Billionaire Baby Bump

by Chance Carter

  “You brought wine?” I asked.

  She shrugged, smirking. “Don’t I always? You better drink it or I’ll force some kombucha down your throat next time you’re over.”

  “Say no more.” I rose to my feet and went to the buzzer. “Hello?”

  “FedEx here. I’ve got a package for a Miss Valentine?”

  I frowned. It wasn’t the food at all. My curiosity was piqued though, so I buzzed him in. He arrived at the door a minute later, holding a wide, squat box. He thrust his machine out for my signature and then handed me the package. He turned to leave, and I looked at the sender to see where the parcel was coming from. All it said was that it had come from an online art store, one that I was familiar with from my time of sketching. Willow was still in the kitchen, and I wanted to know what was in here before she found out it wasn’t food and asked.

  I ripped the box open and sorted through its contents. A sketch pad, some drawing pencils, some charcoal, a gum eraser. All of it was super high quality, and had clearly cost a ton. There was nothing about the person who’d sent it, except a little note on top.

  Happy Housewarming.

  I scowled. I knew exactly who it was from.

  “That’s not food,” Willow observed from the kitchen doorway. She was holding two glasses of wine and her mouth narrowed into a pinched frown. My stomach grumbled, so I knew how she felt.

  “It’s some art supplies I ordered online,” I lied.

  “On a Saturday?” She crossed the room to look in the box. I made sure to shove the note off to the side where she wouldn’t see it.

  “Uh, yeah. I paid extra for Saturday delivery because I thought it might be nice to do some sketching on my first weekend in the new place.”

  I felt bad being dishonest to Willow, but this was something I’d like to figure out myself first. I didn’t know what to think about the unexpected present and if she knew who it came from I’d never hear the end of it.

  “Cool.” Willow was still holding both glasses, and without furniture to put them down on, she couldn’t properly root through the package. “Maybe we could use the box as a table?”

  I laughed, “Clearly you spend too much time with kindergarteners.”

  The buzzer screamed again. I put the box down on the floor and walked over to answer it. This time it was the food.

  “Food’s on the way up,” I said, turning back to Willow. She handed me a glass of wine.

  “I’m proud of you, babe,” she said. “You may not be making all the same choices I would in your situation, but you’re doing a damn fine job. I can’t believe your drawing again. That’s so exciting.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “It’s exciting for me too.”

  Albeit unexpected.

  Chapter 17

  Max

  The afternoon sun slanted through my living room window, bathing the whole room in golden light. My mother always chastised me for not closing my blinds during the day. She was just as concerned about her own aging as she was of the furniture and rugs in her luxurious Manhattan apartment, and having direct sunlight blasting through the windows was considered a cardinal sin. I, on the other hand, liked the way the sunlight seemed to change the room, giving it an ethereal, dreamy quality.

  My living room was the perfect place to unwind after a long day, which was exactly what I was doing. I sat on the leather sofa and stared out the window across from me, eyes tracking along the lines of the adjacent skyscrapers. Dust motes waltzed through the air in front of me, twirling and drifting without ever worrying about touching the ground.

  In my left hand, a tumbler of gin. In my right, my phone, on which I’d just finished my third business call of the day. It would be my last too. If I had to have breakfast with my mother tomorrow, I was at least going to give myself the night off. Who knew what she had in store for me?

  I was just thinking about turning on the TV when my home phone rang. Since I wasn’t expecting visitors, and the only time it rang was when someone was downstairs to see me, this caught my curiosity.

  I downed another mouthful of the gin before setting it on the coffee table and grabbing the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mr. Westfield, I have a Miss Emma Valentine here to see you.”

  My heart lurched in my chest. She must have received my present. Had she come all this way to thank me? I’d debated sending the present in the first place, since it hardly seemed to fit in with her desire for professionalism, but I couldn’t resist.

  “Thank you, Hal. Send her on up.”

  I hung up the phone and took another drink of the gin. My pulse was just a little too fast for my liking. I should have been able to handle this. I saw her every day, didn’t I? But this was different. Something would change with this visit.

  She knocked on my door a couple minutes later, and I tried to compose myself as much as possible before I opened it. I fixed a warm smile on my face as I swung the door open, a greeting poised on my lips.

  Emma was all red hair and fury. She barged passed me, stomping over to the kitchen island and slamming down a box on top of it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Returning your present,” she said, spinning on her heel to face me. “What did I say about being professional?”

  I closed the door, raising one eyebrow. This wasn’t going exactly how I’d hoped, but I could work with this. At least she was here.

  “I don’t see anything unprofessional about sending my treasured employee a housewarming gift.” I crossed my arms and strolled over to her, watching with delight as she backed up against the granite countertop to keep as much distance between us as possible. “I’d say the more unprofessional act is you storming in here unannounced to ungratefully return the gift.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. A bolt of desire shot through me, and it took everything I had not to crush her against the counter.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “How is sending a sweet present professional? You can’t do that. If you wanted to send a housewarming gift, a set of dish towels or something stupid like that is the norm.”

  “I didn’t want to send dish towels,” I replied. “I wanted to send something personal, something you might actually like, and use.”

  “Well...” she trailed off, staring at me angrily. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Too late. I did.”

  Emma set her jaw and stepped away from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at the unwanted package.

  “You can take them back. I’m not accepting it. And next time you think about sending something, don’t.”

  She stormed past me again, heading for the door. I turned and caught her arm before she got just out of reach, knowing that if she made it to that door she’d be gone.

  “Emma, wait,” I said.

  Emma stopped but didn’t pull her arm away. She fixed me with a glare that could have melted meat from bone. It was chilling, to say the least. And impressive. I didn’t know what about her had changed so much in the past couple of months, or what had brought about said change, but it looked good on her. She was finally coming into her own. I wished I could say I was a part of that.

  “What?” she growled. “Don’t tell me there’s more on the way.”

  “You’re being pretty aggressive considering you’re talking to your boss.”

  It was a lighthearted joke, or at least it was meant to be, but Emma didn’t take it that way. She yanked her arm out of my grip and scowled.

  “Don’t you dare try to use that on me right now.”

  This woman was perplexing. I was a Westfield, and that meant I always got what I wanted. So why couldn’t I have her? Why did everything I said and did seemed to make things worse? It was infuriating and intoxicating all at the same time.

  “Fine, sorry.” I put my hands up in surrender.

  “I’ll see you on Monday.” She turned to leave again.

  This time, I figured I should try fighting fire with fire.

  “You�
��re not mad about the present,” I said. “You’re mad because of how it made you feel. You’re mad because I got under your skin.”

  Emma stopped and stayed so still it looked like somebody had pressed pause on her. Then she slowly turned to face me, and I noticed the little bit of pink on her cheeks.

  “You’re not under my skin,” she replied, voice just a little too steady.

  I stalked toward her, touching her chin and forcing her to look up at me. The air between us was smouldering and charged with all the sexual tension we’d spent the last few weeks suppressing. Emma could try all she wanted not to want me, but it was clear as day how much she did. I could practically smell it on her, and I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d made her admit it. I could only be the sweet, gentle lover for so long.

  “If I’m not under your skin, then what are you doing here, baby?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Answer my question.”

  She took a step back, my hand falling away to my side. I noticed her breaths were coming heavier now.

  “I came here to yell at you because I can’t do that at work,” she replied.

  “Bullshit. You came here because you’re mad, yes, but you’re not mad at me. You’re mad at yourself for liking the gift, and for appreciating it. So you came to return it, to punish yourself, but also because you can’t stay away from me any more than I can stay away from you. Admit it.”

  Her hazel eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting as if of their own accord. If I touched her wrist I knew I’d feel her pulse racing under her skin like a thumping drum line. I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted her right now.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “No, baby. I’m so right it hurts. And the sooner you admit that, the sooner I can make you forget all about that hurt and introduce you to a world of pleasure instead.” I reached for her again, this time holding her face in both hands and staring deep into her eyes. “Let me.”

  It was as much of a command as it was a plea and I knew that if she left my home today, I would be a wreck.

  I’d already let her walk away from me once before, and I couldn’t do it again.

  Emma’s pupils ate up her irises until they were practically black. Her skin was soft and warm under my palms, and I wondered how it would taste. Probably sweet, just like the rest of her. Though, she certainly had a rough streak. She’d proved that much to me today.

  “It’s not a good idea, Max,” she said weakly, trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me. There was no convincing me. She was in my sights and I was pulling the trigger, there was no doubt in my mind. But would she let me?

  “The only thing that’s not a good idea is the fact that you’re still wearing those clothes.”

  She gulped, bringing my attention to the long line of her neck. I leaned in to press my lips there, unable to hold back any longer.

  Emma wrenched herself from my grasp and teetered back a few steps. “And what happens when you get tired of me, huh? I’ll be out on the street looking for a new job, and you’ll be my only applicable reference.”

  There was fury in her eyes now, like it was my fault for putting us in this situation in the first place. Like I had insulted her by wanting her. It made fire scream through my veins to see her look at me like that, with such distrust and fear in her eyes.

  “Listen to me closely, Emma,” I said, tone dark and low. “There are a great number of things I’m going to do to you, and that’s not one of them. I’m going to make you cum so hard you see stars.” I took a step closer. “I’m going to stretch you wide with my cock until you scream for more. And I’m going to make my mark on you, under your skin where you’ll always be able to feel me.” We were face to face again, and this time she didn’t scurry away. I bore my gaze down at her, daring her to move even an inch. “But I will never betray your trust, nor will I do something as stupid as sullying my company’s good name by using it as a means to get myself some disposable action on the side. Do you understand?”

  Emma glared, those delicious lips pressed into a thin line. I grabbed her chin and yanked her closer, until our faces were a hair’s breadth apart.

  “Do you understand, baby?”

  She opened her mouth, but hesitated before speaking. When the words came, it was the most powerful rush I’d ever felt.

  “I understand... sir.”

  My cock throbbed with the need to take her. I couldn’t hold back anymore.

  “Good.” I slammed my mouth down on hers, wrapping my arms around her to grab her ass and pull her tight against my chest.

  Emma moaned, opening up to me like she had that night on the patio. She fell against me without resistance, without complaint. My heart thudded with triumph as I held her. I never wanted to let her go, never wanted to touch anything other than her soft, fragrant skin or the silky trail of her hair. I wrapped her up so tight it was like I was completely enveloping her, keeping her close to me and me alone.

  The kiss started off at a scorching tempo. There was enough pent up passion between us to power the whole block, and it showed. Within moments I jammed her back against the wall, her hands tightening in the front of my shirt. I burned for her, ached for her. Each kiss only relieved a small amount of my longing while adding to my addiction even more. I grabbed her hands and held them above her head in one hand, running the other over her breasts, down her ribs, and across her hip. She groaned and nipped at my lip. I bit back, harder, showing her just how much I wanted her by grinding my hard length against her abdomen. I’d waited a long time for this. For her. Once wouldn’t be enough, but I had all night.

  Like fucking hell she’d be leaving this place before morning. And I’d make sure she’d have trouble walking straight when she did, and hopefully I’d be one giant limp dick myself.

  Chapter 18

  Emma

  Sure, I didn’t like admitting that Max was right. When is admitting that to someone ever a good time? But when I did admit it, when I did give into it, he rewarded me so generously that I think it was worth holding back. It was worth the tension.

  Max kissed with fervor, with purpose. His desire burned hotter than the sun, and I was on fire. Every brush of his lips against my neck, my shoulder, the tops of my breasts, made my heart beat faster and my core clench. The wall was solid against my back, and Max was pressing me so hard into it I thought the wall would break in two. His body felt amazing pressed up against me, a veritable smorgasbord of sexy man. I could feel each ab and the swell of his pecs, even if he was holding my hands in place above my head. It was a huge turn on, one that made my pussy quiver with anticipation. If he was this much of an animal when making out, what was he like in bed?

  Well, I knew a little, since he’d finger-fucked me to heaven and back on our last little rendezvous. The memory of that backseat encounter made my face flame with heat, and a little moan escaped my lips.

  “I can’t wait any longer,” Max growled. He stepped back, but only far enough to dip down and toss me over his shoulder.

  I’d never been carried off to bed caveman style before, and despite my initial surprise it was actually one hell of a rush.

  I squealed with pleasure and he gave me a hefty pat on the behind, laughing. We were both laughing now, which felt good after having such a tense confrontation. We needed this release. And I needed him.

  Max’s bedroom was, as I expected, amazing. He had a huge king size bed with creamy sheets, and it felt like he was dropping me onto a cloud. A window on the opposite wall had a sprawling view of the city, where the lights were just beginning to come on in the adjacent buildings.

  Max stripped off his t-shirt as I lay there, getting my bearings, and my attention immediately darted back to him. He was glorious. His torso was taut with muscles, a faint dusting of hair heading down from his navel beneath the waistband of his jeans. I’d seen him in jeans a couple times, but had never seen him shirtless. The combination was breathtaking.

&nb
sp; “My eyes are up here,” he joked.

  I dragged my eyes up from his chest to his face. He was wearing a smirk that sent my heart flopping over in my chest.

  “Shut up.”

  Max grinned. “I like when you boss me around,” he said, lowering himself over me. “But don’t forget for one second who’s the boss.”

  He bit my lip and continued down, pulling up the hem of my shirt and dragging it over my head. His light kisses left a trail of goosebumps down my stomach, and he blew on the wet spots and made them tingle even more. I squirmed, which earned me a chuckle from my tormentor.

  “Have a little patience, baby.” Max undid my jeans and slowly pulled them down, kissing each inch of leg as it was exposed. I’d never had a guy pay so much attention to my body before, and we hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. With Lance it was usually a little making out, maybe foreplay if he was in a good mood, and then straight to the sex. Had he ever kissed my shin? Probably not.

  “You are so sexy,” Max whispered, staring down at me as he dropped his own pants to the floor. His massive erection stretched the fabric of his boxers, creating a tent big enough to shelter a grizzly bear. My mouth went dry.

  “You too,” I said, swallowing.

  “I’ve been wanting this since the moment I first set eyes on you,” he said, climbing back over me. “Every day at the office with you is torture.”

  He rubbed himself against my sensitive mound and I moaned, biting my lip. His mouth fluttered over my neck, up my cheek, then over to my mouth where he took me again in another soul-consuming kiss. I was drunk on him, unsteady even lying down.

  Max slid a hand between our bodies, slipping under the waistband of my panties and dipping between my folds to test my slickness. He hissed against my mouth with pleasure, sliding in further and rubbing my clit with his thumb, just like he’d done in the limo. This time I was treated to the feeling of his body heat burning my skin, the knowledge that soon we would both finally get what we’d been craving.

  “Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” he murmured. “Do you even know how sexy you are?”