Baby Batter: A Baby For The Billionaire Single Dad Romance

by Alexis Angel

“There you are.”

  I turn to see a gorgeous, strikingly handsome Zane Tanner with a hungry expression on his face.

  Fuck, he is so damn sexy. How the hell am I supposed to survive this dinner without having an orgasm under the table? Hmm…there’s an idea.

  “I already have a table in the back waiting for us.” He smiles with a flash of perfect white teeth. “It’s private.”

  “Of course it is,” I say with a roll of my eyes and follow him to the back.

  He pulls out my chair for me and waits until I’m sitting before he goes to his side to sit down as well.

  “So chivalry is not dead after all,” I joke and pick up my napkin to place in my lap. “Or maybe you’re just trying to convince me not to fire you.”

  I have to admit I love the way I’m in total fucking control of this situation, at least for now. Or at least I can allow myself to believe that for a little while longer while he works his ass off to pamper me.

  “A magician never reveals his secrets,” Zane quips with outrageous confidence.

  “Do you like to eat out?” I grin with a devilish smile, deciding to be playful tonight. I can’t fucking resist.

  His eyes widen in shock, but he quickly recovers with one of his famous charming grins. “I love to eat out.”

  “That’s good to hear. How often do you eat out?” I say and toss my blonde hair over my shoulder.

  “As often as possible.”

  He leans over the table and stares right through me, making me tremble on the inside. I keep my cool on the outside.

  “Interesting.” I nod and take a sip of the water already at the table.

  We stare at each other for a few more seconds, each of us sizing the other up a bit. The waiter comes to the table, interrupting my dirty thoughts of having him fuck me right here on the white linen-clothed table.

  “Can I get you a bottle of red or white for the table?” The waiter with the nametag “Christof” inflects in a lilting Italian accent.

  I look over at Zane and raise my eyebrow.

  Zane smiles up at Christof. “Give us a bottle of your finest merlot.”

  “Yes, sir,” Christof says with a slight bow, and then he leaves us alone again.

  “Wow, are you trying to get me drunk tonight?” I tease.

  “Only as much as necessary.” He winks at me and places his napkin in his lap.

  “Well, I must say you are doing an exemplary job at trying to woo yourself back into my good graces.”

  “One thing you should know about me is that I never quit, and I always win.” He smiles at me with that same self-absorbed confidence.

  I take a deep breath, trying to keep my temper even and my head clear. How the fuck can this man both infuriate me and make me totally fucking wet at the same time? Before I have a chance to retort, the waiter is back. He places the red wine on the table and unscrews the cork.

  He first pours an inch or so into Zane’s glass, and Zane plays the wine connoisseur part perfectly, swirling the wine around and inhaling a deep-rooted sniff before tasting it.

  He pauses a moment as Christof stands there expectantly. I stare at Zane, wanting him to just get over his fucking self for a second and tell the poor waiter whether the wine is good enough for his pretentious ass self.

  “It’s delicious,” he finally declares with a smirk.

  “Finally,” I mumble under my breath as I roll my eyes and adjust myself in my seat. I give Christof a polite and apologetic smile, although I’m sure he’s used to taking shit from rich assholes all the time.

  “So what makes you so cocky?” I peer at Zane over my wine glass as I take a glorious sip.

  Fuck, it’s so good. It’s the best fucking wine ever, and it leaves an explosion of divine, luxurious tastes on my tongue.

  The sip hits my belly and instantly sends a warm and fuzzy feeling through my bones.

  Zane pretends to choke. “I’m sorry, did you just say cock?”

  I smirk at him and cross my arms. “You know damn well what I said.”

  He grins and takes another sip of his wine. “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

  “Oh yeah?” I scoff. “Well, you have a funny way of showing it.”

  “I resent that!” He feigns defensiveness. “I just want to…let’s see, how do I put this? Oh yes…live life to the fullest.”

  He raises his glass as if he wants to toast to that slogan, but I don’t take his bait.

  “Anyway,” he says and takes another sip, “I just want to apologize for my behavior the other day in your office. It was presumptuous of me to think you would enjoy what you saw.”

  He flashes his eyes at me as if he’s trying to read my reaction. At first I laugh so loud it comes out as almost a snort. But then I soften because he’s right.

  I still have him hanging in the background of my mind as the perfect baby batter candidate; I just don’t know how to approach the subject with him yet. But I mean, with a cock like that, surely he’d knock me up just like that.

  “You do have a way of making an impression on people.” I cut my eyes toward him.

  “I hear that all the time.” He leans over the table with a grin.

  “And speaking of your cock, it is quite large. I have to say, you win in that department for sure.”

  “So does that mean I’m not fired?” He beams with confidence once again.

  I look outside the window and watch the people walking by for a moment or two. I don’t know if it’s the magic of Central Park just outside or if it’s the romantic aura of this restaurant, but I suddenly have a change of heart when it comes to Zane.

  I turn back to him. “I’ll give you another chance.” I smile. “But don’t fuck it up this time.” I point a lecturing finger at him.

  “I won’t let you down.” He grins, and I allow him to kiss my hand.

  After dinner, we walk outside, and I’m surprised to see a black stretch limo out front with a driver holding open the back door.

  “Is this for us?” I point at it and cock an eyebrow.

  “Absolutely,” Zane says proudly. “I like to go the extra mile for my dates.”

  “This isn’t a date,” I counter.

  “Well, I’m still trying to convince you otherwise,” he says with a grin as I climb into the back seat with him and notice rose champagne sitting on cold ice. Oh fuck.

  And…oh yay, fuck!

  This is about to get interesting.

  7

  Piper

  There’s an awkward silence that hangs over us for a moment or two.

  We’re thigh-against-thigh in the backseat of Zane’s limo. On any other night, I might have been able to handle that with more composure. But I’m several glasses deep into the excellent merlot Zane ordered with dinner.

  At this point, a stray gust of wind could push me over the edge.

  As it is, this tiny amount of touching has me teetering between Piper Stewart, Lingerie Mogul and certified Boss Ass Bitch, and Piper Stewart, cum-hungry cock whore.

  Zane Tanner shouldn’t be allowed to be this close to women. It’s not fair to us, and it’s not healthy for his ego. If I’m an asshole magnet, Zane is my pussy magnet counterpart. Even staring down at him from my ivory tower of morality, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to climb his ivory tower for a night instead.

  “Piper,” Zane says, and I nearly jump right out of my dress. “You shouldn’t stare like that. You’ll make me blush.”

  It’s funny he should mention that. I feel my cheeks and ears turn bright pink at the sound of his voice.

  Not just because his voice is a huge turn-on. Even though, fuck, it’s low and a little growly. Like he’s a panther constantly purring, on the prowl for his next piece of ass.

  But because, totally by coincidence and for no particular reason whatsoever, while I was musing about what Zane’s cock might feel like when it’s balls-deep inside of me, my pretty blue eyes were totally locked on the crotch of his pants.

&
nbsp; And now, he’s caught me red-faced as well as red-handed.

  So much for that upper hand I thought I had.

  I clear my throat, scooting away from him on the seat. There. No longer touching.

  It makes, you know, functioning as a normal, balanced human being a little bit easier―but only a little bit. I can still feel slutty Piper lurking just below the surface, ready to stick her tongue down Zane Tanner’s throat the first chance she gets.

  “So, uh,” I begin. Strong opening, Stewart. Wow. So smooth. Fuck’s sake. “Where exactly are you whisking me away to, Zane?”

  He smiles at me all crooked and wolfish. Fuck. I thought touching thighs was bad.

  Now that I can see those perfectly straight pearly whites of his, all I can think about is how bad I want them sinking into my neck as he pumps me full of his love juice.

  What? You’d do the same, don’t even try to deny it. I mean this dude is the definition of the word fuckable.

  “Jersey,” he says with way too much casualness as he reaches for the champagne bottle.

  He’s fucking lucky that he sprung that on me before he poured me a glass.

  I’m a Big Apple girl through and through. A date to Jersey? That shit warrants a full-frontal spit-take.

  But this isn’t a date.

  Fuck. I shouldn’t have to remind myself of that.

  Worse, the imagery of me spraying expensive champagne out of my mouth is bringing to mind a whole other world of things I need to push out of my head ASAP.

  Like Zane pouring the champagne down my body and licking it up from between my tits.

  Zane’s cock spraying load after load of his hot, juicy cum all over my face and dress and thighs.

  “Jersey?” I say in disbelief. I put my hand on his knee then―his sexy, sexy knee―for leverage and totally no other reason else—what?? I’m serious—as I push myself up and head for the partition. “Absolutely not. No, no, a thousand times no.”

  “What’s wrong with Jersey?” If I’m not mistaken, Zane almost sounds a little hurt.

  It’s probably as fake as his tax files.

  “Zane, why the hell do you think I’d want to go to Jersey? That’s like, a two hour drive.”

  Zane shrugs as I struggle to find my feet.

  “That’s how long I usually last,” he informs me. “Thought you might reconsider taking my cock for a ride.”

  “WHAT?” I slur, hunching over and inching forward in my heels.

  I’m about to reach up, tap on the glass partition, and demand that Zane’s driver take me home immediately. I have shit to do tomorrow. My plans for tonight absolutely did not involve crossing state lines.

  But just as I raise my knuckles to deal out the parting blow, the limo comes to a sharp halt.

  And blame it on the merlot, or blame it on my fucking heel, or just blame it on NYC traffic, pure and simple, but it sends me stumbling backwards...

  Right onto Zane’s lap.

  “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling. “I knew you’d come around.”

  “That’s not what this is,” I’m hasty to reassure him.

  But then I feel it.

  There’s not exactly any way I could not feel it.

  Twelve inches of rock-hard, meaty cum canon, nestled right between my fucking ass cheeks.

  Thick, loaded and ready to explode…

  After like, two hours of my pussy orgasming around it, if Zane is to be believed.

  Fuck. Call me X-Files, because the thing is, I want to believe.

  I gulp. Hard. And I try not to imagine swallowing Zane’s cum while I do it.

  Then, I do the smart Piper thing, which is try to recover what little grace and dignity I might have left at this point and begin to maneuver myself off his lap.

  But I swear to God, Zane and his driver must be coordinating this shit or something. Because the second that I move to scoot my ass away from cradling Zane’s cock through our clothes, the limo lurches forward again. Instead of regaining hold of this so-totally-not-a-date, all I manage to do is rock Zane’s huge fucking hard-on even deeper between my ass cheeks.

  “Mmm. Piper, I knew you were dirty, but...well. Even a man such as myself knows that imagination has its limitations...”

  “Nope. Nopenopenope,” I rasp, gripping his thighs and making a second attempt up off his lap before the driver decides it’s time for stop-and-go racing again.

  Before I can, Zane has his arm hooked around my hip and the champagne bottle nestled between my thighs. It’s slick and cold and positioned in a way that, well…

  Reminds me of Zane’s cock, to be honest. It’s just as long as his cock, after all. At a certain point where the neck meets the bottle, it’s just as thick.

  Oh my god. And it’s right there, the glass slick and beaded with icy cold sweat, settled against his lap and pressed between my thighs just like—

  “Thirsty, Piper?”

  His thumb encircles the cork in a way that makes my clit throb.

  Look. I know what he’s doing. I might fit a lot of sorority girl stereotypes in a lot of other ways, but I’m not fucking dumb.

  This was all perfectly orchestrated for Zane fucking Tanner to get exactly what he wants, and if I’m being honest with you—and myself—I’m not exactly opposed to the idea either.

  Zane’s cock is massive. He comes like an absolute fuck-fountain. He’s notoriously good in bed.

  And he wants me. That’s the real kicker.

  I’m not some lingerie model. I’m not a helpless secretary at his beck and call, eager to go down on her knees to pick up paper clips or whatever it is that he does to get those poor girls on all fours with their pencil skirts pushed up around their hips.

  I’m a powerful woman in my own right. Not so easy to conquer. Much more dangerous to dare.

  But he’s an asshole, logical Piper reminds me.

  A sexy asshole, slutty Piper counters.

  He can give you baaaaabies, Piper with the ticking biological clock and the sudden maternal obsession chimes in.

  But they’ll be asshole babies. Thank fuck for logical Piper.

  All that cum, though…

  Dammit.

  Slutty Piper always wins in the end.

  “Can I tempt you?” Zane asks.

  “I think you already have.”

  He pops the cork like a fucking pro, and the champagne gushes out gorgeously.

  Like my cunt would gush if he would just fucking stroke my clit already.

  Like his cock would fountain up if I could only get my goddamn hands around that thick-ass shaft.

  “Oh, no,” he monotones. “Looks like we’ve made a mess of your dress, sweetheart.”

  “Shit,” I say, pushing slutty Piper aside for a hot sec while I look down and take in the damage.

  Fucking rosé. All the way up and all the way down.

  “That’s it,” I say, giving it up. “Take me home, Zane. I’m out.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he accuses.

  For once, there’s not that little intonation of kidding in his voice. He’s not fucking around with me anymore.

  This is a challenge. A fucking call-out. And when you’ve been in the business for as long as I have, you know that you don’t take a call-out from Zane Tanner fucking lightly.

  “My dress is ruined, Zane.”

  “So take it off, then.”

  My cunt throbs at the mere suggestion. Fuck. If I took the dress off, that’s one less layer between my ass and his huge fucking dick…

  “Like I said, Zane, my place isn’t far from here.”

  “Coward.”

  I turn around to glare daggers at his handsome fucking face.

  “What did you just call me?”

  Zane clears his throat. “I called you a fucking coward, Piper. And frankly, I’m surprised. In the boardroom you’re known for being one of the most fearless CEOs in business.”

  “I am,” I say defensively.

  “I know you are,” Zane says, pulli
ng me tighter against him on his lap. “Which is why, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’re so insistent on running away like a yellow-bellied slut, too scared to give in to what she really wants.”

  This, of all things, reminds me why I fucking hate dealing with Zane Tanner.

  It’s not the A-list four-way he decided to carry out on top of my desk.

  It’s not the way he completely covered my fucking desktop with his thick, creamy cum.

  It’s the fact that when Zane Tanner can see right through you, he doesn’t mince words about it. He’s so arrogant and up his own sexy ass, that you desperately want him to be wrong. But you know that, no matter how bad you want him to be wrong, he’s fucking right.

  And as far as transparency goes, right now, I might as well have already pulled off my dress and thrown it on the fucking floor of his limousine.

  “Champagne, sweetheart?” he says, lifting the lip of the bottle up to my mouth.

  I take it by the neck and take a long, sobering swig. It’s nice and sweet and crisp on my tongue, and it bubbles all the way down.

  “You’re buying me a new dress,” I warn him, backing my ass up on his hard-on as I hand the bottle back to him.

  “Only if you’ll model it for me first.”

  “I thought you would have already had your fill of models, Mr. Tanner,” I say, voice full of bitch.

  “You’re right,” he admits, thrusting his hips up to grind against me. “I’m reaching for considerably higher-hanging fruit these days.”

  In demonstration, he reaches up and unzips my dress.

  Zane slides the zipper down nice and slow. Like he’s trying to torture me with it.

  But so what? He’s just taking off my dress. It’s not like it means anything or it’s going anywhere. We’re just two mature, consenting adults in the backseat of a limo.

  And one of us is stripping down.

  Temporarily.

  Until her dress dries.

  At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

  “Doesn’t that feel better?” Zane purrs, pressing his lips to my shoulder as he slips the dress down to my waist.

  He puts the champagne bottle back into its bucket as his hands smooth over my ribcage. I can feel his nose against my neck, inhaling my scent.