Biker Baby (The Kings of Mayhem MC Book 3)

by Penny Dee

  I released my hold on her breast as I worked my way farther south, my tongue and lips moving over the slight swell of her belly where my baby was growing, and I paused for a moment to marvel in that thought. That inside this beautiful woman was my baby. A baby I had put in there during moments like this. My cock throbbed and began to drip with pre-cum. It tilted and flinched, begging me to stop fucking around and to plunge deep and hard into her pussy. But I wasn’t fucking around. I was savoring every inch of this goddess. I moved even lower, over her slim hips and along her firm thighs. When I reached the most sensitive part of her she gasped and tilted her hips toward my mouth so I could easily slide my tongue between the succulent, velvety skin. She gripped the headboard behind her, moaning my name and crying out with pleasure as the tension tightened and swirled within her. Within seconds, her body quivered against my lips as she started to come. I drove my tongue into her, teasing her pussy, torturing it as I lapped at her clit to draw out her orgasm so it was as sweet as it was long. Her legs shook and her toes curled into the bed as she cried out her climax into the bedroom.

  When I knew she was done, I rose up on my knuckles to look down at her lovely face. My cock was pulsing, my balls aching to come. I couldn’t help but press against her and was rewarded with a sudden flare of pleasure rolling through me.

  “I need you inside me,” she breathed.

  I couldn’t wait a moment longer.

  Mindless with need and without thinking, I put on a condom and with one thrust I was inside her. The ecstasy was instant. My mind went blank of everything but pleasure. Making love to Honey and knowing she was pregnant with my baby blew my mind. She felt different. Warmer. Softer. Like a goddess. I took my time with her, kissing her deeply and moving into her slowly, restraining myself from losing it and fucking her hard and rough. I made love to her and lost myself in the magic of what we were doing. She writhed beneath me, moaning at what I was doing to her body, clenching me tight and gripping my hips with her thighs. She ran her fingers up my back and gripped my hips, holding me still as she chased her second orgasm. Grinding up against me and rubbing her creamy pussy against me as she bucked, her orgasm claimed her quickly and she climaxed beneath me, arching her back and moaning out my name.

  It was too much. Engulfed in the heat of her body, I came hard, kissing her passionately on the mouth as my ecstasy took over and I pumped and pumped into her tight, beautiful body.

  Collapsing against her, I rolled onto my back and pulled her to my chest.

  “Damn! I’m not going to lie, Honey, I’m going to miss this,” I said after catching my breath. And it was true. Sex with Honey gave me a satisfaction I’d never felt before.

  Her warm breath tickled my skin when she laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be as big as a whale soon enough. You’ll be pleased we agreed to stop.”

  My hand slid to her belly. I could hardly believe that my baby was growing there. I didn’t care what size she got, she would always be sexy as fuck.

  After disposing of the condom, I rolled her onto her back and bent my head to kiss the gentle rise of her belly.

  “I don’t care how big you get, you’re always going to be sexy.”

  “You say that now, but you wait and see.”

  I pressed my cheek to her belly. The scent of her skin lulled my orgasm-soaked brain toward a peaceful place where everything was warm and relaxed. I felt her pulse against my cheek, and with the mind-blowing knowledge that my baby was so close to me, I felt myself floating on a hazy wave of contentment. It was a foreign, strange feeling, but definitely a feeling I could get used to.

  “Caleb,” she said my name with anticipation. And when I looked up from the warmth of her belly I saw the concern shining in her eyes. “Why did the person who broke into my apartment take just my necklace and nothing else?”

  Wanting more than anything to remove the anxiety from the beautiful blue of her eyes, I pushed up on my arms and dragged my body along hers until I could look down onto her sweet face. Christ, she was beautiful. Her skin was slick from our lovemaking, smooth and shiny in the dim light. Gently wiping her hair from her cheek, I gave her a confident smile.

  “They got interrupted, is all,” I reassured her. “Thankfully, or else your TV and the rest of your jewelry would probably be gone, too.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I do.”

  Her eyes glittered up at me, reading me, trying to work out if I was telling the truth or just saying it to put her mind at ease. Then I felt her relax against me, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

  “Thank you.” She shifted gently beneath me, and her pussy brushed against my cock, sending an unexpected tremor through her. I saw the pleasure shimmer across her face as she dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, and it was all I needed. My cock began to swell again.

  “Are you sure you want to stop?” I asked, in one last attempt to prevent the inevitable.

  “I think it’s best, don’t you?”

  “I will do whatever you want to do,” I said, and then I gave her a heated, wicked look as I slid my hand between us and down to the warm slickness between her thighs. She hissed in a breath and moaned, squeezing her brows together and licking her lips, and my cock roared to life. “But not until tomorrow.”

  Using two fingers, I found and teased the little nub of nerves that loved to be rubbed and teased.

  “You don’t play fair,” she breathed.

  “You want me to stop?” I asked, my fingers swirling through her creaminess and sliding into her.

  She gasped and writhed beneath me.

  “Hell . . . no!” She moaned.

  I smiled. Thank fuck. Because I was so damn hard again, it was enough to make me dizzy. I rolled onto her and put myself between her thighs. The moment she felt my cock pressing against her naked pussy, any reservations she had about having sex went out the window. Hell, it fucking threw itself out the window.

  “No condom,” she breathed in my ear, delirious with desire. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

  Her words made me see stars. And when she wound her lovely long legs around me, it was more than I could take. I pushed into her, hard and controlled, and naked, only to be overwhelmed by the feeling of her velvet, wet pussy swallowing my cock. Mind-blowing sensations stole the air from my lungs, and I had to pause for just a moment to catch my breath and stop myself from coming.

  “Oh Christ, that feels . . . fuck, I’ve never . . .”

  I dropped my head and claimed her mouth with a fierce and wild kiss, then spent the next hour driving home my argument for more sex and less talk about keeping it platonic.

  HONEY

  I woke up to Caleb walking into the room carrying a cup of coffee. Dressed in nothing but his black pants and belt, he looked too damn sexy for words.

  “I have news,” he said with a delicious grin.

  Sitting up, I looked at the clock. “It’s not even seven o’clock and there is already news?”

  He grinned again. Bright. Sexy. Perfect.

  “I’m moving in,” he said, handing me the cup of black coffee.

  I looked at him over my cup. “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

  “I’m moving in.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “You leave me no choice.”

  My mind scrambled. “Yes, I do. I leave you with the choice to not move in. Feel free to take it.”

  “I’ve already made up my mind.”

  I took another sip of my coffee. It was good. Strong, just how I liked it.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because you need me.”

  “I need you?” I didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but it was hard not to when he was standing there, looking hot as fuck, telling me I needed him.

  “Yes. This apartment looks like it’d be expensive, so there’s that. But I just spoke to Mrs. Lawrence from apartment seven, and she said there have been a rash of car thefts around the neighborhood lately. Plus, a few smashed windows.
Probably kids looking for money.”

  “You’ve spoken to Mrs. Lawrence?”

  “I ran into her in the hall. Asked her if she saw anything suspicious last night. She said she didn’t, but mentioned the break-ins.” He took a sip of his coffee, his big bicep flexing as he raised his cup to his lips. “I want you to be safe.”

  I rubbed my eyes, feeling a little overwhelmed. With last night’s break-in still lingering, and the speed in which this was all happening, I felt a little anxious and out of sorts.

  “We’re having a baby,” he said, soberly.

  “But we’re not together.”

  “No . . .”

  “I mean, we just met and . . .”

  Caleb smiled, and it was unfair, because that smile was damn disarming.

  “Relax, Honey. This is a good thing. I can help you.”

  It was funny, but I hadn’t stopped to think about how much Caleb would want to be involved in this pregnancy.

  But was letting him move in a good way to find out?

  If this was going to work, we needed to take a step back.

  “I’ll move into the spare room,” he said.

  I just stared at him. I could use help with the rent, but would it complicate things having him under the same roof? No one could deny we had some serious sexual chemistry going on . . . would living together be too much of a temptation.

  “You know this is a recipe for disaster, right?” I said, yet despite my words, I was already warming to the idea.

  “Maybe. Who knows? All I care about is making sure you and our baby are safe.”

  I watched him and sipped my coffee, his words ticking over in my mind.

  Finally, I relaxed and smiled. “Okay.”

  His eyes lit up. “Yes?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He grinned and then did something completely random. He high-fived me.

  “We’re high-fiving now?” I asked, laughing.

  He gave me an amused but wicked look. “It was either that or I rip those bed sheets off of you and give you an orgasm instead.”

  The muscles between my thighs throbbed and I had to bite back my urge to let him do just that.

  “High-fives are good.”

  He sighed. “Why do I think I’ll be high-fiving myself a lot over the next few months?”

  He stood up. I watched him over my cup of coffee as he raised his arms above his head with a stretch and it struck me just how larger than life he was. His abdominal muscles flexed and dipped and just the sight of his impressive six-pack made me want to touch him.

  If he moved in, would it complicate things?

  And more importantly, how the hell would I stop having sex with him?

  HONEY

  So Caleb moved in. Two Prospects brought his things over from the clubhouse, and by Saturday afternoon he was all moved into my spare room.

  Despite my reservations about my new roomie, we fell into an easy, domesticated routine. He was an early riser and would have coffee ready for me by the time I got up for breakfast. He would also make me toast, and then we would argue about me eating it when I insisted I wasn’t hungry. Then he would play the “you’re pregnant with my baby” card and I would end up eating the damn toast. Eventually I stopped complaining, knowing I would lose the argument and end up eating whatever he put in front of me anyway.

  When it came to housekeeping, he was tidy while I was prone to leaving my things where I dropped them. And when I came home after a day at work, our apartment was always straightened.

  He was also a good cook. And sometimes, if his schedule allowed, I would come home to a home-cooked dinner. Spaghetti. Roast chicken. Steak. Mashed potatoes. Which was good because we both knew how much I sucked at cooking.

  Other nights, if he was home and not at the clubhouse, we would order in takeout and spend the night on the couch watching movies or we’d take his bike and visit the movie theater over in Humphrey.

  And I had to admit, it was nice to come home after a long day at work where I slaved my ass off to make my business a success. I was on my feet all day, baking and making my popular cupcakes, while dealing with unreliable suppliers and sometimes hard-to-please customers—like the one standing in front of me right now, grilling me like a drill sergeant about today’s cupcake special, the Marshmallow Madness Muffin.

  Was it gluten-free?

  Was the marshmallow sugar-free?

  Was it an original recipe?

  Why was it so dark in color, did I add preservatives to give it that look of decadency?

  Um . . .what?

  I smiled pleasantly, patiently, but she had almost exhausted my easy-going nature.

  Eyes the color of whisky stared emotionlessly across at me as she waited for my response. Hair, like a silky auburn curtain hung perfectly past the shoulders of her Marc Jacobs silk shirt. She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail on the glass display cabinet in front of me.

  I gave her my biggest, brightest smile.

  “I’m sorry, my cupcakes are quite simple. I mean, they look elaborate, but the trick to a really good cupcake is actually simple ingredients.”

  She looked at me blankly.

  “So are they gluten-free or not?” she asked, irritably.

  “Not,” I replied, good-naturedly. “Nor are they sugar, dairy, egg or nut-free, but they are preservative-free. Guaranteed to mold up within a week!”

  Not appreciating my lame attempt at lightheartedness, she looked at me with zero emotion. “You really should offer gluten-free options. And sugar-free.”

  Again, I smiled sweetly at her. Good customer service was the best marketing plan for any business. Mashing the goddamn marshmallow cupcake into that cold, indignant expression on her face was not.

  So I bit back my loss of patience. “Would you like a sample? It might help you make up your mind.”

  It was already ten minutes past closing time and my feet were aching.

  “Are you kidding me?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Your pregnancy hormones must have gone to your head if you think I’m putting something like that in my mouth.”

  Whoa.

  Pregnancy hormones?

  “What did you say?” I frowned. How did this complete stranger know I was pregnant? And what was with the verbal attack? “How do you know I’m—”

  “You keep rubbing your stomach,” she interrupted, with an irritated eye roll. “And judging by how tight that apron is, you’re either pregnant or you’ve been eating too many of your own cupcakes. If you’re not pregnant, you really should go sugar-free.”

  I stared at her in utter astonishment.

  But she didn’t miss a beat. She simply pushed on her oversized sunglasses, picked up her Louis Vuitton handbag off the counter, and with an air of distain, took her two-hundred-dollar shoes and snooty attitude with her out the door.

  Sailor, my cowardly assistant, swept into the room. He was cowardly because he’d been hiding in the back room while this positively painful customer had been verbally dissecting my marshmallow masterpiece. And then, apparently, my weight.

  “Wow, that woman was absolute poison,” Sailor said, flipping the open sign to closed. “Good riddance, sir.”

  “Nice of you to join me.” I gave him a playful yet annoyed look which he simply waved off.

  “Looked like you had that cutie pie all sorted,” he said in his thick Louisiana accent. “You’re the most diplomatic person I know.”

  I met Sailor my first night in Destiny. Back then he had been slinging beers at a gay bar on the outskirts of town. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark skin. Glossy lips. He was as handsome as he was dramatic, and next to Autumn, one of my best friends in the whole world.

  “You’ve got to feel sorry for someone if they can’t even enjoy a cupcake for what it is.” I kicked off my shoes. My feet were killing me. “Why has society made things so complicated?”

  “Girl, if I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t be working in a cupcake store in downtown Destiny, Missi
ssippi. I’d be selling the answer to that on Amazon and charging people five dollars a piece.”

  In a world that had gone crazy with free everything, my business was built on old-style baking delivered in a fresh, creative way. Chocolate cakes with gooey chocolate ganache covered in a sheen of flawless toffee. Classic vanilla with rich butterscotch chunks and sweet peanut brittle. Rich, red velvet sponge with a melt-in-your-mouth buttercream. I didn’t do free. My business plan was built around enjoying the decadence of a good ol’ fucking cupcake.

  I knew it wasn’t for everybody. But those who liked the idea came in droves.

  I smiled and slid my feet into a pair of slippers I kept behind the counter. I hated driving home in my work shoes, preferring the fluffy comfort of my well-worn Target loafers. “She said something really weird, though.”

  “Weird? How so?”

  “Something about pregnancy hormones going to my head.”

  “She did? Did you ask her what she meant?”

  “Yeah. She mentioned me rubbing my stomach a lot. Oh, and added, you’re either pregnant or you’ve been eating too many of your cupcakes. If you’re not pregnant, you really should go sugar-free.”

  “Uh-hmm, Shorty got herself a mean girl mouth,” he said dramatically. But then shrugged. “Crazy out of towner. Don’t you worry about her. You look gorgeous.”

  He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek as he swooped past me to the display cabinet and began packing the leftover cupcakes onto a tray. We baked everything fresh first thing in the morning. Any leftovers were dropped off to the homeless shelter on my way home.

  “I’m beat. Are you okay to close up and drop those at the shelter?”

  “Of course. You got sexy plans with that hunky baby daddy of yours?”

  I gave him a pointed look. “You know we don’t do that anymore,” I said, hanging my apron on a hook on the wall. “I’m just tired is all. They say you’re supposed to lose the fatigue after the first trimester, but I think this baby wants me to stay home with my feet up. I’m exhausted.”