SHEIKH'S SURPRISE BABY: A Sheikh Romance

by Knight, Kylie

  Ethan didn't know whether he should panic, or walk over there and comfort her. He ignored her sarcasm, realizing that this was an upsetting moment and cut her some slack for her reaction. Blinking at the white handled stick with the two pink lines for a minute, his brain started trying to process and understand everything that this meant.

  A baby. His baby. Nyla was a good person, he wasn't upset that she'd be the mother of his child, he just needed to understand how his life would change if a child existed.

  "Well, you’re handling it better than I did when I first saw that stick," Nyla said wiping her eyes. "Shit, my mascara is all over my face again."

  "You're beautiful, don't worry about it," Ethan said automatically, his eyes still glued to the stick.

  "I don't need your money," Nyla said as she started dabbing at her face with a tissue to fix her makeup. "I thought you had the right to know, and be involved if you wanted to be involved. I plan on keeping it. I am willing to let you sign over your rights if you don't want anything to do with the child. I promise you I didn't mean for this to happen, I'm still not sure how it happened, but—"

  "Shut up Nyla," Ethan told her, looking up at her. "I never thought you'd do this to trap me, you're not that kind of woman. Why do you think I wanted to spend more time with you?"

  Nyla blinked at him, her hand frozen against her face as she just stared at him in shock.

  "I should have been there, when you peed on this stick. You shouldn't have had to do that alone. Of course I want to be involved, and I think we should get married. A child needs two parents, even better if one of those parents can stay home with the child during the first few years." Ethan told her, pausing and then added, "Of course, I wouldn't dream of making you quit your career if you insisted on working. I just think a kid needs a parent around when they are little."

  Nyla didn't know what to say at first. This felt like too good to be true.

  "What's the catch?" Nyla asked, suspiciously, having a hard time believing that any man could be this decent, this honest after a one night stand.

  "No catch, Nyla, I wanted to date you. I was planning on coming here to tell you I wasn't going to take no for an answer, and I was going to put pressure on you to say yes. This just speeds up my plans a little bit. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I want you to be with me because you want to be, I won't force you into a relationship you don't want." Ethan looked at her and then got up and walked around the table and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her out of the chair to hug her. "I could love you if you let me. You deserve better than your ex husband, and you've worked hard for everything you have. I admire you. You don't need me, but let me be there for you. I want to be there for you. It's not a weakness to let other people be close to you, or to rely on them. It's okay to let someone love you."

  "I'm not worried about love Ethan. We come from different roads in life. You're from a rich family, old money, I'm just a lawyer. Sure, I make okay money, but I'll never be from the same class of people you're used to." Nyla said, "I don't want to embarrass you."

  "Nyla, sweetie, you could never embarrass me. Okay, maybe if you walked around in public completely naked and drunk, that might embarrass me, but you wouldn't do that, would you?" Ethan whispered in her ear as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

  "No! Of course not!" Nyla responded, trying to picture the scenario in her head and then shook her head when she realized how ridiculous it sounded.

  "Then you have nothing to worry about." Ethan smiled at her and kissed her lips gently before pulling away. "I want to be involved, even if we don't work out relationship wise, I want to be your friend. Will you give me a chance to be your friend, and possibly more?"

  "I can handle being your friend Ethan, if you want to be involved, I'd like that." Nyla told him, and then wrapped her arms around him and let him comfort her. He smelled good and she buried her face against his chest. Nyla was pressed up against him and could feel his cock twitch through his pants. She didn't comment about it, but she did shift subconsciously against him, pressing herself harder.

  "Nyla, we have a lot to talk about, and holding you like this makes me want to take you right here on your desk. We should probably go to lunch." Ethan whispered and met her gaze when she tilted her head back to look at him.

  "My door locks." Nyla said and startled when he abruptly let go of her and locked the door and came back. Nyla grabbed the files off her desk and set them behind her on the book shelf and let him push her against the desk and kiss her.

  His hand touched her through her pants as he rubbed his fingers against her.

  "Do you know how badly I've wanted to just stop at your house and make love to you?" Ethan told her as he pressed kisses against her neck and chin and nibbled with his teeth as he unbuttoned her shirt, reliving a lace black bra that barely covered her nipples.

  "My breasts are already bigger, it's the only bra I had that fit right now, everything else is too small," Nyla said stuttering a little as his other hand came up to grope her through the lace cups.

  "I like it," Ethan said, grinning as he fondled her larger, fuller breasts. Brushing his fingers over the top, he watched her hiss a breath in as he touched her nipples. "Sensitive?"

  "Very," Nyla said and then started undoing his belt buckle and then opening his jeans. She pulled his cock out of his pants and wrapped her hand around him and stroked him with her fingers and palm.

  Ethan shut his eyes for a moment, his hand frozen on her breast as she squeezed and played with him. He liked the way it felt.

  Unbuttoning her work pants, he pulled them down her legs until she stepped out of them after kicking off her shoes. Her lace panties matched her bra and he carefully pulled them down so he wouldn't rip another pair of her undies.

  Ethan pushed her hand away, not wanting to cum on her fingers and took a deep breath to settle the feeling in his balls and tension that had been building from her playing with him.

  "I guess we don't need condoms anymore," Nyla said and then shook her head and let out a small laugh before he kissed her again.

  "I'm going to fuck you now Nyla, and then we are going out to lunch and we'll figure the rest of this out one day at a time." Ethan told her, determined to earn her trust. He'd decided she was the woman he wanted, and while a child right now wasn't the way he'd wanted to go about it, he had no qualms using the pregnancy to get close to her so he could get her to fall in love with him.

  He pushed his cock inside her, moaning when he found her already wet, and fucked her against the desk, with one of her legs wrapped around his waist as he slid between her folds in and out of her. His hands played with her breasts and he dipped his head to kiss her mouth with ardent passion.

  Nyla let herself get swept away by the lustful emotions and feelings he was causing in her, and let the sensitivity from her pregnancy increase her reactions to the sex. Everything felt more swollen, and more intense right now, it didn't take her long to cum around his cock, getting her juices on the edge of her desk and thighs.

  Ethan stiffened when he felt her cum, he'd already been close from her playing with his cock with her beautiful hands, and her pussy squeezing him tight over and over again as she came sent him over the edge to his own orgasm.

  Breathing heavily, he touched his forehead to hers, not breaking their union. Right this second, he was just glad to be with her, glad to have an excuse to keep chasing after her, and a reason why she might give in to him and learn to love him over time.

  When he met her that night, something about her made him want to save her, she might have needed rescued from a gang of bikers, but she was a capable, beautiful, intelligent woman who could hold her own, and was a wildcat in bed.

  Her ex husband was a moron. She deserved better than that, and he intended to be the man to give her everything she deserved.

  They eventually broke apart, cleaned up the mess and got dressed to go to lunch.

  "When is your first prenatal appointment?" E
than asked her as he escorted her out to her car for lunch.

  "Next week." Nyla told him and then hesitated, "Do you want to be there?"

  "I wouldn't miss it for the world." Ethan promised her grinning and squeezed her hand gently.

  "Okay. I can handle this." Nyla told him. "One day at a time, right?"

  "Yes, no pressure, we'll just let things develop naturally." Ethan promised her.

  "Okay, but my mom is going to want to meet you," Nyla said and shook her head after she thought about it for a minute. "She's probably going to threaten to shoot you if we don't get married."

  "I can handle an irate mom. Besides, I'd be more than happy to tell her I'll marry you as soon as you’re willing!" Ethan teased her.

  "Don't encourage her. She'd love nothing more to see me pop out ten babies and never work again," Nyla said and then shuddered. "Two or three would be nice, but I still want a career down the road when they are older."

  "I can live with that Nyla, we'll make this work. I promise, just trust me okay?" Ethan brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her finger tips as he searched her face.

  Nyla looked him in the eyes and then smiled gently. "I do trust you Ethan. You had me from the moment you saved me in that bar."

  "I have a feeling you would have found a way out of it if I hadn't." Ethan admitted, "But I didn't want to risk it."

  "I had pepper spray in my purse." Nyla confided in him, "But it was a lot hotter to let you rescue me. Besides, I was trying to figure out how to invite you home from the moment you walked in."

  Ethan laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. "I'm not sure I totally believe you, but if that's what you tell yourself, I can live with it."

  Nyla smiled against his lips as she kissed him back with wanton abandon. She never needed a man, but this man, she could want, and definitely learn to love if she let herself.

  "You're right. I needed you to rescue me, thank you Ethan." Nyla said and touched his cheek for a moment before a car alarm going off broke their connection.

  "Anytime, Nyla, anytime." Ethan said grinning, and opened the car door for her.

  THE END

  Protector For Hire

  "Because your case is so unusual," the marshal mused, tapping the back end of his pen against the desk, "I have no choice but to propose an unusual solution."

  The meeting had started not even five minutes ago, but April already wished that it was over. Sitting in the closet sized office of a U.S. Marshal was not how she wanted to spend her Friday.

  "Unusual as in I don't need to be assigned a new identity and I am free to go home? Or unusual as in things are about to get a lot more complicated for me than they have to be?"

  The marshal looked at her from across the desk in exasperation.

  "Whatever perceived complications you face are set in place for your own safety. We take gang activity very seriously, Ms. Cosden. That's why we're going to break from our usual procedures and set you up with more than just a new identity."

  A leathery hand sank down upon one of the manila folders on the marshal's desk, and he pushed it towards her. April noticed her name inscribed on the tab. Without hesitation she centered it in front of her and opened it up to sort through the papers within. Two distinct stacks were grouped together with paper clips. The first collection detailed the name and history of a woman named Tristan Webber, but it was the second that drew April's attention.

  "Byron Black," she murmured, eyes tracing over the bolded name in the top left corner before turning to the passport sized image clipped to the top right. A man glared up at her, his dark brown hair kept short along the sides and just long enough at the crown to tease up so that it looked messy and windblown. A pronounced brow shaded his eyes, which seemed to pierce through the photograph and right through her. His jaw was strong and broad, lined with unkempt stubble. Based on his head shot, April assumed that this man was one of the people who wanted her dead.

  "Is this the gang leader?" she asked. He seemed young to be a crime boss, somewhere in his early thirties. "Why is he in my file?"

  The marshal shook his head slowly.

  "No, Mr. Black is—"

  Before he could finish the sentence, the door swung open. April turned in her chair to face the disruption only to find herself pinned by the dark, scrutinizing gaze she'd seen in the photograph. Byron Black dominated the doorway, a black full face helmet tucked under his arm. He wore a thick leather jacket, and the grey t-shirt beneath it stretched across his pecs. A worn pair of dark jeans clung to him in all the right ways, but April was sure that he was the kind of man who didn't care about how he dressed. He just happened to look good naturally, his body filling out his clothes just right.

  She swallowed. There was no denying that he was attractive.

  "Mr. Black is what?" he asked. The voice rumbled like gravel, dark and deep.

  "Here, evidently," the marshal sighed. "Ms. Webber, meet Mr. Black. Your assigned security and new boyfriend."

  April whipped around in her chair to face the marshal in full.

  "My what?"

  "Yeah," Byron commented dryly from the doorway, "nice to meet you too, Webber."

  April's blood boiled. Whoever this Byron guy was, he had a lot of nerve to burst into the office unannounced and then mouth off at her shock.

  "In order to protect you and to add authenticity to your new identity, we've made arrangements with Mr. Black that Tristan Webber will be his live-in girlfriend. As long as you confirm with us that he is actively guarding you and playing the role of significant other while under the public eye, he will be compensated."

  Was he serious? April studied the marshal's face and saw no sign of humor. If they were going for authenticity, why would a man as attractive as Byron settle for a girl like her? April didn't think she was hideous, but she knew she was a little too curvy to be considered conventionally attractive. It didn't matter that she had a sweet face and great hair, or that her fashion sense was on point; men that looked like Byron didn't dig curvy chicks.

  "And now that the introductions are out of the way," Byron said flatly, "can I take my girlfriend and get out of here, please? I've got a lot going on this afternoon."

  The marshal's lips grew thin as he stared at Byron from across the room. There was tension between them, and April wondered why someone as serious and professional as a U.S. marshal would hire someone like Byron Black to look after her. Out of all the men and women enlisted in the army and the police force, surely there were better bodyguards.

  But here Byron was, helmet under his arm, ready to take her away.

  April slipped her file from the table and stood, turning towards the hunk of a man blocking the door. It didn't matter how attractive he was — his attitude was ugly. Who did he think he was?

  "Remember," the marshal bade her, "you must report to us weekly to let us know he's holding up his end of the contract. As I said, it's not often at all that we have an arrangement like this made, but as your case is so sensitive..."

  "I got it," April said. Byron had turned and stepped into the hall, starting to head towards the lobby. "He makes sure I'm safe, I make sure he makes sure I'm safe. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that setup." Unnecessary complications was right. How was she supposed to stay safe when she had to be mindful of policing her new ‘boyfriend’ bodyguard?

  The marshal said nothing, but April could feel him silently seething behind her. Rather than linger, she slipped out into the hall and followed Byron towards the lobby. As she did he turned his head to look back at her.

  "Catch." He pitched the helmet back to her in a high arc, and April caught it with ease. "You ever ride a motorcycle before?"

  "No," April replied. Why anyone would want to risk their lives on one of those deathtraps was beyond her.

  "Well, I hope you learn fast." There was playful snark in Byron's tone. He hitched a dark brow, turned his head to face straight, and stepped out into the lobby.

  April tu
rned the helmet in her hands, dumbstruck. The Witness Protection Program was all about assigning new identities to the people it protected, but never had she thought that she'd face changes so drastic.

  "Can't we just take a cab?" she asked, jogging to catch up with him. Byron walked fast, and even a moment's hesitation had distanced him from her.

  "My girlfriend," Byron said, "my rules. We ride, and if you don't stop complaining about it, I won't hesitate to pull out all the stops."

  How rude. April bristled and scowled, but continued to follow. Byron didn't seem like the type who'd cater to her, and if she didn't keep up she was sure he'd leave her behind. The click of her heels against the polished tile increased their tempo, and soon she stood outside in the late afternoon sun by a stunning piece of machinery.

  Byron's bike was chrome plated and unmarred by even a single fingerprint. Beneath the sun it glistened, and April wondered how something so bright could be street legal. Unlike some of the bikes she'd seen, this one looked skeletal. All of the inner workings, gleaming just as brightly as the exterior did, were uncovered. April didn't know much about bikes, but she knew enough to recognize that what she was about to ride upon was expensive, and likely custom made.

  "Helmet on," Byron instructed. He swung his leg over the motorcycle and sat comfortably in the seat, looking her over with his dark eyes.

  "What about you?" April asked. "Where's your helmet?" As she asked she secured the helmet over her head. The visor was spotless and the interior smelled brand new, like he'd stopped to buy it on his way over.