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

by Liz K. Lorde

  I pull out my phone and start scrolling through the news sites. Anything’s better than playing dress-up over here with the spoiled princess.

  “What about this one, darling?”

  She does a three-sixty spin in a red dress with a slit up the side.

  Playing cute ain’t gonna work now.

  “Mm.” I don’t even look up from my phone. Then I add for good measure, “Yep.”

  “Hmmph!”

  She disappears back into the dressing room. She does this a few times, but I give her the same response.

  “I don’t fucking care, just pick out whatever fits your vibe and let’s go.”

  She’s not satisfied with that, though.

  Instead, she comes over, grabs my phone and hides it behind her back.

  I try to grab it back, only to finally see the sexy black lace number she’s wearing.

  Oh, fuck. It’s snug and hugs her every curve. My eyes wander from her tits to the sexy hourglass shape of her waist and down to her toned thighs.

  “Like what you see?” she drawls in a mock southern accent.

  I reach around her waist and pull her up against me, and suddenly my phone is the last thing on my mind.

  I grind my pelvis against hers and say, “You tell me.”

  Stella

  He’s staring down at me, breathing hard with what I can only assume is a mix of rage and lust. His chest rises and falls quickly with each heaving lungful of air.

  I might’ve gone a little too far this time.

  I wonder if he’ll strangle me or just give me a good spanking. Inside, I’m really hoping for the latter. Okay, maybe a little of the former, too.

  God, he’s sexy when he’s mad.

  He lunges for me, his hands grasping the collar of my dress. It’s by far the most gorgeous in the whole shop. The softest black lace I’ve ever felt.

  Before I can wonder what he’s about to do, I hear the fabric begin to tear.

  In shock, I watch as the one-of-a-kind garment falls to the floor, utterly destroyed.

  I’m stunned, I’m appalled…

  I’m sopping wet.

  Even as a part of me mourns the loss of the one-of-a-kind gown, I’m closing the gap between us. Pressing myself, now once again naked, firmly against him.

  Really, when it comes to Michael, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  I push myself up, claiming his mouth with my own.

  In some far-removed way, I recognize that this is exactly what I’m trying to do. Claim him. Make him my own.

  I’m not sure how or when I got here, but I’m finally able to recognize where I am.

  I want this man in more ways than one.

  He returns my kiss passionately. I can still feel the anger burning through him.

  Good.

  His cock is rock-hard and pressed firmly against me.

  Even knowing my own effect on him drives me crazy.

  I reach down, grabbing him forcefully, hearing him moan in response. I begin to massage him through his pants, feeling him grow even harder at my touch.

  I don’t need an invitation this time. I eagerly fall to my knees.

  In a frantic rush, I unzip his pants, impatiently freeing his massive cock.

  I’m still amazed by the sight of him. My mouth drops open in shock all over again.

  Which is fine because he’s there to fill it.

  Inch after inch, I take him between my lips, moaning at the familiar sensation.

  Above me, he moans along. I honestly can’t tell which of us is enjoying this more. I pull him free of my mouth, taking the time to lick the length of him, to flick my tongue over the tip of his dick.

  Then, I grasp him firmly in one hand before continuing. I slide him back into my mouth, this time using my hand in unison with my movements. I can feel him starting to tense up; the sound of his moaning tells me he’s getting close.

  I wait until the last possible moment to pull him from my mouth, his cock dripping pre-come. It lands on my chest and slides between my tits.

  He yanks me from my knees in one swift movement, hauling me up to his level.

  My legs wrap instinctively around his waist as he carries me towards the counter.

  Once there, he lays me flat on my back, my ass half-hanging off the edge. He bends down, kissing me hard on the mouth before beginning to travel lower. I feel his lips everywhere.

  My collarbone, my nipples, my stomach.

  When he reaches my hip bones, I begin to feel his teeth. Gentle at first, but he’s soon biting me with a ferocity that makes me cry out.

  Before meeting him, I thought pain and pleasure were two very different things.

  Now, I can barely decipher one from the other.

  He lowers himself to his knees, grabbing me around each leg to spread me further apart. I gasp when his tongue finds me, rubbing fiercely against my clit. I raise my hips towards him, matching his movements with my own, desperate for more.

  I reach for his head, pulling his face tighter against me.

  It occurs to me that a man could suffocate this way.

  Meh, there’s worse ways to go.

  I pull him against me even tighter. I feel him groan against me. The act sends vibrations deep into my core.

  That’s all it takes.

  I come hard, hips thrusting, hands clinging wildly to his head. When my orgasm passes, I collapse backward, breathing heavily.

  God. After that, I could definitely use a nap.

  Then, I’m being lifted, and I cling to his waist with my thighs. He carries me to the nearest dressing room.

  As soon as my feet are back on solid ground, I reach for him, grasping enthusiastically at his remaining clothes. Those that I can, I tear from his thick, muscular form. The rest, I yank and slide away until he’s finally free.

  He stands naked before me, fully erect. A smile now replaces his scowl.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  My smile ought to be answer enough.

  I turn from him, fully facing the dressing room mirror, and bend over until my hands rest firmly on the bench.

  “Holy fuck, yes,” I say, just in case he’s still wondering.

  I watch his reflection in the mirror as he closes what little distance remains between us, the enormous weight of his own cock held firmly in one hand.

  He meets my eyes in the mirror, his smile matching my own. Then, I feel him.

  My hands tighten on the bench as his gargantuan cock begins to slide into me. Inch by throbbing inch.

  I cry out louder than ever, pain and pleasure once again mixing inside of me until I can’t tell one from the other. And he isn’t done yet.

  I feel him press further. I hear him groaning behind me. I look to the mirror, meeting his eyes the moment he’s fully inside of me.

  His expression is of both shock and amazement. I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Then, he starts to move.

  All trace of laughter dies in my throat, replaced immediately with a moan so intense, it surprises even me.

  HOLY FUCK.

  I’ve imagined this moment since the first time I laid eyes on him. Fantasized. Wished.

  I’ve fucking longed for this.

  But nothing—and I mean nothing—could’ve prepared me for the way it feels now that it’s real.

  My entire body feels like one big, throbbing, ultra-sensitive nerve. Each powerful thrust sends waves of euphoria rushing through me.

  Words die in my throat, and thoughts shrivel up and turn to dust in my brain.

  In this moment, there’s nothing.

  Nothing.

  Nothing but him.

  Sounds I can’t begin to describe rush from my mouth, primal and dark. I watch the mirror in fascination. Part of me feels like I’m existing outside of my body right now.

  Another part of me feels more in-tune with my physical form than I’ve ever been.

  My tits bounce in time with his movements, and he reaches around to grasp one firmly in h
is large hand. I see him watching, too, and the thought of him seeing me this way adds another level to my already indescribable pleasure.

  I come again. And again. Each orgasm is more intense than the one before.

  My legs shake. He makes my fucking head spin. Still, I can’t get enough of him.

  As I feel his speed increase, my entire body tenses around him. I can feel him getting close. I’ve never wanted anything so badly as I want him to come inside of me.

  He releases my breast and reaches up to grasp me by the hair instead.

  Pulling back, he turns my face so that I meet his eyes dead on, no longer seeing him through the glass of the mirror.

  I watch in fascination as he comes, my own orgasm rising up to meet his.

  Together, we scream, grinding ourselves hard against each other.

  He thrusts even deeper into me, once, twice, three times, before his movements still.

  We stand that way, still locked together, for what seems like ages, our breathing the only sound.

  “Fuck!” I finally choke out.

  I feel him laugh against my neck.

  “You know,” I say, “you’re gonna have to pay for that dress.”

  Michael

  Pay for the dress? Who cares about that fucking dress?

  Only thing on my mind when I tore it off her was how damn amazing Stella would feel. Now, I’m still reeling from the way she was able to take every last bit of me as if it wasn’t a big deal at all.

  I’m starting to think that whole fucking mail-order thing wasn’t as big of a scam as it seemed. Never before has there been a woman who could do what she did.

  Fuck, I might actually be in love.

  “Do you really think I give a damn about one of your fancy outfits?” I growl.

  “Excuse you. That was Gucci I’ll have you know.”

  I don’t think I could give any less of a fuck.

  And I’m hoping that she doesn’t ruin this fucking moment with the ‘Return of the Brat’.

  I grab the red number she wore earlier from the hanger and hold it up at her. “And this?”

  “Versace.” She gives me a look as if I should know.

  I rip the dress like it was made of paper and watch her eyes widen in surprise. For a moment, I think she might shed a tear over the dress as if it was some lifelong friend. To my surprise, she ends up smiling and laughing instead.

  Maybe there’s hope for her yet.

  “You know, we still have this place to ourselves for a bit longer. Be a shame not to take advantage of it,” she says, twirling a lock of her pretty blonde hair around an elegant finger.

  Well, holy fucking shit.

  Not only can she take me—all of me—but she wants more.

  She’s like a fucking godsend—if a godsend costs a million dollars anyway.

  But despite her beauty queen attitude and designer dress fetish, she’s worth every fucking penny. And then some. Easily the best million dollars I ever spent.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she drags me out to the store. I let her lead me, if only because I’m curious to see what it is that she’s thinking.

  She takes me to a rack of scarves and throws one at me. It looks and feels expensive, just like everything else in the store, but, again, I say and do nothing out of curiosity.

  “Put it over your eyes.”

  I laugh at her.

  She pouts and bats her eyelashes at me.

  Fuck it. Not like she’s going to run off on me or something…

  I tie the silk floral around my eyes.

  Her palms and nails slide down my body. Feeling her touch me, while I’m effectively blind makes it all more visceral than before.

  I don’t know if it’s because I’m blindfolded or if I’m still incredibly fucking horny.

  Likely a mix of both. Not that it matters.

  What does matter is how much I want that blonde goddess before me.

  Her hands reach the base of my cock, and she gives it a squeeze that makes me groan. Then, she starts stroking me.

  But only with one hand. What’s the other one busying itself with? Pinching her nipples? Rubbing her clit between her legs?

  She answers my unspoken question when I feel some silk fabric wrap around the base of my cock.

  I did not expect some makeshift cock ring out of a six-hundred-dollar silk scarf, but it’s a nice surprise.

  Stella’s lips move over the head of my cock, sucking hard as if she were trying to pull my soul out from inside of me.

  And the way she’s sucking tells me she’s hell-bent on doing just that.

  But then she changes her game and is licking up and down my shaft. I’m also pretty certain that she’s drooling all over my cock, but I can’t be sure.

  All I know is that it feels so damn good that my toes are curling against the floor at the touch of my balls in her palm. She’s fondling and massaging them so good that I nearly forget for a second that she was a virgin up until I took her.

  “Where the hell did you learn to do this?”

  “Natural talent,” she says with far more confidence than I expected.

  She begins sliding the scarf up and down along my shaft. It’s an odd sensation, one that I’m surprised to find that I enjoy…especially when coupled with the way her lips move around the head of my throbbing dick.

  With every suck and lick, I get stiffer in her mouth. Each stroke of my spit-covered cock with the scarf has me moaning in a way I haven’t before.

  Somewhere in this whole damn clusterfuck, I realize…that I don’t want her to leave. That, as crazy as it sounds, I want her to stay.

  And it’s not just because she can suck my cock better than any girl I’ve seen in porn or because she can take my cock and still want more.

  It’s something else.

  I’m hesitant to say it, but I might actually be…fucking in love with Stella.

  This isn’t hyperbole. This is legitimate.

  I. Love. Stella.

  I pull the blindfold from my face and pull her up from her knees. I lift her right into my arms and crash my lips against hers.

  My cock is ready for round two. And I hope to squeeze in a round three before we no longer have the privacy.

  Of course, I could just buy the fucking place if I wanted.

  Now there’s a thought.

  That would likely make Stella permanently wet and horny.

  “Fuck me. I need you inside me,” she begs.

  I find the nearest hard surface, which turns out to be one of the white leather backless couches that dot the store.

  I lay Stella down on her back, and I slide into once more. She’s a tight fit, but it’s like she opens enough just to welcome me in—all of me.

  I thrust my cock into her hard. My hands grip her perky tits, and my thumbs run over her nipples.

  She grips the arm of the couch over her head and moans for more. Her hips move against mine in harmony so that each thrust has me filling her to the hilt.

  I can feel that rise to the peak building, and my own moans of pleasure become guttural growls of untamed, wild lust.

  She tells me, “Give it to me. Fucking fill me.”

  And I do.

  My body stiffens, and I feel as though I’ve stepped out of myself as I force my cock in her as deep as I can. Every spasm sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, and my hips instinctively thrust a couple more times to shoot the last of my seed in her.

  I lean down to kiss her, but I stop short as I get lost her in blue eyes.

  “I love you Stella.” Fuck. There, I’ve said it.

  She blinks at me a few times.

  “Really? You…you actually mean that? No joke?”

  I shake my head. “No joke.”

  Then, she kisses me, hard and fast and with reckless abandon. And against my lips, I can feel her mumble the words back.

  “I love you, too.”

  Stella

/>   The chocolate tart with cherry liquor sauce is totally to die for. I’ve eaten in some impressive restaurants, but this is really something else.

  Maybe I’ve gotten a new perspective, I don’t know. There’s warm glow in me that wasn’t there before. As I take another dainty bite with the charming little silver spoon, I flutter my eyelashes and take a glance at my lover.

  Oh my god. I have a lover now.

  No freaking way.

  He catches my eyes, even though I didn’t want him to. I blush a bit. It’s not the first glance I’ve shot him today, and it probably won’t be the last.

  He answers my blush with a little knowing grin that pulls at his lips until his teeth show but just a bit.

  Well…fuck. Now I’m getting wet right here at the table.

  It’s not just that grin that does it for me either. It’s the way that it lingers on his lips and turns feral—like he’s part-civilized man, part-savage. It’s the way his eyes slide knowingly down my body because he does know me, sometimes better than I know myself.

  It’s those icy blue eyes staring at my dress like he’s tearing it off me. The way he looks at me, I know he wants me naked. Right here, right now.

  Michael might look like the picture of class, but I can tell he sees my naked body in his mind’s eye.

  What’s worse is that I’m thinking the same thing about him.

  How is he not getting hard right now? Maybe he’s more experienced than me. Or maybe he still retains some modicum of self-control.

  But then, he licks the spoon of his affogato with more skill than necessary. I almost jump to the ceiling when I feel him touch my hand.

  Michael’s eyes light up, and he laughs. “Something bothering you, honey?”

  “Not at all,” I say with a strained smile, the taste of sweet cherry sauce still on my tongue.

  But even as I say it, I know my cheeks are flaming.

  I squirm just a bit, trying to relieve the pressure between my legs, but it only makes it worse. I never even knew I had a clit before I met this guy, and now the damn thing won’t behave! How do other women deal with this?

  Then I realize: maybe they don’t. Maybe this is just what being with Michael is like. Feeling insatiably horny and nothing else.

  I take a little glance around, and I see it firsthand. Other women aren’t dealing with this because they aren’t being ravished by a sex god with a massive dick and a brain to match.