Knocked Up on Valentine's Day: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance

by Amy Brent

  The restrooms at Dante’s were elegant places—especially the women’s. I had been in it more than a handful of times. So, I knew where the girl was taking me when she took the lead and marched past the floor to ceiling mirrors on the east wall, past the high-backed, plush chairs in a row at vanity tables for women to fix their makeup, and past the sinks. Finally, she stopped at the door at the end, lifted her fist, and knocked.

  Fifteen seconds later a blonde girl with a definite wobble in her step stumbled out, gave us a sheepish drunk smile, and continued past us. Other women were shooting us looks that were divided fifty-fifty between disapproval and envy.

  The short-haired girl stepped into the handicapped cubicle, grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and pulled me in behind her. Before I closed the door behind us, I flashed the women in front of the mirrors my best devil may care grin. One rolled her eyes. The other four giggled.

  When I turned back to the girl in the stall with me, she had already pulled her shirt off over her head and stood proudly before me. She was wearing a sheer lace black bra. Her nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric. I stepped closer to her, and she tilted her chin up to look at me. She wasn’t tall by any means; the top of her head came only to my shoulders, and she was wearing some damn high shoes.

  I approved of her choice of location. We had plenty of space in this stall. It hosted its own sink and counter beneath a large mirror. I turned her back to the mirror strategically. I had done this before, and I wanted the view from all angles.

  Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine as I reached out and put a hand on her waist. I drew her to me and held her against me before cupping the back of her head in my other hand and lowering my face to hers. I pressed my lips against her mouth, tasting her lipstick and her tongue. She had been drinking vodka crans, and she tasted sweet. A ripple of desire tore through me. I pushed my tongue between her teeth and explored her. She moaned breathlessly into my mouth, and it was enough to propel me into action.

  I found the hem of her skirt and tugged it upward. It took a little bit of effort to get it over her ass. Once it was sitting up around her waist, I grabbed hold of her bottom and squeezed, holding her to me more fiercely as she pinched my bottom lip between her teeth. I glanced at the mirror and admired the shape of her from behind. She had dimples on her lower back, and the curve of her spine was too much temptation for me not to run my fingers down the length of the middle of her back. She also wasn’t wearing panties.

  My kind of girl.

  She cooed in my ear, nibbled my earlobe, and then rained kisses down my throat.

  What she was doing felt too good for me to still have my pants on. I was pressing up against the inside of my jeans and was eager to be free. She seemed to sense this, and her fingers fell to my belt buckle. She continued to kiss my neck as she undid the buckle, then my fly.

  She leaned away from me once my pants were undone and looked down. She wanted to see what she was working with, apparently, and I wasn’t going to keep her waiting. My jeans fell down around my ankles, and I pulled my boxers down.

  That gleam in her eyes burned brighter as she stared at me. She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth and stepped in closer again. Her fingers found the hem of my shirt which she pulled over my head. Then she ran her fingers all over my chest and stomach, feeling the ridges and grooves of my body.

  “I was hoping this is what was hiding under there,” she whispered. “Hoping but not really expecting.” She smiled coyly at me and took me in her hand. She worked me over, slowly at first, and built up to a quicker rhythm that had me thanking my sheer good luck that she had the nerve to bring me into this bathroom in the first place.

  “Turn around,” I said, taking her by the hips and spinning her away from me.

  She spun to face the mirror and watched me in the reflection. I kissed her neck and shoulder while I undid her bra. It fell to the floor and became pinched beneath the heel of her shoe.

  Her breasts were perky and firm. I cupped them in my hands and pressed my cock into her back. She rested her head against my chest and continued to watch me in the mirror.

  “Spread your legs,” I demanded.

  She widened her stance and never took her eyes off me. “Fuck me,” she pleaded. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

  I planned on it.

  I let go of her breasts. She replaced my hands with her own. I put my hand on her upper back and pushed her down over the sink. She submitted and looked over her shoulder, watching as I took my cock in my hand and pressed it up gently against her pussy. She was so wet and so soft. I could feel my pulse in the tip of my cock as I rubbed up against her.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  I eased into her, gliding against her velvety soft walls. She was tight, and she hugged me firmly as I entered her. She moaned once she had taken all of me. Her back arched more dramatically, and she lifted her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes.

  I withdrew and entered her again. I repeated this until neither of us could bear it any longer, and then I gripped her hips and buried myself in her over and over. She reached out and clutched the counter as a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips. That was all the encouragement I needed.

  I fucked her harder. Her legs shook. A cry of pleasure came from her, and the sound only made me want to work her over more.

  I pulled out of her when I was about to come and turned her back around. She was unsteady on her feet now, a sure sign that I was doing a good job. I lifted her up with my hands under her ass. She wrapped her arms around my neck and braced herself on my shoulders. I felt the tip of my cock pressed against her clit. She took one arm off my shoulder, took hold of me, and eased me back inside her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and a smile of delight curled the corners of her mouth.

  I lifted her up and down, up and down, her pussy gliding over my cock. She was even wetter now.

  She buried her fingers in my hair and curled them into fists. She leaned in close and kissed me hard, sucking on my tongue and exploring me with excited determination. I continued to bounce her on my cock, and she moaned and purred into my mouth.

  She tightened her hands in my hair and pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyelids were heavy. Still deep inside her, I set her down on the counter and pushed her legs apart. She rested one ankle on my shoulder and pressed her fingers against her clit. She began to rub herself in slow circles while I continued to thrust into her.

  I pulled all the way out and then eased my way slowly back in. My cock was slick with her juices, and her pussy was too good for me to hold out much longer. I pushed deeper into her than I had before. She cried out in ecstasy. I felt her leg and ankle quiver against my shoulder as she succumbed to her orgasm.

  I buried my cock in her as deep and as hard as I could. I was going to come soon. Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter as she struggled to balance herself with each thrust I gave her. Her bouncing tits, breathless moans, and juicy pussy brought me to the brink.

  Then she fixed me under her stare and breathed, “Come inside me.”

  I lost complete control. I thrust into her one last time and filled her up with warmth. Her pussy pulsed around me as she took it all.

  She sighed with contentment and lifted her ankle from my shoulder. I still held her hips and eased her gently to the floor, where she somehow managed to balance precariously on her stilettos. She grabbed her skirt and wiggled her hips as she tugged it back down around her thighs.

  She turned away from me to face the mirror again. Her lipstick was smudged and faded. She stooped down to the ground to retrieve her bra and shirt. At some point, a red tube had fallen to the ground. She grabbed that, too, took off the cap, and repainted her lips. She pursed them and rubbed them together as I cleaned myself up and pulled my pants back on.

  “You fuck like a God,” she told me as she watched me in the mirror.

  “I do what I can.”

  She twisted back around and leaned against the counter, st
ill naked from the waist up. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and I didn’t look away. I tugged my shirt on over my head and ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to contain the volume it now held from her burying her fingers in it.

  “If I called you sometime, would you want to do this again?” she asked, one eyebrow lifting up toward her hairline.

  “I don’t have a phone, actually,” I said, pressing the wrinkles out of my shirt. “But thanks anyway. That was fun.”

  “Fun?” she asked a hint of irritation coloring her voice.

  “Yeah,” I said with a slight shrug. “You’re a babe.”

  That irritation seemed to burn out as a small smile touched her lips again.

  “I have to get back to my buddy,” I said, hooking a thumb over my shoulder and pointing at the cubicle door.

  She nodded and spun back to the mirror. “I’ll see you around,” she said as she clipped her bra on.

  “Yeah,” I said as I opened the door and stepped out.

  Six women were standing in front of the mirrors staring at me. I imagined they had all been pruning themselves before heading back out into the club to peacock in front of all the men, but they had become distracted by my vigorous fucking of the stranger in the handicap stall. They didn’t seem annoyed by my presence in the bathroom, but more curious.

  “Ladies,” I drawled as I slipped by them. I gave them a slight nod and chuckled to myself as I stepped out of the restroom, and a chorus of giggles erupted behind me.

  Chapter 2

  Allie

  I leaned forward to rest my forehead on the top of my desk. It was presently littered with pieces of paper, my lunch box, and general office debris. My boss, James Lipton, CEO of Lipton Publishing, had filled my day with numerous tasks that had turned my brain to complete mush. Being his assistant was no walk in the park, and today was the sort of day I dreaded.

  I had arrived at eight in the morning with his usual cup of coffee in hand: a triple grande Americano Misto with one pump of vanilla syrup. After delivering it to him in his office, he had handed me a sheet of paper with a list of the day’s priorities. After arranging and prepping his three board meetings that day, I had to interview six potential candidates for a summer internship, process the monthly order of new office supplies, and confirm James’s appointments for the rest of the week.

  Now, it was nearly four thirty, and I ached for time to hurry along. I hated Mondays. They were too abrupt for me after a weekend. Especially my slow paced, easy going, do nothing all day and night kind of weekend. I had watched Netflix and eaten a tub of chocolate mint ice cream by myself between Friday and Sunday night.

  The highlight of my weekend had been the phone call I received from Steven on Sunday afternoon. He wanted to get dinner on Monday night, and my eagerness to see him was only making time pass slower.

  I always enjoyed my time with Steven. He made me laugh, regardless of how terrible my day had been. He was in general great company. We had been close friends since freshman year, and I had been completely infatuated with him since then.

  I lifted my head from the desk and peered at the clock on my computer screen. Still twenty more minutes before I could go home and get ready for dinner. Steven was going to meet me at our favorite spot, a little Italian restaurant called The Italian Corner. I conjured up an image of him in my head sitting across the table from me at dinner.

  I pictured his perfect head of dark brown hair, and how some of it always managed to fall so that it grazed the ends of his eyelashes. This made his bright blue eyes look mysterious. I thought of his broad shoulders and the way he sometimes wore the collar of his shirt open, exposing just the right amount of chest.

  I swallowed when I felt a sudden heat begin to burn below my belly.

  Steven and I had been friends for too long, and I knew he would never want to pursue anything with me. He was a player, and always had been, and I was thankful to at least be his friend. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I needed Steven in my life. I would do anything for him, and I suspected he would do anything for me.

  Except, of course, fall for me the way that I had fallen for him all those years ago.

  I hopped out of the taxi and straightened my jacket. Underneath I was wearing my favorite black dress that hugged my body in all the right places. I had completed the ensemble with a pair of heels that were on the edge of suitable enough for me to walk in without making a fool out of myself.

  I spotted Steven sitting at one of the tables by the window. The candle burning in front of him cast an elegant, warm light onto his face, and I took a moment to admire him. He would never notice. He was focused on his phone, probably sending a text or an email.

  I sighed and clutched my purse tighter to my side. Get a grip, girl, he’s your friend, nothing else. I nodded to myself as if to confirm what I was thinking. Nothing else. Just a friend.

  I made my way into the restaurant. The hostess recognized me right away, smiled, and pointed to where Steven was sitting. He was still staring at the screen on his phone. I approached the table, slipped my jacket off my shoulders, and draped it over the back of the chair.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Steven looked up. His face brightened with a huge smile. He dropped his phone into his pocket and stood, stepping around the chair between us to pull me into a hug. I relished the momentary feeling of his arms around me. When he drew away, his hands were on my upper arms. He held me in place and looked me over. “You look beautiful,” he said. “New shoes?”

  “No.” I smiled. “Just an old pair I don’t usually wear.” Because they don’t have arch support and they squish my toes.

  “I like them,” he said, stepping back and returning to his seat.

  I sat down across from him and pulled my chair up to the table. “You look great too,” I said, gesturing at all of him. He always looked great.

  He grinned sheepishly and waved off my compliment. Our server arrived, and Steven ordered us a bottle of Merlot before asking me if I was ready to order. I had already decided what I was going to eat the previous afternoon when he called me and invited me out. We ordered our meals, and once we had our privacy back, I asked Steven what was new with him.

  “Oh you know, same old stuff. Went out with Chance last night. He asked how you were doing. I told him all about your little fender bender the other week. He told me I was an ass.” Steven shrugged. “But we all knew that already.”

  I shook my head in mock dismay and laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t keep that to yourself. So embarrassing.”

  “Why?”

  “I rear-ended someone because I was jamming too hard to Backstreet Boys. I can’t help it. You know what happens to me when their music comes on. It’s like I’m fourteen all over again. How is that not embarrassing?”

  Steven chuckled. “Chance thought it was kind of endearing.”

  “Endearing. That’s my middle name,” I said as the waitress returned with our bottle of wine. She poured mine first. I smelled it and took a sip, pretending to know what I was doing, before smiling approvingly. She topped up my glass and then filled Steven’s, and we were once again left on our own.

  Between the arrival of our meals, we discussed all the new things going on with us since I had seen Steven last. I told him all about my boss and how needy he had been lately. He told me about new developments with his app, and the potential new direction he was going to take it.

  “Oh, Andrew says hi, by the way,” Steven said after a sip of wine. “I saw him yesterday evening. He asked about you, so naturally, he knows the whole Backstreet Boys fiasco as well.”

  I groaned and buried my face in my palms. “You’re just the worst,” I lied.

  Steven only seemed encouraged by my humiliation. He laughed mostly to himself, but when he realized that I was genuinely mortified, he apologized. “Listen, things like that happen to people all the time.”

  “Oh, really?” I asked skeptically. I took a sip of wine and shoo
k my head. “I highly doubt things like that happen to you. You don’t get embarrassed.”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Liar.”

  “I am not.” Steven laughed. “Two weekends ago I had a terrible evening with a girl who insisted on calling me ‘Kent’ because she thought I looked like Superman. Also, I should note, she was drunk when she arrived at dinner and smelled like she had just rolled out of a smoke room.”

  “Wow, that must have been terrible for you,” I said sarcastically. “How dare she insult you by suggesting you look like a Kryptonian God.”

  “You’re such a dork.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. That was true, and he and I both knew it. I held up one finger and fixed him under my accusing stare. “Let me guess, despite your humiliation,” I said while performing air quotes, “you still went through with the whole date, took her home, and made sweet love to her.” I hated that the words were coming out of my mouth, but it was a defense mechanism. I knew I could never be the kind of girl that Steven laid with or loved. Not that I had ever heard of him loving anyone besides his mother. So I had to settle for the friend who sat and listened to him talk about the women he had sex with. Sometimes, I would go home and envision myself as one of those women.

  “Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair and draping his arm over the backrest. “I didn’t not sleep with her, that’s for sure. She was hot, and definitely kinky, and definitely worth the awkward meal.”