Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  I half expect Jackson to order me out of his car or even to slap me, but he only smirks and bites his lip in the most unbelievably seductive way. “I’ll make note of that, Miss Tarragon.” His tone says he’s well aware I gave him a fake name.

  I avert my eyes, focusing in front of us as he shifts the car into gear and pulls onto the road. I forgot about that little fib. He seems to like when I’m playful with him, and seeing his reaction emboldens me enough to push the limits again. “Maybe if tonight goes well, I’ll reward you with my real name.”

  He chuckles, sliding his eyes from the road to me for a second. Something passes over his face that I can’t quite place. Anticipation? Lust? I can’t be sure, but I wish I could just pluck the thoughts out of that gorgeous head of his right now, because I feel like I’m walking blind, and every step could take me over the edge of a cliff.

  Jackson seems content to drive in silence, but I’m fiddling with my hands and desperately searching for something to say after only a few empty moments. “So, do you do this often?” I ask. I try not to wince at my own stupid question.

  “Do what?” he asks. The way his lips just barely curl up at the corners tells me he’s toying with me. He wants me to have to say what I’m getting myself into.

  Well, if he thinks I’m going to be squeamish, he has another thing coming. “You know, the whole dark, brooding billionaire buying a girl’s virginity thing.”

  The hint of a smirk turns into a full grin. “It’s not just your body I’m after, Princess. I want your purity, too. I want everything you’re offering. And then some.”

  I sink back into my seat, staring at the road with slightly widened eyes and a not entirely unpleasant pulsing between my legs. Jesus. How do you even respond to something like that?

  “Well, all you have a chance of getting tonight is my name,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

  “We’ll see.”

  We eventually pull up to a theme park. I frown in confusion. “Is this that place with all the whales?”

  “It is,” he says.

  I glance around the empty parking lot as he helps me out of the car. It’s a very big parking lot and it’s very empty. “I think they’re closed,” I say, suddenly wondering if he brought me out here to an isolated place to murder me in the middle of the night.

  “They aren’t closed for us. Come on.”

  I follow him, wondering exactly what he’s planning. Does he want to take me through an empty theme park while all the lights are off? Sounds… creepy?

  “You know, if this was a movie,” I say, “this would totally be the part where the audience is yelling, ‘don’t go in there, you idiot! He’s a murderer!’” I cup my hands around my mouth to mimic the imaginary audience, but my smile fades at the look on his face.

  “I guess this is your first test of trust, then.”

  “My first test of trust?” I ask.

  “Pure submission requires trust. Consider this practice.”

  I clutch my arms around my sides, feeling suddenly cold and hot at the same time. Being with him is so intense. It makes me feel alive and terrified all at once, but I know I don’t want it to stop.

  When we reach the front gate, a college kid strolls out of one of the ticket booths, yawning wide. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. Jackson pulls a few hundred dollar bills from his wallet and slips them to the kid, who nods.

  “Thanks, Mr. Pierce. Want me to hit the lights?”

  “Light it up,” says Jackson.

  The kid disappears back into the booth. A few seconds later, the entire park comes to life. Rides buzz into activity, streetlights flicker on, and music starts to pound through the chilly night air. Despite my still lingering sense of fear, a smile creeps across my face.

  Jackson looks over at me and grins. “I love this place, but I’ve never had the patience to wait in lines.”

  “You know,” I say, letting him take my arm as he leads me into the empty park. “They have fast passes.”

  Jackson shrugs. “Yeah, well, I don’t really like people all that much either.”

  “As a person, consider me offended.”

  He looks down at me with those icy eyes, but there’s a cold heat in them, threatening to burn right through all my good sense and all my reason. “You’re not like them, Princess.”

  I squeeze his arm a little tighter, wondering how just a few simple words can work their way into my chest and do such wonderful things, how they can melt away years of insecurity and doubt, and how they can make my feelings toward him blossom so quickly into something frighteningly strong.

  We move through the empty entrance of the park, but instead of creepy it feels almost magical. The lights in all the shops are on and fun music booms through the air. It starts to sink in that this is all for me. He arranged all of this for me, and it’s so far beyond anything a guy has ever done for me I’m having trouble even comprehending. So I don’t dwell on it. I let him lead me by the arm through the park until we approach a staircase to what looks like a rollercoaster.

  “Is this safe?” I ask. “Aren’t there normally employees here to make sure the coasters don’t fly off the tracks or something?”

  “I took care of it,” he says.

  A few moments later, I see he did do exactly that. There’s a bored looking teenage girl who looks half-asleep leaning near the coaster. She perks up when she sees us. Jackson slips her some money and leads us to the front of the ride. The girl checks our harnesses and moves to a side area where she presses a button and sets the ride in motion.

  The ride clicks slowly into the open night and starts to climb a very high section of track. I look out over the sparkling lights of the city, the empty park beneath us. He did all of this for me. Whether he’s just trying to sleep with me or not, no guy has ever come close to making a gesture like this for me. Before this, the most romantic thing a guy ever did for me was the time Landon Marshall lent me a few bucks to pay for lunch when I forgot it back in middle school. And it turned out he expected me to pay him back the following day.

  I look over at Jackson, smiling. “Thank you,” I say, having to raise my voice over the clicking of the coaster.

  “We’re just getting started. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  I bite my lip, unable to stop smiling like an idiot. “I didn’t know you were into magic,” I say, frowning at the stupidity of my own comment a split second later. “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that? I just, um, look forward to seeing what’s under your shirt--up your sleeve,” I add quickly, clapping a hand to my forehead in embarrassment.

  He chuckles. “You will. After all, I need to know your real name before I can get you to sign the contract.”

  The contract. He says it so casually, but I’m reminded of what’s hanging between us. Can I really sign myself over to him like that? Can I just put my name on a piece of paper that says I’m his, completely and totally?

  The roller coaster reaches the top of the climb and the track goes horizontal long enough for us to do a quick half-circle. Just long enough for me to realize exactly how high in the air we are. My breath catches and my hand involuntarily seeks out Jackson’s. He grips my hand back firmly enough to make me feel safe and protected. Firm enough to know the only way I’m getting out of his grasp is if he lets me.

  The coaster pauses dramatically while we’re pointed almost straight at the ground and then something beneath us releases, letting us free-fall down the track so fast it makes my eyes water. The next minute goes by in a flash of rushing wind, sharp turns, wild speed, and above all, the warmth of Jackson’s hand against mine. Even as I squeeze and clutch on to him like my life depends on it, his hand never falters in its grip.

  When the ride ends, our harnesses raise and I self-consciously try to fix the damage the ride must have done to my hair. “The secret of my massive forehead is out,” I say as I try to push my hair back in place. Somehow, Jackson looks just as perfect as always. The slight wildn
ess the ride added to his hair only makes him seem even more sexy and rugged.

  He surprises me by leaning over and kissing the center of my forehead, saying nothing but somehow melting away my insecurities with the heat of his touch.

  I don’t let go of his hand as we get up and he doesn’t let go of mine.

  I can’t believe I’m here. Not just in a theme park that he rented out for just us, but I can’t believe I’m on a date with a man almost twice my age. It should feel creepy, but it doesn’t. I just feel special to be chosen by him. He could have any woman he wants. Probably any woman in the country, married or not. I doubt anyone would say no to him.

  The next few hours are some of the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Jackson lets me pick anything I want to ride and comes along, always finding reasons to touch me, whether his hands are on my shoulders, around my waist, or just holding my hand. His touch is possessive, almost greedy, and I absolutely love it.

  We sit on a bench outside a roller coaster while I catch my breath and try to regain my balance. It must be nearly midnight by now, and I’m starting to feel a heaviness in my eyes, but I don’t want the night to end.

  “So,” Jackson says as we approach an end of the park where the music is distant and the clink of rides is faint. “I want you to close your eyes.”

  I laugh a little, closing my eyes but not understanding.

  He starts to tie something around my eyes. My impulse is to reach for it but I fight it down, standing still and waiting patiently.

  “Now turn to your right and start walking,” he commands. There’s a note in his voice. It’s almost dangerous, as if disobedience would carry consequences, except the thought of discovering the cost has my core tingling with heat.

  “I can’t see,” I say.

  “You can hear my voice. You don’t need anything else. Turn to your right and start walking. Don’t make me say it again.”

  I do as he says, each step igniting a mini panic attack because I’m convinced I’ll bump head first into a pole or trip over a curb. But I feel only the slight sloping of the ground beneath me as I walk downhill. The sound dulls around me and I sense we’re moving inside a structure. He prompts me to turn or veer to the right and left a few times until finally ordering me to stop.

  I do as I’m told, standing in the center of a room that feels damp and chilly, surrounded by the sounds of echoing water and faint familiar yet unidentifiable sounds. They are almost ethereal. I hear Jackson’s footsteps as he moves around the room, saying nothing. The moment stretches between us and I start to wonder what he’s doing, if he’s ever going to speak, or if he’s going to just leave me here.

  I hear him approaching me quickly from behind. I hunch my shoulders slightly, almost expecting to be tackled or hit, but instead he grips my shoulders gently and kisses my neck. His lips are warm and velvety against my skin and I find myself leaning into his touch, sighing with pleasure. His hands move down from my shoulders to my chest, cupping my breasts and lighting hot paths of pleasure that spread through my body like wildfire. I’ve never been touched like this. I’ve never felt like this. Just when the sensation almost gets to be too much to handle, he strips the mask from my eyes and leaves me gasping for breath, squinting my eyes against the blue light washing over us from the huge tanks of water on either side.

  I realize the ethereal sounds were coming from speakers so we could hear the whales inside talking to each other.

  “You did well, Princess. Submission is not always easy, but it will always be rewarded. Remember that,” says Jackson.

  I smile shyly. “I don’t think I’ll have trouble remembering any of that.”

  He pulls me close, pressing my back to his chest and possessively wrapping his strong arms around me. I lean my head back to look at him and there’s a strange look on Jackson’s face as he looks around the room. It’s almost nostalgic, but there’s sadness in his eyes too.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He seems a little startled by my voice. “Oh. Nothing’s wrong, Princess.”

  “Why here?” I ask suddenly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, this has been the most amazing night of my life, but I can’t help noticing this place seems special to you somehow.”

  He nods slowly, letting me know I’m right with the faint hint of a smirk. “It is. That’s why I wanted to bring you here.”

  “What happened here?” I ask.

  His eyes are on the tank as he answers. “Nothing, exactly. This place was just… It was very important to my sister and I. We had a troubled childhood. The first time I took her here, it was therapeutic for her, somehow. I guess it was for me too.”

  I narrow my eyes slightly. “You have a sister?”

  “Sarah,” he answers.

  I’m tempted to ask more but there’s something in his tone that warns me off. So I just let him hold me, looking into the tank where the small whales swim slowly around the huge space.

  “I didn’t know they could keep whales in captivity,” I say after a while.

  “They can’t. Not for long. These whales will be set free in a few months. Every whale that comes through here is only visiting. Only a temporary prisoner.”

  I look thoughtfully in the water, wondering why his words seem to hold so much meaning. “That’s why this is your favorite place here?” I ask carefully.

  “Yes,” he says.

  I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. He’s content to stand with me and hold me while we watch the whales drift through the tank, so incredibly large but weightless in their element. Time loses meaning when his arms are around me and in this place. I feel us growing closer by leaps and bounds even though we barely know each other. We say nothing, as if standing here quietly with him is exactly what he needs and all expects of me.

  It’s a kind of peace I’ve never known. There’s no urgency. No rush. No doubt or self-consciousness.

  It’s almost three in the morning when Jackson drops me off back at my dorm. He shows no sign of sleepiness, but I can barely keep my eyes open. He helps me out of the car and leads me to the door of my dormitory.

  I’m so tired I try to just walk inside, forgetting to even say good night, but Jackson plants a firm hand on the door, keeping me from opening it. His face is inches from mine, all the intensity of his gaze practically sucking the air from my lungs.

  “Your name,” he says.

  I bite my lip, looking down. Something about toying with him thrills me, and I can’t resist now. That, and I’m driven to put off telling him my real name as long as I can, even if it’s just a few more seconds. If he remembers the email I sent, he’ll see how the coincidences in our meeting were not coincidental at all, and I doubt he’ll be happy about it. “I said I would give you my name only if tonight went well.”

  I let my words hang between us, watching his face for any sign of amusement. He shows none. There’s only iron in his gaze. Cold steel.

  “Your name,” he repeats.

  I lower my eyes, feeling subdued by his will. “Brianne. Brianne Hartley.”

  As soon as I say it, I notice something like shock or recognition flash across his face. “You. It was you the whole time?”

  I nod, knowing how this must look now. I’m the angry student who lashed out in an email at him and I coincidentally ended up arranging a date with him. “I’m sorry. I know how this--”

  He cuts me off by slamming his hand against the wall behind my head, eyes boring into mine. “Tell me this much,” he growls. “Did you ever have any intention of signing the contract, or was this all just to get back at me?”

  “I…” my words fail me. My thoughts blur together into an incoherent mess and all I can do is hold back the tears of fear and regret.

  “Yeah. You know what? Nevermind. I’ve already wasted enough time with this.”

  He walks back to his car, shoes clicking on the pavement. He slams the door and revs the engine before pulling away. I lean my forehead against the door of my dorm and
bang it softly against the wood a few times. Why didn’t I try to explain the truth? Why didn’t I just tell him that yes, I originally thought I would never sign the contract, but as I got to know him I started to really consider it?

  I walk back to my room in a haze of tired confusion. I slump into my bed face first and let my tears flow freely now. I just ruined my chance at something special. For once in my life, I had an opportunity to experience something extraordinary and I just let it slip away.

  47

  Jackson

  I lean against the barrier in front of the race track, watching two exotic super cars scream past. There’s a small crowd of VIPs and some of my business partners present. I don’t fail to notice the men from the Dominican Republic are here as well. My temper may have gotten the better of me last night, but I still feel a slow burning fury toward Brianne. The problem is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about punishing her for being dishonest with me. And for the email she sent. I imagine laying her out in my playroom, arms and ankles strapped to the bed while I take my time getting her to apologize.

  Fuck.

  I feel more than lust toward Brianne though. In the past that’s all it ever was. Maybe I had some fleeting feelings for my submissives beyond the need to dominate, but it was never anything lasting. But now, just thinking of Brianne makes my skin prickle and my heart pound. It’s not just a kink with her. Hell, I haven’t even had her in my playroom.

  I can still see how gorgeous she looked with the blue light of the water tanks playing across her face, making her sapphire eyes nearly glow. And remembering the way she obeyed me so well stiffens my cock.

  Hunter steps up beside me, looking out over the track. He’s wearing a racing suit like I am. His thick hair is a mess from the helmet and his cheeks are flushed, but the expression on his face is serious. Dark.

  “I told you I’d keep my ear to the ground, Jackson,” he says quietly. “I’ve been hearing some nasty shit.”