His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance

by Katie Ford

  He paused then, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

  “You’re young honey, you can always change course. No need to be a lawyer, you could be an accountant. Have you thought about that?”

  And I snorted then. “Are you crazy, Mr. Parker? Seriously,” I stuck my tongue out at him, “numbers make me dizzy. Honestly my eyes cross when I see a spreadsheet, it blurs before my eyes. But it’s more than that,” I confided, suddenly serious again. “It’s getting off this professional career track altogether. I don’t want it, I mean I love Evergreen but I don’t need a degree from the school, I’m fine with … you know, just being me,” I bit my lip.

  Pete leaned forward then, brushing his lips against mine, making me sigh, the alpha male so near and yet so far. But he wasn’t done yet.

  “I hear you, I totally get it,” he growled. “But what did you have in mind if you don’t want to finish college?”

  And hearing him say it made it all that much more real, my heart pumping fast in my chest, the blood pounding with a new reality.

  “I want … I want to be a mom,” I admitted. “Like I said, waiting until my late twenties or early thirties seems like forever, and I want to do it now,” I almost whispered. “I want a baby, or even two or three, I want to feel my body swell with new life, breastfeed a newborn, even burp and clean their spit-up. That’s how much I want it,” I admitted.

  The big man looked at me sharply, blue eyes gleaming.

  “Well, honey, we can definitely do that, we’re on our way even now,” he said with a wry smile. “But why can’t you admit it to the world?”

  I bit my lip again.

  “Because it’s not what I’m supposed to want,” I tried again. “Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying? I’ve been raised to want to be a lawyer, to want higher education, to want all these things, and I dunno, it’s hard you know? It’s hard to buck a lifetime of expectations, throw it all into the trash.”

  And that was when the alpha male threw his head back and roared with laughter, his eyes even tearing a bit, my words were so funny.

  “What?” I asked, pouting, mouth in a frown. “What is it? I’ve just revealed my inner conflict to you, it’s not that funny you know,” I grumped. “I’m sorry it’s so hysterical to you.”

  And he just wiped his eyes slightly, the rumbles subsiding into mere chuckles.

  “I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he apologized. “I guess it’s just that I haven’t cared what anyone thought in so long that hearing it from you is refreshing. I guess that’s the difference between a teen girl and a mature man,” he said wryly. “When you get to my age, you stop caring what other people think so much.”

  I paused for a moment.

  “Well, I’m not exactly you, but back when you were young, you were different right?” I asked. “I mean, back then you were influenced by all sorts of people, your parents, teachers, guidance counselors…” my voice trailed off.

  And now it was his turn to guffaw.

  “Guidance counselors? Fuck no,” he growled. “Honey I’ve been out on my own since I was sixteen, supporting myself. You think I had time for fucking guidance counselors? Fuck no, more like I was hustling for a dime, making deals, raising Hell,” he growled again. “For me, it’s always been my way, when I say and when I want, all the time.”

  And I sighed again. This was a male speaking, an adult male who was rich, powerful, and influential, and I was none of those things, with none of the confidence.

  “But it’s different for me,” I tried again. “I’m a girl.”

  He clasped my hand then, square fingers warm around mine, swallowing my small palm in his big grasp.

  “No it’s not,” he said roughly, staring into my eyes, that blue gaze meeting mine. “Mandy, you know what you want and I just heard you say it articulately, with warmth and conviction. Yeah, maybe having kids at eighteen isn’t what you were raised to want, but it doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Hell, I wish I had kids younger,” he snorted.

  I sat back then, dumbfounded.

  “You do?” I asked. “But you’re not old.”

  He grinned at me then.

  “Love to hear you say that honey,” he said smoothly, “but I’m forty and Violet’s only five. You know how old I’m gonna be when she’s twenty-five? Sixty, baby, I’m gonna be a fucking retiree when my daughter’s a young adult, I’m gonna be living in a fucking retirement home.”

  I giggled then. Retirees ate mushy pasta and applesauce, tottering on their walkers with their underwear sticking out of their pants, right? I couldn’t imagine Pete as that, not even close.

  “You’ll be fine,” I giggled again. “You’re a long ways from the senior center.”

  He sighed then.

  “You’re right honey, but I still wish I’d had kids earlier, forty is not young,” he ground out. “But, you can always make up for your mistakes and that’s what we’re doing now,” he said with a hungry look at me, eating me up.

  “I know,” I whispered. “Because it feels right to you, doesn’t it? Going bareback? You know, rolling the dice and all?”

  He gathered me up in his arms.

  “Honey it feels more than right,” he rumbled against my lips, giving me a deep kiss. “It feels fucking perfect and you know that we’re not rolling the dice at all,” he pressed his forehead against mine, seizing my gaze with his own. “It’s gonna happen for sure, you’re gonna get pregnant, it’s just a question of when. You’re a fertile teen girl, honey, I’m an alpha male who’s already proven my virility, I already have a child. It’s gonna happen.”

  And the thought of a baby with Pete made my head whirl and my body grow heated.

  “Do you promise?” I whispered again. “Do you promise me a baby?”

  And he growled deep in his throat.

  “Absolutely,” he rumbled, claiming my lips in another deep kiss. “I absolutely promise. And while we’re at it … why don’t we try again?”

  I only kissed him deeper, pressing my breasts against his broad chest with need, with want, my pussy already gushing, begging to feel his dick deep inside, begging him to release the promise of life into my warm, wet cavern. Because no, I didn’t know how things were gonna turn out, I wasn’t sure exactly what was ahead for me and Mr. Parker. But during today’s conversation, something had broken free. I’d spoken the words I’d been too afraid to say before, too scared to admit to anyone other than myself.

  And once spoken, it’d sounded right. I didn’t want my current life. I didn’t want to put on boring clothes every day and schlep off to work, a corporate drone dragging my feet, hating my job. And you know what? It was okay. Mr. Parker, hearing my admission, didn’t judge me for it, didn’t think I was a loser or ungrateful little girl who took things for granted. What he did was validate me, assure me that what I wanted was most important and not to be brushed off. This was my life after all, and I was the one who had to live it each and every day. So it was okay to forget about college, to crave motherhood, and hell, it wasn’t like we were breaking any laws. I was eighteen, in command of my body and soul, and if I knew anything it was this … I wanted to be with this man, I wanted to explore the future with him, and it was okay. In Mr. Parker’s arms, I felt safe, I felt cared for, and most of all, I felt loved.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Pete

  God, the woman was so good it was like a dream come true. Literally a dream come true. Because I’d tossed and turned last night, thinking about Mandy’s sweet body, that swollen puss, and holy shit, but it was happening now, everything was actually happening.

  Because yeah, I’ve been fucking the teen on a regular basis. I made up some bullshit about needing a nanny, and Mandy’s moved into the big house for the rest of winter break to help take care of Violet. We made like she’s an emergency stop-gap, someone to fill in until I can find a permanent nanny. And I guess her parents are okay with it because Mandy’s been working for my family for years, and hey, it wasn
’t like she’s here for keeps. There was still college and all that shit, classes would start soon enough.

  But it’s not altogether lies either. The brunette does help me take care of my daughter, Mandy’s amazing with Violet, treating her like her own, listening carefully to the little girl’s demands, playing endless games, making her nutritious food from scratch. I told her it wasn’t necessary, it’s fine to buy kiddie food from the grocery store, but the brunette was adamant

  “No Pete,” she said firmly, hand pressed on the blender, a raucous whir sounding in the kitchen as she mixed a combination of avocado, banana, blueberries, yogurt and ice. “Violet likes the real stuff and there’s no reason not to let her have it. If we teach her that food is Mother Nature’s blessing, fresh from the Earth, organic and healthy, she’ll never eat processed items, Cheezy-Doodles or Stay-Puff Marshies, whatever that stuff is.” Hey, I loved my Cheezy-Doodles but I adored the brunette even more for looking out for my daughter, for caring so much about Violet’s health and eating habits.

  “Besides,” continued Mandy, pouring me a small tumbler of the concoction. “Try it, it’s good.”

  I pulled a face. I’m not into girlie foods like smoothies and definitely not the kind that was chock full of fruit and yogurt. I like the kind with raw eggs and protein powder, that’s more my style. But the thick liquid was so good, so unexpectedly tasty that I slurped it down appreciatively, almost belching.

  “That was tasty, baby girl,” I said lasciviously, licking my lips. “Mmm, very good,” I said again, eyeing her up and down.

  And the little girl just laughed and slapped a small palm against my hard chest.

  “Oh you!” she giggled. “Stop making like it’s … you know, what I drink every night.”

  And the heat rocketed from there. Because yeah, I make sure Mandy gets a taste of the good stuff, a mouthful of my semen each evening, every time we’re together. Doesn’t have to be a full-on gust of sperm, it can be lapping pre-cum, tasting the goodness right off my dicktip, but yeah, I like it when she swallows.

  And the brunette’s amazingly good, amazingly quick to learn, it’s hard to believe she was a virgin just two weeks ago. I’m able to bend her into so many positions, and Mandy’s never, ever afraid to go where I lead.

  “You sure?” I growled just the other day, leaning forward over her supine form. The girl was on the bed with her legs spread showing that pink pussy, which wasn’t unusual in and of itself. But what was unusual was that I had a set of ben-wa balls in hand, ready for insertion.

  And she let out a quivering sigh.

  “Yes, Mr. Parker, I want to feel it,” she confirmed, eyes lighting with desire, a mix of curiosity, wonder, and sheer lust. “Put it in me,” she breathed.

  And of course I obliged. I stuffed that pussy full with the chiming balls, eating up those breathy cries, her inhaled gasps until both golden orbs disappeared, her pussy lips closing around the intruders, shutting wetly, swollen and dripping.

  “That’s right baby,” I rasped as I caressed her nether lips. “They’re in all the way now, and all you have to do is be you, go around like normal.” Holy shit, how she was going to survive I had no idea, I wouldn’t last even five minutes.

  And she moaned, eyes fluttering, unable to speak. The sensation was fan-fucking-tastic, the huge balls massaging her inner channel whenever she did anything like breathe, talk, or bend over. But it was fine because if things got too out of control, if her pussy started contracting involuntarily, overtaken with sensation, I’d be only too happy to step in. After all, the girl worked for me, here in my house 24/7, and any time of the day or night I’d only be too happy to pull them out, to fuck my dick into that wet cavern instead, fill her up with my sperm, the stuff of life.

  And I want her to take it. I want her to savor my sperm, for it to take hold in her, make her bloom, grow large with a child. In fact, she’s already admitted it to me. This whole college thing? It’s something her parents instilled in her, something she’s been groomed to want since birth. But the thing is that children aren’t your clones. You can’t make them want something they inherently don’t want, so Mandy admitting that this whole school thing wasn’t her thing was a relief, that tasting my semen, maybe growing large with pregnancy, was much more up her alley.

  So yeah, we’ve settled into a rhythm, and it’s like the girl’s always been a part of me. We sleep in the same bed, we fuck all the time, we eat breakfast together, and shit, I work from home, so I lock myself in the study for a few hours before reappearing for lunch with my girls. And during Violet’s afternoon nap, my best girl and I explore one another again, have some naughty fun while my daughter’s sleeping, and then there’s dinner and bedtime, and oh shit, more fireworks. So it’s been downright amazing, I’ve never been so happy, so satisfied, so sated living with the brunette, talking with her, exploring her interests, letting go of my reservations, and really opening up for the first time. It’s the first time I’ve been with a woman who’s actually interested in what I do, how I feel about things, without trying to use me as an ATM.

  “You sure honey?” I asked frowning, handing her some cash. “Take it, it’s for watching Violet.”

  And Mandy smiled at me, beautiful, a mother goddess.

  “Pete,” she laughed, “No, it’s okay. You pay for everything, I literally don’t spend a cent when I’m here.”

  But I shook my head.

  “No honey, you deserve this. You’re here as a nanny, not as a slave, and nannies get paid. On the books, in fact,” I said, taking back the cash. “I’m gonna put you on the books so that you can have a retirement account, a health savings account, access to all that good stuff.”

  And she colored.

  “Oh no, Pete, I couldn’t,” she murmured, looking down. “I mean, it’s not really work. I’m taking care of Violet, but you know I love her, and besides … we’re having sex on the side,” she whispered, cheeks flushing. That was true, we were going at it like rabbits night and day, but that had nothing to do with it. The brunette deserved every cent, had earned it all.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said firmly. “Doesn’t matter because you’re doing a job, and you need to be paid like a professional. Just give me your direct deposit information,” I commanded, “and I’ll set up regular transfers so you have a bi-weekly salary like a real employee.”

  And sighing, Mandy gave in, providing me with her routing number and bank address. But two weeks later, when the cash landed with a thunk in her account, the brunette confronted me.

  “What is this Pete?” she said slowly, fingers trembling on the account statement, barely able to grip the thin paper. “Fifty thousand dollars? For being a nanny? What is this?”

  I was nonchalant, leaning back in my chair.

  “Your salary,” I said smoothly. “What else?”

  A pause.

  “But fifty thousand?” she asked again in disbelief. “For two weeks? Or is that for the entire winter break? It’s way too much, Pete, you’re too generous and I can’t take it.”

  I leaned back once more.

  “No honey, it’s yours for a job well done,” I said silkily. “And yes, it’s for two weeks only. In another two weeks, you’ll get another fifty thousand.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “No, I couldn’t possibly …”

  But I nodded.

  “Yes, and you will,” I rumbled. “You’re amazing honey, you’re the only person who can handle Violet … and handle her father too.” And it was true, because this woman was the answer to our dreams, both my daughter’s and mine. She held us together like a little family, her love and warmth and caring so tangible it surrounded us like a snug blanket, letting us relax and sink back with relief, sure that everything was going to be okay. And more than that, the woman was good for me. I wasn’t so ornery anymore, so fucking rude with everyone and anyone, probably because I was getting laid regularly, hell, four or five times a day if I needed it, the girl’s body warm, willin
g and open, her pussy wet and slippery, always ready for dick.

  So fifty thousand was nothing, fuck it wasn’t enough. I should have made it a hundred thou, the money was nothing to me, and the little girl was worth way more than that.

  But suddenly, Mandy’s eyes grew gentle, her gaze warm.

  “If you love me and want me to accept it,” she said softly, “then you’ll join me at my parents’ house tomorrow.”

  I jolted at the word “love” at first, unable to process what she’d said. Was it …? Could it …? My mind whirred because the word had sounded right coming from her lips, it’d been oddly fitting, like she’d nailed it on the head. But I didn’t want to talk about “love” or “relationships” right now because there was something more important on the table, namely her parents’ Christmas Eve brunch. So I pushed it out of my mind for the time being. Because yeah, we’d been invited, both of us, to her folks’ house for brunch on the twenty-fourth, and I didn’t want to go, hemming and hawing, making excuses like mad.

  “I need to watch Violet,” was my first one. Having a young child is usually an immediate out, you can get away with murder when you say you have a baby. “It’s an adult party and we can’t bring Violet.”

  But Mandy was prepared.

  “I already found a sitter,” she said immediately. “It was tough but Mrs. Larson from down the street said she can come for a couple hours on Christmas Eve. We’re paying her triple, but it’s okay because it’s important for you to come Pete.”