His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance

by Katie Ford

  “Sit back, Trina,” he rumbled, pulling his chair closer. “Talk to me a bit.”

  How had he known my sister’s name? Oh right, the name tag on my dress. Duh. I could feel his eyes on me, sweeping over my figure, and another rush of heat ran through my body, settling deep in my cunny. I flushed again.

  “Thanks so much, sir,” I said, “But I’ve got to get back, they’re expecting me.”

  He leaned back in the chair with a satisfied smile.

  “Management’s not expecting anything,” he said. “I already told them you’d be taking the night off, and besides, we’re not at the Caldwell Estate anymore. I brought you to my home so that you could be seen by my personal doctor.”

  His personal doctor? How many people had a doctor on staff?

  But I babbled. “I totally appreciate it, but I should be getting home then. I have work tomorrow morning …” I trailed off before realizing my mistake. “Er, I mean, school tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure, no problem little one,” he rumbled. “I’ll take you home in a bit. But first tell me about yourself,” he drawled.

  Why would a man who was obviously powerful and wealthy want to talk with the help? But I was mesmerized by his beauty, the big bulk of his body heating the air around us, the air electrified as tingles ran down my spine.

  “I’m a caterer,” I fudged, putting myself in Trina’s shoes. “I attend school part-time at the local community college and am getting my degree in Creative Writing,” I said. “I’m hoping to graduate in a year or two, but we’ll see, I still need a lot of credits.”

  “Creative writing, eh?” he said, his eyes gleaming. “I may know something about that. And what do you write?”

  “Oh this and that,” I mumbled, looking down. “Nothing much.” The truth was, I did like to write in my free time, taking on editing jobs occasionally or writing a short story here and there. My stuff always got rejected though.

  “And is a pretty thing like you seeing anyone special?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “No!” I said. “I’m so busy with work and school and everything, I barely have time to even sleep sometimes.” At least that part was true. Between the long hours at the TV station and my hopes to write professionally one day, there was little time for a social life. Most nights I dropped off to sleep after eating dinner standing by the sink.

  But a closed, shuttered look descended over his eyes. “Oh really, no boyfriend for a gorgeous girl like you?” he drawled lazily.

  I looked down at my hands. “No,” I said quietly. “No one, not now at least.”

  “Good then,” he said flatly. “Because you’re mine for tonight.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dominic

  The bitch’s lies took my breath away. My brother was on the verge of proposing, yet at the first sign of a rich man with a big house, the tramp pretended that Caleb didn’t even exist. I was furious, but fought to mask my anger.

  “So you’re from here then, aren’t you?” I asked. “The catering company usually staffs its events with locals.”

  “Yeah, I’m a townie,” Trina said with a flush. “I grew up all over,” she said softly, “but my sister and I settled here because of the beautiful neighborhood.”

  “Well, let me show you around my place then,” I said. “It’s a historic estate, best known as the model for Jay Gatsby’s mansion in The Great Gatsby.”

  I was surprised by the genuine look of awe and interest that dawned in the girl’s eyes.

  “Really?” she breathed. “F. Scott Fitzgerald came to parties here? With Zelda?”

  “Sure did, honey,” I said, reaching out a big hand. “I’ll even show you the guest room where they probably slept.” Her hand was small and warm in mine, fitting better than I liked in my big grasp. Down boy! I reminded myself. This conniving bitch made a living seducing rich men, and I was playing right into her trap.

  And she was about to be double-crossed, because I intended to do some seducing of my own. After fucking the bitch, there was no way Caleb could look at her with the same eyes. The rose-rimmed glasses would be ripped off, hopefully for good.

  But in the meantime, why not enjoy myself? I had a beautiful girl who I wanted to fuck, and I might as well enjoy it.

  “Come on,” I rumbled, “I’ll show you the ballroom first.”

  I took her hand and led her to massive oak doors which creaked open when I thrust against them. She let out an audible gasp when I flicked on the light switch. Dozens of chandeliers shone, the crystal refracting like diamonds, casting the ballroom into a golden glow.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed, her voice hushed.

  “No, you’re gorgeous,” I complimented. And it was true. She was curvy, creamy, and one hundred percent female. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her.

  Trina flushed beautifully and turned her head to the side, partially hiding her face, which was surprising. Most gold-diggers are vampy and obvious, eating up compliments like candy. But Trina seemed demure, almost embarrassed by my compliment.

  I grabbed her hand and led her upstairs, throwing the door open to an elegant suite. Inside was a genuine four-poster bed and an antique ladies’ vanity, complete with old-time perfume bottles, a hand mirror, and spritzes. Trina laughed with joy and wandered into the room, picking up the mirror and looking into it.

  “Imagine,” she breathed. “Zelda Fitzgerald might have fixed her hair using this very mirror!”

  I was taken aback. Most gold-diggers weren’t exactly well-read, so her genuine interest in the Fitzgeralds was jarring. But I shook myself again, reminding me that she was a master manipulator, and could feign interest in anything if it meant getting her paws on money.

  But her curvy figure moving so close to the bed tempted me, I have to admit. The four poster was right behind her, and I almost threw her on the mattress right then and there, with an insatiable need to bury myself in her curves, surround myself in her female essence.

  But I clamped down on my raging libido and instead led her to another room. Throwing open the grand oak doors, she walked into a very different suite, this one masculine, with heavy wood furniture.

  “Is this another Fitzgerald room?” she asked playfully. “I know husbands and wives often had their own rooms in the early twentieth century,” she said, trailing her hand over the bureau.

  “No, it’s my bedroom,” I ground out. Trina came to a sudden halt, her eyes flashing at me from across the room.

  “Why am I here?” she asked softly. “Why are you showing me your private space?”

  I was next to her in an instant, my big arms drawing her softness against me.

  “Because Little One, I intend on tasting you tonight,” I rumbled into her ear.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Becca

  Every thought flew out of my mind, leaving it curiously blank. This was a new sensation for me. Usually I was the intellectual sister, thinking things over a million times, ruminating until the issue was just dog-eared scraps. But the big man overwhelmed me. He was so gorgeous, so imposing, that I felt myself melting into his arms, leaning back and letting myself relax.

  He really was the stuff of fantasies. Rich, handsome, with a palatial home, and a body that would look as good in a tux as it would surf shorts. I mentally berated myself. I’d always thought Trina was playing with fire, flirting with patrons on the job. But here I was, doing the exact same thing. I was the hired help, swooning in the client’s arms.

  I let myself pretend for a moment. Pretend that I had a future with Prince Charming, that I wasn’t some one night stand he’d picked up on a whim. That I was the Cinderella whose coach would remain a coach, and not turn into a pumpkin at midnight.

  But I knew it couldn’t be true. I pulled away reluctantly and said, “Hey, thanks so much for showing me around your place, but I really should be getting back.”

  He trailed hot kisses up the column of my throat and I felt my spine melting, seamlessly melding against his m
assive chest.

  “Why not enjoy yourself a bit?” he said gruffly, his hands skimming up the sides of my waist. “You’re wound so tightly, just let yourself go,” he said persuasively.

  I leaned back again, breathing deep of his masculine scent. God, he smelled so good! It was all spice and musk, one hundred percent man. But I dragged myself back to reality reluctantly.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I don’t mean anything to you. I’m just another girl,” I said softly.

  He stilled for a moment, but then started nibbling my earlobe, persuasively licking that sensitive flesh behind my ear.

  “We don’t really know each other, that’s true,” he said diplomatically. “But just one night,” he coaxed, growling softly in my ear. “What’s the harm of that?”

  The harm was that I might never forget, that my encounter with Prince Charming might stay with me for years to come, ruining me for any real relationship. But at the same time, I was torn. I hadn’t been on a date in a year, much less a serious relationship. My body was singing at the nearness of this man, positively tingling from head to toe, and I felt myself melt again, giving in, turning my head to return his kiss.

  “Okay,” I whispered into his mouth. “Just one night.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dominic

  As soon as she said “just one night,” I seized her lips, intending to plunder their plush juiciness. But the kiss became softer, deep and meaningful. I lightly skimmed her lips before gently running my tongue over the seam of her mouth, questing, savoring the taste of this woman.

  With a soft moan, she opened for me, letting me taste her fully. She was ambrosia, honey to my body, and I felt myself hardening, stiffening, even as I tried to stay gentle, my mouth on hers subtly asking permission.

  The girl wound her arms around me, deepening the kiss, and I took that as my okay. My hands began a thorough sweep over her body, cupping those luscious breasts, running down her tummy until I felt the hot vee through her ridiculous maid’s outfit. Why they made the girls wear these, I had no idea, unless they were purposefully trying to pimp out their staff.

  My hands traced her thighs, that sleek softness, and she let out a mewl as I trailed closer to her heat. Flipping up the frilly white apron, I let my fingers rest gently against her mound, lightly pressing against the fullness there.

  “All good?” I rumbled roughly into her ear.

  Wordlessly, she nodded, pressing close to me, and I began moving my fingers, teasing her through her satiny panties. She was full and engorged, with a light drop of moisture, and as I rubbed, I could feel that heat building, the moistness becoming humid and steamy. Growling in my throat, I swept her panties to the side and let my fingers trail directly over her soft flesh, massaging the slick folds. She creamed a bit in my hand, gasping softly in my ear, and I thought I was going to come right there. I’d never had a woman so responsive, so natural, clinging sweetly to me as I played with her pussy, her body silently begging for more.

  With a growl, I pulled down the décolletage of the little black dress and fastened my mouth to a nipple. Her mounds were creamy and full, at least Double D’s, and I found myself savoring the lusciousness of this girl. I’d dated my share of anorexic model-types, and Trina’s plushness was a welcome, much-needed change. I loved having flesh to mold and squeeze, enjoying the womanliness of her figure, the way that her breasts trembled and swung as I suckled deeply, rolling her puffy nipples in my mouth.

  “Oh!” she cried above me, her head tipping back to reveal the perfect white column of her throat. The simultaneous stimulation at her breast and pussy was causing her to jerk slightly, and I could tell orgasm was only a few seconds away.

  “Come,” I urged. “Come on my hand, let yourself go, little one.”

  As if on cue, an orgasm rolled through her body, her figure shaking as the waves crested and peaked, causing her to jerk stiffly and cry out before leaving her trembling and soft in my arms. Her cunny was sweetly damp on my fingers, her juices rolling down my wrist, and I lifted my hand to my mouth for a taste.

  Looking her straight in the eye, I licked my digits one by one, savoring her ambrosia. She was pure nectar, her womanly liquids sweet and tangy at once.

  “You’re gorgeous and tasty,” I complimented, whispering in her ear. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

  Wordlessly, she parted her thighs slightly, as if granting me access. That was all the encouragement I needed. I unzipped my tux pants and my member popped out, hot and full, stiff to the touch. She gasped before reaching forward with her hand, ready to stroke, but I couldn’t wait.

  “Not now, little one,” I rumbled. “Later,” I promised.

  I needed to be in her, stet, and lifted her ass up slightly, my hands under those plush, gorgeous cheeks. I balanced her hole over the tip of my dick and probed a bit, letting my penis rub her slick clit a few times, before slowly lowering her onto my shaft.

  “Ohhh,” she breathed, her warm flesh engulfing me.

  Fuck, she was so hot, so tight, that I could barely contain myself. I grunted, fighting the urge to take her hard because the beautiful girl deserved more. Slowly, I moved her up and down my shaft, cushioning her ass as she adjusted to my massive size. She mewled slightly in my arms, her breasts crushed against my chest as her pussy slid sweetly over my cock.

  “Fuck,” I breathed. “You’re so tight and hot. Are you sure you’re not a virgin?”

  Immediately, I mentally cursed myself. Of course she wasn’t a virgin! She was a slut who’d been fucking my brother Caleb.

  But Trina flushed beautifully, and whispered in my ear. “No, I’m not a virgin,” she breathed. “I think you’re just really big.”

  If there were ever words to turn a man into a raging beast, those were it, and I began fucking her in earnest. My hands gripped her waist as I held her immobile, my hips pistoning against her sweet flesh, my cock pushing deep into her folds as I moved up and down like a machine.

  “Oh!” she cried sweetly, her juices running hot and heavy.

  Meanwhile, my balls were beginning to tighten and lift, and I knew orgasm was imminent. With a mighty roar, I pumped hard a few more times and the white spurted into her, coating her sweet pussy with semen. I could feel the hot liquid pulsing through my shaft as I came, shooting man juice into that tight, hot cunt.

  “Oh!” she screamed as her pussy began jerking on my cock, her own orgasm rolling over her. I felt her snatch tighten and spasm, pulling my man milk deep into her body, ropes of it squirting hotly into her inner channel. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she briefly lost consciousness, the fucking so good, so true that it put the girl out.

  When she came to a few seconds later, I was nibbling at her lips, holding her body close against mine, my dick still buried in her.

  “That was amazing,” she whispered shyly into my ear. “I’ve never felt so good before.”

  I chuckled. “That’s good, little one, because I intend on keeping you here all night,” I growled, as I lowered her to the bed.

  She gave me a sweet smile, squeezing her cunny on my dick, and kissed me deeply as we fell into a bottomless well of pleasure again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Becca

  Slowly, I tiptoed around the big room, looking for various parts of my uniform. I couldn’t afford to lose even one piece, as we were hard up for cash. Let me rephrase that – I knew Trina couldn’t afford to lose even one piece, because she was always borrowing money from me.

  As I searched for my panties and that damned maid’s cap, I let myself look once again at the big man slumbering peacefully in the bed. He was gorgeous, his body massive and solid, a veritable wall of flesh pressed against me most of the night.

  Well, most of the night when he wasn’t in me. He’d made me come so many times that I’d lost count, my body limp and lifeless, like a rag doll after my fifth or sixth orgasm.

  “Stop!” I’d breathed when I felt his hand questing near my cunny again. “I can’t!
” I’d protested.

  “Oh yes you can, little one,” he’d rumbled into my ear, his hand finding my love button unerringly. “You will,” he promised.

  And he’d been right. We’d made love most of the night, only stopping a few hours before dawn to drop into a deep, dreamless sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Surprisingly, he’d wanted to hold me close, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as he cuddled me close, wrapping his bulk around my womanly frame.

  With a satisfied grunt, he’d fallen asleep right away, a heavy muscular arm draped over my waist and a thick thigh pressed between my legs.

  This wasn’t the way most one night stands ended, right? Usually someone got kicked out in the wee hours of the morn? I knew it was me, and I wanted to escape before dawn, avoiding any awkward conversation.

  Of course, no such luck.

  “Whatcha doing, little one?” came a deep voice as I peered under the bed. Shit! He’d woken up.

  “Um …” I fumbled as my cheeks reddened. “Looking for my underwear.”

  He gave out a loud snort of laughter, looking absolutely adorable with his mussed hair, his green eyes surprisingly candid and friendly in the light of day.