Big Stranger's Baby: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  He swings, just like I wanted. His fist lashed out, clumsy and wide. I duck it, elbow him in the gut, and then bring my other fist up and clock his chin.

  He staggers back and his men have to grab him to keep him standing.

  “Do as you’re told,” I say. “Or you’re finished.”

  Lorraine sighs. “Ethan, enough.”

  I nod and walk away, back to Aria. I take her hand and squeeze it and she laughs a little.

  “Asshole,” she whispers.

  Richard staggers to his feet, getting his balance again. “This isn’t over,” he calls out.

  “Yes, it is,” Lorraine says. “The Syndicate is done with you. Fuck up and we’ll destroy you. Do as you’re told, Richard. Don’t make me come out in the middle of the night again, please.”

  Richard is at a loss for words. He stares at the woman, finally comprehending who she is and what we’re doing here. He nods once.

  “Go to your car, go home, and be good.” Lorraine waves to him.

  Richard pauses then turns. The whole group of them gets back into their SUVs and we watch as they drive away.

  Lorraine sighs as they disappear around the bend. “Did you have to hit him?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Well, I can’t pretend like that wasn’t satisfying, but it’s late and I’m tired. Dear?”

  Aria steps toward her. “Yes?”

  “Do you want to stay with Mr. Locks here?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “And Mr. Locks. Do you want Aria?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Be nice to each other. Your contract with us is done, Aria. Good luck.”

  “Thank you.” She kisses Lorraine gently on the cheek.

  “I hope I never see you two ever again,” she says happily, then hobbles over to her car. She disappears into the back and then the car drives off.

  We stand there for a moment, Aria and I, alone in the lot. Lorraine’s men are gone too, I can sense them no longer staring at us. I step toward Aria, smiling.

  “What now?” I ask her.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. We’re free.”

  “We are.”

  “No more money. No more Syndicate. Just the two of us.” She smiles at me, a little uncertain. “Are you sure about this?”

  I grab her hips, pull her against me, and kiss her hard.

  I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I melt into the kiss, hoping she understands that, and knowing she will eventually. I’m going to make a life with this woman. I’ll pay off her debts and make her my fucking wife one day, whether she knows it yet or not.

  That’s all that matters to me. It’ll be us two against the world. But hopefully not. Hopefully it’ll just be us two and nothing else, only joy.

  28

  Aria

  One Year Later

  I can hear the ocean just outside of the balcony doors. I stir in bed, taking a deep breath, and I smile.

  Ethan is already up and outside. I climb out of bed and push aside the curtains. The view is astounding and amazes me every morning just as much as it did the first time. The beachfront town spreads out around us, with the ocean barely a quarter mile away. Sea birds cry out and I blink at the sun.

  “Morning,” Ethan says. “My beautiful wife.”

  I laugh and smile at him. “Morning yourself. Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

  “You looked too content. Couldn’t wake you.”

  I smile and walk over to him. Ethan is sitting at a table eating a modest breakfast and wearing a white shirt open at the chest with white slacks.

  After everything with my father, we got married almost right away. Ethan said he didn’t want to wait, and I wasn’t going to argue. We eloped to France, and when I got pregnant four months later, we decided to stay. We left Jenkins behind, mostly because he hates me, and although I thought that might be tough for Ethan, he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He’s so much more resourceful than I thought.

  Ethan works remotely now, and most of his duties have been taken over by his subordinates. He’s transitioning away from being the high-powered full-time CEO to being something else, something more domestic.

  I don’t have to worry about debt anymore. Ethan paid it off practically the night Lorraine destroyed my father. And my father never once bothered us, and even signed the contracts as he was told. Whatever was in that envelope scared him straight, and we never heard from him again.

  The Syndicate never bothered us again, either, though I wish I could see Lorraine. She was good to me when I was staying with them, and I even began to think of her as a friend.

  Now though, we live far away in the south of France, and I’m so pregnant I can barely walk around.

  Ethan stands up and kisses my pregnant belly then kisses my lips. “Another perfect day,” he observes.

  “It’s always perfect here, isn’t it?”

  He shrugs. “I guess so. If you get tired of it being too perfect, we can leave at any time.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. I’m still not used to having unlimited money and time and freedom. It’s hard to really understand just how easily we can move around and do whatever we want.

  I feel so content, so surpassingly content. I’ve never been this happy in my entire life. I still feel like that awful junky girl that I used to be, but I’m slowly getting away from it.

  All because of him. We’re a family now, and he treats me like a queen. He spoils me, and I’m still his pet. We’ve been exploring all the different ways he can tie me up, or at least we were until I got too pregnant.

  Once I have this baby, we’ll go back to it. And I can’t freaking wait.

  “What do you want to do today?” he asks me.

  “I don’t know. Isn’t that awful? We can do anything, and I never know what to do.”

  “Horrible problem to have.” He laughs and kisses me again.

  This is how life turned out for me. I don’t know how. Sometimes, it shocks me. But I’m Mrs. Locks, wife of the rich and handsome Ethan Locks, and still his little pet.

  And soon, we’ll be a bigger family. I’ll have my baby and maybe another, and maybe another. We’ll live wherever we want, do whatever we want, and I know it’ll be perfect. There are bad days ahead, of course. Nothing is ever perfect for long. But the good days will always outnumber the bad ones, because I’ll have Ethan with me.

  He’ll protect me. He’ll bring me through anything.

  I’m still that junky girl. But maybe soon, I won’t be anymore. All because of him.

  We’re a family. And I couldn’t be happier. I’ll keep following him forever, as long as he’ll have me, until I can’t follow him any more.

  Virgin’s Daddy: A Dark Romance

  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, shimmer
ing 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.