Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  My mom has already been staying with me for two days. The plan was to get her a place as soon as I could, but I just haven’t gotten to it yet. It’s after midnight when I wake up to get a glass of water. My mind replays the sensations of the previous day. Being with Logan so completely and so fully was better than anything I’ve ever felt. I don’t think my days of BDSM are behind me by a long shot, but learning I could be with him outside of that was important. It meant everything.

  The thunderstorm outside has been keeping me awake. Every time I’m about to fall asleep, a huge crash booms through the house, making my heart pound. Rain patters hard against the roof and windows, driven so hard by the wind that it’s coming in almost sideways.

  I don’t think Logan knows I spotted the guy he has keeping an eye on me, but the same white car has been parked across the street since I told him about Ronnie. Figuring it out after that wasn’t too hard. I’ve made a habit of peeking at the car. Seeing the man behind the wheel watching has become something of a comfort for me.

  But this time, I see the car door is open and the man is lying on the ground a few feet from the car in the middle of the street. He’s not moving. My brain fills in the gaps with lightning speed.

  The glass of water falls from my hand, shattering on the ground. Shards of glass pelt my bare feet and legs, followed by cold water.

  Ronnie. He’s here. Somewhere. He’s coming for us.

  My phone is by my bed. I rush toward my room as fast as I can. The first step I take brings my foot down on a thick piece of glass and I slip backwards, falling hard and knocking the wind from my lungs.

  At the same moment, the kitchen window shatters and a drunken, soaking wet Ronnie climbs through. Lightning flashes behind him, illuminating the rain that sprays through the window behind him. He clumsily uses the counter to slide down into the kitchen, boots crunching on broken glass. He holds a splintered wooden baseball bat in his hand. There’s a clump of hair wedged beneath one of the splinters.

  My stomach turns over. Did he fucking kill the guy outside? If he would kill a stranger in cold blood, what would he do to us?

  “This has been a long fucking time coming, bitch,” he growls.

  I scoot back, wincing as glass digs into my palms. My foot is an explosion of heat and pain. A trail of slick blood stretches out behind me as I back away from him.

  Ronnie’s voice is slurred, and I can tell from his movements that’s he’s drunk. “First I’ll break your legs so you can’t run. Then I’ll tell that boyfriend of yours he can have you back for a million dollars.” Ronnie laughs deeply and then pauses abruptly to cough something thick up. He spits on the floor.

  “Mom,” I whisper. I try to shout, but my chest feels so tight I can’t push the sound out any louder. It’s like I’m in a dream. Everything feels stiff and foggy.

  He’s stepping closer. Crunch. Crunch. The tip of the bat drags on the ground, paving a path through the shards of glass. I can’t take my eyes off the clump of dark hair. I expect him to swing as soon as he can reach me, and at first, I don’t think I could stop him if he did. I feel helpless.

  It’s only when he falls to his knees and comes closer that the ability to fight rises up. If he thinks he’s going to put his fucking hands on me…

  My head bumps into the cabinet. I run out of room to back up just as my hand comes down on a fist-sized piece of glass. I squeeze it, not caring how it digs into my skin.

  “I’ve always wondered how you would tas--”

  Ronnie’s eyes bulge. His hand comes up slowly as he tips to one side, mouth open and working silently. I’m still gripping the piece of glass that I jammed into his leg when he falls. I rip it free and scoot away as quickly as I can, gasping for breath. I can’t look away from the spot where blood gushes from him, quickly forming a pool beneath his leg. I drop the glass and shakily get to one foot. I cry out as I rip the piece of glass from the bottom of my foot.

  My mom bursts into the room, probably drawn by my scream. “Ronnie!” She shouts.

  I watch, feeling sick when I realize my mom is probably still going to go back to him. I hoped maybe he had finally pushed her beyond her limit, that she was ready to take control of her life again.

  She moves toward him, carefully avoiding stepping on glass with her bare feet. She leans down and I think she’s about to kiss him, but she pulls her hand back and punches Ronnie in the mouth.

  “You stay the fuck away from my daughter. And you stay the fuck away from me. We’re done.”

  I stare in amazement as my mom comes toward me and helps me up, leading me from the kitchen. Once she helps settle me down on the couch, the pain of my injuries finally hits me. And it hits like a truck. My foot is a blaze of agony and my hand is throbbing with icy hot pain from where I gripped the glass to stab Ronnie. To stab Ronnie. God. Vivid images flash in my mind from the last few minutes.

  Ronnie crawling through the window like some demon, backlit by lightning. His face as he knelt down to reach for me. The way the blood oozed from his leg. My mom choosing me over him. I let my head fall back against the couch. “We need to call someone,” I say after a few moments. I doubt Ronnie is going anywhere on his own with the gash in his leg, but we can’t exactly let him just lay bleeding in the kitchen bleeding out all night, either.

  There’s a loud bang and the front door swings open, doubling the sounds of the storm outside. I turn my head to see a tall figure in a suit.

  “Kitten,” says Logan softly. He quickly moves inside, kneeling in front of me and gently touching the skin around my cuts. Anger boils in his features so powerfully that it almost scares me. It would scare me if I didn’t know the anger was from protectiveness and his hatred of seeing me hurt.

  “Thank God you’re here,” I say. I’m about to foolishly wrap my hands around him in a hug, but he stops me with a firm hand.

  “Don’t move. I’m going to get these cleaned and covered.”

  “How did you know to come?” I ask, letting myself sink back into the couch.

  “My PI didn’t send his hourly update.”

  “Uh,” says my mom. “Mr. Steel? Ronnie is in the other room still.”

  Logan stands, turning toward the kitchen door. His fists are clenched at his side and his jaw flexes. He steps through the door and there’s a long silence. My mom and I wait, eyes locked in uncertainty. I don’t know what I’m hoping for or expecting.

  Logan steps back into the living room. His features are dark. “He’s going to bleed to death soon, unless we cut off some of the circulation to his thigh. His femoral artery is severed.”

  I stare in confusion for a moment, wondering why Logan hasn’t already cut off circulation. I realize a second later what he’s saying. He’s asking me. He’s asking if I want Ronnie to die or if I want him to live.

  I look to my mom, and to my surprise, she shrugs. I try to think through the pain throbbing in my hands and feet. I try to look past what I want right now. Revenge. Justice. Pain. I force myself to look past that and focus on what I can live with. I don’t think I could live with myself if I knew I had the power to save his life and I let him die.

  “He’ll go to jail,” I say. “That’s enough.”

  Logan holds my gaze for long enough to tell me he would rather kill Ronnie, but he disappears into the kitchen and I hear the sound of fabric tearing. Maybe he’s ripping a kitchen towel or something to tie off the leg. Either way, it’s over. We’ll call the police, they’ll take Ronnie away, and I’ll finally be able to focus on putting the pieces of my life back together. Except I won’t be doing it alone this time.

  Epilogue

  Logan

  Four Months Later

  I lean against the far wall, watching Emmaline fuss over the boxes that have been ready for shipment all day. She kneels down brushes off a strand of fabric that fell on one box.

  “Careful,” I say. “Get the boxes too perfect and our customers won’t even open them.”

  She smirks ruefully a
t me, but doesn’t stop moving carefully through the stack of boxes for the tenth time. “Yeah, well… I just haven’t ever shipped products to a real store before. It was always just individual sales or a few people with online stores. This is a big deal.”

  I move to her, sliding my hands over her shoulders and working some of the stiffness from them. “You have nothing to worry about,” I say into her ear. “You deserve this. You fucking deserve every bit of it. You deserve to have the world eating out of your hand.”

  She laughs. “Does that mean you would be eating out of my hand too? Because I could get used to that.”

  I grin, squeezing her a little tighter and forcing her head toward me. “The only thing I’ll be eating out is that perfect pussy of yours.”

  “Ahem!” Scarlett half-yells.

  Emmaline jumps a little, clearly forgetting Scarlett was still working quietly on her laptop. I admit to forgetting too, but something about talking dirty to her in front of others has always been a turn on for me. The world needs to know she’s mine. Let them overhear.

  “Sorry,” says Emmaline. “He didn’t mean what it sounded like he meant.”

  Scarlett looks up, giving Emmaline a dry expression. “You don’t own a cat, so don’t even try to tell me…”

  Emmaline gives up, hiding her hands in her face.

  “I meant exactly what I said,” I say, biting my lip.

  Emmaline groans and Scarlett laughs.

  “I think I’ll work from outside for a little while. Just uh, let me know when it’s safe to come back inside.”

  Emmaline keeps hiding her face until Scarlett leaves. She looks up finally and tries to swat at my shoulder. I grab her wrist, locking eyes with her. “Careful, Kitten. I have you right where I want you now.”

  I move into her, pushing her back until I have her pinned to the wall with my body. She looks up at me, licking her lips. “We have to get this order ready.”

  “It was ready the second time you checked it, Emmaline. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

  She starts to breathe more heavily, blinking and looking down. “I don’t think I can have sex with Scarlett right outside, if that’s what you’re trying for.’

  “Who said anything about sex?” I ask. I force her legs around my waist, turning her and setting her ass down on a table. I work my fingers under the waistband of her pants and panties. “I said I would eat that pussy, and I follow through on my promises.”

  I wait just long enough to see the faintest hint of a smile touch her lips. I rip her pants down and take a second to admire her.

  “Your pussy is so fucking sexy,” I growl, lips so close to her that they brush the skin of her mound as I speak.

  She writhes against me. “Scarlett is right outside…” she says softly.

  “So you may want to avoid moaning too loudly this time.”

  Emmaline’s glare melts away as soon as my tongue flicks out across her slit, circling and plunging inside her. She squeezes her soft thighs around my head, using her heels to push my face farther into her, begging me for more. I give her what she wants and more. She bucks against me, grinding herself into my face in her desperation for friction, for more.

  Soon she’s moaning so loud Scarlett could easily hear if she’s right outside. I plunge two fingers inside her and finger fuck her while I work her clit with my tongue. It puts her over the edge. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers and her body shakes. She lets out a strangled cry, clapping a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.

  I straighten, grinning as I lean forward and make her kiss me hard while she still shakes with orgasm. Making her taste herself has my cock hard as a rock, but I can’t give her everything she wants all at once. That would ruin the fun. She’ll have to wait for tonight to get the rest.

  She clears her throat, hopping down and sliding her pants back up.

  I step outside and see Scarlett sitting on the bench a little ways down from the office. “It’s safe now.”

  She looks up. “You’re sure?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Positive.”

  Scarlett and Emmaline spend the next hour working on ideas for the design of their newest piece of clothing. I’m perfectly content to watch. The last four months have given me a lot to think about, and I feel like I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all.

  My company is gone. As expected, Dean threatened to leak thousands of client’s personal information if I didn’t step down. I made a show of putting up a fight so he wouldn’t be too suspicious, but ultimately handed the company over to him. I had enough time to liquidize my assets and walk away with more than enough money to be comfortable for a few thousand lifetimes. He took over the helm of a ship he didn’t know was sinking.

  Two months ago, my trap sprang fully. Dean was first slapped with tax evasion charges when the IRS caught wind from my anonymous tip, and then the real charges came of insider trading. Last week he was sentenced to twenty years in federal prison. The company is now publicly run by a committee. They’ve since offered my position back to me, but I declined. I have other plans now.

  I’m mentoring Emmaline. I’ve been teaching her everything I know about business, and she’s the fastest learner I’ve ever seen. I haven’t given her a cent. Everything she has done for her business has been on her own. Two months ago she was earning enough from her sales to quit working at Club Crave. Now she only goes with me as a patron of the club, not an employee. And we make full use of the facility.

  The boxes stacked up are for several major retailers. She managed to land shelf-space at some of the biggest stores in the country, and is planning to upgrade her office space soon and start hiring more employees to meet the contracts. I’ve never seen her so happy. It helps that Ronnie got put away for a long time for attempted murder on my PI and a slew of other charges. It turns out his rampage that night didn’t start outside Emmaline’s house. He left a drunken trail of carnage about four miles long and was caught on several security cameras.

  I just have one more surprise for Emmaline, but she’ll have to wait a little longer for it.

  Emmaline

  Logan’s arm is possessively splayed across my back as we walk inside Clothes for Crawlers. It has been a dream of mine to have my products sold in a store like this for so long. I’ve thought so many times about what it would be like to walk through a big name store and see my products hanging on display, watching person after person admire my work. I just never imagined the tall, dark, and sinfully handsome man at my side.

  I never would have imagined losing his company could revitalize him so much. Logan has been anything but idle since. His fresh start has brought about such a wonderful change in him. While I wouldn’t have called him brooding and depressed before, there was always a slight darkness around him. He doesn’t like to talk about himself much, but I think he had reached the top and had nothing left to strive for. I even think he’s glad that he was forced to start over.

  The best part is he has been working with me as a business partner. He doesn’t give me money, but he has taken me under his wing and started teaching me everything he knows about growing a business from the ground up. And he’s a damn good teacher.

  I was able to quit working at Club Crave two months ago after the business started really moving in full swing. Our sex life wasn’t magically perfect after the time he took me blindfolded up the hiking trail, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed Logan’s creativity. He never seems to run out of ways to chip away at the wall of resistance the years have built up around my sexuality. We’ve also been able to enjoy his play room again, and our newfound trust has helped me to enjoy whatever he’s in the mood for, whether it’s light bondage or the paddle.

  I also gave Scarlett a raise, which she was ecstatic about. Her outfits have become even cuter, and she’s starting to talk about opening her own dance business some day. I love that she’s looking at her own future outside of my company. I’ll miss her like hell if she leaves, but I want her to find her own niche
too. If graphic design isn’t doing it for her, then I don’t want her stuck in it.

  We quickly find the display with my products. Monthly milestone onesies from “I can walk!” to “I can sit up!”. Each onesie features what I hope will someday be our recognizable trademark: the cute cartoony elephant Scarlett designed. Each onesie shows him doing the milestone, whether it’s walking, sitting up, or celebrating his first Christmas. I feel my eyes welling with tears as I lean into Logan and look at the display.

  Logan squeezes my shoulder and steps toward the clothes, picking up a little boy’s outfit for “I used the potty!”.

  He turns toward me and makes a confused face. “I didn’t realize you included gifts inside the clothes.”

  I scrunch my forehead. “What?”

  He motions to the pocket on the front of the onesie. My heart stops when I see the circular outline. The small, circular outline.

  “Yeah,” he says, smirking and falling to one knee. He reaches in the pocket and pulls it out. “Look at this thing. You’d have to really be head over heels in fucking love with someone to give this to them. You’d have to want to marry them.”

  “You would…” I say, voice barely a whisper. The tears that threatened to fall when I saw the display are falling now for a completely different reason.

  “Will you marry me, Emmaline?” asks Logan.

  I don’t notice the small crowd forming around us. I don’t notice the way my heart is about to explode from overwork. I only see him. I see not just the drop-dead gorgeous man staring up at me, but the patient, thoughtful man who has been willing to work through my problems with me. I see the man who realized I didn’t need his money, who understood me so completely that he never needed to even ask. I see my soulmate. The only man I ever want to be with. Now and forever.

  “I do. God. I do,” I say.

  He slides the ring over my finger and I notice it for the first time. If I had any breath in my lungs, the sight of the ring would take it away. It’s not so big it’s gaudy, even though Logan could afford a ring like that. It’s elegant and in exactly the style I would have chosen with an almost antique flair to it. He stands, pulling me in for a kiss and then embracing me, just as blind as I am to the applauding crowd around us.