His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance

by Katie Ford

  “Oh god, yes,” she pants. “Yes, just like that.”

  So I push my tongue in a little bit, but she’s too tight to go very far. Yet Fiona’s beside herself with lust; as I’m licking her ass faster and faster, my chin is pressing against the opening of her pussy and I can feel it pulse with lust, pumping creamy juices out and begging to be filled. But it won’t be. Not right now. Right now, I’m going to fuck her in the ass until she comes like a hurricane.

  I stand up and holding my cock with one hand, gently press the head against her ass. She gasps and I stop.

  “Have you ever done this before?” I growl. She shakes her head. “Would you like to?” She nods, and I continue pushing the head of my cock into her ass, but it’s too tight. I groan in frustration. “I want to make you come like this,” I rasp. “I want to show you how good this can be.” I spit into my hand and lube her ass and my cock up a bit and try again. This time, I’m able to go deeper, but it’s still impossibly tight. Fiona doesn’t seem to be suffering though!

  “Deeper,” she breathes in a strangled gasp. “Harder!” And obeying, I push the rest of my cock into her ass, filling her up all the way to the hilt. A little more rough than I intended, but Fiona’s screaming in ecstasy, so I roll with it. I start fucking her ass with smooth, deep movements. Feeling my cock being squeezed so hard from base to head, I’m constantly on the edge of coming, and I can’t let that happen. I want that pussy gushing, first even if it kills me. I clench my jaw and growl as I try my best to hold myself back while Fiona’s tight little ass milks my rod.

  My balls tighten up as my orgasm starts to build - I can’t keep this up, I’m going to need some help if I want to make her come before I explode inside her ass. Thinking fast, I reach down and insert two fingers into her tight pussy, so wet now I can feel the juices run down my hand as my fingers stroke her folds.

  “Oh, Dylan! Yes!” she screams, as I massage her G-spot faster and faster, while I continue to fuck her ass. Fiona moves in tandem, unable to stop herself, and I know she’ll be exploding soon. I feel her pussy clench up around my fingers as her ass sucks at my cock and she comes suddenly, gushing down my hand and moaning like a wild animal. Oh fuck fuck fuck. It’s so good.

  Her orgasm throws me over the edge. I can't hold back anymore. Growling like a wild animal myself, I finally allow myself to let loose. I jolt forward with one final cry and come hard, balls pumping. Oh shit! Deep inside her ass, I deposit a load with contractions so intense that they almost hurt.

  “Unnh,” is my groan. “Drain me dry with your ass, baby, yeah just like that.”

  Because if I thought that yesterday was the hardest I’d ever cum, I was wrong. It was just topped. Out of breath, I pull out slowly, my dick milky with baby batter, her anus sticking to the shaft like it doesn’t want to let me go. Shit, it looks fucking rancid and my rod twitches again.

  But this girl. Reaching two big hands down, I heave a breathless and satisfied Fiona up from the sofa, her face flushed and smiling. As our eyes meet, we start laughing, suddenly a little shy about the filthy sex we just had.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her, smoothing the hair out of her eyes. She nods shyly, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, bright and sparkling with vigor.

  “I - I had heard of anal sex but I didn’t know it would be so good,” she confesses softly, making me smile. Holy cow, this woman is amazing.

  “And it gets even better,” I add with a waggle of my brows. But enough of that for now. “Fiona, I’d like to take you out properly,” I announce. “I don’t want to just have crazy good sex on the downlow,” I say, making her laugh and blush. “As amazing as it’s been, I’d like to get to know you. Even though I feel like I already do.”

  “You want to know me?” she asks softly, and the way her eyes mist over slightly, I know what she’s thinking. The kind gesture makes her so happy. Because of that stupid prick Ricky. I can just see him ignoring her, and not showing the slightest interest in her as a person. He probably did just enough to keep her around and not an ounce more. The thought of my imbecile of a brother treating this innocent, gorgeous girl so badly makes my blood boil, and I vow to rock her world. To show her that not all Mastersons are assholes. To treat this goddess the way she deserves.

  “Will you go out with me tomorrow night?” I ask, and she smiles.

  “Yes, I’d love to,” she answers. “Wonderful. I’ll pick you up at eight,” I say, and kiss her. Feeling her lips on mine in a non-sexual way brings a warm feeling to my stomach, and I'm astonished. That’s never happened to me before. Usually, the goodbyes are mere niceties.

  I open my eyes and look down at Fiona, trying to figure this woman out. What is it about this curvy brunette? But I’m grateful to see she’s too caught up in her bliss to notice my sudden astonished feelings.

  “Where are we gonna go?” she asks, intrigued and sassy.

  “That’s a surprise,” I answer, winking. And I know right then that Fiona’s what’s been missing from my life. I’ve lived four decades as an asshole, and the women I meet don’t add much to my existence. But this beautiful creature has been dropped into my lap, and somehow, I’m intrigued. It’s the mix of her innocent ways, filthy mind, and deliciously curvy body. She’s got me hooked … and I want to figure out why.

  Chapter 8

  FIONA

  Three months later …

  This morning I wake up in my own bed for the first time in months. I lie awake watching the early morning sun creep through my curtains as the thought of Dylan comes floating into my consciousness, and I smile to myself, reminiscing. Ever since that very first date, after we had filthy sex twice in two days, we’ve been almost inseparable. I stayed with him in his penthouse that night and essentially never left. We’d both go to work and then return in the evening, spending whole weekends together in bed and ordering in food.

  Food. After that horrific incident with Ricky when he shamed me for eating my entire sandwich, I was a little wary about eating in front of another man. What would Dylan say if I devoured everything on my plate? Would he think it was gross? Unladylike? Or something even worse?

  Because even though he was so different from Ricky, I just didn’t know. My self-esteem has been damaged, and it crossed my mind that maybe all hot guys hate girls who eat food. I hadn't really dated enough of them to know, so I was nervous.

  But as soon as we got to the surprise restaurant during our first date, I knew I could relax and be myself. Not only was Dylan abundantly clear about loving my curvy body from the very beginning, but he encouraged me to order any and all food I wanted, including multiple desserts. Plus, the man took real pleasure from seeing me enjoy my food. Not only have I never experienced this with the few guys I’d dated, I also didn't know it was possible for a guy to be this okay with me being myself. I don’t know if that’s really sad to admit, but at least it’s all over now.

  Because everything about the man is incredible. He’s so hot and thoughtful and gentle, yet commanding and sure of himself. He knows what he wants, and clearly, he knows what I want, too. And oh god, the things he does to me… I can feel my pussy tingle merely thinking about it. His cock is enormous and every time we have sex he makes me come harder than I thought possible. And what’s even more of a turn-on is how horny he is for my body. He can’t seem to get enough of my huge tits and wide ass. All I have to do is walk into the room with a slightly open bathrobe, or tight dress, or anything that shows off my curves, and he’s as hard as a rock. He’ll grab me and fuck me right then and there, no matter what we were doing. Bending me over furniture, pushing me up against the wall, pulling me down onto his lap as he pushes my tight pussy onto his rod, always wet for him. He never hesitates and I love it.

  So lying here in my own bed, I miss Dylan. He’s away on business and even though he tried to convince me to stay in the penthouse and make myself comfortable, which was very tempting, I thought I’d better go home and get some laundry done. I basically haven’t been hom
e since that first date three months ago, as crazy as it seems. And I can’t just let Dylan keep buying me new outfits, even though I now have a fully stocked, fabulous designer wardrobe at his place.

  But I can’t help wondering about what’s going to happen between us. Because call me girly, but we still haven’t had “the talk.” The one where you “define the relationship” and put labels on things, such as “boyfriend,” “girlfriend,” “couple,” and “together.” Dylan clearly hasn’t felt the need to instigate it, and I’ve been reluctant to jinx things. Besides, I’ve been feeling nauseous the last few days and figured that if I was coming down with something, it would be perfect timing for me to sweat it out while I’m at my own place, and not his. No one needs to see me vomiting while running a fever, especially not someone as amazing as Dylan.

  And suddenly I’m overcome with a strong wave of nausea. I scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom, where I violently throw up into the toilet. What the hell? I clean myself up and feel a bit better, so I check for other symptoms of illness. But there are none. No fever, no sore throat, no aches and pains. Just this queasiness. So I step into the shower. Gross, chunks of vomit got into my hair, and my hands grab the soap for a good scrub down. But as I lather myself up, I notice that my breasts are very, very tender. I cup them gently, observing how they’re even bigger and heavier than usual, and painful to the touch.

  Holy shit. I suddenly freeze, my soapy breasts in my hands and the hot water coursing down my back. Holy shit. It can’t be. I can’t be pregnant. But I can’t turn back time, all I can do is stand there as the reality of the situation comes crashing down over me along with the water. Because of course I could be pregnant. Dylan and I try to be careful about protection, but sometimes, we forget to use the condom. I hate being on the pill and resisted when he even suggested it.

  So yes, I could be pregnant with his child. It’s not impossible. But then another crushing realization hits me. Maybe the child is Ricky’s. Because in fact, I had unprotected sex with not just Dylan but also Ricky, three months ago.

  Holy shit! Quickly, my mind starts computing. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a period in a while, so I probably did get pregnant a while back. With shaking fingers, I pull out my phone and stare at the calendar. It’s possible. I had sex with Ricky, and then met Dylan two days later and had sex with him. Both times, it was unprotected. So this nightmare could actually be true.

  Holy shit! What do I do? Limply, my form drops to the shabby couch. Because if I actually am pregnant, it would be impossible to know whose baby it was. As identical twins, Dylan and Ricky share the same DNA, and even a genetic test would be useless. Oh god. I’m going to be sick again.

  But I make myself swallow the bile and stride to my bedroom. Once I’m inside, I open the window to blast myself with a cool breeze. It helps, for sure. I sit on the bed in my towel and try to get my mind around what to do. There’s panic bubbling up inside, but I force it down. There’s no point in completely freaking out until I actually know for sure that I’m definitely pregnant. First things first.

  So I get dressed and head to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. As I'm browsing the different brands, I think back on how I’d often pictured this moment. In my fantasies, I’d be strolling down the aisle shopping for pregnancy tests with a ring on my finger and my dapper, loving husband by my side. A husband of whom I was sure was the daddy of my baby. Oh god, I’m gonna be sick again. I buy three different brands of pregnancy test and get the hell out of there. It says on the back that the best time to do the pregnancy tests is during the first pee of the day, but I don’t have the patience to wait until tomorrow to take them. I bought three for a reason: for reinforcements.

  But there is no doubt. I drink a ton of water and pee three times in one hour, and each and every single one of the pregnancy tests comes out positive. Oh my god. It’s true. I’m pregnant! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. If I could be sure that it was Dylan’s, I’d be over the moon – and maybe he would be too. We could make things official, move in together, and maybe even get married. I have no idea how Dylan feels about starting a family, let alone with me. After all, we’ve never spoken about it. In fact, we’ve never even spoken about “making things official.” Shit. What do I do now?

  None of this matters, though. The fact that the baby could very well be Ricky’s completely obliterates any chance of feeling happy about my pregnancy. I haven’t heard from him or seen him at all since he dumped me, and Dylan and I haven’t discussed his brother at all. Caught up in my sudden whirlwind romance with Dylan, I had been able to push away the memory of sleeping with both twins in such a short period of time. Initially it had bothered me. But it wasn’t as if I was cheating, and Ricky clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

  But still - who does that? I had been able to lie to myself and tell myself if was okay, even if it’s the kind of thing I’d never be able to tell my grandchildren. But it’s all come back now to bite me in the ass. Here I have the most incredible guy ever, who makes me so happy. And yet I’ve ruined it all by potentially being pregnant with his twin brother’s baby. It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have thrown myself at Dylan that first time. I should have exerted more self-control. I should have made Ricky wear a condom. So many shoulda, woulda, couldas, and yet all there is are these stupidly positive pregnancy tests. I throw myself down onto the bed and finally allow all the emotions to take hold as I cry my heart out into the pillow.

  What do I do now?

  Chapter 9

  DYLAN

  It’s been a week since I got back from my business trip and I know something’s up in a bad way. When I called Fiona to tell her I was back, she acted cold and distant in a way that was completely out of character. She said she wasn’t feeling well and asked if she could call me back. I had been worried about her and decided to give her some space, but when a couple of days went by and I still hadn’t heard back from her, I started thinking something was wrong. Ever since then I’ve been trying to reach her - calls, emails, even calling LOLA to see whether she was turning up for work. Maybe the girl really was sick. But no, she’s been going to work. So she’s avoiding me for some reason.

  The thought filled me with a frustrated rage. Why? What had happened since I saw her last? Before I’d gone on my trip everything was fine. We’d been so into each other that no one and nothing else mattered. I thought about her all time at work, counting the hours until I could justify leaving the place in the hands of my managers to go home and find her in my penthouse. Usually she’d be there already, waiting for me to take her in my arms and own her. I couldn’t get enough of that curvy body - her huge, soft tits, her wide ass and full thighs. Her soft innocence paired with her burning lust for me was intoxicating.

  So yeah. What the hell is going on? I’m pacing my office, working late into the night. Without Fiona waiting for me in my bed, what’s the point of going home? But I can’t focus on work. All I can think about is the curvy brunette. What did I do to piss her off?

  I’ve had enough of taking stabs in the dark. This isn’t natural. I don’t whine and beg. I take. With all the girls I’d dated in the past, I’ve never been the one in this position. Giving them the runaround wasn't something I necessarily did consciously, but I suppose I never really cared for them enough to really notice. They pursued me, and I brushed them off if it wasn’t convenient.

  Eventually I’d get bored of the woman and end it. But with Fiona it’s different. Suddenly I find myself being given the runaround - and it fills me rage. It boils up inside me and erupts, sending my arm forward to sweep it across my desk, sending all the contents flying into the wall and the floor. The door opens almost immediately and my assistant Nathan peeks his head in to find me panting and running my hand through my hair.

  “Are - are you okay, Mr. Masterson?” he asks meekly.

  “Go home, Nathan,” I growl without looking his way. “It’s late.” I hear the door close quietly. I clench my jaw in f
rustration and decide I can’t take the not knowing. If Fiona isn’t interested in seeing me again, the girl should at least have the decency to tell me to my face. She may not feel the same way about me, but after what we’ve shared the past three months, she can’t just stop speaking to me without an explanation. I snatch my keys off the floor from among the debris of my rage, leaving the rest of the mess on the floor. Fuck that.

  I jump in my car, racing to Fiona’s apartment. But at a red light, it occurs to me I better calm the fuck down. If I show up at her apartment like some raging bull, I might scare her, and I don’t want to do that. If I’m completely honest with myself, I never deserved her to begin with. Having always put my business and myself first, chasing dollars, I’ve never much given another person much thought, let alone a woman I was dating. So why should I suddenly have the right to claim the continued devotion of this sweet, innocent, curvy girl? She’s probably got lots of suitors, and maybe she met some other guy while I was gone. Oh shit. Am I about to bust in on her and some other dude?

  Oh shit. Maybe I should turn my car around. Because she deserves better than me. She deserves some dude who will give her a dozen kids and a house with a white picket fence, instead of someone who’s all about money. Maybe it’s better I stay out of her life before I corrupt her. Before I show her the dark side, and return to my old ways.