Pregnant By My Boss: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance Compilation

by Cassandra Dee

And I growled as well. I love my baby girl and as much as I wanted to see her limping around afterwards, her asshole sore, I loved her too much to do it without lube … this time. It’s not that we’re not going to do the nasty, it’s that I want her to tell me when she’s ready, when she’s ready to sit herself down on my dick dry, hump me with her tiny anal hole without a slick of lube on my cock.

  So yeah, it was gonna happen but not today. For now, I was pounding her pussy instead and the way Laurie was bucking and screaming, the way her cunt was so tight, resisting me, forcing me to push her down, force her hips up against the bureau so that I could fuck harder, my hips slapping against that huge ass with wet smacks, my dick angry, pulsing and so fucking hard with each drive, made me realize that Laurie probably wasn’t going to be able to walk for two days anyways, her pussy would be so sore, so achy.

  And it drove me into a fury again. I fucked her again and again, the wet slapping sounds obscene, her lips stretched so tight around my fuckpole while she creamed wetly, her juices streaming like a river, coating my dick and balls.

  “Ohhh fuuuuuuck!” she screamed, giving it up, a liquid gush of warmth spilling out from her cunt hole, smearing everything in sight, my groin, my dick, dripping with warmth down her thighs.

  And watching her pussy twitch and spasm while simultaneously feeling it on my pole forced me over the edge as well. A tidal wave built in my balls, rising high and tight, my chest and abs hard, my dick even harder. And with a roar and a massive, “OH SHIT!” I came like a volcano into my little girl, erupting with ream after ream of hot white, shooting my seed deep into that hot pussy, spurting it up against her cervix.

  And I stroked her as we came together, her heavy haunches slick and smooth with a sheen of sweat, trembling and jiggling while a long orgasm convulsed all throughout her body, making her cream and moan deliriously, her face pressed into the wood. With satisfaction, I watched as her cunt clenched and clamped on my dick, the pink lips swollen and wet, flexing and twitching.

  “Oh yeah, baby girl, fuck yeah,” I ground out. “Keep coming, open up your cervix so that my sperm swims right into you, fuck, keep it up.”

  Because you know what? We’ve decided we want to try for a baby. It’s only right, Laurie’s so fertile, so sweet, so giving and sassy, she’d make a great mother. And what’s to hold us back? The two of us are in love, we’re committed to one another, and as cheesy as this sounds, cherish each other, our bodies, our minds, our words rekindling our love with each day, each night, every word and every gasp. And although we were married at City Hall a year ago, we’re gonna celebrate with a huge wedding next week. I want to show my best girl off to everyone I know, my friends, family, even my staff at NYC Concierge whose introduction was so volcanic, so dramatic.

  Because Laurie’s my one and only. This sweet brunette, whom I delivered shampoo to, has become much more than a customer. She’s my life, my wife, my dream, my everything. And fuck … but she’s the one who’s delivered me.

  THE END

  FREE BONUS SHORT

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  Continue on to read The Trashy Virgin: An MFM Menage Romance.

  The Trashy Virgin

  ~A Ménage Romance~

  (Erotic Romance)

  © 2017

  By Cassandra Dee

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  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Because two men is better than one.

  When Brent Larson took me in, I was a lost teenage girl with nowhere to go. The alpha male was the perfect guardian, tall, dominant and assertive.

  But the problem was that Jason lived in the trailer park too.

  And Jason was charming and funny, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous.

  So I couldn’t choose. It was too difficult.

  And I ended up with both men.

  Do you think I’m lost and lonely still?

  Or do you think I’m the luckiest girl on Earth?

  DEDICATION

  For those ladies who agree that two is better than one.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Katy

  Please don’t think I’m trashy.

  Please don’t judge me.

  I live in a trailer park, but life is so much more complicated than that. Because things happen unexpectedly and my story is one for the ages, I admit.

  It started when I moved into Brent Larson’s home, my own having no heat or electricity.

  “Hey,” I murmured as Brent strode in the door after work one day. I stood at the sink, finishing up some dishes, and it was all very homey, very comfortable. Besides, I could tell the big man was tired. I could see it in his eyes, the faint lines of weariness bracketing his clear blue gaze, the deep breaths as his wide chest inhaled. But he never failed to shoot a smile my way.

  “Hey there baby,” he said with a lazy grin, putting his lunchbox on the table. Brent was an ironworker with the local union and had the body to prove it, all sculpted muscle, tall, thick and perfectly proportioned. “How’s your day been, little girl?”

  I melted a little inside although I tried not to show it. I could literally smell him in the kitchen, the clean scent of honest sweat, all man, musky and tantalizing, and it made my insides tremble, my interior drip.

  “Not bad,” I whispered, then cleared my throat awkwardly. “Not bad,” I said a little louder, trying to act normal despite the fact that my cheeks were flushing pink. Oh god, how could this be happening? This was my guardian for crying out loud, the man who’d looked over me for the last year, giving me a place to live. And yet here I was creaming a little, blushing in his presence.

  But my life has been crazy lately, so maybe all the excitement put me over the edge. Because, you see, I have an insane mom. And I don’t mean it as a figure of speech, I mean it in the medical sense. We live in a trailer park, the mobile homes so close to one another that everyone knows everyone else’s business. And my mom, Tina, is pretty hard to miss. She’s been a mess for as long as I can remember, sobbing uncontrollably at nothing, keeping pet rabbits in our home despite the fact that we had about one hundred and fifty square feet between the two of us, not brushing her hair so that it stuck straight up, her make-up garish like a clown.

  So yeah, it was pretty obvious that I was in a shaky family situation with no supervision. And after a couple years of Tina’s hysterical outbreaks, Brent finally stepped in, my savior, my safety net. My mom had a really bad outburst where ambulances came screaming, a load of paramedics descending on the hysterically crying woman, literally strapping her to the gurney before shipping her off. It happened so fast that I didn’t know what to think, pure numbness creeping over my mind. So I was shivering barefoot outside in the cold night air, wearing nothing but a thin night shirt when Brent Larson came by, taking a long look at me, his blue eyes sweeping, missing nothing.

  “You okay?” he asked gruffly, looking away. I’d felt his gaze trail over my curves before glancing away guiltily, like he wasn’t supposed to be sizing up a teen girl.

  But I couldn’t absorb it at the time. I was too stunned, shocked by the turn of events and completely mute. On the one hand, Tina’s breakdown wasn’t exactly new, we’d been to this rodeo before. It’s just that this time the paramedics told me she wouldn’t be back, Tina needed to be put under long-term observation, so I was paralyzed, unsure of my next move. God knows I could take care of myself, but at the same time, things had reached titanic proportions and my mom needed serious professional help.

  So I said nothing, staring back at him, brown eyes wide.

  Brent cleared his throat again.

  “Listen, why don’t you come over to my place?” he asked gruffly, still not meeting my eyes. “I�
�ve got heat and hot water, it’s a place to crash for the night.”

  And after a pause, I nodded silently, trailing him with slow steps across the park to his mobile home. Because yeah, our trailer was cold, dark and freezing, my mom was behind on the bills, her monthly disability check hadn’t come yet. We still had running water, thank god, but the nights were bitter and I wasn’t looking forward to another sleepless one huddled under a pile of blankets, shivering so hard that my teeth chattered, goose bumps that never went away.

  So Brent’s offer was a godsend, manna from heaven. If nothing else, I could at least be warm for once, sleep as well as I could before the shit really hit the fan and I had to figure something out.

  And when the door to Brent’s double-wide opened, it was like stepping into the Garden of Eden, the warmth and welcoming air immediately soothing my nerves. Because Brent’s trailer was nice, really nice. The ORV Blackstone was immaculate and spacious with a living room, dining nook, kitchen, and three bedrooms. But as I sat tentatively, crossing my legs, one of the bedroom doors opened and a gangly teen boy peered out, surprising me. His head almost brushed the ceiling, he was that tall, lanky and gangly like a baby giraffe.

  “Oh hi,” I said faintly. “I’m Katy.” I was wearing nothing but a thin pink nightshirt for this midnight introduction, but then on the other hand, I was so stunned from events that it barely registered. Besides, I didn’t think Brent had a son, so who was this boy?

  The teen eyed me warily as well.

  “I’m Jason,” he grunted, looking me over before nodding at Brent. “She here to stay?” he asked.

  And Brent’s low growl answered.

  “For now, yes,” he replied. “Let’s get you settled Katy, we’ll talk tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s rest.”

  And gratefully, I was ushered into the room at the front of the mobile home with a tiny, tidy bunk and a nightstand fixed to the wall. The clean sheets and neat space were a luxury compared to what I was used to, my mom kept the most unbelievable stuff around until it was gross and really rank. So I slept like a log in the new environment, and the next day the boy introduced himself, sort of.

  “Yo,” he grunted. “You go to Central?”

  I nodded, hesitantly pouring myself a mug of coffee in the tight confines of the kitchen. I wasn’t used to being around men in such close quarters, usually it was just my mom and me. So suddenly caught with two huge males was startling, and I was unsure, fluttery inside, still dressed in my pink nightshirt with no shoes.

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “You?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m a senior, never seen you before.”

  And I colored.

  “Yeah, um, I’ve missed a lot of class this year,” I said, biting my lip. It was because I was home, taking care of my mom, but Jason didn’t need to know that.

  He cast an eye over my form appraisingly, and I went hot again. Oh god, I was wearing almost nothing and there was both a teen boy and an adult man in the room. Embarrassed, I crossed my arms over my breasts in an effort to be modest, snapping my knees shut.

  But Brent interrupted my thoughts.

  “Katy, why don’t you go back and get dressed, pick up whatever you need, and then Jason will give you a ride to school? I’ll be home at six today, we’ll talk then,” he growled.

  And I nodded.

  “Sure,” I mumbled, shooting the big man a grateful glance before turning to the boy. “I’ll be back in just a second.”

  “Make it quick,” Jason commanded, and anger flared in my chest briefly. Who was this kid who thought it was okay to order me around? Seriously, he couldn’t have been older than me, not a day over seventeen.

  But Brent chuckled, hearing us spar, his low growl filling the air, leaving no doubt as to who was boss.

  “Kids,” he drawled, “let’s play nice.”

  And that was my first introduction to my new living situation because I never moved back into my mom’s trailer. Heck, it’s still sitting empty and dark, my mom’s been in the hospital for a year now and I swear the management office is going to do something, when they get around to it.

  So yeah, it’s been a year now, and I’ve settled into a routine with Jason and Brent. Every day, my new “brother” and I head off to Central High for our senior years of high school, driving across the tracks to a fancy school with a couple of slots for poor kids like us. And every day, Brent goes off to work with the union, there’s a lot of demand for steelworkers with all the construction nearby, so he’s got a steady, stable job and as far as I know, has never been late with bills.

  But Jason isn’t Brent’s son or stepson or any relation whatsoever. Jason’s another stray that Brent pseudo-adopted, offering him a place to live because his own home situation was so messed up. I’m not even sure what Jason’s family history is, I just know that he won’t talk about it, he clams up and ignores me, so Brent’s urged me to be patient, give him time to relax. And I respect that. After all, I try to avoid any discussion of Tina except that with my mom, everyone knows, her hysterics were impossible to miss.

  So yeah, the two men are my family now. We’ve been living like this for a year now, and Jason and I both turned eighteen recently, celebrating our birthdays together since we’re both September babies. We’re our own little happy trio for better or worse, and given my rocky real family situation? My mom who’s in a psychiatric ward as we speak, and my dad whom I haven’t seen since I was five? I wouldn’t trade my men for the world, no way.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Brent

  I’m not exactly a do-gooder but sometimes the situation’s so hopeless that you’ve got to intervene. And with my steady job and solid paycheck, I had to do something for the kids around here.

  Jason was the first. I found him living under a bridge one day, literally camped out alone, looking worse for the wear.

  That day I’d finished a job and was walking home from the site. I’d gotten out earlier than usual and taken a detour on a whim, a path by the river next to the woods. More out of curiosity than anything, I strolled along, savoring the crisp smell of leaves in the air, a classic New England fall, and it led me to an abandoned bridge, the stone mossy and crumbling, probably couldn’t hold more than a child. But to my surprise there was a teen boy camped out nearby.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice neutral.

  Jason turned to me, eyes wary, hands paused on a tin can of food. He didn’t say anything, just turned away again.

  “Hey,” I said, more loudly this time. Jason was clean and neat I could see, but yeah, there was a blue tent erected not fifteen feet away and a small pile of garbage off to the side, indicating that the boy had lived here for at least a week.

  “You need some help?” I tried again.

  And the boy didn’t answer, ignoring me as he devoured peaches straight from the can, so hungry that some of the syrup ran down his chin. I shook my head, walking away, but the next day, getting out early again, I took the same detour and came upon the same boy. My efforts at conversation fell flat once more, but over the next month, we built up a rapport of sorts. Soon, I took him to a diner for a meal and for the first time, he told me his name and story. It was really sad, no child should have to endure what he’d been through. His parents were a mess to the point where he’d left voluntarily, living on his own by the bridge, keeping to himself so that none of his friends realized that he had no one, he’d struck out on his own.

  And I felt bad to be honest. I had a solid working-class background, and the union was looking for some apprentices to begin the next training cycle. So I brought it up with Jason and he pounced at the opportunity.

  “That’d be awesome man,” he rumbled, looking down. The boy was clean and fed, sure, but nights were getting cold and that tent was no protection against a freezing Maine winter. So I offered him the opportunity to stay with me, and Jason refused.

  “Naw,” he drawled. “I’m good.”

  “No prob,” I grunted in retur
n. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  And when the weather got colder, leaves falling from trees, the thermostat crusted with ice each morning, Jason took me up on my offer. So yeah, I set the boy up with a room in my trailer, he’s pretty self-sufficient, we don’t talk much but he seems fine, going to school, keeping up with his work. He’ll be starting an apprenticeship with UAW next fall, and under my tutelage, he can’t help but succeed.

  And that leads us to our next roommate, Katy. I’ve known Katy for a while, well, at least knew the girl existed. She’s been living in the trailer park as long as I have, and I’ve watched her grow from a distance. How that female survived is beyond me, having Tina Parks as a mom is no piece of cake. Not only is Tina a certifiable hoarder, that trailer’s got stuff piled up to the ceiling, visible through its slitted windows, but she’s mentally unstable too. All of us know it, we’ve been witness to her outbursts, her crazy wailing and screaming, the paramedics dragging her off that one night.

  And the last time that happened, Katy was seventeen, no longer a little girl. But she’d been left standing outside, dazed, like Dorothy awakened from her dream, brown eyes wide, lips trembling. And I took pity on her. The poor thing had nowhere to turn, there was clearly no electricity at her home and she was shivering violently in the cold New England wind.

  So I did what anyone would do.

  “You need a place to stay?” I asked gruffly.

  And the girl nodded, eyes wide.

  “Thanks Mr. Larson,” she said in a low voice. “I’d appreciate it.”

  And that’s how I ended up with two strays in my home. Except the two kids have changed a lot, grown and matured shockingly fast. In the last year, Jason’s filled out and become a man. He’s taller than I am, his head almost brushing the ceiling, but not as big, not as muscular.