this. It hugs my body, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to get up again.

  “Okay.” His concerned eyes are looking straight at me.

  I already feel really bad for having raised the matter at all―in body language, if not actual words. It really was so silly of me.

  I’m about to tell him it doesn’t matter, but he puts his index finger on my lips.

  “Shh,” he says, gently but firmly. “I’ll need to tell you at some point in time anyway, so I may as well make it now.”

  Something hard and cold squeezes my heart. Is there something wrong with him? Maybe he’s fatally ill, which of course would explain this whole wanting an heir thing.

  Oh, my god. That’s it. He’s dying.

  Here I was, getting drawn in by his charm and wanting to have his baby―and maybe so much more―and he’s about to die.

  I press my hand to my mouth, my eyes wide, not wanting to hear what he has to say, but needing to know all the same.

  “It’s…” He starts and stops again. “As you must understand, this is fucking difficult to talk about.”

  Difficult? Do I understand?

  Now I feel more of those tears well up in my eyes. If I’m not careful, I’ll start bawling my eyes out before he’s even started to tell me the bad news.

  I wonder how long he’s got? Are we talking days, months, or years? Would the baby even get to know his or her father?

  When he looks at
me with his crooked smile, I know I missed something.

  “Um, sorry,” I mumble and take another sip of my drink. I can’t imagine what my face must look like right now.

  “The thing is, I don’t seem to be able to, well…um…to come inside a woman if I don’t…wear a condom.”

  Wait, what? Hold the train.

  Did I hear him correctly? I regret taking a sip of my drink because it’s all I can do to not spit it out all over the place right now.

  I want to laugh, because this surely is a joke, but one look at Daniel’s face tells me he wouldn’t understand. I mean, I thought he was dying.

  But this? I never expected this. This problem is something different altogether.

  Something I have no idea how to wrap my head around.

  “So…” I’m not quite sure what to say.

  “I know.” Daniel’s kneading his hands together. “It’s silly, really, but—” He stops again.

  “And it can’t be…treated?”

  I have to admit I’ve never heard of the condition. It almost sounds made up. But surely there must be something he can do.

  I’m no psychologist, but it sounds very much like a psychological thing to me.

  He sighs and looks at me. Those puppy eyes have grown even larger, if that’s possible.

  “The cures the doctor suggested are all silly, and the ones I’ve tried haven’t worked at all.”

  “Cures?” Where the hell is this going? This is getting stranger by the second. I tilt my head to the side and wait.

  “He prescribed a mix of herbs, which I drank, but that didn’t work. He also suggested I drink more goat’s milk.”

  I raise an eyebrow at the goat milk suggestion, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing.

  Daniel shrugs. “Apparently, goats are hornier than cows or something.”

  I can’t contain it anymore. I burst out laughing. He’s totally fucking with me.

  “And he also said to try dancing naked in the moonlight on a deserted beach before…you know,” he trails off, grinning.

  I take his hand and make him look at me. I’m pretty sure he thinks this condition is real, but I think it’s all in his head. Just like I know telling me this has to be a huge fucking blow to his ego.

  But seriously, the guy is a fucking sex god. Never in my life have I experienced anything like I have with him. He’s done me a huge favor by showing me what I’ve been missing.

  Just like he’s doing me a huge favor with this baby bargain…if we ever seal the deal, that is.

  Time for me to return those favors.

  “I’ll help you find a cure somehow,” I promise him, and I fucking mean it. Because you know what? Finding the ‘cure’ for this sounds like a whole lot of fucking fun.

  And like a whole lot of fucking.

  I’m so up to the challenge.

  Daniel

  Sure, my chest feels lighter from having just spewed the truth about my condom setback to Rose, but the fact that she’s staring blankly at me as if she’s having a difficult time digesting this new information gives me an unsettling feeling.

  I swallow hard and can’t think of anything else to do, so I just stay there, staring at her and praying that she says something—anything—before my self-assurance crumbles like a dry cake.

  She opens her mouth.

  Yes! Progress.

  Then, she shuts it close again and furrows her brows with concern. Apparently, we’re back to square one again.

  Maybe I should break the silence, but I don’t want to end up saying the wrong thing. My stomach churns, tightening into a ball of stress and nerves that makes me feel heavy inside.

  My heart gallops like a racehorse in my chest. Come on, Rose, talk to me, baby.

  Even if she opts to curse me, hit me, swear and scream at me, I’ll take that over the void of silence that clings to the air like a wet t-shirt sticking to my back.

  If she doesn’t talk soon, I’m going to go nuts. No pun intended. You know, nuts and semen and not being able to come without a bag on and all that…

  Okay, fine. Whatever. Even I admit that one is in poor taste.

  Rose glances out the window and heaves a sigh as if she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and doesn’t know how to release some of the burden.

  I’d love to help her, to swoop in and be her knight in shining armor, if only I can get past this coming-in-her-pussy mishap.

  She’s looking at me and piercing my heart with her soul. I’m intoxicated, enthralled, and captivated by her, and I would take a fucking bullet for her. The last thing I want to do is cause her any type of pain or suffering, believe me.

  “Do you think…” she whispers and trails off, looking out the window as if whatever inkling of a budding thought in her mind is preposterous and not worth verbalizing.

  “What? Tell me…you can talk to me and tell me your thoughts on the matter. I know it sounds insane, ridiculous, and made up, but I swear I want to make this work for you…for us.”

  I try not to sound like I’m pleading with her, like I’m negotiating her off of a high bridge that she’s threatening to jump from.

  I genuinely want to fix my problem, and if she has any insight, then by all means, she needs to share it with me for the good of the cause.

  I gently hold onto her arms and rub them with affection, caressing her to swoon her and coax the ideas right out of her gorgeous, brilliant brain.

  Rose pauses midsentence, but then reveals a question that disappoints me because I’m certain she’s not going to favor my response in the slightest.

  “Maybe there’s another way?” Her voice is high and sharp with an enthusiasm that breaks my heart.

  I shake my head, but Rose interrupts me. I shift my weight uncomfortably as she grips my arm with her long, slender, and sexy fingers.

  “I know you said you went to that doctor, but honestly? He sounds like a quack. There’s got to be…something that can help you work through this.” She doesn’t sound frantic yet, but she’s barreling down that path for sure.

  “Rose…” I begin, easing her in by treading lightly here. I’m already failing miserably at making her emotionally satisfied.

  Physical satisfaction? One hundred percent guaranteed, every single time. I nail that shit.

  Pun intended this time.

  I respect her gut reaction. Sure, she wants to see me get better, and believe me, I want that, too. I mean, it’s not like I can hold up my end of the bargain if I don’t. It’s just…well, lately I’ve been feeling like it’s a hopeless case.

  “Tell me. Let’s figure this out together,” she murmurs.

  Wow. Finally, a woman who’s willing to stand behind me even when it seems like a lost case.

  “I’ve already tried loads of treatment,” I reply as I shake my head and dismiss the idea. “Nothing has worked so far.”

  “Well…that just means we haven’t found the right option out there for you yet.” Rose glances up at me with a positive twinkle in her eyes that I hate to shoot down out of the clouds with a disappointment-filled arrow.

  I take a deep breath, preparing myself to dive into the most elaborate explanation I can give her as to why I’m a fucking mess.

  I rub my tired temples and shuffle my feet against the cool hardwood floor. “I’ve already tried three treatments,” I remind her.

  “The doctors can’t find a cure. Okay. But Daniel, this isn’t a medical condition. At least not one I’ve ever heard of. Perhaps it’s a psychological thing then…” Rose trails off with newfound optimism.

  “I tried the methods, but nothing has worked so far,” I tell her the brutal, honest truth of the matter.

  A smile spreads across Rose’s beautiful, full lips. She seductively places a hand on my chest and scratches her nails up and down my torso.

  Then she hugs me close, and I inhale the scent of her shampoo. It smells like lavender, and I can just shut my eyes and picture myself fucking her in a valley of wildf
lowers.

  I wish I could be doing that with her right now, but having her embrace me in will have to be second best, just so long as she stays near me. I never want to let her go, but she pulls away and gives me a tender smile.

  “Just so you know…” she begins.

  “Yeah?” I wait expectantly as arousal pulses in my cock yet again.

  “If we ever do decide to do this, I will be there, right by your side, so you can find a…cure for your affliction.”

  I breathe out an audible sigh of relief.

  “Thank you.” I grab her to swing her close to me once again.

  I begin to show her my gratitude by first kissing her soft, rosy cheeks. My actions are subtle at first, nurturing―and swell my cock even more.

  The taste of her cherry lip gloss lingers on my mouth as she delicately parts hers to allow me access to her beautiful body, one perfect sliver at a time.

  The fire ignites once again in my belly and spreads to every limb, toe, finger―every fucking extremity I have. I’m fucking addicted to Rose, and you can be damn sure I’m not going to let her get away from me.

  Hungrily and urgently, I shower her with kisses that make her skin prickle with pleasure, chill bumps rising on her smooth flesh.

  The flames of desire burn between us. I want to pleasure her over and over. I want her to scream with ecstasy that only I can give her.

  With playful roughness, I push her up against the glass wall of my penthouse overlooking the city.

  I delicately undress her, deliberately taking my time so that she’ll go wild as desire takes over every fiber of her being.

  I pull her shirt over her head and caress her full, spectacular tits. She’s not wearing a bra, so I don’t have to worry about fussing with anything. Not that it matters―I’m a natural when it comes to removing articles of female clothing from their bodies.

  Rose is moaning now, her cheeks flushed in anticipation as I push her legs apart with a wicked grin, just for her.

  She’s intoxicating, and the blossoming scent of her delicious, ripe, and glistening pussy drives me fucking wild.

  I want to pay her back for the debt I owe her, the virtue of exemplary patience, because I know how frustrating it must be to not know what’s going to happen next with our deal. With us.