Summer of Love: The Billionaire's Baby (BWWM Pregnancy and Marriage Multicultural Love Story)

by Imani King

  "Yeah, Blake - me too. That's how I feel. I'm sorry if I've been cold - truly I am - but it was self-protection. Surely you understand that you're - well, you're not the kind if man most women usually date. Or even chat with at the grocery store. I have to be careful about my heart, you know? I can't just go throwing it at every smoking hot megastar I see."

  I couldn't help the huge grin on my face. "You think I'm smoking hot?"

  She threw a napkin at me, giggling, and I was seized by the urge to go somewhere with her, to do something, just the two of us, together.

  "Do you want to go to the beach? We can drive up the coast a little. One of my friends owns a place with private waterfront - let's go."

  Without a shadow of hesitation, she agreed. I threw a hundred dollar bill down on the table to thank Pedro and Maria for their usual hospitality and we made our exit, both of us so happy I was surprised we weren't literally glowing.

  Chapter 11: Natasha

  We didn't do a lot of talking on the drive to the beach - and this time there was no driver, Blake drove us himself in one of the Mercedes SUVs he seemed to have an entire fleet of. All of the awkwardness and wary suspicion that had marked the past few stressful days was gone - not lessened - gone. It was enough to simply be there with him, sitting about a foot away and feeling like all the blood in my veins was carbonated. I kept stealing glances at him as he drove. His jawline was so painfully straight - so strong and masculine, all I could think about was kissing it again. At one point he caught me staring and leaned over to squeeze my thigh just above the knee.

  "Why are you looking at me like you want to eat me, Nat? We just had tacos - are you still hungry?"

  I giggled. "Because I do want to eat you."

  When we got to the beach the sun was still high in a cloudless sky and Blake was right - there wasn't a single soul visible anywhere on the entire expanse of golden sand.

  "They're not going to be here - this is just their beach house, they're probably in New York," Blake told me as we made our way across a backyard that must have been at least an acre in size and down a narrow path through a series of grassy sand dunes to the beach itself.

  "Wow," I said, impressed, "this place is beautiful - is this really a private beach? No one else is allowed here?"

  Blake was walking a few steps ahead of me, carrying a big blanket he'd had in the back of the SUV. He was wearing his usual perfectly fitted suit but he'd taken the jacket off, giving me an unobstructed view of the way his crisp white shirt hugged every inch of his broad, muscular shoulders.

  "Well, it's actually not private, I don't think. Technically, I mean. But the homeowners here all pretend it is so..."

  He started laying the blanket down just above the high tide line where the sand was dry and I turned my face into the warm summer breeze and closed my eyes, just enjoying the feeling of the wind and the sun on my bare skin.

  "Wait - so it's not actually private? They just act like it is so no one comes here?"

  "Yeah, basically." Blake reached up and took my hand, pulling me down next to him on the blanket.

  "Well that's a jerk move - I mean what-"

  He cut me off with a kiss. One of those deep, slow-burn kisses that takes your breath away with how quickly it turns your limbs to jelly and focuses your mind on one thing.

  "Yeah," he breathed when he finally pulled away, "I guess it is kind of a jerk move."

  I ran my fingers over his chest, so warm and solid under the smooth cotton of his shirt and then curled them around the back of his neck, no longer concerned with the matter of legal access to Malibu's beaches.

  "Goddamnit, Natasha, what are you doing to me?"

  Blake was grinning. He was also hard - it was standing out obviously against the dark fabric of his pants. I reached down and ran my hand all the way up the length of his cock, watching his face closely and loving the way his brow furrowed at my touch.

  "Natashaaa..." he breathed, rolling me onto my back, pushing his body between my legs and grinding himself against me until my mouth was hanging open and I was sighing helplessly.

  "Blake-" I gasped, well aware that the time I had left to form coherent thoughts was fast slipping away.

  "What?" he asked, bending his head down to kiss my neck, crushing his body against mine.

  "We're - Blake, we're on the beach. We're right out in the open."

  He pulled away from me slightly and looked at me, his blue eyes burning. I could hear his breath coming faster and heavier than it had been mere minutes before.

  "So?"

  He pulled the neckline of my dress down and started to kiss the swells of my breasts, still rocking his hips down against me rhythmically.

  "Blake. Please - we should move, I-"

  "You're right, Nat."

  He stood up and pulled me to my feet. Then, with some haste, he reached down and yanked the blanket into his arms, grabbing my hand and walking quickly back up to the top of the beach.

  We tried to make it back to his friend's yard, surrounded as it was with thick hedges at least eight feet tall, but we got to the dunes first, and there was just enough grass growing there to sufficiently block out anyone else's view - as long as they didn't trip over us. I glanced up and down the beach - it was still deserted. Blake and I stood there for a few seconds just looking at each other, enjoying the expressions of arousal on each other's faces, and then he pulled me down into the beach grass next to him and put his hand on one of my knees, sliding it up my dress until his index finger was resting against my wet panties.

  "Did I do this?" He asked, smiling and pushing his tongue between my lips again before I could answer.

  I buried my hands in his hair and held him down close to me as he ran a single finger back and forth over my panties, teasing me until I could barely take it anymore.

  "What do you want, Natasha?"

  Blake was tormenting me, but I saw a shadow of his impending loss of control cross his face when I answered.

  "You. I want you inside me, Blake. Please."

  "I know that's what you want, baby. And you're going to get it.

  He pulled my panties off and lay down on top of me, grinding his hips down between my legs until my eyes were rolling back in my head. He was so big - so tall and broad and heavy on top of me, moaning deeply every time I rocked my hips up against him. I knew neither of us were going to be able to last very long.

  "Natasha, take your dress off."

  "What?" I asked, hearing him but not entirely coherent.

  "Take you dress off."

  Blake's voice refocused me and I sat up, pulling my dress off over my head as he unclasped my bra and pushed me back down. His kisses were harder then and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down against me and listening to his low groan as his bare chest met my breasts. I wanted to do the responsible thing and say that we used a condom that time but we didn't - if it crossed his mind, he didn't say a thing and even if he had I think I would have refused anyway. I didn't want anything between us - I wanted him to feel every part of me - every little detail of what he'd done to me.

  He reached down between our bodies and nudged the tip of his thick cock between my folds, holding himself there against my opening as his ragged breath filled my ears.

  "Fuck, Natasha."

  We looked each other right in the eyes, both of us needing to see everything of the other's reaction. When he started to slide into me - excruciatingly slowly - my head rolled back onto the sand and he pulled it right back up so he could watch my face as the feeling of him filling me up made me sigh and open my mouth for his tongue.

  I watched him fuck me. I watched his dark eyelashes brush his cheek when he closed his eyes at the feeling of my soft wetness surrounding him. I watched his lips part as he moaned and picked up his rhythm.

  "Blake - can you feel me? Can you feel -"

  My voice cut off when he thrust into me hard and deep and held himself there for a few seconds.

  "Natasha,
I can feel everything. You're so wet, baby. You're so wet for me, oh fuck it feels so good, you feel so perfect..."

  There was something inside me - all the way in - an itch, an acute need that just heightened every time Blake pushed his hips down and filled me completely.

  "Blake," my voice was high-pitched and distracted, I could hear it. So could he.

  "Natasha, honey, are you going to come?"

  I couldn't really answer so I just nodded as I fell into the blue depths of his eyes and lifted my hips up off the sand, desperate for more of him than I was getting. Blake already knew the answer, though. He modified his thrusts, going deeper and faster and staying all the way inside me, hardly pulling out at all. Almost instantaneously, I was there.

  "Mmm, Nat, yeah. Natasha, yeah. I need to feel you."

  I lost myself there on the beach, with Blake buried inside me so he could feel all the sweet, urgent twitches in my sex. The last thing I managed to do before it hit me was reach out and grab the blanket, pushing it against my mouth, fully aware that I wasn't going to be able to keep quiet.

  When it happened - when the wave hit me - Blake held my face in his hands, forcing me not to look away, so there was nothing but his eyes on me and his cock inside me as the explosion of sweetness between my legs stopped my breath in my throat and voided all conscious thought. I wasn't even finished when his breath got suddenly much faster and he slid his tongue into me one more time as his body stiffened and his hips locked themselves down against my body.

  "Come inside me, Blake, please. Please, Blake..."

  I didn't intend to say anything but those were the words that came out - unnecessarily, because he was doing just that when I spoke, emptying himself deep inside me and half-groaning, half-shouting his release into my neck.

  He started to thrust again, unevenly, as he finished, the agonized look on his face melting into a huge grin and then back into agony a few times as I watched, mesmerized and aching with how masculine and perfect he was.

  "Mmm. Natasha." He kissed my neck as he pulled out, lying down next to me in the grass, completely naked.

  We turned our heads to look at each other, exhausted and happy. Actually, 'happy' doesn't begin to touch it - not for me, anyway. I felt high - high on Blake, high on everything about him, high on our closeness.

  "Nat?"

  It was a few minutes later, and Blake had rolled over onto his side to stroke my belly and look at me.

  "What?"

  "Quit your job and come to Tuscany with me."

  "What?!" I was laughing now, not sure if he was serious and not really caring - I didn't need to go to Tuscany - all I needed was him, and it didn't matter where we were.

  "I'm not joking. Quit your job. I'll transfer whatever they were going to pay you into your account. I'll get one of my studio friends to write you a glowing reference. Come on, Nat. Let's just go!"

  I knew I shouldn't have been making major decisions whilst still in a blissful sex haze but there was no real answer to give other than "Yes" - so that was what I said.

  Chapter 12: Blake

  They say money doesn't buy happiness. They're right. I grew up with every material thing a person could want. I went to the best schools, I spent time in the most refined company, I traveled the world from early childhood, and I never wanted for anything tangible. But up until that day on the beach with Natasha Ray and then the first part of our week in Italy - well, I'm no longer sure anything from my past could have matched how she made me feel. Having your basic needs met - even in a very luxurious way - is one thing. Connecting with another person the way I connected with Natasha, wanting to be with that person above all others and knowing that they feel exactly the same way - nothing beats that. Nothing even comes close.

  We flew to Italy less than forty-eight hours after our afternoon at the beach. Witnessing her nervous excitement and anticipation was more thrilling for me than literally anything I could have done alone.

  She spent the drive from the airport to the villa curled into a ball in the passenger seat, screaming with a combination of excitement and real fear at the crazy Italian drivers and hiding her face in her hands in a way that made it almost impossible to actually concentrate on the driving. When we arrived she got out of the car and stood there for what must have been five minutes in the villa's courtyard with her face turned up to the sun, basking in the scent of vineyards and summer. When she turned to me, the expression of wonder on her face made me feel like my heart was going to burst.

  "Oh my God, Blake. It smells so beautiful - the air is so...soft."

  I couldn't stop myself - I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tightly against my chest. I'd been coming to Villa Ambra, one of my parents' properties, for as long as I could remember - they have leather-bound photo albums full of pictures of me and my siblings playing in the pool, picking grapes straight off the vine and stuffing our faces full of Tuscan cuisine. But seeing it with Natasha was like seeing it for the first time. She noticed everything, so many little details that I'd somehow managed to miss. Even her very first comment about the 'soft' air - she was right, as soon as she said it I was struck by how right she was - and by the fact that I'd somehow never managed to notice it myself.

  We spent that afternoon walking around the estate holding hands as I pointed out various landmarks and plants, often relaying little stories from my childhood that related to them.

  "That fountain - the nanny caught my brother and I pissing in it when I was about five. We only did it because we'd been in Brussels the previous week with my father and one of our tutors took us to see the Manneken Pis-"

  "The Manneken what?" Natasha broke in.

  "The Manneken Pis - it's a famous sculpture of a little boy pissing into a fountain in Brussels. Anyway, the tutor took us to see it - correctly assuming that two little boys would find it endlessly amusing, which we did. Unfortunately it also convinced us that small boys pissing into fountains was some kind of widespread European tradition."

  Natasha giggled at the thought of me and my brother getting caught peeing in the fountain by the nanny and turned to me.

  "I bet you were a handful as a kid."

  I couldn't resist kissing the tip of her nose, which made her giggle again.

  "Yeah, I won't lie, I think our nanny definitely earned her salary."

  We kept walking the grounds, chatting. Natasha was very interested in stories from my childhood and I found myself uncharacteristically eager to tell them to her. There's something fundamental about our childhood memories. They reveal things about us that feel especially personal. I'd never wanted to tell them to anyone else before.

  "So you had nannies when you were little? Where was your mom?"

  "Ah, my mother. She was around - there aren't any terrible tales of abandonment to tell, but she's old-school, just like my dad. Children exist to continue the family name, and the best way to ensure that is to hand them over to nannies and tutors and various other people who are far more qualified to get the job done than their degenerate parents."

  Natasha considered this information for a few minutes as we looked out over a lush green valley with a small village and a lake at the bottom.

  "Did you miss your parents? Did you get lonely?"

  "Not really. We never got used to our parents being around - it was always a slightly special occasion to have dinner with them or spend a day with one of them - and they made sure we never lacked for proper playmates. So no, I don't suppose we got lonely. It was only when I got older that I even realized other people lived in the same house as their parents all the time, and ate with them every night."

  "Wow. That - that just sounds completely foreign to me - I can't imagine what that would have been like. Are you going to raise your children that way?"

  Hearing Nat mention children sent a little thrill through me and I reached out to caress the back of her neck.

  "No, I don't think so. Things are different now. I don't want you to think I'm insulting my
parents but I wouldn't choose to have my children raised by employees, you know?"

  The older couple that did the housekeeping and general maintenance at Villa Ambra weren't due until a few days later, which meant we were going to have to feed ourselves until they arrived. When I mentioned to Natasha that a trip to the local market was going to be necessary her eyes got wide.

  "Oh, Blake, I've heard about Italian food."

  "It's all true," I told her, "And there's nothing like it back in the States."

  We went to the market and I hung back, letting Natasha go wild until the straw basket we found in Villa Ambra's store room was full of juicy, dark red tomatoes, deep purple plums and various vegetables. When we got everything back to the kitchen, I set about throwing together a makeshift ratatouille and Natasha played my sous chef, chopping vegetables and commenting that she didn't know I could cook.

  "I can't, really," I told her as she passed me a chopping board full of diced eggplant and I scraped it all into a pan full of warm, grass-scented olive oil, "Only really basic stuff, anyway - you should see my kitchen back home, we spent hundreds of thousands renovating it and I'm not sure it ever got to see any action."

  The oblique reference to Vanessa worried me for a second, unsure as I was as to how Natasha would react, but she just smiled and shook her head at me like rich people were the most ridiculous people in the world. She was probably right.

  When she got to the tomatoes I told her to smell them and she held one up to her nose and took a deep sniff.

  "Wow."

  "Don't they smell great? I can't even eat supermarket tomatoes anymore, I'm ruined for life by these ones. Have a bite - they taste even better."

  "What - just take a bite out of it like an apple?"

  I chuckled and nodded. "Yes, just like an apple, Nat."

  Seeing Natasha take a bite out of that tomato is one of the most sensual things I've ever witnessed. The fruit was as ripe and juicy and warm as she was and the look on her face as she tasted it - the way her eyebrows lifted in surprise that quickly turned into pleasure - I swear it had me halfway hard.