Baby Batter: A Baby For The Billionaire Single Dad Romance

by Alexis Angel

  I look at him. His hair is drenched with sweat, our skin is slick where we’re touching, and Jake’s eyes are hooded now. His lips are still parted as he tries to catch his breath.

  I don’t move. Not yet. He’s still inside of me, and I’m lying on top of Jake, my breasts against his chest, my arms on the tile of the balcony, and hands on his shoulders. My insides throb with the aftereffects of our sex, and I shiver. “I’m getting cold,” I tell Jake. “Are you?”

  “I’m not, baby, but you shouldn't be either,” Jake says. He wraps an arm around me and heat permeates my body, not just from his warmth, but also from the sensation of contact. I know we should probably get up from the tiles but I’m not ready to do so yet...and judging by how Jake is holding me, neither is he.

  Jake tilts my head toward him, his lips crashing over mine and claiming me in another kiss. This time, the kiss is soft and sensual. His tongue slips into my mouth again, and I swirl my tongue contentedly around his, basking in the bliss of incredible orgasms and perfect sex.

  “That was incredible,” I tell Jake when we finally come up for air. I start to blush. “I mean, I know what you do on TV all day but that’s something very different for me…I mean this, and the restaurant...I know I’ve always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak but I just never had someone who wanted to explore it before…” I stop myself.

  I’m not dating Jake! I can’t act like I am. “This was fun is all that I mean,” I say quickly. Maybe too quickly. I may be coming across a bit insane right now.

  Jake laughs and kisses my forehead. “What I do on TV is like basically public service, whether you believe it or not!” He puts his hands up in mock protest, but I’m not here to harangue him about his job right now. Certainly, fucking on your balcony doesn’t fall under the FCC purview. “What you and I just did was certainly very different...and definitely very fun.”

  I think about the way his words sound coming out. They’re not perfunctory, but after everything I just said and tried to dial back, I can’t help but overanalyze what he’s said. I want to go back to the uncomplicated part of he and I fucking and not worrying about feelings or reality. I think the best thing to do is to gather our clothes. So I rise up on my elbows and grab what I can reach, tossing back what is his. I can’t quite reach most of my clothes, so I get up and retrieve them, heading inside and not saying a word to Jake. I head for my shower, wanting to run off in the moment and take some time to gather my thoughts on what just happened. Though mostly I’m thinking about the hottest parts of what we did on the balcony more than I’m trying to contextualize anything, but I like the highlight reel.

  Layla

  The sound of my phone ringing pulls me out of the most delicious dream. One where Jake was going down on me—of course—and I was coming and coming harder than ever before, for like thirty minutes straight. I’m not so sure that it’s out of the question when it comes to him. I can actually see it happening.

  Rolling over, I snatch my phone from the table beside my bed and groan when I see Lori’s name flashing on my screen. Of all the people to have to talk to right now, she’s really not high on my list.

  I just want to luxuriate in my bed for an hour or five and fantasize about the night I had with Jake. I really wish he were still here. I vaguely remember him leaving earlier this morning, but my body was too spent to even come fully awake. Maybe he said something about getting to work early.

  For half a second, I debate not answering Lori’s call. It would be way too easy to just silence my phone and pull the covers back over my head and disappear into dreamland where Jake permanently resides right between my legs.

  But I can’t, and I fucking know it.

  With a resigned sigh, I swipe my finger across my phone. “Hello?”

  “Layla,” Lori says briskly, all business and way too alert for me.

  I sit up to try to clear my head so that I can focus. “Hey, Lori. What’s up?”

  She makes a huffing sound, and I can just imagine her pursing her lips in that prim and proper way she has. “The network’s lawyers have decided to go on the offensive.”

  What is she talking about? I throw the blankets off myself and walk toward the window, pulling back the curtains with the hope that some sunlight will wake me up enough to have a coherent conversation. Then it hits me. Lawyers. The guys that were in Jake’s office yesterday.

  “What happened?” I say cautiously as I remember how adamant Jake was about fighting the FCC if he had to. Shit. I really don’t want to do this yet. Not when I’m still not sure where things stand between Jake and I—or what I’m going to do about the case.

  “They’ve taken it all public. The investigation into the show. Now everyone knows we’re trying to shut them down.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?” I ask. “I mean, that’s the whole point of it, right?”

  Lori sighs in exasperation, and then speaks to me as if I’m a child that doesn’t understand. “I wanted it done quietly. Without the media hype and publicity. Now that everyone knows what we’re trying to do, the whole viewing public could start second-guessing us. We don’t need that.”

  Lori’s motivations are definitely questionable. Why does she have such an agenda to get A Cunning Linguist shut down? I respect the fuck out of the woman—she’s done an incredible job at the agency—but every day I agree less and less with her opinion about the show being obscene.

  “Listen, Lori,” I say, trying to calm her down. “Think of it this way. If people feel that strongly about the show being canceled, then maybe it’s not as bad as we think.” We meaning Lori.

  She scoffs. “Come on, Layla. Be serious. The man had his head between a woman’s legs on a live broadcast. It’s just not right.”

  Not right for whom? I want to ask.

  “I mean it. The reason you’re doing this is because you have the best interests of the viewing public in mind, right? Well, if they don’t have a problem with it, why should we? Maybe it’s really not that bad. Maybe Jake is just living up to his marketing—he’s a guy out to help people.”

  “Ugh, come on,” she says derisively. “Jake Kent is only in this for one thing. Money. He’s a shallow bastard willing to take advantage of innocent women to further his reputation and add zeros to his bank balance.”

  “You don’t even know the guy, Lori. You’re making an entire judgment about his character based on an image his network paints for the audience.”

  “Oh, and you do know him?” I hear the hint of suspicion in her voice, and now I’m actually really fucking glad that he’s not here right now. I can only imagine what he would say if he heard the way Lori was talking. And I’m going to get my own ass in trouble if she realizes I’m sleeping with the subject of my investigation.

  “Have you interviewed the past guests yet?” she asks, changing tactics.

  “I’m working on it.”

  I can almost see the pitying shake of her head as she sighs again. “Layla, dear. Listen to me. Jake Kent is a player. He’s as bad as they come. And believe me, I recognize a player when I see one.”

  Uh huh. Just what I thought. She’s judging Jake and his entire show based on her own personal history and her own emotional and sexual hang-ups.

  “Lori—” I start to say, but she interrupts me.

  “You need to be careful, Layla. He’s trouble. I don’t want to see you do something you’ll regret. Something that could have lasting consequences.”

  Is she saying what I think she is? That my job is on the line here? I grit my teeth until my jaw aches, finally biting out, “Thanks, Lori. I appreciate your advice.”

  “Just promise me you’ll remember what I said. Jake is a player. Don’t let yourself be fooled.”

  I hang up, mulling over everything she said. Now I’m really in a mess. On the one hand, I’m doubting everything I’m doing with the investigation. But on the other, I really like my job and want to keep it.

  And she’s wrong about Jake. Isn’t she? She ha
s to be. There’s no way he can be playing me. Right?

  Layla

  I head into Jake’s office a little later, surprised that I slept most of the morning away and it’s already the afternoon. Guess a night full of the best fucking you’ve ever had can do that to a girl. You know what I’m talking about.

  Right now, I wish I could be back in that frame of mind, but I’m too pissed. I can’t believe the attorneys went public with this before I even made my decision.

  How does that make me look? Really fucking bad, that’s what. I gave Jake my word that I would be fair. I’ve been working my ass off to make sure that I give him one hundred percent effort in this investigation. But now he might doubt me. What if he thinks I’ve been playing him all along, trying to get more dirt? He might not trust me at all anymore. All because those fucking lawyers—puppets of the network heads, no doubt—couldn’t just wait it out.

  With no clue what I’m walking into, I knock on Jake’s door and push it open when he calls out, “It’s open.”

  The minute I step foot in his office, he stands up. I guess it’s written all over my face, because he rushes up to me and pulls me against his chest. “Layla, what’s wrong?”

  I realize he doesn’t know. Huffing out a breath, I look up at him, wondering how he’ll react.

  “The news of the investigation has gone public. It’s all over the news that the FCC is trying to shut down America’s favorite late night talk show.” I bite my lip. “God, Jake, I’m so sorry. I hope you know I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  Jake leans back, studying my face, while his own is almost a caricature of shock. “Are you serious?”

  I nod miserably.

  “Layla, no. I’m the one who’s sorry. You have nothing to apologize for. I told the lawyers that you hadn’t made your decision yet. I never intended for them to go public like this. It was always my goal to let you have your time to make a fair evaluation of the show. I’ll admit I hoped you’d come around to my way of seeing things, but I truly wanted to give you a chance to get the full picture and create a fair report.”

  He pulls me back against his chest, and I clutch his shirt in my hands, so frustrated yet immensely received at the same time.

  “So you don’t think that I was lying to you all along?”

  He chuckles in disbelief. “You’re joking, right?” Then he tilts my chin up and stares down into my eyes, looking about as sincere as it gets. “I trust you, Layla. I know you weren’t trying to screw me. Well, not when it comes to my show,” he adds with a sexy arch of his brow and a smirk curving his lips.

  Striding back to his desk, he picks up his phone and punches a few buttons. “I’m going to set them straight right now.”

  A few minutes later, the two lawyers are back in Jake’s office, even more smug and arrogant than the day before.

  “What the fuck are you playing at?” he asks, getting right up in the asshole lawyer’s face. “Didn’t I tell you that she hadn’t even made her decision?”

  The guy shrugs and glances at Adam, his partner in crime. “You flat out refused to scale back on the obscenity, Jake. What were we supposed to do? Just let you pile up fine after fine and bankrupt the entire network?”

  “I told you I’d handle it,” he says between gritted teeth, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen him angry. “Even if it means I have to pay every fucking fine myself.”

  My jaw drops. Jake is seriously willing to pay all the fines that he could be slapped with? Why? The only reason I can come up with is that he really does believe in what he’s doing. I mean, I know he said it over and over, but seeing this drives it home even more. This guy is so different than I ever expected when I took this job. It’s making my decision easier every day.

  “You need to let the lady do her job,” Jake continues. “Nothing is final. The show may continue on as always as far as you know. You were the ones concerned about bad publicity. Yet now you’ve gone and angered a shit ton of fans.”

  “You’re a wild card these days, Jake.” The lawyer laughs, sounding like some evil villain from a low budget film. “You’re going soft. No one knows what you’re going to do anymore. Not now that she’s in the picture. Falling in love doesn’t suit you.”

  Before I can even process what the asshole has said, Jake pulls his arm back and lets his fist fly, sending the guy stumbling back until he trips over a chair. He does a complete backflip over the chair as he loses his balance, then sprawls on the floor. I think Jake may have actually knocked him out.

  Setting his jaw, he levels a stare at Adam, the other lawyer. “You can take that back to the network heads as a message. If you think you’re going to manipulate me, you don’t know who you’re fucking with.”

  Then he walks toward me and wraps an arm around me, tucking me close to his side, and guides me out of the office.

  “I’m sorry. I just got so pissed. They should have let you do your job.”

  I shake my head, reeling from everything that just went down. “No, it’s fine.” All I can think about now, though, is what the guy said about Jake falling in love. Is it true? I can’t exactly ask him. And if he is, what does that mean for us? For my job and for the investigation.

  But I forget all of it when Jake cups my face in his palms and sets my body on fire with a searing kiss. When he pulls back, I feel slightly dazed.

  “There,” he says smugly. “I like that look on your face much better. Why don’t we go out tonight so we can forget all about this entire mess?”

  “I can’t think of anything that sounds better.”

  Jake

  “Where are we going?” Layla asks as my limo makes its way down the busy streets of Manhattan.

  “Dinner and dancing,” I say with a laugh.

  She narrows her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t taking me ballroom dancing?”

  “Would you want to go ballroom dancing?”

  “Um. No.”

  I wink at her. “That’s what I thought.” The limo pulls up in front of an upscale burlesque dinner club. “Here we are.”

  Layla lifts her eyebrows, but I can tell she’s intrigued. “I’ve heard of this place but I’ve never been.”

  Perfect. Just the thing to take her mind off all the shit she had to deal with today. I climb from the limo and hold my hand out to her, and then we walk into the club hand-in-hand.

  We’re immediately taken upstairs when I give my name to the host.

  “Where are they taking us?” Layla whispers.

  “I reserved a private VIP room.”

  The way she smiles, like she can’t wait to see just what goes on in a VIP room has my cock ready for action. That’s my girl. Up for anything and everything. I fucking love that about her. I don’t know that I’ve ever been with someone so open and confident in their sexuality, and it’s such a fucking turn on that I’m almost surprised my cock hasn’t gone into overload and just torn right through my pants to get at her.

  We’re left alone in the room, and I pour two glasses of champagne and sit next to Layla on the sleek suede sofa that faces a giant wall of glass. Layla takes it all in, her eyes wide with excitement as she looks at the display below. Dark gray and black furniture and walls contrast with the neon pinks, purples, and blues of the lights in the club, giving the entire place a vibe of both elegance and pure sex.

  We have a perfect view of the center of the room where there are stages with poles, all glowing and pulsing in time to the music. Girls in various states of nudity are wrapped around the poles for our viewing pleasure.

  “What do you think?” I ask, sipping the champagne after I clink my glass to hers.

  “This is amazing. I’ve always wanted to come here.”

  I smile. Just like I thought.

  We order some food and drink our champagne, and I watch as Layla totally relaxes, all hints of the stress of the day gone.

  “I knew you’d like it,” I say as I refill her empty g
lass.

  “Sounds like you’re a regular here, Mr. Kent,” she teases. “Who’s your favorite dancer?”

  I feign surprise. “Oh, do you dance? Please, don’t let me stop you if you’d like to give me a show right now.”

  “Only if you’re a good boy and behave yourself.” She watches me over the rim of her glass as she sips her champagne, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “Now where’s the fun in that? Don’t you know by now that I never behave myself?”

  “Ah, that’s right. Always the bad boy.”

  The way she looks at me for a second makes me wonder what’s going through her head, but the next thing I know, she’s looking down at my cock, which hasn’t given the slightest hint of giving up it’s quest to break free.

  “So if I were to dance, wouldn’t I need a pole?”

  A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. “You know, you’re right. I think that just might be a requirement.” I lean back against the sofa and clasp my hands behind my head. “But you’re in luck. I know just the thing.”

  Layla sets her glass down and slides closer to me, her hand hovering over my cock, taunting me with the promise of her touch. And when she leans into my ear and bites gently, the tickling tease of her breath sends what blood I have remaining straight down to my cock. All I can think about now is Layla and what a fucking awesome night this is going to be.

  “Mmm,” she murmurs, dragging her lips across my jaw and down my neck. “I think you might be right.”

  I’m faintly aware of someone coming in and placing the food we ordered on the table, but I don’t bother paying them any attention. Neither does Layla, which makes me grin because I knew she had a thing for exhibitionism.

  She stands up and walks toward the glass, leaving me aching for her to get back over here where she belongs—on my cock.

  “Can people see us in here? Through this glass?”

  I watch her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Every square inch of this room is on full display.”