Knocked Up and Punished: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  The part I have to wonder about is whether he would want to be a father to a child that was the result of a drunken, confused encounter. An accident.

  Tears well in my eyes and I shake my head. What a complete and total mess. First I learn that my bakery is going to be demolished unless I come up with an impossible amount of money, then this.

  I grab my phone and open a Google search. How soon can I take a pregnancy test?

  It doesn’t take long before I get the answer. Basically, even if I get a false result a week from now, it could be a false negative. And my period isn’t due for another two weeks. I run a hand through my hair and search the ceiling for answers, but all I get is the annoying hum of the fluorescent lights.

  I picture Reid on his back, shirtless and hitting the underside of a car with that wrench of his while he rubs oil across his ripped muscles with the other. I can practically see his finger dragging down the smooth, cut muscles of his torso, rising and falling over the peaks and valleys of his abs…

  I blow out a frustrated breath. This isn’t helping. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point my body clearly turned on me and started craving him. If my suspicions about last night are true, my body seriously turned on me. The last thing I need is to make it worse by fantasizing about him and adding fuel to the fire.

  What I need is work. Space. I need to be farther away from Reid and his muscles than shouting distance. I need to be somewhere that doesn’t remind me a baby could be growing in my belly right now. It’s funny. The baby I’ve been secretly hoping for could really be coming, and all I can do now is feel terrified.

  I wonder what my parents will say if they find out. They would know I lied about being engaged to a wealthy businessman. A mechanic’s baby in the belly of their blue blooded daughter. It will just be a confirmation of everything they ever predicted for me. All the times they made me feel like I was wasting my life and going down a cheap, degrading path… This will be the nail in the coffin. They will love knowing I have to accept their handouts and help to raise the baby. They will keep me hidden from their friends, like some dark, dirty secret. Their silly little daughter who thought she could make it without mommy and daddy’s money.

  Whatever happens. No matter how bad it gets. I’m not going to them for help. They can leave a bag of money at my front door and I’ll just set it on fire. I can deal with this on my own. I’ve done it so far, and I’m not going to stop now. I’ll find a way, somehow.

  36

  Reid

  Taylor is trying to figure out which lug nuts fit the part he’s working on while I’m busy sweating my ass off. It’s a little after lunch and the afternoon is already getting hot as hell. I don’t mind though. Roman doesn’t seem to either, as he struts around the shop with his shirt off and his little belly protruding proudly. I strip off my shirt and towel some of the sweat and oil from my body. It feels good to work hard. To work with my hands. I spent all morning wrestling the fucking water pump out of a Toyota, and my arms burn with the effort. Old man Hubert ran into his mailbox and jammed the thing into the engine block.

  It’s a good exhaustion though. I’d take days like today over lazy days on the couch any time. Besides, I could use the distraction. I keep replaying Sandra’s face when I teased her about having a one night standl. Truth is I have no idea. I can’t fucking remember. I know one thing though, it wasn’t like I was carrying around a pack of condoms. If I fucked her… I rake a hand through my hair and sigh.

  I expect to feel a sense of panic at the possibility. Knocking a girl up has never been in my plans. I wouldn’t give Roman up for the world, but he wasn’t in the plans, neither was having to marry his mother. I barely know Sandra. I mean, she was practically Tara’s shadow all those years, but it wasn’t like she and I ever talked alone. I grunted at her and she gave me unreadable looks. End of story.

  Now she might be carrying my baby, and I should be fucking terrified. Except I’m not. I’d like to believe it’s just because I know it would solve a lot of my problems. I could probably convince her to marry me if she was having my kid. I’d meet the terms of my grandfather’s will. The shop would be protected from Mark’s efforts to turn this whole town into a strip mall. If that was all I cared about, I could understand it. I could accept that.

  All this shit I’m feeling is more complicated though. Something about Sandra is driving me wild. I feel like a dog on a scent. I can’t get her out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. Worse, I can’t help feeling good about the idea that I might have gotten her pregnant. Marked her. Claimed her. Every time I think of her as mine, my chest swells with pride and a need to protect her.

  Except that’s all just going to cause trouble. We shouldn’t be compatible. It seems like I end up somewhere between pissed off and turned on whenever I’m around her, and she has been driving me wild with the flirty smiles and the way she’s not afraid to mouth off at me. Whether we’re bad for each other or not, our bodies seem to have other plans.

  I find Taylor working in a corner of my garage. He’s rubbing oil into a carburetor, looking down his long nose and squinting in concentration. I make sure Roman isn’t within earshot and then nudge Taylor, sitting on an overturned paint bucket beside him.

  “Hey, Taylor,” I say quietly.

  He quirks a blonde brow up, still focused on his task.

  “You see me at the festival last night?”

  “Sure,” he says. “I think everyone did.”

  My stomach sinks a little. “What does that mean?”

  He turns to look at me briefly, grinning. “You dragged Sandra Williams towards the lake and started yelling about skinny dipping.”

  I fight the urge to laugh. This isn’t funny. Okay, it’s a little funny, but I probably shouldn’t make light of it. Regardless of what my dick has to say about the matter, getting involved with Sandra Williams is a complication I could probably do without. Even if it’s a complication that would un-complicate other areas of my life.

  “Right,” I say. “Thanks.”

  I cross the garage and flick Roman on the shoulder. He giggles, reaching to try to get me back, but I put a hand on his forehead. He swings his little arms after me, but doesn’t come close to reaching. I finally let him loose and he starts punching at my legs.

  “Got me,” I say.

  He smiles up at me.

  “You ready for drum lessons?”

  His eyebrows shoot up and he sprints toward the house to get his book of sheet music and drum sticks.

  “Get that Toyota ready before I’m back, you hear?” I ask.

  Taylor grumbles. “Will do.”

  I start up the truck and watch as Roman scrambles out, trying to throw on a shirt with one handed while he clutches the drumsticks and book in the other. I help him get his shirt on and then get him strapped into his carseat.

  “Daddy,” says Roman when we’ve been driving for a little while.

  “What’s up, Bud?” I ask.

  “Do you like Sandra?”

  “No,” I say.

  He makes a thoughtful sound, and like a little psychologist, kills me with his silence.

  “A little,” I admit.

  “I like her too,” he says quickly. “She’s pretty.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I won’t tell Lyla you were checking out another woman if you don’t tell Sandra I like her.”

  Roman takes a second to think over the terms of our agreement. “Okay,” he says. “If you like her, will she be my mommy too?”

  “Uh,” I say. “I don’t think it’s going to happen, but if Miss Sandra and I like each other a lot then yeah, she’d be your mommy too.”

  He makes another thoughtful sound and then falls silent.

  I’m closing up the garage a few days later when I hear raised voices from next door. I had to drop Roman off with Tara for the weekend already, so I decide to head over toward the sound. It’s coming from Sandra’s house, and I recognize one of the voices as hers. When I st
ep up to the front porch I see a man’s figure. He’s gesturing and shouting something I can’t make out. When I hear the word “bitch” come from his mouth though, my blood boils.

  I swing the door open and both Sandra and the guy fall silent. The guy is relatively thin. I take him in with one quick glance. Gelled hair combed back, proud features, narrow shoulders, a polo, and jeans rolled up to show boat shoes with no socks. I smirk. He has rich asshole written all over him. Judging from his thin arms, he hasn’t ever spent an honest day working, either.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asks me.

  “David,” says Sandra warningly. “Don’t.”

  “David?” I ask. I purse my lips. “I’m Sandra’s neighbor, and your shouting was disturbing me.”

  He rolls his eyes, flashing white teeth. “Yeah? Well that’s too bad, buddy. I’m sure you probably have to get up and head to the office early tomorrow morning, right?” he asks, gesturing at my oil-stained shirt.

  I extend my arm. It thuds into his chest and knocks him back. Anger flashes in his features and he purses his lips, looking like a petulant child who just had his toy snatched away. “That’s assault,” he says.

  “You want to see assault?” I ask, advancing on him. “Try raising your voice to Sandra again. Then you’ll see what real assault looks like.”

  He glares at me. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

  “David,” I say. “Rich, self-important, scrawny asshole. Did I miss anything?”

  “Guys,” says Sandra carefully. “Really--”

  “Yeah,” interrupts David. “You missed my family name. David Cumberfield. Yes. The Cumberfields.”

  I give him a blank look. “Fields of cum, okay. Got it.”

  His face turns red so quickly that I laugh.

  “Did I strike a nerve there, cum fields?”

  “Mongoloid,” he growls.

  I look to Sandra. “Please tell me this guy isn’t an ex or something.”

  She rubs the back of her neck. “He’s an ex.”

  “I don’t have to be,” he says to her, forgetting his anger at me for a moment.”

  “Why don’t you get lost?” I ask, stepping between David and Sandra.

  “Will you tell this barbarian to leave?” David asks Sandra.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Why don’t you, Sandra? Tell me to leave.”

  She looks between us, eyes slightly wide with panic.

  “Oh, that’s right. She’s not asking me to leave because she’s fucking me now,” I say.

  Sandra opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a glare.

  “You… Really?” asks David in disbelief. “Alfred and Collette were right. Moving out here was a mistake. People like you and I can’t mingle with people like him.”

  I’m surprised by how much that stings. Whether David is a worthless shit or not, I can’t help feeling some of the truth in his words. She is from a different world than me. It’s a world of careless living, idle play, and excess. My life couldn’t be any farther from that. Even if she was carrying my baby, what makes me think she would want me to play any part in it’s life?

  I lick my lips, looking to Sandra, who can’t meet my eye. “Message heard. Loud and clear,” I say.

  I turn to leave, fists clenched. I pause at the doorway.

  “Did you forget how to--” starts David.

  His words cut short when I turn and fire my fist into his mouth. His teeth cut my knuckles, but I find comfort knowing it hurts him more than it hurts me. His head kicks back and his legs crumple beneath him. He puts a hand slowly to his mouth, looking at the blood on his fingers.

  “You chipped my tooth,” he says.

  Sure enough, I see the half-circle missing from the bottom of one of his front teeth.

  “Buy a fucking new one, Cum Fields,” I growl.

  37

  Sandra

  “David’s back?” asks Jennifer.

  I flip a piece of popcorn in my mouth, nodding grimly. We’re both sitting on the floor in front of my couch. We’re a few episodes into a Gilmore Girls marathon.

  “I thought you said he got the message loud and clear when you broke up last summer?”

  “I thought he did.”

  “So,” asks Jennifer. “Are you interested?”

  I sigh, leaning my head back against the couch. “I’m going to tell you something you can’t tell Lauren, okay?”

  Jennifer nods. “Okay… Are you going to tell her eventually, though?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m just afraid she’ll go and try to kill Mark if I tell her.”

  “Mark? Wait. What?”

  I tell her everything I know so far about Mark’s plans to buy out my shop and tear it to the ground.

  When I’ve finished, Jennifer looks down at her hands, frowning. “Can they really do that?” she asks.

  “Apparently,” I say. “And the only way I have to stop them is to come up with an impossible amount of money. David could come up with that kind of money in a heartbeat, and so could my parents. I hate myself for it, but I can’t do that.” I realize how this must sound to Jennifer. She’s going to lose her job because I’m too proud to go to my parents or David for money. Still, I know I couldn’t live with myself if I did. Even if I let David bail me out, it would be like signing a deal with the preppy devil.

  “Well… You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

  I nod, thinking about the possibility that I could also be mixing a pregnancy into this whole mess, too.

  “What does David want, anyway?” asks Jennifer.

  “He wants to get back together. Maybe my parents put him up to it or something. Who knows.”

  “Does he really think you’re going to get back with him after what happened?” she asks.

  I laugh bitterly. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I went to school with a bunch of guys just like David. They are given anything they could ever want. They get used to just taking what they want, whenever they want it. Cheating on me probably barely registered as a blip on his radar.”

  “Asshole,” says Jennifer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn.

  “Yeah. They all are.”

  She grins. “Reid is by far the sexiest of the assholes. For the record,” she adds.

  I decide it’s finally time to get my car back the next morning. I thought Reid might just be joking about me having to come over to get the car. I thought he’d eventually get tired of it taking up space and bring it over, but apparently he wants to turn this into a battle of wills. Maybe he thought the only way to get me to come over to his smelly garage was by holding my car hostage. Well. He’s probably right.

  I find him on his back beneath a truck. The muscles in his arms cord and tense with every movement of his capable hands. I clear my throat, averting my eyes and wait for him to notice me.

  “You here to apologize?” he asks.

  Apologize? Is he talking about the other night with David? He’s dreaming if he thinks I’m going to apologize for whatever is bothering him. “No. I’m here to get the car you kidnapped.”

  “You mean the car I graciously fixed for you? For free?”

  “I don’t need your handouts,” I say. “How much do I owe you?”

  I didn’t come over here to pick a fight with him, but something about Reid just riles me up. Everytime, without fail.

  He comes out from under the car and stands, stretching out to his full height. I feel small and fragile next to his tall, broad frame.

  “You owe me dinner.”

  “No,” I say. “No. No way.”

  “Then I’m keeping the car.”

  “You can’t just keep my car. That’s against the law,” I say, knowing I sound pathetic.

  “Then send the cops. But you’re not getting the car until you agree to dinner with me.”

  I plant my fists on my hips. I’m getting ready to give him an ear-full when his son, Roman wanders out from the garage. Roman is shirtless, his small belly rounded an
d glistening with sweat. I’m struck by the cuteness of Reid’s son wanting to go shirtless like his dad always does, and how he hangs around the shop and seems to enjoy himself there.

  Roman waves. “Hi, Miss Sandy.”

  I breathe out my anger, not wanting to scare Roman. I smile, kneeling down. “Hey there. Were you helping your daddy fix the cars?”

  “Nope,” he says. “I was watching to see if you two were going to kiss. Daddy says he likes you.”

  Reid slowly turns to glare down at Roman. “Traitor,” he mutters.

  “Is that right?” I ask, looking from Roman to Reid. “Your daddy hasn’t ever said anything nice like that to me.”

  Reid folds his arms. “Don’t listen to her, Bud. I say nice things to Miss Sandra all the time.”

  “Really?” asks Sandra. “Care to refresh my memory?”

  “Sure. We’ll catch up over dinner tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice, Roman?”

  Roman’s face lights up and I feel myself being caught deeper and deeper in Reid’s little trap.

  “Really? You’re coming to dinner?” asks Roman. “Can we have spaghetti?”

  “It’s up to our guest. How’s that sound? Spaghetti. My place. Around six. Oh, and wear something nice,” adds Reid, with a devilish grin.

  I’m left standing completely dumbfounded. I still don’t have my car keys. I am apparently expected for dinner tonight. And I’m going to have to cancel part two of the Gilmore Girls marathon with Jessica. Roman turns to wave bye to me as Reid leads him back into the garage, and all I can do is walk back home and wonder what the hell Reid Riggin’s idea of something nice is.

  I arrive at Reid’s place after a short, uncomfortable walk across the grass separating our houses. It’s 6:07 P.M. He said around six, so I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard to follow his instructions, but I also didn’t want to show up early and look too eager. So I chose a perfectly unassuming amount of time after six to come.