Baby Batter: A Baby For The Billionaire Single Dad Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Something inside me is compelling me to keep going with this.

  “I see no proof of that.”

  Derek smiles and pours a sangria for himself.

  I stay on auto-flirt mode as we finish our drinks, barely thinking about my responses to anything but still managing to make Derek laugh several times.

  After both our glasses are empty, I look at my wristwatch.

  “How close do you live?”

  I know Derek wants to invite himself over to my place. I take one last look at his face and his polo shirt.

  “Why? You planning to get some exercise right now?”

  “I could use some.”

  I don’t even know why I’m here. I should have left the minute I saw fucking Miranda. But now I’m well on my way to drunk, and all I want is some kind of distraction from the hollow feeling in my chest that her announcement left behind.

  “Okay...fine,” I say. “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

  Kirk

  These are not the visits to my parents’ house that I enjoy. I don’t love when visiting family feels like a business meeting. Who does?

  But sometimes there’s shit that needs to get talked about and figured out.

  The car service driver knows this journey by now and drops me off right in my parents’ driveway. At least this time, I know what I want. I just hope my father doesn’t waste time trying to talk me out of anything.

  I know that it breaks his heart to exclude me from the family business, but that’s his call. If I have to ride out some drama, then so be it.

  I trudge to the front door and wipe my shoes slowly on the welcome mat. Okay, here it goes.

  As soon as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear a voice, but not one of my parents’.

  No fucking way. I’m imagining this, right? Because that voice can’t really be…

  I swing the door open, already supremely fucking irked. Why in the name of all that is holy would they invite fucking Miranda?

  I feel queasy as I walk in, because I know exactly why: they don’t like Emily.

  I try to control my breathing as I walk toward the sound of my parents and Miranda laughing in the fucking living room.

  She probably didn’t invite herself. This is likely my father’s idea. I need to try not to totally fly off the fucking handle.

  After that barbecue, he’s bound to react in some way, although it’s getting to the point of being ridiculous now.

  It gets oddly quiet before I get to the living room. And by the time I’m there, Miranda is sitting there alone. She’s in the middle of the sectional, and she’s looking at me with a huge smile plastered on her face.

  “What are you doing here, Miranda?” I grit my teeth.

  “Your dad called. He said there was a Sunday get-together.”

  “There’s not. Where is he?”

  “They went to the kitchen to get something.”

  Just fucking great. I walk over and sit next to Miranda on the sectional.

  “This isn’t your first time here, Miranda. You know what that means.”

  “It means your mom went off to do something or other, and your dad went off to do something else, and they probably won’t be back for a while.”

  “If ever. Why did you come?”

  “Because I wanted to, because I’m invited, and because I miss you.”

  Miranda grabs my shoulders and pulls me closer to her. She starts kissing my cheek, then bites my earlobe softly. I jerk back reflexively.

  “Please stop, Miranda.”

  “If you don’t want it, why are you sitting next to me? It’s a big room.”

  I pull farther away from Miranda, and she lets go of me.

  “Because I want to communicate with you clearly. It seems like we’re in two different places, but I need to tell you that it is over. You need to understand that. There’s no going back, Miranda.”

  I expect Miranda to just ignore this, like she seems to be ignoring a lot of things, but she looks seriously distraught. She can’t even make eye contact.

  “You’re really ready to move on, huh?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Because of that bitch, right?”

  “Miranda, please.”

  “That goddamned Emily, right?”

  I can’t answer right away. I owe it to Miranda to be truthful. I allow myself a quick sigh.

  “It is Emily, but since the party...”

  Miranda’s face transforms instantly. She lights up, and now she’s looking right into my eyes.

  “Well, what about the party?”

  “Things are still weird, I guess. You know, you were there, you were a witness to everything. Since then, just...no calls, nothing. I am planning to see her, though.”

  Miranda laughs hard, throwing her head back.

  “Witness? Baby, I was a fucking participant. We got drunk together!”

  I grimace. “Um, yeah, she certainly got drunk.”

  “Ohhh, yeah she was. I made sure of that.”

  I feel blood rushing to my face.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Miranda’s face freezes, and I can see the regret wash over her.

  But let’s be clear here. She doesn’t regret what she did—not for a fucking second. She just regrets admitting it.

  “I wanted her to have a good time,” she says with a pout.

  Jesus Christ.

  “I know you have this weird...influence sometimes, Miranda. But I need you to come clean about what you actively did. Like, I need to know everything.”

  Miranda takes a couple of deep breaths.

  “I did whatever I could to get her really hammered. It was all intentional. I-I wanted her to embarrass herself.”

  Tears start spilling out of Miranda’s eyes. Now I think she regrets everything. But it’s too fucking late.

  “You don’t do that to someone, Miranda. To anyone. Fuck.” I scrape my hand across my jaw. “You should know that. I can’t believe you did this...”

  “I’m sorry!” Miranda is outright blubbering, and it’s all I can do to keep my cool.

  “A couple things.” My voice is barely controlled as I look her dead in the eyes. “One, I need for you to promise me that you’ll get some help, and you’ll never do anything like that again. Ever.”

  “Oh god, I promise, Kirk. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

  “Two, please get the fuck out of my parents’ house. Now.”

  Miranda stops crying abruptly, like just turns that shit right off, and I wonder if the whole thing was a fucking act. She grabs her purse from the coffee table and storms out. I wait until I hear her walk out the front door, and I go to find my father.

  The first place I look is the kitchen, and there he is, sitting with the Sunday edition of the New York Times sprawled out across the kitchen table. He looks up from the crossword, seeming honestly surprised to see me.

  “When did you get here?”

  I point toward the living room with my thumb.

  “You didn’t hear any of that?”

  “Any of what? Where’s Miranda?”

  “She left. We’re broken up, Dad. We have been for a while. It’s time to stop inviting her over.”

  “I think she’s good for you, Kirk.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. Does he have any idea what she’s like? My mother ambles in through the door across the kitchen.

  “You’re here already, Kirk? I didn’t hear you come in.”

  I let myself heave another quick sigh. What the fuck?

  “Just so both of you know, Miranda’s gone. It’s over, and there’s no going back.”

  My mother’s confused by my intensity.

  “Okay, Kirk,” she says slowly.

  “Mom, I know you mean well. You too, Dad. But I’m with Emily now.”

  My father puts down his pen and frowns.

  “I’m always impressed by you, Kirk. Amazed by the life you’ve made for yourself. I’m always bragging about my son,
about how successful you are, how smart you are...”

  “It’s true. He won’t shut up about it,” my mother adds.

  “The decisions that you make, they always work out wonderfully,” he continues. “But this one, I don’t see it. You’re not thinking this through. I don’t see it turning out well.”

  You know what? Fuck this. It’s my decision, and I have nothing to fucking prove about it.

  “Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” My voice is low and hard.

  Then I simply turn around and walk out of my parents’ house without bothering to say goodbye.

  Well, that was a total shit show. But if nothing else came of it, one thing is abundantly clear.

  This thing with me and Em?

  It’s not over.

  Emily

  I just lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I know I’m not giving up on WineBar. But I also know that I’m really fucking horny. Like, it feels like it’s been for-fucking-ever since Kirk and I fucked at his house at the barbecue.

  Fuck, just remembering that has me so wet. I mean, I’m glad I didn’t do anything with Sunscreen, I really am. But now I’m just a big old sexually frustrated mess.

  What would it be like if WineBar were here now? Here in Cancun, in my hotel room.

  He’d be fucking me senseless, that’s for damn sure.

  “Uhhh,” I groan, lifting my head up and banging it back down on the pillow. Why can’t he be here fucking me senseless? Why do things have to be such a shit show in my life right now?

  Well, you know what? He may not be here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of business. In fact, I’m pretty fucking good at taking care of myself.

  Especially when I have such a rich store of fantasies to pull from. I mean, come on, I’m a fucking top 100 romance author. My mind is filthy.

  In seconds flat, I’m naked on my bed, hand between my legs, fingers already soaked from my dripping pussy, and my favorite WineBar fantasy coming to life in my head.

  “Come here, Kirk,” I purr, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him into me. Yeah, he’s wearing a suit in this fantasy—but not for long.

  I pull his lower lip with my teeth and then place my hands on his chest and make him walk back until the back of his knees are against the edge of the bed. One final push and he falls back, sitting up on the mattress.

  “Oh, you think you’re the one in charge here, baby?” WineBar gives me that sexy-as-fuck grin and runs his hands up the back of my thighs to cup my ass cheeks.

  “Mmm,” I say, climbing on top of him and straddling him, his massive cock straining against my pussy beneath his clothes. I grind against him, resting my forehead against his.

  “I guess I know what I want,” I whisper, giving him a naughty grin.

  “That’s good,” he replies, slowly pulling the hem of my favorite sexy little Fendi dress higher—because, hello, this is my fantasy, so of course I’m wearing my favorite dress. Then my dress is bunched up around my waist, revealing the sexiest La Perla lingerie I own.

  WineBar lets out a growl that sends a shiver through my whole body that ends right there at my swollen, throbbing clit. Then he hooks his finger in my thong and just yanks on the whole thing, ripping it right off my body.

  “Ahh, fuck,” I cry out, both in my fantasy and in real life, because OMFG, it is like the hottest thing ever when Kirk goes all caveman and rips my fucking clothing right off my body.

  I tease him, grinding against him. I bite my lower lip as I feel his cock straining against his pants, his thick shaft pulsing against my pussy. I look down at my bare pussy rubbing all over him, and fuck, I’m so wet that I’m staining his suit with my juices.

  Pushing on his shoulders, I pin him down on the mattress and take my hands back to his tie. I undo the knot on his tie, pull it off, then toss it aside. Next, I get to work on unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his ridiculously ribbed abs inch by inch.

  Sliding down a bit, I run my tongue over the ridges of his chiseled torso, loving the way his body reacts to my touch, jumping and twitching involuntarily—especially the way his cock swells and twitches, impossibly huge and hard.

  But let me just say this: WineBar is packing. This guy has like the most perfect cock ever. And he knows exactly what to do with it.

  Lucky me, right, babe?

  “Let’s have some fun,” I whisper into his ear as I climb back up his body, rocking my hips back and forth and grinding against him. His hands are on my ass, gripping hard and squeezing me as I rock.

  He grins like he’s enjoying me taking control. For now. Because I know Kirk, and it won’t be long before he decides he’s the one in charge.

  “Fuck, baby,” he says. “I love this perfect ass.”

  Leaning into him, I smile with my lips against his neck, and then I start kissing my way down his body again.

  “It’s all yours, baby.”

  “Fuck yes, it is. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  Right. Like that could ever happen. WineBar fucking owns my ass.

  And right now, I’m halfway ready to beg him to just flip me over and claim it. But no, I’m the one running the show at the moment.

  My lips pass over his hard pectorals, brushing over his nipples. And then they continue their hike down to his abs. There, I use my tongue to once again lick the grooves between his hard muscles, and I only stop when I find the hem of his pants.

  Grabbing his belt, I unbuckle it and then pull his zipper down. The moment I push his pants down, his massive cock tents up his boxer briefs.

  And I have to see it, have to touch it. And fuck, I want to taste it.

  I drag his boxer briefs down too, and his cock springs free, long and thick and hard and so fucking perfect.

  I immediately curl my fingers around his shaft, and he groans.

  The tip is already glistening with pre-cum, and I just want to lick that right up. I lick my lips as I stare at it. He chuckles, watching me the whole time.

  Rolling to the side, I make quick work of getting rid of his pants entirely, and he helps me out, shedding his shirt at the same time.

  I don’t move for a minute, just enjoying the perfect sight of his naked body. Then apparently, he’s had enough of letting me call the shots because he grabs me by the hips and flips me around in one quick move so that I’m now flat on my back on the bed, with him hovering above me.

  He’s looking at me, all raw and wild like he’s about to go fucking primal on me.

  Yes please!

  “Fuck, baby,” he says again, his gaze boring into mine. “You’re so fucking perfect. You’re the only one who’s ever made me fall so fucking hard. And so fast.”

  He groans as I let my knees fall apart, baring my aching pussy to him.

  “Fuck, I want to spend the rest of my life right here. Squeezing this perfect ass, feeding you my cum, and fucking your brains out.”

  Oh god. “Please,” I beg shamelessly.

  WineBar runs his hands over my thighs, his fingers right fucking there, but he doesn’t touch me.

  Now it’s my turn to groan in frustration.

  “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

  I respond instantly, spreading them as wide as I can, watching his face as he greedily stares at my throbbing pussy.

  Then he looks back up at me. “You’re wearing too many clothes. Let me see those perfect tits, baby.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He just grabs my dress again and pulls it up and over my head, throwing it aside and grabbing my tits with both hands.

  “Ahh, fuck!” I cry as he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and fingers, pinching, pulling, then leaning in to lick and suck them.

  Fucking hell, I love it so much when he teases my nipples. I could probably cum just from that.

  But then he’s pulling back again.

  “Kirk…”

  He gives me a wicked grin and just shakes his head. He’s enjoying teasing me like this.

  “Close your eyes,
Em.”

  His voice is commanding, leaving no room for argument. But why the fuck would I want to argue? I wouldn’t.

  Because I know that he’s going to take care of me and fuck me good.

  “Don’t move. I’m going to make you squirt, baby. Then I’m going to fuck you so hard and so good that you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

  I gush at his words. Oh my god, it’s so fucking sexy when he talks filthy to me that my pussy clenches and pulses, needy and aching and so goddamn wet.

  I lie there with my eyes shut, squirming as he hovers over me. I have no idea what he’s going to do next, but I know it’s going to be fucking awesome.

  He draws it out, running his fingers lightly over my whole body, sending sparks and shivers shooting through every nerve ending. My arms, my legs, my stomach, my tits—he touches me everywhere.

  Everywhere except where I really need it. My clit is practically screaming at me to fucking do something about this insane frenzy Kirk’s working me into, and I can’t wait any longer.

  I reach down between my legs, needing to relieve some of the building pressure.

  I feel his hand clamp down around my wrist.

  “Not so fast, baby.”

  Then he brings my hand to his cock, and my fingers wrap around it greedily, squeezing and stroking.

  “See what you do to me, baby? How fucking hard I am for you?”

  I bite my lip and nod. “Mm-hmm.”

  I can’t even think, much less speak.

  Listening to WineBar talk in that low, sexy voice and feeling his cock in my hand but not having him touch me yet is literally driving me to the edge of insanity.

  “Spread your legs wider for me, baby.”

  He grabs my hands now and puts them on my thighs.

  “Don’t let go.”

  My fingers dig into my thighs as I hold myself wide open for WineBar. And then finally—fucking finally!—he touches me.

  He traces his finger around my pussy lips, and it just fucking glides because I’m so fucking drenched already. I buck and writhe, but I do what he says and don’t let go.

  After what feels like forever, he flicks his finger across my clit, and I fucking come undone. The orgasm starts to build, and I know it’s going to hit me hard and fast.