Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance (Babies for the Doms Book 1)

by Penelope Bloom

  “See? You’re already a hell of a lot looser.”

  “That’s not what you said last weekend,” I say. A split second later I clap my hand to my mouth, shocked at my own dirtiness.

  Logan laughs before leaning close to my ear. “Your shoulders are loose. Your pussy is tight as a fucking glove. And it’s all mine, Kitten.”

  My skin prickles with excitement and my core clenches at the sound of his gruff voice in my ear. God. No man has ever been able to trigger my sex drive so effortlessly. It makes me even more frustrated to think how quickly that drive fades if I’m not forced to place my trust in him. If I’m not dominated.

  The waiter approaches with our bottle of wine and gives Logan a curious, almost scared glance, as if he’s not sure if he should approach. Logan pulls his hands from my shoulders and steps back toward his seat, gesturing for the waiter to come.

  We eye each other over the table as our wine is poured. The water retreats soundlessly, leaving the bottle.

  Logan sips his wine. “We need to be open with each other from now on, Emmaline. No more secrets.”

  I nod my agreement, hoping he can’t see the strain in my forced smile. “Yes. I agree.”

  Something is brewing in that beautiful head of his, and I’m afraid I know what it is. He’s going to call me out. I know I should just tell him. He’s right. If I had just been honest with him from the beginning, maybe things wouldn’t have become so complicated. “I saw--”

  “I’ll start,” says Logan. Our words come out at the exact same moment. He narrows his eyes. “You saw?”

  I bite my lip. “You said you’d start.”

  He chuckles. “Fair enough. But you’re not off the hook. I want you to be open with me so it’s only fair that I’m open with you, too. Like I said, no more secrets.”

  “No more secrets,” I echo.

  He looks uncharacteristically tense for a moment, running his index finger along the edge of the table cloth, smoothing a wrinkle in the fabric. “The night we met at Club Crave was my first night back on the BDSM scene in years. I had a nasty break up with my ex-wife and she… made it difficult for me to enjoy my old lifestyle.”

  I feel a stab of jealousy at the mention of his ex-wife. I know about her, but it’s only from cyber-stalking Logan shortly after meeting him. Lana. A professional ex-wife who lives off her ability to extort money from Logan. Still, hearing him talk about her makes it seem more real.

  He continues. “She lied about the nature of our relationship--publically. It took a long time to repair the damage that did to my image, my company, and to be frank, my sex life. I wanted to leave it all behind. And I did, for a long time. But I got tired of letting what she did rule me, so I came back. And I found you.”

  I blush at the sincerity he pours into his last sentence. He makes it sound like a profession of love, and my heart is pounding in my chest. “Is it always like this?” I ask. “I mean, before you met your wife, when you were with other submissives. Was it like this?”

  He actually laughs, shaking his head. “Not even close. With other girls I needed the roleplay to get off. With you, it’s--” he stops abruptly, clearing his throat. The silence that stretches gives me plenty of time to realize what made him stop talking.

  He was about to say he doesn’t need the roleplay to get off when he’s with me. But I still do. He doesn’t want to throw it in my face, but there it is.

  He doesn’t need the bells and whistles. So why do I need them? He’s gorgeous, caring, and has just the right amount of edge to keep me interested. He cares for me. He really cares. He has all the right qualities, and still… I want to bury my face in my hands and scream. I thought my worries were behind me when he took me into a private room that first night. I thought it would be simple from then on. I even let myself believe I was having a sort of sexual awakening that might make it easier for me to enjoy vanilla sex.

  “I’m trying,” I say. “I want to try. I was thinking maybe we could just, well…” I look around self-consciously at the couples sitting only a few feet from us and lower my voice. I was going to say we could take it slower or take a break, like Scarlett suggested. But saying it out loud feels wrong. Can I really take something so sensually intimate and put an artificial limit on it? “However you want to do it. I’ll do whatever you want, however you want. I’ll be good for you.”

  He grins. “It’s not about what I want, Kitten.”

  “You’re so good to me,” I say. “I want to make you happy.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” he says, grinning.

  I look down, smiling and rubbing at a small water spot on the base of my wine glass.

  “You haven’t tried the wine,” he says.

  I realize how rude I must look when I imagine the price of the wine. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, picking it up. “I just got caught up.”

  He just bites his lip, watching as I tilt the glass back and let the smooth red wash over my lips. It’s fruity, light, and airy with a slightly bitter aftertaste. It’s more complex than the cheap wines I’m used to, but I raise my eyebrows appreciatively. “This is really good.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he says. “Now. It’s your turn. You were about to tell me something.”

  “Right,” I say, swallowing a little too big of a sip to buy myself time. “I was going to tell you I saw someone. I was leaving work and he was…” I trail off at the look on Logan’s face. All the compassion and kindness has faded and there’s only iron in his features. His eyes are narrowed and as piercing as daggers. I suddenly regret my decision to tell him. He’s not just going to confront Ronnie, he’s going to kill him.

  “And?” he asks, voice sharp.

  “And it was Ronnie. My mom’s boyfriend.” My voice sounds as quiet as a whisper and I practically cringe while I wait for him to process what I’ve said.

  “What did he want? Did he touch you? If he fucking-”

  “No. Logan,” I say, trying to get him to lower his voice because people are starting to look at us. “He didn’t touch me. I mean, he was reaching for me, but I screamed and these guys came out. God. This sounds way worse than it was.”

  Logan’s jaw flexes. “I warned him. I fucking warned him.”

  “Please, Logan. I didn’t want to tell you because I was worried you would do something stupid.” I wince at my choice of words.

  Logan’s eyes burn into me. “Stupid? You think it’s stupid to protect you?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.”

  His brings his fist down on the table, making our silverware clatter. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to make the message loud and fucking clear to this asshole. You’re mine. He’s going to learn why he should stay away.”

  I lower my eyes. There’s no arguing with Logan. The force of his will alone is mind-numbing. When he puts his foot down, it might as well be etched in steel. I just can’t stand the idea of him doing something crazy. What if he actually kills Ronnie? I realize with a sinking dread that I’m going to have to warn Ronnie. I may hate him and what he has done to my mom and now to me, but I don’t want to see him killed. More than that, I don’t want to see Logan ruin his life and career over this by getting sent to prison.

  40

  Logan

  Ronnie Burkhart. Forty-eight, unemployed, former high school football star. All around deadbeat with a history of domestic abuse, even before he started seeing Emmaline’s mom. My personal investigator sent the info over last night via email. I called him as soon as I dropped Emmaline off.

  The thought of Ronnie trying something with her makes me clench my fists and want to hit something. I don’t know what he’s after, whether he’s a pervert or he’s trying to extort money out of her. Whatever it is, it’s going to fucking end, fast. As soon as I find him, he’s going to get a real hard lesson.

  For now, I have to wait. I hired two additional personal investigators to start a manhunt for him. They already checked the trailer and didn’t find him. He’s p
robably passed out drunk in a gutter somewhere, but they will find him. All I can do is move through my Friday as normally as possible. I already tried calling Emmaline to get her to spend the day in my office where I could keep an eye on her, but she refused. She had a meeting with a potential investor for her company, and I know how important that is to her at this stage in her business.

  I hired an off-duty cop to tail her today and keep an eye out, so she should be safe, but I would rather be there myself. Just the thought of anything happening to her… Fuck. I don’t know what I would do. Whatever it was, it would probably end with me in prison for a very long time.

  When I get to my floor, I’m greeted by Lacey, who’s flanked by Deara, my Chief Financial Officer. I frown at the two of them. “What’s going on?”

  Lacey clears her throat nervously. “Deara wants me to show you this email. You were out of the office last night so I passed it on to her first. I hope that’s okay. It just seemed really… well... “

  “You should see for yourself, Mr. Steel,” says Deara.

  I don’t like how this sounds. Not a bit. I follow the two of them to Lacey’s computer. She clicks to her email and pulls a forwarded message from the tech guys. “I’m friends with Arnie from IT, and he said he was doing some routine stuff that required taking control of workstations throughout the building. He took over Dean’s computer and didn’t realize it was in use. He watched Dean write this email and even confirmed it was him by checking the security cameras. He dug it out of the archives and sent it to me so I could show you.”

  I lean forward, reading the email.

  Mr. Nakasuki,

  He is being more resilient than we anticipated, but I am working tirelessly. I anticipate the company will slip from his grip within the month. At that point, I am still committed to following through with the plan as we discussed. I just need more time than I originally anticipated. I hope this will not impact your decision to retain me as CEO after Mr. Steel is removed.

  -Dean Calloway

  I realize I’m squeezing the shit out of the headrest on Lacey’s chair when I finish reading. I straighten. Both Lacey and Deara are eyeing me expectantly, waiting.

  “Where is he?”

  “That’s the other problem,” says Deara. “When the tech guy dug up the email, it alerted Dean somehow. He knows you have the email. His work laptop has gone off the network, but it’s possible that he has backed up all the sensitive information on the computer already.”

  “Client’s payment information, addresses… shit,” I say. “If he leaked that, it could be the last straw. Our reputation would be shot, and I’d have no chance of getting any new investors, even small ones. He could force me to shoulder the financial load on my personal funds or file for bankruptcy and give up the business. Once I was out of the picture, his allies could funnel money back into the business and convince the public I was the problem.”

  “What are you going to do, sir?” asks Lacey. I see genuine concern in her eyes and even while I’m fuming over Dean’s betrayal, I have to give her credit where it’s due. After I made it clear I wasn’t interested, she put her head down and started focusing on doing her job well.

  “Whatever it takes,” I say, turning to leave the office.

  I have nearly tapped the city’s quantity of private investigators by now, but I manage to get another PI to help me find Dean.

  It’s only when I’m back in my car that the gravity of his betrayal finally hits me. One of the last fucking people I trusted. He was with me through all the bullshit of shifting from a publicly shared company to private, through all the lies and backstabbing that took place as everyone took their shot at unseating me and taking the helm of my company. He was there through it all and never showed any sign of greed to take what I had. I guess he was just playing me for a fool over the long term. He was waiting until I let my guard down and he thought he could make a clean sweep and get me out of the picture.

  Fucking weasel.

  I should have seen it coming. All the times he slipped out of meetings to take calls, or the way he started to act like he was more on my level lately, pushing the boundaries of professionalism. He was already counting me out. It explains all the minor changes in his behavior. I’ve been too preoccupied to notice or care about. If I had just had my head in the game like I used to, I would’ve spotted his bullshit from a mile away and shut it down before it got this far.

  I don’t dwell on could have beens. The shit happened, and now all there is to do is fix it. I don’t know exactly what I’ll do yet, but first thing’s first. Dean is going to answer to me. To my fucking face.

  I spend the rest of my Friday keeping an eye on the phone. I get a few texts every hour updating me on Emmaline and on the lack of progress in finding Dean or Ronnie. What a fucking shitstorm. With the information Dean has at his fingertips, he really could bring down my business. He could take everything I’ve built and strip it away from me. I just can’t decide if I’d rather watch it burn than give it to him.

  Last I looked, I have over five thousand employees. Could I really sabotage all those jobs just for my own pride? Maybe… I never made any claims about being a good man. Not once. I’ve only ever been one thing and I’ve never apologized for it. I’m a winner. I succeed. I strive and struggle and ultimately get what I set my eyes on. This is different. I would be striving to destroy instead of create.

  I’ll have to think on it, but I know I don’t have long. Maybe another idea will come to me, something that doesn’t involve destroying the whole company.

  The truth is my mind only wants to stay focused on Emmaline. No matter how much my company and personal life is in peril, she keeps returning to the front of my thoughts. I want to make her better. I have an idea of a way I can start, but the shit with Ronnie and now Dean is making that more difficult. Fuck it though. I have the perfect idea, and I’m not going to wait any longer. My small army of private investigators can call me if they find something. Emmaline should be through with her meeting soon, and I’ve got the surprise of a lifetime for her.

  41

  Emmaline

  “Thank you so much for your time,” I say, nudging Scarlett to get her to stand up. We’re both carrying armfuls of samples that neither investor bothered to look at.

  The stern woman in a pantsuit and her partner, a balding man with a perpetual bored look on his face nod politely.

  “You have my card, so you know where to reach me!” I say a little too cheerily.

  The woman forces a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. “I do have your card.”

  “Right. Thanks again,” I say.

  Scarlett follows me outside the Kolcom building. I expected the investors to meet us in some airy office upstairs, but they just came down to speak with us in the lobby, like they didn’t want to even let us upstairs. I turn around on the sidewalk and look back to the huge building, sighing.

  “They didn’t seem impressed, did they?” I ask.

  Scarlett squeezes my shoulder. “There will be more investors. This was just the start. Screw ‘em.”

  “You think they’d invest in us if I did?” I ask, grinning.

  Scarlett chokes out a laugh, looking at me with such a surprised bulge of her eyes that I laugh too. “Damn, girl. Working at that club has really upped your dirty joke game. I’m impressed.”

  I notice a black car with silver trim move slowly from a parking space on the side of the road and roll to a stop in front of us. The door opens and Logan Steel steps out. He looks so sexy as he pulls off his sunglasses and buttons his suit that it’s almost laughable. A woman bumps into a man’s back because she was staring so hard at him. He walks toward me, every movement a seduction. A promise.

  Scarlett tenses beside me. She tries to sound casual, but her voice comes out a little strangled. “Mr. Fucking Steel. Wow.”

  “Emmaline,” he says. “I need you to come with me.”

  I step toward him, letting him slide his strong arm around
my back and lead me toward his car. I give a quick apologetic wince to Scarlett over my shoulder. We had plans for coffee and I’m totally blowing her off, but she reassures me with a wink and a smile and then an incredibly crude thrust of her hips. I love that woman.

  I’m acutely aware of the way every woman within a hundred yards is watching me enviously as Logan guides me around the front of his car and opens the passenger door for me, helping me inside. He doesn’t notice a single one of them. His eyes are on me, protectively guiding me, as if every crack in the pavement could catch me off guard and send me toppling, but the only thing in danger of making me lose my footing is him.

  I wait while he walks back around the front of the car and slips into the driver seat. He opens the center console and pulls out a black piece of silk. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

  I look at the silk and back to his dark gaze. Something lingers in those eyes. A promise. Whether it’s a promise of pain, pleasure, or something in between, I have no way of knowing. Do I trust him? He’s asked me before in different ways and I’ve always spat out the answer I knew he wanted to hear. I’ve fantasized about trusting him and let myself believe I did, for as long as I needed to get off. But trust? Do I really trust him? Can I trust him?

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  To my surprise, he smirks. “We’re going to fix that. Put this on.”

  I take the silk from him and cover my eyes, tying it behind my head. I swallow as the blackness takes over. It’s only when the car starts moving and a few moments have passed that I realize how distracting it is to look at him. I’ve never really just been around Logan without being nearly blinded by how sexy he is. It’s nice. I start to hear sounds I wouldn’t have noticed before. The deep, smooth sound of his breaths. The creak of the leather steering wheel beneath his strong hands. The rubbery clicks and thuds of the gearshift. Even the slight rustle of his slacks against the seat as he moves his leg to use the brakes.