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

by Liz K. Lorde

  “There.” Not-Chloe laughs. “You figured it out. I’m Cassie, remember? Come on in.”

  I follow Not-Chloe—Cassie—into a spacious living room. Looks more cozy than high-fashion, which is surprisingly comforting. It’s the kind of living room you can sit down in and not worry about what furniture you’re ruining with your presence.

  Makes me consider hiring a redecorator.

  “Oooh!” Cassie coos from the kitchen. “Cinnies! Yum!”

  “Those are for—” I say, but it’s way too late for that.

  Cassie beams at me from the kitchen with icing all over her face, somehow having managed to fit half of the biggest cinnamon rolls in the city all the way into her mouth all at once.

  “Pfank youb!” she calls out, and all I can do is laugh and shake my head.

  In front of the television in the living room, a guy who looks like he walked straight off the pages of a GQ is sitting. He looks like every other billionaire his age that I’ve met—effortlessly well-groomed, with a smile like a rogue congressional candidate, and understated but expensive clothes.

  I sit down across from him, and his eyes slide over to me. He gives me a little nod, and I give him one back.

  “So,” the billionaire asks me. “Whose ass is bigger?”

  “Ah…” I begin, even though I’m not sure what to say next. If this guy means between Chloe and Cassie, after all, I wouldn’t touch that with a hazmat suit on.

  “If he says Khloé‘s, murder him!” Cassie calls out through the kitchen.

  “Kardashians,” the dude on the couch explains, pointing to the television where a tiny brunette is currently mistaking a teacup pig for a chicken. “Cassie thinks Kim’s ass is the biggest, but personally, I don’t think implants should count.”

  “Wouldn’t that eliminate the entire family?” I joke.

  “Exactly!” Cassie exclaims. She runs across the living room on her tiptoes and tumbles into the billionaire’s lap, shoving the other half of her cinnamon roll into his face. “Aaron, meet Ethan. He’s wrong constantly.”

  “Enjoying the wine?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that Cassie has taken the liberty of uncorking.

  She holds it up like a trophy.

  “It’s no boxed Moscato,” Cassie admits. “But I’ll live.”

  “Shit, man,” Ethan says through the last mouthfuls of cinnamon roll. “That’s a nice vintage. It’s almost like it deserves to be in a glass.”

  He tickles Cassie’s sides as she responds by drinking it directly from the bottle in huge gulps.

  Normally, this would kind of disgust me. Happy couples doing happy couple shit, right? But there’s something oddly sweet about these two, like they know each other so well, they’ve earned the right to be disgustingly cute.

  “What do you do for a living, Aaron?” Ethan asks. “Must be some kind of big shot, if you’re letting my girlfriend binge drink your four-hundred-dollar wine like a college freshman at her first rager.”

  “I’m in business,” I say. As to what that business is, I leave it vague. Generally for the best, really.

  Thebadboys.net is always going to have a hell of a reputation. Cassie and Ethan seem cool, but I’m not exactly keen on sitting in front of The Kardashians and answering questions all night.

  “You’re a porn star, aren’t you?” Cassie jokes, narrowing her eyes in mock accusation. “That’s why Chloe won’t shut the fuck up about you.”

  “You got me. It’s a rough life having sex with beautiful women on camera for money, but somebody’s gotta do it.”

  “You’re doing porn now?!” Chloe’s voice echoes down the hall, so I hear her before I see her.

  But when I see her, good god, even a guy like me has to do a double take. And even then, doesn’t quite seem like it could possibly be real.

  She’s in a cute little suede skirt, kitten heels, and a black off-the-shoulder top that hugs her tits like they’ve been vacuum-sealed into it.

  “Yeah.” Cassie giggles, breaking the silence. “Aaron here just won’t shut up about his huge porn star dick. He talks about it almost as much as you—”

  “Aaaand that’s enough wine for you,” Chloe announces, recapturing the bottle from Cassie’s hand. “Did you give her this?” she asks me with a sly little grin.

  “More like she took it from me by force,” I admit.

  “Yeah, you’ve gotta watch out for that.” Chloe’s smile lights up the entire room, and without even thinking about it, I find myself smiling back. “So where are we headed?”

  “Double date!” Cassie announces. “Double date. It’ll be, like, too fun.”

  “Tacky!” Chloe laughs. “Don’t act like your trashy ass isn’t already glued to whatever drama Kim and Kourtney are getting into.”

  “Ugh,” Cassie groans. “No, it’s Scott right now. Suuuuuch a dick. Totally the biggest ass.”

  “Where are we really going?” Chloe asks, sliding up against me.

  I slip my arm around her waist and draw her away from the television, bottle of wine in hand.

  “I brought cinnamon rolls too, you know,” I mention, teasing out our destination for a little longer.

  “Unf. And I will totally destroy those when I get back, don’t you worry. But right now, spill! I wanna know where we’re headed.”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “Well…you like books, right, Chloe?”

  Chloe licks her lips. They’re glossy and fire-engine red. And yeah, it’s impossible not to imagine them being wrapped around my cock, but when it comes to Chloe, what else is new?

  “I figured a nerd like you might like taking a little trip to the library,” I tease.

  Chloe laughs at that. She’s so fucking cute when she laughs too. She doubles over, shoulders shaking, with one hand over her mouth and the other over the bottle of wine.

  “God, sorry,” she says, still giggling. “Either Cassie got me proximity drunk or—”

  “I’m just that intoxicating?”

  “Something like that.” She grins, the biggest cheesiest grin I’ve ever seen. Some girls give off that vibe that they’re afraid to smile, but Chloe shoves her happiness right in your face without a hint of hesitation or regret. “Library sounds like a blast, nerd.”

  “Yeah, on second thought, I’m rescinding my offer for a double date with you guys,” Cassie calls out from the living room. “You boring dorks have fun!”

  “We’ll schedule one soon,” I promise them. “You know, the planetarium is just beautiful this time of year.”

  “Oooh,” Chloe adds. “Or we could always check out the science and history museum?”

  “I’ve got it. Couple’s physics lessons.”

  “We could tour a nuclear power plant!”

  “Oh my God,” Cassie groans from the couch. “Go fuck in the sci-fi section already and let me lose my brain cells to reality television in peace!”

  I shrug, offering Chloe my arm. She takes it, doubling over again as she does. It’s like she can’t stop laughing, which is, interestingly enough, the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.

  “And leave the wine!” Cassie yells after us as we slip out the door.

  Like a good sister, Chloe carefully sets it down on an end table as she slips past me. I smack her ass and she squeals, running and giggling all the way to my car.

  Chloe

  Honestly? When Aaron told me we were going to the library, I thought he was joking.

  In the passenger seat of his fuck-me red convertible with one hand on the wheel and the other on my bare thigh, I thought he was a fucking riot.

  When we pulled up into a parking spot and he jogged around the car to open my door for me? I thought Aaron was the funniest guy on the entire planet.

  But when he took me by the hand and led me down the sidewalk with the NYC Public Library looming just ahead?

  Yeah, that’s about when I started to realize he might actually be serious.

  By the time we were inside, I kind of got the feeling tha
t he wasn’t kidding at all.

  A library date. Holy fucking shit.

  It’s not that I don’t like books, okay? Obviously, I am a total bimbo for books.

  I’ve dug books out of the trash before. I’m well-versed with the preorder when my favorite author announces a saucy new title, and barring that, I’m not above throwing down with some other nerdy ho in a bookstore at midnight.

  When momma needs to read, momma reads, dammit!

  But here’s the other thing: I’m pretty fucking hot. I’m not going to pretend like I’m not a complete babe in favor of that faux lack of confidence bullshit because, well, look at me, for fuck’s sake. You don’t tickle the fancy of a guy like Aaron without a little oomph.

  As such, I’ve kind of gotten used to guys going the extra mile for me. If Aaron was any other guy, he would’ve pulled out all the stops tonight—fancy dinner, fancy drinks, fuck on a helipad beneath the moonlight, whatever. The works!

  But obviously, shit hasn’t always worked out for me with other guys. So while I’m a little taken aback that Aaron’s idea of blowing me away is taking me to a public library, I’m more than willing to give it a shot.

  Libraries have always felt comfortable to me, like second homes. This way, at least I don’t have to worry about calling the waitress “Mom” when I’m trying to get a refill on my wine glass or (gasp!) using the oyster fork for the salad course. The shame!

  It’s after six in the evening now, and the crowd inside has thinned out. Apart from a few stressed-looking NYU students and some plucky librarians, it feels like we almost have the place entirely to ourselves.

  “Darling,” I say and fake swoon as Aaron pulls me into the stacks. “The public library! How decadent! You shouldn’t have!”

  “Oh, but darling,” Aaron says, pulling out an obnoxiously rich-sounding accent that, strangely enough, almost suits him. “For you, anything.”

  “As long as it’s public and totally free?” I tease.

  Look, it’s not like I’m not going to give him shit about this. He’s too cute, this is too silly, and he’s way too much fun to make fun of.

  But my teasing has a price. Suddenly, Aaron grabs my wrist and presses me up against one of the bookshelves, holding my body there with his own weight.

  “Admit it,” he says, his lips mere inches from mine. “You’re a book-loving slut, and you think this is ridiculously charming.”

  “Let’s say I do.” I bite my lip, focusing my gaze on his gorgeous mouth and considering how badly I want him to be kissing me with it right now. “What’s in it for me?”

  Slowly, Aaron looks down the aisle one way, and then the other. Confirming that the coast is clear, he takes my jaw in his hands and kisses me with the passion that only a man who finds romance among books can provide.

  “Okay,” I admit with a little laugh. “This is kind of hot.”

  “That must make you a bibliophile.” He grabs my hand and resumes tugging me deeper into the rows and rows of books. “If you liked that, then you’ll love this.”

  “I might,” I coo after him.

  His legs are so damn long, and he’s moving with such purpose that I have to trot along on my kitten heels just to keep up. “What is it?”

  “I’m buying you a book.”

  If I’d only been drinking that fancy wine Aaron brought me, I could have done a spit take. Alas, Cassie has probably crushed that bottle single-handedly by now, and instead I can only ponder whether this is too romantic to be real or too lame for words.

  On one hand, I do love books. I really fucking love books. It’s a thoughtful gesture, and it means that he’s taken the time to pay attention to my interests. Major points.

  On the other…

  “Honey.” I laugh. “You rich boys don’t get out of your bathtubs full of money often enough. You don’t buy books from libraries, dummy.”

  “Trust me, dummy.” Aaron shoots a grin over his shoulder that’s probably worth a bathtub full of money in its own right. “It’s a first edition. Incredibly rare. And us rich boys with bathtubs full of money have connections.”

  A male librarian wearing a rainbow pin on his lapel nods in recognition of Aaron as we approach a section labeled Rare Books. Aaron slips him a wad of cash almost as thick as, well, Aaron’s cock.

  The librarian has to unlock a door for us to let us through. As I pass him, we share a look.

  His says (with sincerity), Nice fucking catch, dude. You’re going to want to blow him when you get home.

  And mine says, Thanks, dude. But who says I’ll wait until we get home?

  The librarian and I share a shit-eating grin as Aaron continues to pull me along, pointing out names and titles as we go along.

  “The Romances of Dumas,” Aaron says, pointing to a gorgeous brown-and-gold hardcover.

  I giggle because he’s playing tour guide in a fucking library, but I’m nonetheless a little charmed.

  “Count of Monte Cristo was too sad,” I say with firm judgment. “He cared more about revenge than he did for love.”

  “Three Musketeers?” Aaron asks.

  “Loved it. Beautiful book, first line to last.”

  “Ah. Anna Karenina.” Aaron points to a stark-white copy painted with silver leaf. “Incredible novel. Or do you have issues with Leo as well?”

  “Tolstoy?” I laugh, because Aaron is referring to famous Russian author Leo Tolstoy as though he was some kind of old friend. “I find all the Russian novelists a little dry. Too moralistic for my tastes.”

  Aaron looks over his shoulder at me, appalled, and I stick out my tongue in defiance.

  “Anna was perfect,” I conceded. “But Vronksy was a little too fond of his horse.”

  “Are there any writers you do like, Chloe?” Aaron laughs.

  “Oh, I’m much more into the classics. You know, Stephanie Meyer, E.L. James, that sort of thing.”

  “Ah.” Aaron chuckles. “Have I told you before that you have impeccable taste?”

  “You have.” I sigh, trying desperately to control my giggling. “But I’ll never tire of hearing it!”

  “Here,” Aaron says, plucking a book off the shelf like he’d memorized its exact location. “I’ve had my eye on this for a while, but I thought maybe you would enjoy it more.”

  He passes it to me, and then I nearly really do swoon. It’s a gorgeous blue hardcover, sturdy but definitely older than my grandparents are. It’s Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac.

  “It’s no Twilight,” Aaron admits, “But I think you’ll like it.”

  I wrinkle my nose as I steal a glance at him, grinning ear to ear.

  “I’ve already read it,” I tell him as I gingerly flip through the pages. “But never in the original French.”

  “It’s the only way I have read it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. “Tell me again what you do for a living?”

  “Impress beautiful women,” Aaron shoots back with a grin. “Ah…‘Oui, je veux être aimé moi-même, ou pas du tout!’”

  I smile to myself as Aaron struggles to remember the quote in French. His accent, as it turns out, is fine as hell—much like the rest of him—even if he’s being a shady little bitch about what he does for work.

  “Mm,” I moan, nodding my head as I try to spin a rough translation. “‘I want to be loved for myself, or not at all.’ Is that why you won’t tell me where you work?”

  Aaron only grins.

  He’s brilliant. He must be to know these books as well as I do. Admittedly, I’ve got a bad habit of dating beneath my IQ level, and I’m a little too impressed that he can be simultaneously this good-looking, this smart, this generous…

  This good at making me want him…

  “So you identify with Cyrano,” I say, adding a little va va voom to my voice and fluttering my eyelashes. “That’s interesting.”

  “Well, you know. He’s infamous for having a giant nose…I’m infamous for having a giant…”

  Both of o
ur eyes drop to his crotch, where a thick outline is already forming in his pants.

  “Nose?” I finish for him with a giggle.

  Suddenly, for some reason, discussing literature isn’t at the forefront of my mind anymore.

  “Surely you didn’t bring be into the most secluded part of the library just to talk books,” I say, setting Cyrano back on the shelf and moving toward him.

  “Admittedly, I may have had ulterior motives.”

  “Luckily, I like men with huge…noses,” I say, backing him up against the bookshelf.

  Aaron hisses as my lips press against his collarbone and my hand squeezes his cock through his pants.

  “I thought you might.”

  “It’s true.” I smile against his chest before dropping to my knees. “In fact… ‘Il me faut un géant!’”

  I need a giant.

  Aaron

  Chloe drops to her knees before me like she’s forgotten where we’re at entirely.

  Hell. After all the shit she gave me about bringing her to the public library for our date, I didn’t think she’d ever let either of us forget it.

  But here she is now, grinding her knees against the tile floor and laying kisses up and down the front of my jeans like we’re in a luxury hotel room or the secluded privacy of my convertible.

  Chloe’s plump, gorgeous lips press hard through the denim. It makes me calculate the things separating my hard, throbbing cock and her wet little mouth like my life depends on it.

  Denim. A zipper. My boxer briefs. Then nothing.

  Three layers of clothes are all that separates Chloe’s perfect tongue from laying those sweet kisses up and down my dick.

  When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares about showing up at the library without any pants on. Pretty sure everybody does.

  But right now, that nightmare sounds like a fucking dream.

  Chloe’s lipstick is as red as my convertible. It leaves little lip prints up and down the crotch of my jeans. When we walk out of here, I realize, anyone we see is going to know exactly what Chloe and I went to the library for.

  And no matter how much we enjoy the written word, it’s pretty fucking obvious right now that the only thing we’re reading is each other’s bodies.

  Chloe is like a scientist, testing and making notes of my every reaction when one of her kisses presses up against the thickness of my cock.