Daddy's Baby: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “Born and raised,” I admit. “Gotta love the Cleve.”

  “I own some property there,” he admits, which just makes me laugh. “What?”

  “Of course you do.”

  He grins at me and we keep walking. The sunlight slips in through the gaps between the leaves, the light catching my eyes, dazzling the ground, making the whole afternoon glow. I feel like I’m floating with him, happy and content in whatever we’re doing. I know I’m lost in the woods, but I’m lost with a handsome man and I can’t imagine a better way to wander.

  Ahead, I can hear a gurgle of water. “We’re close,” he says.

  “Are we swimming?” I ask him.

  “Only if you want to jump in.”

  I frown. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

  “Then you better not get wet.”

  We move down the path and ahead there’s an old bridge, covered in ivy. Train tracks, overgrown with weeds, curve in from the left and I realize that we’ve been walking parallel to them this whole time, they’ve just been covered over. The tracks run over this bridge, and as we get closer, I realize that the bridge is over a river maybe twenty feet down.

  “Here we are,” he says, not hesitating to walk right out onto the bridge.

  I stop dead and stare at him, mouth open. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He looks back at me. “It’s safe, trust me.”

  “That bridge is probably a million years old.”

  “Closer to seventy.” He grins and starts jumping up and down. “Seems sturdy to me.”

  I gape. “Stop!”

  “Come on,” he says, but he stops jumping. “I promise. It’s safe.”

  “Why don’t they use it anymore if it’s safe?”

  “Trains don’t run through here anymore,” he says. “I think it was a shipping lane at one time, but it hasn’t been for a long time now.”

  I bite my lip, watching him. “How do you even know about this place?”

  “Used to come here as a kid. We’d jump off the bridge up there, drink beer, try and make out with each other. You know, the usual.” He waves at me, heading down the tracks and further out onto the bridge. “Come on.”

  I stand there watching him, afraid to take another step. But he’s walking there so confidently, and the bridge does seem pretty sturdy. I can’t just stand here all day, letting my fear get the best of me.

  I have to trust him. Get over my nerves. I take a step, and then another, and soon I’m hurrying to catch up with him.

  The whole bridge is maybe fifty feet long. Huge heavy concrete columns jut out of the water down below, holding up the structure of steel and wood, crossbeams zooming through the air. Declan pauses and takes my hand as we get to the middle of the bridge.

  “Here we go.” He opens his bag, takes out a blanket, and spreads it out on the wood toward the edge. “Let’s sit.”

  He sits down on the edge, his legs dangling over the side. A cross support is at his chest and he leans his arms on it, looking out over the river.

  I hesitate just a second before joining him. I let my legs dangle over the space, although there’s probably only twenty feet until the water. I could easily jump off here and into the water, assuming it’s deep enough.

  “We used to sit here for hours,” he says, looking out at the water.

  I follow his gaze and I have to admit, it’s gorgeous. Sunlight reflecting off the slow moving water, brownish blue and lazy. Trees press in on either side, and that’s it, just nature and water and plants, the soft chirp of birds, Declan breathing beside me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say. “I have to admit, I’m surprised.

  “By what?” he asks.

  “This. I mean, for a property developer, you seem to love nature.”

  He laughs softly. “I wasn’t always a developer. And just because I build things doesn’t mean I hate nature.”

  “I guess that’s true. But for us, you’re the enemy.”

  “I know that.” He sounds a little remorseful.

  “But this spot, it’s amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He reaches into the bag and takes out a bottle of wine. He opens it up and searches the bag again. “Damn it,” he says.

  “What?”

  “Forgot glasses.”

  I grin at him and take the bottle, tipping it up to my lips. The wine is cold and delicious. “We don’t need them.”

  He laughs and takes the bottle from me, drinking straight out of it. We go back to watching the water running under our feet, passing the battle back and forth.

  “Is this something you want to keep doing?” he asks me softly.

  “What, this?”

  “No, I mean the environmental law.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I thought we weren’t talking business.”

  He shrugs. “Just asking about you.”

  “I think I want to keep doing it forever,” I admit after a second. “I could make more doing corporate law or litigation at a bigger firm but… I like what we do. I feel good about it.”

  “That’s important,” he says. “I wish I felt the same.”

  “You don’t feel good about your job?”

  He shrugs a little. “I don’t love it, if you know what I mean. I’m good at it and I make a lot of money doing it, but it doesn’t fulfill me. I get up in the morning and go to work because I like to win. But sometimes I wish I were winning at something else.”

  I watch him, a little surprised at how honest he’s being. “Have you thought about quitting?”

  “No,” he admits. “It’s too late for that. I’m thirty-nine. I built my company with Reid from the ground up, I couldn’t possibly walk away from it. Even if I don’t love what we do, I still care too much about the people that work for me.”

  “They’d be okay without you,” I say to him. “You could always do something else.”

  “I don’t really need to work anymore, to be totally honest. But I want to keep working. And plus, I don’t think Reid would make the best leader.”

  “How long have you known each other?” I ask him.

  “Awhile.” He doesn’t say anything more and I take the wine from him, sipping softly.

  He turns to look at me, head cocked. “You know, since the moment I met you, I thought you were too interesting to be real.”

  I raise an eyebrow at that. “I can’t tell if that’s cheesy or profound.”

  He laughs softly. “I just mean, you’re not like all of the other women I meet.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re not spending all day looking at your Instagram, taking selfies, fussing with yourself in the mirror.”

  “You could tell that when we first met?” I ask him, teasing a little bit.

  “Yes,” he says seriously, “absolutely I could. There’s just something about you that… radiates. I could feel it.”

  I don’t know if it’s the wine or what he’s saying, but I can’t stop smiling. It feels good to hear him talk about me this way, and when he leans toward me, his hand sliding up my back, I don’t hesitate. I don’t pull away.

  I kiss him back. I let his tongue slide against mine as he pulls me closer to him, his hand in my hair holding it firm. Chills of pleasure and desire run down my body and I flash back to that first night we met, to the way he touched me, the way he made me feel things I’ve only guessed at before.

  I shift closer, wanting to feel him more, hungry and needy and ringing with it, but as I move I knock against something. I pull away from Declan just in time to spot the wine bottle tumble over and splash into the water.

  “Shit,” I say, moving forward, and suddenly I lose my balance.

  It’s like one second the world is okay, everything is grounded, I feel solid and good and I can only think about him. And then I’m suddenly tipping, lunging toward the water, my body about to slip free of the bridge. I grab at the crossbar, but I’m panicking, I’m not thinking straight.

  Before I can plun
ge down into the water, he grabs me. Declan’s strong hands grab my arm and pull me back against him, both of us tumbling backwards onto the bridge.

  “Fuck,” he says. “Are you okay?”

  I lie there for a second, staring up at the sky. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m okay.”

  Silence, and then laughter. We both burst out at the same time, cracking up like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And in that moment, it is: me, nearly falling off the bridge, all because I stupidly tried to save a bottle of wine that was already well past saving.

  “I told you not to get wet,” he says to me through laughter.

  “I was trying to save the wine.”

  He rolls over and opens his bag. He pulls out another bottle—and that just makes us laugh even harder.

  I think if that had happened with anyone else, I’d feel mortified. But there’s something about him that brings my walls down, makes me feel open and free. Slowly the laughter dies down and he sits up, leaning his back against a support beam as he opens the second bottle of wine.

  The kiss is behind us now, but it’s still lingering in the air. I keep thinking about it, the way his lips felt, and I don’t know what I was thinking. Kissing him is stupid, but it’s the only thing I want right now.

  “You know, if I thought you were clumsy, I wouldn’t have brought you up here.” He hands me the second bottle of wine.

  I take a drink. “I’m not clumsy,” I say.

  “Just drunk?”

  I shake my head. “Not drunk, either.”

  “Ah,” he says, grinning at me. “I get it. That kiss just blew your mind.”

  “Not remotely,” I say, although it’s a lie.

  “Sure,” he answers. “I think you’re so wet… you wanted to jump into the river.”

  I groan. “That’s awful.”

  He shrugs and takes the bottle back, laughing to himself. He takes a drink and I lie back again on the tracks, staring up at the sky.

  We talk for another hour before we finally get up and head back home. I have to relieve Marta and spend time with Felix. But this afternoon, it’s one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Although we didn’t kiss again, it only renewed my desire for him, ignited it and made it expand. Before I was daydreaming about him; now I’m just dreaming.

  9

  Declan

  Although it’s the last thing I want, work tears me away from her.

  That’s about the way it goes for me. We got one good afternoon, that day on the bridge, and then I had to travel. I’m in London for a week, working on a deal for a new shopping complex on the south side. It’s a big deal, and I know I can’t screw it up, but I just keep thinking about Teagan.

  I don’t think I’ve felt so happy in a long time. I haven’t had something so pure and good since I was a kid, if ever. I’ve been with plenty of women, done some dark and dirty things with them, but I’ve never had such an easy and free afternoon like that. We laughed and kissed and didn’t go further, although I wanted to and I know she did too. It just never felt right. I didn’t want to push things. Instead, we drank a bottle of wine and ate some snacks I brought before I drove her back home. If she were any other woman, I would have tied her up to those train tracks and fucked her pussy until she screamed for more, but it just didn’t feel right at the moment.

  Of course, that’s what I want. I keep picturing it, the way she’ll taste, the way she’ll feel. Her cunt wrapped around my cock, warm and wet and deep as I thrust into her, making her shiver and shake. I’ll grab her hips and bite her bottom lip and whisper in her ear: every inch of you is mine, now sweat for me, girl.

  Instead, I’m stuck in drab and dreary London, days of rain and negotiations. By Wednesday, I’m bored out of my mind, stuck in the hotel each night because of the downpours outside, not even interested in going out even if it were nice. London clubs aren’t my thing, though I do like a nice pub sometimes.

  I pour myself a whisky from the minibar. I’m sick of watching crappy British TV shows. People in America have no clue how bad British TV is, since they get only the good stuff. But those four good British shows on Netflix are a teeny tiny part of the overall British TV world, and let me just say, that world is pretty fucking lame. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, I don’t know, but I’m just not into what they’re doing.

  It’s one in the morning London time, which means it’s about eight in the evening back home. I can never sleep when I’m here, probably because of the jet lag. I never get over it, which is fine, since I’m not here for very long.

  I pick up my phone, sipping my drink, and scroll through. I find Teagan’s name and send her a text. “London is worse than I remembered.”

  She answers just a couple minutes later. “At least you get to travel. Can’t be that bad.”

  “Imagine a city where it rains all the time, you don’t have any friends, and the television is awful. That’s London.”

  “I think you just described my hell.”

  I smile to myself as I sit down in a chair in the corner, whisky in my hand, condensation from the ice dripping along my fingertips. I sip it and cock my head, wondering what I’d be doing if Teagan were here. I’d likely strip her down, make sure the ropes are tight around her wrists, and tease her until she comes again and again.

  An idea comes to me and I can’t help but smile. I text her again. “Felix asleep?”

  “Yes, why?”

  I dial her number and she picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Teagan,” I say.

  “Calling long distance?”

  “Fortunately, I can afford it.”

  She laughs softly. “I was just getting changed.”

  “Getting ready for bed already?”

  “Some of us have to work in the morning, you know.” He voice is light, teasing. I don’t think I’ve ever called her just to chat, but of course I don’t want to just talk.

  “I work very hard,” I say. “I’ve been to two meetings since coming here.”

  “Two? Must be horrible.”

  “You have no clue. Their accents are atrocious. I can barely understand them.”

  “Poor rich you.”

  I smile to myself. “What are you wearing right now?”

  She hesitates. I know she knows what I’m doing. My heart starts beating fast in anticipation, wondering if she’ll take the bait, if she’ll play along.

  “Right now, just my bra and the skirt I wore to work.”

  I bite my lip. “Describe it.”

  “What game are you playing here?” she asks.

  “Describe it,” I say again.

  Another hesitation. I’m so excited I can barely sit still. My cock is getting hard already.

  “Black bra,” she says. “Frilly but not fancy. A little small actually, so I’m spilling out of it.”

  I unzip my pants and push my fly aside. I reach into my boxer briefs and slowly pull my cock out, half hard and getting harder by the second.

  “The skirt is tight,” she says. “Very tight. I like the way my ass looks.”

  “Show me.”

  “Show you?”

  “Take a picture and send it. I’m on WiFi, so I’ll get it.”

  Another hesitation. I want to see her so badly it almost hurts.

  “Hold on,” she says, and I hear the phone rustle.

  Silence from her end as my desire builds. I’m hard in my hand and I slowly stroke myself, thinking about her taking pictures for me, looking so fucking sexy.

  “There,” she says, back on the phone.

  I put my phone on speaker and navigate to the texts. A second later the picture appears through iMessage.

  It’s Teagan standing in front of a floor-length mirror. Her room is neat in the background, a dresser and part of a bed. She’s wearing a tight skirt as promised with no top. She’s half twisted around, standing on her toes, and I can just see the hint of her breasts, but her ass looks fucking fantastic.

  “You wore this to work?�
�� I say. “God damn. Every man in your office was jerking their cocks, thinking about you.”

  “I had a top on,” she says, a hint of pride in her voice.

  “Doesn’t matter. That ass would drive any man insane.”

  “Only lonely men in hotel rooms.”

  I laugh softly. “Take your bra off.”

  “Okay.” A short pause. “Done.”

  “Show me.”

  Another short pause. A second later, a picture arrives: same mirror, Teagan’s mouth slightly open, her breasts pressed together.

  “Fuck, girl,” I say softly. “Take off your skirt. Describe your panties.”

  “Black,” she says. The phone rustles a bit as she gets undressed. “Plain, if I’m honest.” A short pause, and another picture arrives without my having to ask: her ass in the panties, a hint of her breasts, her nipples red and perky.

  “Get in bed,” I tell her.

  “Done,” she says.

  “If I were there, I’d kiss your neck and slide my hands down between your legs.”

  “Mmm,” she says. “I’d like that.”

  “I’d tease your clit, get you nice and wet. Rub my fingers all along you while I kiss your neck.”

  “Yeah.” Her breathing gets a little heavier, her voice lower. “I want that. Right now.”

  “I’d press my fingers deep inside of you. God, I love how tight and warm your little pussy is. I bet you’re dripping right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she admits. “I’m touching myself.”

  “Good girl,” I say. I start stroking myself a little faster. “I want to fuck that tight pussy of yours. Do you know that? Like the first night we met… but I want to push you.”

  “Push me?” she asks.

  “Have you even been dominated, Teagan?”

  She hesitates. “Only with you.”

  I smile to myself. “You only got a taste of what I can do.”

  “Tell me,” she whispers.

  “We’d start slow. My fingers in your cunt, fucking you, giving you pleasure. I’d put you flat on your stomach, take your hands and cross your wrists behind your back.”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “I’m so wet for you right now, Declan.”