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

by Liz K. Lorde

  Almost involuntarily, guided by my artistic spirit, white fades into an explosion of colors as I finally start another masterpiece.

  From time to time I pause, stare at my creation as it takes shape, before I continue. Boy this feels good.

  After about an hour, I stop. My neck is aching and I need coffee. As I walk into the kitchen I perform a few stretches. Left right, back and forth. I feel the tension release.

  Sometimes I can get carried away for hours in my work and afterwards find my muscles seize up. Over the years, I have learned to take little breaks from time to time to loosen everything up.

  Katherine sure knows how to loosen me up. I grin. Everything seems to be about her now.

  I love painting. I love it nearly more than sex. At least until the other day, before Katherine and I –

  I try and stop the thought process.

  If I start thinking about Katherine in the nude I doubt I will get back to my artwork.

  As I watch the rich, black liquid spill into my cup, I allow myself a little frolic.

  The image of Katherine pressed against the kitchen bench is too strong to push away. Her breasts right in my face, her nipples so pink and hard, begging to be sucked and pinched.

  I almost jump when the machine makes its familiar burping sound to indicate the process of making coffee is over.

  If I did not know better, I’d say the woman is a witch. Only a witch would have such strong powers over me.

  Cup in hand, I drift back to my studio.

  I can’t afford to daydream all day. Besides, what’s the point about of simply dreaming of having sex with Katherine? It would be far better to have her here and actually do it with her.

  Before I go back to painting, I pick up a couple of the sketches I have made of her.

  My brow furrows as I examine them.

  I’m not happy with them, not at all.

  Sure, they are technically correct. A lot of other artists would be envious of the near-perfect likeness of my subject; but not I. I know it is Katherine because I have drawn her but at the same time it isn’t her.

  For some reason I can’t quite capture the little quirky manners she has that make her so special, so deliciously unique.

  I picture her nose wrinkle ever so slightly when she takes a sip of coffee. I doubt she’s even aware of it. But I love it. Every time I watch her do it, I feel like grabbing her there and then and putting my dick into her.

  Not to mention the way her eyes widen in total innocence when she looks at my paintings. Her pleasure in what she is looking at is so sincere it hurts right in my gut.

  Part of me still cannot believe she posed for me, in the nude.

  I have painted plenty of nudes, some of them of exotic beauty, but I have never had a problem keeping sex out of my work, not until I met Katherine.

  Painting her in the nude has been my biggest challenge. The woman oozes sex appeal and does not even know it. And that’s just a tiny fraction of it; it goes beyond the sex. There’s a certain innocent rawness to her, and I somehow managed to capture that while she slept.

  My face darkens as I recall her shattered expression when that the jerk Dale had been to her apartment. If I see that dick again near Katherine, I think I’ll punch him right between the eyes.

  I put the sketches back down.

  Stop daydreaming, I tell myself, and pick up the paintbrush.

  Unfortunately the flow has been stifled. Thoughts of Katherine have left me yearning for her.

  I need to see her, touch her, kiss her and do other things with her now.

  My fine paintbrush adds some blue to my creation. I frown. Have I really just drawn the outline of a cloud in the likeness of Katherine’s ass?

  I chuckle.

  This is bad.

  My passion for this woman, one that isn’t even here in my apartment today, is unbelievable. I’ve never felt like this about anything or anyone before.

  Stop procrastinating, Blake, just do it.

  I put the paintbrush down again and go to find my phone.

  Only one thing to fix this sudden new addiction I have: I need to call her, I need to call her now and ask her to come over.

  My heart rate increases and little beads of sweat form in the back of my neck in anticipation as I listen to the dial tone and wait for Katherine to answer the call.

  Katherine

  I love the sound of my keyboard as I strike the keys. Letters form words, words form sentences and before I know it I have added another chapter to my novel.

  Today I’m on fire. The words cascade onto the page.

  Occasionally I glance at the dozen red roses perched on the desk to my left. The little card that came with them is now occupying a prime position on the shelf just above my workspace. Only the most precious items make it there.

  The words are etched into my mind. I’m probably reading too much into them, but Robin had said I should jump off the cliff.

  The alarm on my clock signals I have been writing for an hour and it’s time to take a break.

  I lean back in my chair and stretch languidly, like a cat. Time for a caffeine and sugar hit. If I’m to add another two thousand words before the end of the day, I better keep writing.

  As I walk into the little kitchen of my apartment, I recall the phone call with my agent a day ago. The publisher was itching for a draft. I had promised to deliver soon.

  Just as I turn on my espresso machine my phone blasts out the tune of ‘You’re so hot.’

  “Hello sexy,” I purr into the phone.

  Laughter.

  “Hey gorgeous.”

  His deep melodic voice sets of a longing in every part of my body. I’m definitely floating after having jumped off that cliff.

  “What’s up?” I had not heard from him all day.

  “Just wondering if my angel wants to come over for dinner.”

  I instantly feel a lusty desire overcome me. Maybe we could start with dessert and skip dinner as soon as I get there.

  I barley recognize myself in these thoughts and I suppress a giggle.

  “Where are we going?” I want to know if I need to dress up or if I can just slip on my sandals and head out straight away.

  “I’m cooking.” Blake says and suddenly I can’t wait to be with him.

  It’s insane how this man has invaded every part of my life and taken over. In his presence I feel complete.

  It takes me less than five minutes to check my appearance and I’m out of the door.

  When Blake opens the door, I smile. He grabs me, pins me to the wall and kisses me. The kiss is demanding, forceful and mind-blowing. My thoughts turn to a molten mass of uselessness.

  When he releases me, I breathe hard and want more. Already I’m wet between the legs.

  I follow Blake to the kitchen.

  He hands me a glass of red.

  “Trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me.” I quip and take a sip.

  Blake throws his head back with laughter.

  Without warning he’s in front of me, hands on my breast and ass.

  “I know you’re putty in my hands.”

  My nerve endings tingle in anticipation. I smile. But evil thoughts try and force their way into my happy state.

  I can almost hear Dale’s taunts. Everyone knows you will be discarded.

  “Hungry?”

  “Sorry?” I didn’t hear the question.

  Concern registers on Blake’s face.

  “You okay?”

  I nod and force myself to smile. Stop those negative thoughts, I tell myself.

  “Are you hungry?”

  The low rumble of my stomach is an answer of sorts.

  “I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” I confess.

  “Excellent.”

  He leads me out onto the balcony where he has set a table for two with flowers and two tall white candles. I feel as if I’ve walked into a four-chef-hat restaurant.

  There are pale pink plates, proper sil
ver cutlery and starched white serviettes folded into swans.

  “Take a seat.” He pulls out a chair. “I’ll be back with our meal.” I feel him kiss the top of my head before he turns.

  I watch him walk back to the kitchen. How many of his other models have sat here like this?

  Stop those thoughts, Kat.

  Briefly I close my eyes. Think about all the positive signs. He did agree not to use the painting. He’s cooking dinner.

  Yes, but we all know he discards his models like other men discard their underwear. Dale’s voice again.

  “Voila.”

  I didn’t hear Blake come back.

  In front of me waft the delicious smell of dinner.

  I cut a piece of steak and am instantly transported to another time. My grandmother had made the best steaks I ever tasted.

  “Not too rare?”

  I can hear the concern in his voice.

  “It’s perfect.”

  And it is. The meat is still a little pink but ever so tender.

  There is only one way I know how to push my doubts to one side.

  “I know you can cook from the first time you invited me over for dinner, but I didn’t know you are this good.”

  Blake winks at me.

  “I still have many talents you are yet to discover, babe.”

  The lump in my throat grows a little.

  “Really,” I try to sound lighthearted. I must not let Dale’s comments get to me. I must enjoy this time with Blake.

  “You’ll find out. All in good time.”

  I relax a little.

  I notice the way he is suddenly looking at me as I take a sip of my wine.

  “Do I have food on my face?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I can’t help but you stare at you. You are just so perfect.” He shakes his head. “The way you pick up your glass and wrinkle your nose ever so slightly as you take a sip is so unique about you. There are so many little quirks you have…I wish I could capture them all.” He sighs and smiles at me.

  My heart is beating a little faster. Does he mean what he is saying? Does he see more in me than simply someone to have sex with?

  I know I do. I know Blake completes me. But can I trust him? I trusted Dale and look where that took me.

  “Did I say something?” Blake leans toward me.

  I smile. Jump and float.

  “I’m fine, more than fine. I’m happy.”

  My lips part as they meet his. Instantly, fireworks rip through me. His tongue finds mine and I know what’s for dessert.

  Katherine

  “What are we doing, Blake…?” I ask him, the words bubbling up to my lips and escaping them before I can stop myself. I look into his eyes as he pulls back from my kiss, and I feel my heart melt as he opens into a smile.

  “We’re doing us,” he replies fast, no hesitation to it. I have no idea what he means by that, but somehow I feel more relaxed.

  Still…I’m afraid. What am I doing with someone like Blake? I always thought that I’d end up with a run-of-the-mill guy, someone that would be nice to me, treat me right, and…I don’t know! I expected average, but instead I got Blake.

  Can I trust him? Can I allow myself to open up around him? I want to say no, especially after what happened between Dale and me. I don’t know if I’m ready to trust again, to surrender myself to someone…but it’s Blake we’re talking about, the man that cut through all the bullshit and saw the real me.

  There’s a painting to prove it.

  “You okay?” He asks me softly, placing his index finger under my chin and gently making me to look up and into his eyes.

  I don’t even bother with a reply. I just give him a quick nod and reach for him, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and pulling him into me, my mouth hungrily looking for his. We lock lips then, and all thoughts of distrust and fear are carried away by the passion of his embrace.

  Before I know it, dinner has been forgotten. We’re both standing now, his hands on my waist and my breasts pressed against his chest.

  “I need you so fucking much,” he tells me, stopping our kiss just to tell me that.

  “I’m right here,” I whisper back at him, and he just responds by my picking me up, his strong arms behind my knees. I lace my arms around his neck and look into his eyes, running one hand through his hair as I try to read whatever’s on his mind.

  What did he see in me the first time? Why did he come after me? The scary thing is, if I want to see through his eyes, all I have to do is look at that painting.

  It portrays me, yes, but it also portrays the way he sees the world.

  Carrying me in his arms, he takes me to the living room. Laying me down on his luxurious leather couch, he climbs on top of me and crushes my mouth with his. I kiss him eagerly, pushing my tongue inside his mouth, and surrender to the desire making my heart beating rapidly.

  How did I end up here? Not long ago my life had a perfect trajectory – there was Dale, and there was a plan. Next thing I know my boyfriend is fucking some random woman, and I’m back to being single.

  Then Blake shows up, and the Earth jumps out from its axis.

  “I want you,” I tell Blake, and then nibble at his lower lip, smiling shyly as he takes me in his embrace.

  “Not as much as I want you.” He says, smiling back at me and running his large hands down the side of my body. “I’m desperate for you, for your body,” he whispers, and my heart almost explodes with the sudden desire and joy that floods my mind.

  I don’t know if it’s his tone of voice, or his choice of words, but I feel my pussy growing wetter and wetter.

  He kisses me hungrily again, sliding one hand under the hemline of my dress. His fingertips go straight to my inner thighs, and then he traces the contour of my drenched thong. I can almost feel the coiled tension that fills his muscles, desire making his heart beat faster.

  Completely out of control, I take my hand to his crotch and, feeling him hard and ready, I curl my fingers around his cock and give it a squeeze.

  “Is this for me?” I ask him, tightening the grip of my fingers.

  “All yours,” he replies, one hand of his pulling down the straps of my dress. He bares my black bra and, hooking one finger on the right cup, he pulls it down to reveal one hard rosy tip.

  I swallow hard the anticipation I’m feeling, and he dives into me as if he needed to feel my body in order to survive. I close my eyes as he wraps his lips around my hard nipple, sucking it into his mouth while he uses his tongue to circle it.

  I run my hands through his hair, disheveling it, and he uses his teeth to pull on my nipple. Gasping, I let him do it, and I start swaying my hips from side to side, trying to make him place the hand he has between my thighs on my pussy.

  And that’s exactly what he does – the moment I start to squirm, he makes me stop by flattening the palm of his hand against my aching pussy, pinning me down against the couch.

  “But I want this in return,” he says, flicking my thong to the side and brushing two fingers over my folds. I chomp on my lower lip as he does it, anxious to feel him inside of me.

  “It’s all yours…” I tell him, thrusting against his hand. “All yours…”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  With that, he slides his middle finger inside of me, taking it straight to my G-spot. Holding his fingertip there, he uses his free hand to tug on the front of my dress and pulls it down until it’s bunched up around my waist. His hand then goes to my back and, when he finds the clasp of my bra, he pulls it free - grabbing the strap right between my breasts, he pulls on it harshly and the bra comes off with a tearing sound.

  Smiling, I crush my lips on his. Pressing both my hands on his chest, I place my fingers on the collar of his shirt and then just pull on it, making all the buttons pop out. They scatter around the floor with a pop-pop sound, and I continue what I’m doing, pushing his shirt down his arms.

  I take one second to mar
vel at the perfect muscles of his chest, all of them so ripped and toned that Blake could be a model and not a painter, and then I take my mouth to his nipple.

  The moment my mouth touches his skin, he starts flicking his wrist, his finger moving in and out of me at a frantic pace. He fingers me to the point of exhaustion, my fluids dripping down my thighs and pooling on the leather under me.

  “Fuck me, fuck me now,” I blurt out suddenly, needing him inside of me as much as I need the air to breathe.

  “You’re in a hurry,” he chuckles, still fingering me so hard that it’s a miracle my brain can process the meaning behind his words.

  “Oh, you bet I’m in a hurry,” I continue, my hands darting to his belt and unbuckling it. My trembling fingers grab the hem of his pants and I pull, his zipper going down by itself in a flash. Turning my wrist around, I flatten my hand against his hard cock and then grab it, moving my hand up and down and stroking him over the fabric of his boxer briefs.

  I do it for a few seconds, but then he slides one more finger inside of me and I just stop completely, my insides burning up as a sudden wave of ecstasy crashes against both my mind and body at the same time.

  “Well, if you’re in a hurry…” He whispers, leaning into me and dropping the words right against my ear. I moan as he slides his fingers out of my pussy, and then I grit my teeth and summon whatever’s strength there’s in me.

  Moving quickly, I push his pants and boxers down his legs, and he sits up on the couch afterward. He kicks off his shoes, and then steps out of his pants and boxers, standing up and towering over me in all his nakedness.

  He bends over, grabbing the bunched up dress, and pulls it down my body in a hurry. He throws it on top of his clothes, and then grabs the string of thong that laces my outer thigh and pulls on it harshly, ripping it out of me.

  “Much better,” he says, his eyes going straight to the wet patch of skin between my thighs. He offers me his hand and pulls me up to my feet. Then he forces me to turn around, and I place my legs back on the couch, baring my ass to him.

  I gasp as he smacks me hard, no warning at all. He lays his hand heavily against my ass cheeks, and then he does it again and again, hard enough to leave a red mark on my skin. A perfect memento of everything we’re doing. He does it until the pain turns into pleasure, my brain melting and dissolving.