His Dream Baby: A Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Instead, I had a counter move, and we walked away even. She was a smart business person, and she knew that coming after me would be very bad for business.

  Which meant this was all finally over. Hoyt was alive, at least for now. I suspected that if he made himself useful, they’d keep him around for a while. Hoyt seemed like the type to stay alive.

  But most importantly, I had Hartley. I had the money we needed to pay off whatever was left of the mafia, and I knew we’d get out of this one without any issues. The only people who really knew I was involved with any of this, along with Hartley, were all dead and gone at this point. The Caldwells would see to anyone else.

  From the very start, all I had wanted was to keep Hartley safe, but as we went through this together, I found myself wanting more and more. As I got to know her, saw the bravery in her heart, felt her body pressed against mine, I knew that this woman was special.

  She was more than anything I’d ever experienced before. She was more than I had ever imagined.

  I stopped in a field, the moon high above us. She cocked her head at me and smiled.

  “What?”

  “I love you. I don’t know where we’re going from here, but I need you to know that.”

  She dropped the duffel bag and threw her arms around me. “I know, idiot.” She kissed me hard and I felt it, deep in my chest, that burning need, that intense contentment.

  We had made it through. We had made it through together.

  And we’d keep on making it through, as far as we wanted to go, together.

  27

  Hartley

  One Year Later

  The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as I walked through the damp grass. We’d had a good rain the night before, and the early morning dew was glistening on the drooping leaves of the peach trees.

  I ran my hand along their bark as I passed, row on row of trees, each one just beginning to bear fruit. I took a deep breath, smiling to myself. I loved the smell of the trees as they began to bloom and bear fruit. Nothing made me happier than touching these trees, growing this fruit.

  And they were mine. It was our land, Travis’s and mine. It wasn’t as big as my family’s farm, but it was beautiful and it was ours.

  As it turned out, Travis had a ton of money saved up from the military. Between that and my savings, we had just enough money for a down payment on some farmland that had been foreclosed on. We reworked the land, bought trees, and planted them all along the property.

  This was our first season of bearing fruit, but already I could tell it was going to be a beautiful harvest. The trees had taken root and were thriving, and they were already budding. We had some chickens and some livestock that we used to sell milk and eggs in the meantime, and Travis was still drawing a check from the military, but the peaches were going to be our real crop.

  My very own farm. I could never have imagined that this would happen, let alone with a man like Travis.

  As I turned the corner at the end of the row and began to walk back, I spotted him up ahead. He wore his usual dirty work jeans, but his denim shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his glistening body, already damp from sweat. He’d gotten up early to do some chores around the chickens and was now doing repairs to the barn.

  He smiled as I came up to him. “Morning, farm girl.”

  “Morning, farmer.” I stopped just in front of him, my hands on his sides. I kissed his lips. “How’s it going?”

  “The usual. Building and such. Chickens look good.”

  I smiled. “Good.” I kissed him again. “I’m going to make you a proper farmer one of these days.”

  He laughed. “We’ll see about that. We both know my skill set is better suited for other things.”

  “Oh yeah? Like that?”

  “Like pressing you up against this here tree and feeling that firm ass in my hands.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle and feel a thrill run through me as he picked me up and carried me to the nearest tree, pushing my back against the bark. He kissed me deep and hard, his tongue entering my mouth.

  This was our life. It was hard and simple work, but it was real. Everything was built by us; everything was ours. We fucked when we wanted to and we did what we wanted, because this was our life, and we lived it together.

  Slowly he let me down, still pressing me against the tree.

  “You know,” he said, “it’s been a year already.”

  “Since what?”

  “Since that night.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” I said.

  “Good. I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  He dropped down to one knee. My heart started hammering in my chest. “I figured I’d make a proper farmer’s wife out of you. What do you say?”

  “Yes,” I gasped, staring down at the ring he held. “Yes, Travis. Oh my god, yes!”

  He slipped the ring onto my finger. I was surprised that it actually fit. He wrapped me up into his arms and kissed me hard.

  I wanted to be a farmer’s wife. I wanted to be his wife, my farmer, my SEAL, my bad boy. He was still a part of the Navy, but they were phasing him out of active duty, as per his request. He wanted to do something a little less life-threatening, he said, now that he had more than just his own life to worry about.

  It was me and him. It was exactly what I wanted. The sun rose over the horizon, spilling beautiful morning sunlight across us as he kissed me hard beneath our peach trees.

  “Now,” he grunted into my ear, “let’s work on getting a baby in you.”

  I laughed and then fell into his kiss, lost in his body and his arms.

  I wasn’t going anywhere. I was his, always would be his, no matter what.

  I wanted him, all of him, as much of him as I could and more.

  Virgin’s Daddy

  Prologue: Sadie

  My heart hammers and I’m nervous, so freaking nervous, though I know I don’t need to be.

  Gavin knows what he’s doing. I can see it in the way he moves and the way he speaks to me. Maybe it’s my first time, but it definitely isn’t his.

  Streetlights send shadows up through the windows in his penthouse apartment, making the night feel deep. Gavin smirks as he runs his hands down my hips, along the length of my dress. They reach the hem and stop, pressing lightly against my skin.

  “Is this what you imagined?” he whispers in my ear.

  I shake my head lightly. “Not at all.”

  He slowly lifts the hem of my dress.

  I shouldn’t be here. I’m not supposed to be around Gavin at all. If my family found out what I was doing, they’d disown me and throw me away like trash.

  But I don’t care. I want this man so badly that I can barely stand it.

  “You’re sure you want to give yourself to me?” he asks softly, his lips gently grazing my neck.

  “Yes,” I gasp as his fingers finally find my soaking spot.

  “Good,” he says, taking a handful of my hair. “Because I want to teach you.”

  “Teach me?” I gasp.

  He grins. “You’ll see.” His fingers slide beneath my panties, rubbing up against my soaking pussy.

  I can barely think. I don’t know what I’m doing, why I’m finally giving myself to someone. I barely know this man, but I’m sure this is right.

  He’s older than me and very rich, but he’s trouble. My family would call him low-class, even if he does have as much money as they do or more.

  I’m from an old family, a very rich and wealthy family. We’ve been in this city from its start, and we can count senators, mayors, and business magnates among our venerable ancestors. Or at least that’s what my parents say.

  Recently though, we haven’t earned a thing. We inherit our wealth and run the family business because it’s what’s expected. My brothers will be the businessmen, and I’ll marry some other rich eligible bachelor to ensure that the family line continues.

  I didn’t ask for this life. I don�
�t even know if I want it.

  But Gavin couldn’t be more different. Everything he has, he earned through hard work and intelligence. He came from nothing but now he’s something.

  He has experience. He has control. He is a confident and capable person, and I find that overwhelmingly attractive.

  Attractive enough to throw it all away. Just for one night of pleasure. Which is probably more than I could have ever expected if I continued along my previous path.

  His rough hands trail along my soft skin and his lips are firm against mine. I feel a thrill run through me as he pulls off my dress.

  I love the way he looks at me. Like he’s starving for my body, like he can’t get enough. I want him to keep staring at me, but I know he’ll have to take his eyes away if we’re going to do what I want to do.

  He presses me against the wall-length glass and pins my hands above my head. I’m mostly naked, standing above the city. I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been before, the good rich virgin girl being pressed against this window. That thought only makes me more excited.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he says.

  “Do you have to be?”

  His smirk drives me wild. “At first. But soon. Very soon.” His thumb trails along my bottom lip.

  “Soon you’ll be down on all fours, begging for my thick cock.”

  As my teeth come down on the skin of his thumb, I know he’s right, and I can’t wait.

  1

  Gavin

  I like charity.

  Not a lot of guys in my position do, unless “charity” is the name of a stripper. Most guys, when they get as rich as I am, they just want to hold on to their wealth as much as possible. But to me, that’s so shortsighted and foolish.

  We’re all in this world together. Might as well help some people.

  Besides, I remember what it’s like to struggle. I remember going to bed without dinner because my parents could only afford one meal a day. I remember the struggle, the stress, and the fucking pain of having nothing at all. I remember all the time and effort I put into getting something, and I wish someone had helped us back then. Most guys like me, they didn’t come from absolutely nothing. They don’t know what it’s like to really want for the basics.

  So charity is my thing. I have money, a lot of it, and I can afford to give some away. Which I do, as liberally as possible, sometimes too much if you want to listen to my business manager.

  But these rich ass, upper crust charity events, these aren’t usually my thing. As I walk into the banquet hall, I keep to the edges of the room after grabbing a glass of whisky from the open bar.

  Fortunately, I’m pretty anonymous in here. Everyone else is a rich business magnate, just like me, and so I can hang around and keep a low profile. I’m not particularly well-known, mostly because I’ve worked to keep it that way. Everyone knows my business and my name, but not everyone knows what I look like. That’s helped me lead a relatively normal life.

  And so I blend in wearing my tuxedo and drinking my whisky. I’ve been around this crowd for years now, I’m thirty-nine years old and I’ve been rich for ten of them, but this is only my second charity auction.

  I hate these things. They’re not really about the charity. They’re more about the opportunity to network with other rich assholes, maybe to bribe a few politicians, that sort of thing. Sure, there’s a real charity, and they write a check at the end of the night, but the shit that goes on during the event is loathsome.

  I’m only here for two reasons. First, my business manager Rick keeps begging me to come to these things, says it would be good for the company. Being here tonight is one way to get him off my back and maybe a little bit to prove him wrong. Second, and more important, what’s being auctioned fascinated me, and I couldn’t help myself.

  “Excuse me, ladies and gentleman, please have a seat.” An older woman, maybe ten years older than me, stands at the microphone on the stage. There’s a general murmur and commotion as people move toward their seats around the large banquet tables. “The auction will begin momentarily,” she says, before heading off to the side of the stage.

  I find my place at a table in the back. I specifically requested this spot, and I’m glad I did. I don’t recognize anyone at my table, although my neighbor to my right is a large drunk man with a thick beard. He clearly wants to chat, but I’m not in the mood.

  The crowd waits, a little restless, until music starts. The woman returns, this time to applause, and beams out at the crowd. I assume she’s the one that organized all this, though I haven’t paid much attention.

  “Thank you all for being here,” she says. “And the children of Mercy General thank you as well.” More applause before she holds up her hands. “Our first girl hails from Rhode Island. The daughter of Patricia and Linus Vanderhoot, Layla Vanderhoot loves horses, skiing, and plaid skirts. Come on out, Layla!”

  The crowd erupts into wild applause as a small girl with brown hair and dressed in an elegant gown steps out into the stage. She’s probably mid-twenties, pretty but not beautiful.

  “Do I hear one thousand?” the woman at the microphone says, and the bidding begins.

  It’s a fascinating spectacle. Daughters of the wealthy elite are paraded out onto the stage, one after another, and equally wealthy men bid outrageous sums of money to take them out on dates. The first girl, the Vanderhoot girl, is pretty but fairly plain, and even she fetches twenty grand, a respectable sum. I hope she enjoys talking horses and skirts with her suitor, who is clearly in his eighties and making lewd jokes with his peers.

  Winning a date doesn’t guarantee anything untoward, of course. It just means you get to take the woman out on a date, probably chaperoned, for one night. That’s all it is, and it’s supposed to be innocent, but there’s a strange and creepy undertone to the whole thing.

  I lean back and watch. I don’t plan on bidding on anyone, and in fact I already wrote a fifty thousand dollar check to Mercy General earlier that morning, so I did my charitable duty. The girls themselves aren’t very interesting, and nobody is really making me want to speak up.

  I drink my whisky and then another, observing. I’m here at least, and Rick can’t deny that. I never said I’d fucking socialize or network, although I probably should.

  Nine girls come and go, nearly half of the herd. There’s going to be a break before dinner, and then the final ten are going to be sold off. I plan on slipping out before the entrees, since I’ve already seen enough.

  But something stops me before I can get up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Sadie Tillman!”

  The crowd claps loudly. I recognize that name. I wasn’t listening when the woman introduced Sadie’s interests, but I don’t care about that.

  All I care about is the woman who walks out on stage.

  She’s probably twenty years old, about five foot five to my six foot four. She has dark hair, midnight black, down to the middle of her back and thick. I can see her deep green eyes even from my spot toward the back. She’s wearing a blue dress, shimmering slightly in the ballroom spotlight, that hugs her ample curves. She looks a little overwhelmed as she smiles and waves hesitantly, and instantly I feel something stirring inside of me, something I didn’t expect.

  She’s fucking gorgeous. I know the Tillmans, they’re old fucking money, the kind of people I despise. But Sadie herself doesn’t seem like the other rich girls. She’s not plain, far from it. She has a fascinating, beautiful look to her. That raven black hair is so interesting compared with the usual blondes and brunettes you see. She’s not extremely done-up, and doesn’t need to be. She’s clearly naturally beautiful, if a little shy.

  “Do I hear two thousand for Sadie?” the woman says.

  Several paddles raise, and there’s laughter across the ballroom. The bidding continues, and I can’t stop staring at Sadie.

  She’s alluring. Fucking gorgeous. How is a girl like her standing up on that stage, among these fucking animals? She’s a goddess and we’
re the mortals tasked with worshipping her.

  I want her. The thought hits me like a sledgehammer. I want her badly, have to have her. My attention is suddenly pulled back to the woman on the stage.

  “Do I hear forty?” she asks, and another paddle raises. “Forty-five?”

  Silence from the crowd. I frown, looking up at Sadie. She’s worth so much fucking more than forty-five thousand dollars.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but I raise my paddle high in the air.

  “Ah, the gentleman in the back,” the woman says. “Do I hear fifty?”

  My opponent raises his paddle.

  “Fifty-five?”

  I raise my paddle.

  “Sixty?”

  He raises his.

  “Sixty-five?”

  “One hundred thousand,” I call out, raising my paddle.

  There’s a stirring and a general murmur. The man I’m bidding against turns to look back at me, and I finally get a sense of him. He’s younger than everyone else here, younger than me. I think I recognize him, but I can’t be sure from the distance, and he quickly turns back.

  “Two hundred thousand,” he says to the woman.

  She looks taken aback. “Well, now, this is very generous.”

  Sadie herself looks incredibly nervous, but she keeps smiling. I know she can’t see me, not with the spotlight in her eyes, but I don’t care.

  I have to have her.

  “Half a million,” I call out.

  There’s an uproar as people cry out about the absurd amount of money. Sadie looks nervous. The drunk man next to me laughs and claps me on the back.

  I don’t care about any of that. I only have eyes for Sadie, and I want this more than anything. The money doesn’t matter to me.