Babydaddy To Go: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Adams, S. C.

  He squeezes my thigh and slowly moves it higher and higher until it’s beneath the hem of my dress.

  “I can’t wait to see the thong,” he whispers without taking his eyes off the road.

  I moan as his fingers dance around my center but never actually make contact. He knows exactly how to turn me on, and the drive home is torture. Based on the tension in Nate’s slacks, he’s feeling it too.

  What feels like hours later, but really was only about ten minutes, we’re pulling into the giant garage. But I don’t have a chance to climb out of the car because Nate unbuckles his seatbelt and pounces. His lips are on my lips, my neck, my chest… anywhere he can reach in the front seat of a sports car.

  His fingers return to their pursuit of my thong, driving me crazy. Those clever digits find the string and pull it up tight against my clit, making me squeal.

  “Oh!” is my helpless gasp. “Oh god!”

  He grins.

  “Shh, sweetheart. Don’t worry, Daddy’s coming.”

  Nate bolts out of the car and strides to my side, hauling me out of the vehicle. I expect him to drag me up to the bedroom, but instead he pushes me up against the wall and kisses me in earnest.

  His kisses are almost overwhelming, but I can handle it. He sends fireworks across my skin with every touch of his fingers. My chest pushes against his, nipples hardening beneath my bra.

  But I can’t be the only one getting pleasure tonight. My hand slips between us and grasps the outline of his hardness. Oh god, it’s monstrous. I’ve felt it in me before, but the same insecurities start all over again. How will I fit him inside? He’s so huge that it’s not going to work. But Nate moans against my neck, oblivious to my thoughts, when I squeeze.

  “Alyssa,” he rasps. “Keep doing that and I might explode right here.”

  “Good,” I whisper sassily into his ear. “I’d like some man juice to lick, right here right now.”

  A gleam comes to those blue eyes, and with my hand still wrapped around him through his pants, Nate takes the opportunity to lift my dress to my waist and finally lays eyes on the thong that has been taunting him all night.

  “So you want to be a bad girl, hmm?” he growls. “Well, you’ll see what that’s like.” He slides the small patch of fabric aside and gently caresses my opening. To my shame, fluids begin streaming from between my thighs immediately, coating his fingers and palm.

  “Oh!” is my helpless cry. My man merely grins in return, his cock jerking under my fingers.

  “That’s right. You’re Daddy’s dirty little slut. You show me how much you like it.”

  We’re both breathing heavily. His fingers continue caressing my hole, touching my little bud before sliding down to toy with my opening, and I moan, lost to the sensations. With each touch, I’m getting closer and closer to my climax, my pussy ready to burst.

  But before I can reach the point of no return, Nate pulls away just long enough to whisk me into his arms. He takes the stairs two at a time and gently drops me onto the bed, curves bouncing this way and that.

  “Nate!” is my cry. But I’m cut off. The gorgeous man’s on me, and his fingers enter my cunt quickly, making me stiffen before melting all over him. I need this. I need to be fucked, and I’ll take it any way he’ll give it to me. My hips rotate in circles before humping up and down, begging him to go deep. A grin crosses Nate’s handsome mien again.

  “Like I said, you’re my little slut,” he croons. “Creaming so hard and you don’t even have my rod in you yet.”

  “I’m so close,” I pant, arching my back as he pummels my sweetest space with his fingers. “So … close.”

  “Then come. NOW,” he commands, plunging his fingers in as deep as they’ll go.

  My body jerks like a puppet, helpless beneath his touch. I scream, throwing my head back, legs spread wide to give him an amazing view. And he eats it all up, his eyes glued to where his fingers enter my body, watching avidly as the swollen flesh pulses and clamps on the intruders within.

  But after it’s over, Nate doesn’t give me a chance to calm down. Instead, even as my pussy’s still pulsing slightly, the man climbs onto me, nudging my hole with his giant stick.

  “Mine,” he reiterates. “You’re all mine.”

  “I’m yours,” I mewl, growing slick again in anticipation. “Please, take me with that big shaft.”

  But then Nate pauses.

  “Will we hurt the baby if we do it like this?”

  I smile gently.

  “No, Nate. You’re big but the baby’s totally fine. Trust me on this.”

  With that, he enters me, that handsome face tight with strain. The pleasure is like nothing I’ve felt before as he goes deeper and deeper, reaching almost all the way up to my throat. I’m breathless, cunt pulsing as that giant rod owns me, body, mind and soul.

  But Nate is ruthless, even though he’s taking a pregnant woman now. He plays my curves like an expert, driving his pulsing dick into me again and again while making me beg.

  “Tell me you want it,” he growls against my throat. “Say my name.”

  “Yes, I gasp. I want it please. Nate, please, I need you!”

  And when the eruption comes, it’s endless. I scream aloud, my pussy clamping down once hard before it dissolves into tremors. My convulsions spur his hardness into action, and with a roar, Nate gives it up. His balls go high and tight, and then sheer fire erupts down the length of his pole, male jism pulsing into me in virile spurts. My pussy pulls it deeper inside, this treasured seed of the man I love.

  “Yes,” is my delirious moan. “Yes, I need that virile man batter.”

  Nate chuckles before slowly lifting himself off me and dropping onto his back. We’re both covered with sweat, and my slit aches the way it always does when it’s empty of his dick. But my man can read my mind. He pulls me close and kisses my shoulder like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

  “You’re incredible, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I didn’t know it was possible to love you more than I did yesterday, but somehow I do. And I’ll love you more tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that.”

  I smile against his chest. “I love you, too.”

  The excitement of the day makes it easy to fall asleep. As I drift off, I’m struck by how happy I am with Nate. Everything is perfect when he’s by my side. And the best part? I get to have him by my side for the rest of my life.

  Epilogue

  Alyssa

  One week later.

  My stomach shivers. Waiting is the worst, and I’ve been waiting for hours. Nate is backstage somewhere preparing his graduation speech, so I’m left out here to deal with my nerves on my own.

  The one relief is that Samantha isn’t here to make a scene. She failed the course and from what I’ve heard, has given up her so-called dream of being a chef. Oh well. Her rich father will probably set her up with a different job in his company. Or more likely, he’ll set her up with a rich guy who works for him. Either way, she’s not my problem anymore.

  The air is heavy with excitement as my classmates and I wait to receive our diplomas. My peers are as restless as I am, so at least I’m not the only nervous one here.

  The small NYACA courtyard is decorated with red and white, our school colors. The stage is barely a foot high, with a dark curtain set as a backdrop. Somewhere behind that curtain, Nathaniel is pacing. He’s almost as nervous as I am.

  Leah, one of my new friends from class, sidles up beside me.

  “You know, you’re a really good chef,” she whispers discreetly. “You might even be better than Nathaniel.”

  I laugh.

  “No one is better than Nathaniel, but thank you for the compliment. You’re incredible, too.”

  And it’s true. Leah really is a great chef. She makes a chicken pot pie that I would trade my pinky for, filled with steaming chicken nuggets and topped with a golden, flaky crust. Mmmm.

  “Are you really engaged to Nathaniel?” Leah asks, her eyes curious. I k
now why she’s asking. Our relationship was never exactly a secret, but we didn’t discuss it openly either. And you know how the cooking world is. Once our engagement was announced, the news traveled like wildfire and now everyone knows.

  “It’s true!” I nod proudly, holding out my left hand to show off my ring. She whistles appreciatively.

  “Damn girl, that is some rock!”

  “I know, Nate has great taste. I’m a lucky woman. And by the way, we’re expecting too,” I whisper.

  Leah’s eyes go wide.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” I say with a happy smile, my hand going down to rub over my tiny baby bump. “It’s a little early to tell just yet, but we’re going to be parents soon.”

  Leah nods and whistles.

  “Wow, that’s great news, Alyssa. Congrats on everything! You go girl!”

  I nod and smile, and we continue to chat for a bit until the school’s president calls us to our seats. My skin sticks to the dark fabric of my graduation gown. I’m looking forward to taking it off when this is over.

  But before I can make my way to the front, my grandparents find me and pull me into a congratulatory hug.

  “We’re so proud of you!” Grams says, wiping a tear from her eye. I give her another, tighter hug. “Your mom would be proud, too. And your dad,” Grams adds.

  “Thank you,” I say with a sniffle. “I love you both.”

  “Take care not to get overheated,” Grams warns quickly before departing. “If you feel lightheaded, I have some water for you and the baby,” she says, pressing a water bottle into my hand.

  I nod and smile, while my grandparents rush off to find a good spot to watch the ceremony. Then, I sit down beside Leah in the student section, and someone taps the mic and gets the ceremony going. We have to listen to a few speeches first, but it’s okay. I’m a little hot, but I’m excited to finally be an official NYACA graduate.

  After what feels like an hour, the president announces Nate. My man is gorgeous as he bounds onto the stage. He stands behind the podium and lets his eyes wander the room before they land on me, and my fiancé winks. God, this man is so charismatic and my heart beats quickly. For ten minutes, I forget about the rest of the class, listening only to his words. He’s a magical speaker, and I’m enraptured by his words, and by his conviction. I believe every single thing he says.

  “I now present the NYACA class of 2019!” he finishes. Everyone cheers, but the students are the loudest.

  Nate calls our names one by one and hands us our diplomas. When my name is called, he shakes my hand then pulls me in for a quick kiss. There’s no point in hiding it. Everyone here already knows we’re together. Fortunately, the crowd cheers when our lips touch, causing us both to laugh.

  After the ceremony, I stand to the side with my grandparents, holding my diploma in my hand. I did it! I’m a NYACA graduate! I have to keep touching the diploma to remind myself that it’s real.

  Nate extricates himself from the NYACA staff to congratulate me. He hands me a bouquet of gorgeous flowers and kisses my cheek. Photographers come out to take our pictures.

  “How does it feel to be a chef?” Nate asks quietly when we’re left alone.

  “It’s the best feeling in the world,” I tell him honestly. “It’s even better knowing you’ll be by my side every step of the way.”

  We smile, lost in each other. Nate takes the bouquet and diploma from me and places them on a nearby chair. He pulls me tight against his chest and gives me a proper kiss.

  “You’re going to be a wonderful chef and restaurateur, but an even better mommy,” he growls in my throat, as his hands skim my baby bump appreciatively.

  I look up at him with a adoration in my eyes.

  “I know, Nate. And you’re going to be an amazing daddy too. We’ll be a very happy family, and who knows? Maybe we’ll have more kids after this.”

  Possession flares in his eyes and he leans in for another kiss, seizing my lips with his own.

  It’s the kind of kiss that promises forever.

  The kind of kiss that means happily ever after.

  The kind of kiss I could only share with Nate. My chef … my man … and my always and forever.

  THE END

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  Sneak Peek: 3 Daddies To Go

  Kendall

  There are three gorgeous, growly groomsmen at the wedding, but only one sweet, generous bridesmaid ready to share.

  If Trudy barks one more order, I swear I will walk out of this church.

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself this is my best friend’s wedding. If she wants to be a bridezilla, then she’s allowed to be.

  Trudy fiddles with another bridesmaid’s headpiece. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror next to the doors that lead into the church and wince a bit. The large, purple flower on my head is way too much, especially when paired with this awful dress, but Trudy insisted that we put them on.

  Inside, hundreds of people are gathered to watch Trudy marry the man of her dreams. That’s great and all, but it also means that every single one of them will see me in this monstrosity of a dress.

  “How hard is it to clip a damn flower in your hair?” Trudy snarls from behind me. She’s moved on from her friend and is now accosting her cousin. “Honestly, do I need to do everything here?”

  I roll my eyes, careful to hide the gesture from Trudy. We’ve been through a lot together, but she’s being ridiculous. I’m just glad the wedding is well on its way because I don’t think our friendship could handle much more of this.

  “Let me do it, Trudy,” I say, trying to calm her down. “You just focus on looking beautiful.”

  My friend does look beautiful, to tell the truth. While our dresses are obnoxious purple throwbacks to eighties prom dresses, hers is a gorgeous white masterpiece. The subtle sweetheart neckline accentuates her full chest. Floral lace accented with beads covers the bodice, down to just below her hips, where the dress opens up in a mermaid-style bottom. I wasn’t there when she picked out the dress, but I did go with Trudy to her first fitting. When I saw her, I knew she had picked the perfect gown. She looked breathtaking then, and she looks just as incredible now.

  So why the nasty attitude? I fiddle with Trudy’s cousin’s hair. The problem isn’t us, it’s that the flower clip is cheap and ready to snap in half. Luckily, I have bobby pins and tuck everything in nice and tight. Once the clip is secured, Trudy looks somewhat appeased.

  I remind myself that once the wedding is over, Trudy will be my best friend again. Someday I might get married, and maybe I’ll be just as bad as her. If that happens, and my buddy complains, I’ll remind her of this moment.

  “Everything is beautiful,” I say, holding Trudy by the shoulders. “Your wedding is everything you ever wanted it to be.”

  She scoffs.

  “Please. I spent twenty minutes fixing your hair. I thought you were taking point on this, Kendall.”

  It’s tempting to storm out and throw a fit, but what good would that do? Instead, I take a deep breath and shoot her a comforting smile.

  “Everything’s okay now,” I tell her. “We look great. You look great.”

  At least that statement is true. As for me, I’m sweating underneath the heavy purple lace she’s forcing us to wear. It’s like the dress shop ordered a hundred extra yards of material and had to use it up somehow by swathing us in these monstrosities.

  Yet when my friend studies her four bridesmaids, I manage to smile. After what feels like an hour, she nods again.

  “You guys look decent enough. Let me see your flowers.”

  Our bouquets sit on a side table, waiting until we’re ready to go inside. I didn’t want to risk the bouquets getting messed up while we got ready.

  “They’re over there, perfectly safe,” I say in a calm voice.

  She stares at them, eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Are these are the bouquets I picked? Th
ey’re so small. What’s the point in holding flowers if no one can see them?”

  It’s true, our bouquets are a tiny bit on the smaller side, but it’s not anything crazy. They’re just white lilies with a few small purple flowers. When I went with Trudy to choose them, I thought they were just fine. So did she, at the time. Unfortunately, she seems to have forgotten that.

  “We didn’t want our flowers to compete with yours,” I tell her.

  Her face lights up.

  “You’re right! My bouquet should be the biggest. It’s bigger than the four of yours combined!”

  It’s true because her bouquet is a huge monstrosity of all sorts of flowers mashed together in the theme of purple and white. It’s funny the things that make a bride happy on her big day, isn’t it?

  “So you’re happy with our bouquets then?” I ask tentatively.

  She nods.

  “They’ll do. I wish I’d picked something other than lilies though. Lilies are so clichéd. It’s too late now, though. It is what it is.”

  Before I can say anything more, the wedding photographer approaches us.

  “Can I get a picture of the bride posing with the flowers?”

  Trudy smiles.

  “Of course!”

  We smile, trying to look at ease, as the young woman takes a hundred pictures. I don’t even want to see how they come out because I’m sure I look dumpy next to Trudy. She’s sleek, blonde, and absolutely stunning no matter what she does or wears. Meanwhile, I’m curvy and brunette, and about twenty pounds on the heavier side. While I can look attractive depending on what I wear, this dress is not doing anything for me.

  “How about a few of the bridal party milling about before the ceremony?” the photographer asks. “Before pictures are always a big hit.”

  Trudy shrugs.

  “Sure, you’re the expert.”

  We fuss about, trying to look casual, as the photographer snaps away for the next twenty minutes. But this has to end at some point, and eventually, Trudy’s wedding planner emerges from inside the church.