Make Me a Mommy: A Mother's Day Secret Baby Romance

by Liz K. Lorde

  “How does it feel to be married?” Dylan whispers into my ear, but I’m too choked up to say anything. “And may I say, you look fucking exquisite tonight.”

  I smile at him. “The cloak is gorgeous.”

  He nods.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder.

  “This is amazing Emma. You’re so lucky.”

  Cynthia, one of my friends, is standing there with a bushy bearded man beside her. I frown. I didn’t know Cynthia had a boyfriend.

  “Thanks,” I mumble and don’t remind her about her initial reluctance when she first received my invitation. “Who—” I start, but she’s already moved off.

  “One of the locals,” whispers Dylan in my ear. “A mountain man.”

  We both laugh.

  Jen finds me and hugs me. “Oh, Emma, you look gorgeous! And this place.” She holds out her arms. “I mean look at it. It’s amazing.”

  Another convert. Jen had complained bitterly and begged me to have the wedding in Manhattan. She’d threatened not to come.

  “And the choice of men you’ve got, oh my,” she continues and fans herself with her right hand.

  “Do you want me to introduce you to any of them?” I offer.

  Jen shakes her head. “Not necessary, darling. I’ve met a couple of them already.”

  The music starts, and Dylan grabs me by the hips. He leads me out onto the dance floor.

  Applause and whistles greet us.

  When the band plays a slow waltz, he leads me expertly around the floor. Who would have known Dylan to be a ballroom dancer?

  Soon, other couples join us and on our next turn around the dance floor, Dylan heads straight out the door.

  By now, the full moon has risen against the inky black sky.

  I snuggle into Dylan. My mountain man. So much has happened in such a short amount of time.

  I feel like the luckiest woman alive.

  A noise near the edge of the forest made me look up.

  “Dylan, look,” I point excitedly to the dark figure coming out of the forest.

  He hovers for a while, waves, and then turns to run away again. A second bear is hot on his heels.

  “It’s Boss.” I grin.

  Dylan shakes his head. “Maybe.”

  My right fist punches him gently into the upper arm.

  “Was so,” I say and feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

  A shooting star floats across the night sky.

  “Make a wish,” I say and look into his eyes.

  “I have,” he whispers and places his hand on my lower abdomen.

  Dylan

  I’ve looked everywhere for Emma but just fucking can’t find her.

  Why does she do this to me? She knows I worry about her in her condition.

  When I go outside, I see her on the grass just below the veranda.

  I can’t get angry. But I do wish she’d tell me where she’s going.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” I call out to her and walk down the stairs. Emma looks up and smiles at me.

  “You haven’t looked everywhere.”

  If she weren’t pregnant and holding our first born, I’d smack her for her cheekiness and take her upstairs to the bedroom for a good fuck. Heck, what am I saying? I’d fuck her right here right now.

  Of course, I can’t with the little fellow on her hips.

  I reach out to take Oliver from her.

  “Bbbbb, beabeabe.”

  My eyes find Emma’s. “Is he saying bear?”

  Emma chuckles. “That or bee. I’m not sure. But look who’s come to visit.”

  Over by the forest are two bears, one larger and one a little smaller. Between them are two cubs.

  Wow.

  Boss has been busy.

  “Can you believe he keeps coming to visit?”

  “Look, Oliver, those bear cubs could become your friends.” I point to where the bears are, and my son claps his hands together. He’s bouncing up and down in my arms and yelling something I can’t understand.

  “I think he wants you to take him to see the bears close up.”

  I smile and meander toward the happy family. Boss is pretty tame, but I think his lady friend has other ideas about how close she’ll let a human come to her cubs.

  I totally understand and don’t push the friendship at all.

  Oliver seems happy for me to stop. He can see them a little better. The two little ones are tumbling over each other, biting into their ears and around their neck. They make a very contented picture.

  “Soon, you’ll have a little brother or sister,” I tell Oliver, but he’s not listening.

  “Look after your family, Boss,” I call to the big bear and head back to the cabin. I want to get Emma inside. She should rest.

  “Come on, babe,” I walk past her. “Time for a cup of tea.”

  “I’m fine, Dylan. Really I am.”

  I peer at her. She’s still a little pale. Two days ago, she had a bit of a fall, some bleeding, and a dizzy spell. I took her straight down the mountain to the city hospital for a checkup.

  The doctors assured me everything is fine, just a minor hiccup, but I don’t want to take any fucking chances.

  “I’m going to have some tea, and I think Oliver might have one, too.”

  I lift the little fellow high up over my head and listen to his squeals of delight.

  “Okay. I’ll come in.”

  She falls into step beside me, and I glance at her. I still can’t believe how fucking lucky I am to have her by my side.

  We did have a rocky road at the start, but once she decided she was okay to live here in the mountains with me, life couldn’t be better.

  “I got an email from Phoebe this morning,” she tells me but I’m only listening with half an ear. I don’t really care how the company is doing. I’ve put all that behind me.

  Of course, Emma still has her hands in it a little bit. She’s been asked to stay on as a consultant and overseer. Most of the work can be done remotely, from our cabin. From time to time, she visits the office, but I think that might be more for a social outing than anything else.

  “And?” I feign interest. It’s important to Emma, so it should be important to me. Relationships are about give and take. Seeing Emma gave up her city lifestyle for me, the least I can do is give by listening to tales of things that interest her.

  “Record profits for the last six months.”

  “That’s hardly surprising with you at the helm.”

  I put Oliver in his little bouncer and make a pot of tea. This latest batch of leaves is my best yet.

  “You’re just saying that.”

  Emma comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. Her bulge makes it a little difficult to get her arms all the way around.

  “I’m not.”

  I turn toward her and kiss her. It’s a long slow kiss. Oliver is screeching.

  Emma pulls away. “Feeling left out, little one?”

  As if to say yes, he’s bouncing wildly up and down.

  “I’ll get him,” I tell Emma and push her gently toward the couch. “You sit down and put your feet up.”

  Grumbling something akin to protests, Emma heads to the couch.

  For a while, neither of us says anything.

  “How’s the woodwork going?”

  With Oliver on my left hip, I take the hot cup of tea in my right and bring it over to Emma.

  Since her pregnancy, she’s got this golden glow around her all the time. She looks so fucking hot I can barely keep my hands off her.

  “I finished the latest order, but since then I’ve got another five or so orders that have come in.”

  She grins.

  “Phoebe also sent me a report on the progress of the reforestation of our forest.”

  It’s not really our forest, we just like to call it that because it joins our boundary. It’s the reason Emma and I ended up getting up together. I suppose, in a way, I should be fucking grateful to those di
shonest pricks who ran the company I helped build up. If they hadn’t turned to illegal operations—

  I stop mid-thought. No point going over old ground.

  If they hadn’t tried to kill Emma, I would never have rescued her, and blah, blah, blah.

  “Apparently, the trees are doing better than expected,” Emma continues and interrupts my thoughts.

  I sit down next to her and pick up her feet. She doesn’t complain, and I massage them. There’s no swelling or anything, but I like to show my support.

  It looks so uncomfortable, this whole pregnancy thing.

  “And according to the national park ranger, the bear numbers are up, too. With all the illegal logging activity, the habitat of the bears was destroyed, making it easier for poachers to shoot them and thus reduce their numbers.”

  She pauses to take a sip of her tea. I watch her close her eyes and enjoy the taste sensation.

  “This is very good…” She looks at me. “What’s different?”

  “Leaf type, drying type, you know. I’m playing around with different options.”

  Emma nods. “Anyway, looks like a happy end for everyone. And you know what?”

  I shake my head. It can be hard to keep up with her. She’s so full of enthusiasm.

  “We’re a shining example that running a business with no regards to the environment whatsoever doesn’t pay off. The company back then, you know, when it did all that terrible stuff, it wasn’t even making as much profit as we’re making now.”

  Time to shake my head again.

  “And we continue to put money into sustainable projects around the world and buy parcels of land for conservation.”

  “Wonders will never cease.”

  “No need to be cynical,” she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the couch.

  “You okay? And I wasn’t being cynical.”

  Emma shakes her head. “Enjoying the foot rub. Do you want to do my neck next?”

  “Anything for you, babe.”

  I fucking mean it. I’ll do anything for this woman, the love of my life. If it weren’t for her, I’d be still living surrounded by darkness and feeling miserable.

  “Speaking of increasing bear numbers, I hope the ranger knows if a poacher shows his or her face around here, there might be another tree accident,” I say to Emma.

  Her head snaps around.

  “Don’t even say or think it,” she warns me.

  “Come on. You wouldn’t stand by as some crazed maniac with a gun shoots at Boss or his bear cubs would you?”

  I can see the inner struggle written all over her face. “No.” she agrees eventually. “But I’m not a fan of violence, and I also don’t believe in treating violence with violence.”

  My hands stop massaging, and I lean forward to give her a kiss.

  “Let’s hope then that no poacher will come within a hundred miles of our mountain and our bears.”

  Emma doesn’t say anything. She grabs my hand and puts it on her belly.

  “Feel it?”

  A fist or a foot is punching against her tummy. It feels unreal.

  “You see,” Emma looks at me. “Your unborn child also doesn’t approve of violence.”

  I’m too excited by the feel of the little person growing inside Emma’s tummy to disagree with her.

  Fuck.

  Life is simply amazing.

  Emma and I have created this little creature growing in her tummy.

  My eyes find Oliver, who’s happily back-bouncing in his bouncer. When I look at him, I also can’t believe we made him.

  And here we are, waiting for a sibling.

  I can’t wait for the newest edition to the family to come and join us.

  Big Package

  A Dark Vixens Novella

  By Vivien Vale

  Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

  Want Vivien Vale in your inbox? Get freebies, new release updates, bonus chapters, and more!

  Sign up for my newsletter!

  Michael

  It’s funny, the things that my failed hookups just don’t seem to understand.

  You’d think they’d figure it out eventually. Especially by the time I’m putting them in a fucking cab outside of my mansion and paying the driver to take them home.

  I guess there are just some truths women don’t want to accept.

  “Please, babe!” she begs. “Just give me one more chance! I can take it this time—I totally promise. I swear!”

  “Look, sweetheart…”I gently disentangle her fingers from the collar of my button down and push her hands away. “It’s cute that you think you can handle it, but—”

  “I can,” she insists. “I really, really can. It’s just…it’s so big, babe. Maybe if we tried with more lube or something…”

  The driver gives me one of those looks in the rear view mirror. All I can do is shrug and slip him a couple of hundreds for the inevitable sob story he’s going to be hearing from this girl the whole way back to Long Island.

  “You’re really not going to let me try to take it again?” she whimpers as I help her into the cab’s back seat.

  “Don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her. Which is true.

  I push the door shut. I don’t even bother watching the cab drive off.

  What can I say? Some women just can’t handle big packages.

  Unfortunately, this happens more often than I’d like to admit. They try to suck me off. They try all the angles, hoping that maybe, somehow, they’ll get my massive, fat cock inside them.

  More often than not, the effort doesn’t amount to much. I usually settle for giving them a dozen orgasms or so before sending them on their way.

  The one thing that really smarts is these failed experiences usually lead to a raging fucking boner. Like right now. If it presses up against my slacks any harder, I won’t only be in the market for a new woman; I’ll need a new pair of pants, too.

  Porn it is, I guess. Better than giving myself the worst case of blue balls ever.

  Walking back into my living room, I slump into the plush leather sofa and boot up my laptop. Propping it up on the ottoman, I reach down to finally free this bulge with one hand while navigating to a site with the other.

  Let’s see…what am I in the mood for today?

  Porn stars don’t usually hold much attraction for me—or else I’d be dating one. Call me old fashioned, but when a woman is mine, any other man who so much as looks at her is going to be picking his teeth up off the floor.

  You have to hand it to them, though—these women can really take dick.

  I hover over various video clips to see the preview, slowly stroking my cock as I go. Finding one of a beautiful blonde giving a blowjob, I press play and lean back.

  It’s exactly what the doctor ordered. I’m instantly impressed with the way her head bobs on the screen. She’s taking this giant dick in as though it’s nothing more than a gherkin. Where do I find me one of these?

  I’m rock hard now, totally in the moment, and I’m pacing myself with her movements. When she slows down, so do I. When she speeds up, my movements intensify. It’s the ultimate cock-tease, and before long, I’m tensing up and twitching uncontrollably.

  As this bodacious babe gets covered, I reach my limit. I groan loudly and throw my head back as cum spills out all over my hand, happy to have my release.

  Fuck, that feels good.

  I sit there panting for a moment before wiping up my hot, sticky mess, using up damn near an entire box of Kleenex.

  Relieved at no longer being pent-up, I’m about to close the browser when I notice a flashing ad on the sidebar.

  I never pay attention to these because, let’s face it, first, I have
no problem getting women, so I don’t need to sign up to fuck granny down the street. Second, I have the cock that every man dreams of, and I don’t need any special pills or toys.

  This one, though, has my full attention.

  GET THE WIFE OF YOUR DREAMS! CUSTOMIZE YOUR MAIL-ORDER BRIDE TODAY!

  Mail-order bride? Hmm, I’ve never thought about going that route before.

  Maybe I’m still in that post-orgasmic state or maybe I just want to believe that this shit isn’t a huge fucking scam.

  Maybe I’m just a fucking romantic—or maybe I’m the exact opposite of one.

  But a man can dream, can’t he?

  This could work.

  Sure, I’m widely known for my one-night stands, but it’s not like I do that on purpose.

  My drive is the real thing. When a woman can take my cock, I’m insatiable. I can fuck for hours. Dusk to dawn is what I’m all about.

  The problem is most women can’t handle what I have to offer. In turn, I can’t handle the fact that I tire them out after one fucking round.

  They fall asleep, and I’m left to my own devices because it’s simply not enough. Being a doctor means I’m always under pressure, and I need that release. It’s not their fault, but I’m over these one-night stands and short-lived flings.

  I have no aversions to marriage. On the contrary, I want a wife to come home to that I can bang after a grueling day. I want a family that I can play with outside and go on vacations with.

  Time, however, presents the biggest burden. When you’re performing surgery after surgery, and you’re on call all the time, it leaves little room for finding Ms. Right.

  A struggle I know all too fucking well. Hell, I can’t even find Ms. Right Now—I just sent the latest off in a cab for Christ’s sake. Add to that my ridiculously high standards.

  It’s no wonder I’m still single.

  Back to this mail-order bride ad. I click on it, and the ad brings me to a flashy website that looks like it should’ve went out with the Y2K era. I half expect the page to stop loading midway through like the porn of yesteryear.

  Thank God for fiber optics.

  Now I’m looking at a pretty lengthy survey attached to the order form. I start going through the questions one by one.

  Hair color?

  She’s gotta be a blonde, no doubt about it. Nothing gets my motor revving more. The longer, the better.