The Baby Contract: A Single Dad Romance

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Now, just to let those of you know who are still in the running, we do have one very exclusive bidder. He is currently not in the room, but he does a proxy who is bidding for him. He is, of course, watching what’s going on here and communicating with his proxy,” Lizbeth says.

  What? A secret bidder? Who is not in the room? What the hell is that? Who the hell is that?

  “Now, how about we go up to $110,000?”

  I look over and Blake and Brooks hold up their paddles. They are determined. Stay in this boys, I pray.

  “My bidder would like to offer $150,000,” the proxy bidder in the back yells out.

  “Okay then. How about $150,000?”

  The guys pause for a second. Please, bid, please bid, I say to myself over and over. I’m trying to compel them with my mind. Finally, Brooks raises his paddle. But Blake doesn’t. It’s too much money.

  “$250,000,” the proxy in the back yells out. Lizbeth looks absolutely shocked. But she quickly catches herself and pulls herself back together. She is a professional after all. “$250,000 going once.”

  I stare at Brooks I try to push up his paddle with my mind but he shakes his head.

  “$250,000 going twice.”

  Please, Brooks. Please do this for me, I want to scream out. You can’t let me go away with this mystery bidder.

  “Ellie is sold for $250,000 to Mr. Black.”

  Mr. Black. That’s the mystery bidder. I’ve heard that name before. It was whispered in hushed tones at the cocktail party. And now he bought me. Of all people. For $250,000. Now, that’s an insane amount of money.

  The rest of the auction is blur. The man with the suitcase comes over and I pull out my wallet to give him my checking account info. We wait, he transfers the $250,000 into my account. The bank calls to confirm. He talks to someone else on the phone. Finally, the money is mine. I log into my account on my phone and there it is. All $250,000 of it. What the hell? Is this really happening. Is this money real? It’s all so hard to believe.

  When the money transfer is complete, another woman comes up to me. She’s dressed in a short black latex dress and high heels. Her breasts are propped up so high they are basically spilling over her dress.

  “I will escort you to Mr. Black’s suite,” she says. “Please follow me.”

  I want to make some conversation with her, but I can’t physically open my mouth. I feel numb all over. I follow her all the way to the other end of the yacht. The rooms get more and more glamorous and ostentatious the further along we go. There’s a large library to one side, filled with gorgeous leather-bound books. I suddenly have an unstoppable urge to run away and lock myself in the library.

  No, you have to be professional. You just got paid more money than you would probably see in your whole life. It’s more than enough to pay off my four years of tuition, the taxes on the money and have some left over for a bit of fun. It’s the fun part that I try to focus on to keep myself going. I could buy a ticket to anywhere in the world and spend a month there. Or go to many different places. I can go to Europe for a few months. Or I can go traveling around South America. This is all going to be worth it, Ellie, I say to myself.

  When we reach the last door on the left, my beautiful escort opens it and lets us in. I walk through the double doors into a gigantic double room suite. There’s a large king sized bed at the far end, in another room, through the open sliding doors. The room where we enter is a beautiful carpeted area with a large wooden desk, couch, and chairs. I think this is what people used to refer to as the sitting room back in the day. Both rooms have floor to ceiling windows with a million lights streaming in. Out on the water, the stars are so bright, they almost hurt your eyes.

  “Mr. Black will be here shortly, but first I have to get you ready,” my escort says.

  “Get me ready? What do you mean?”

  “He is very particular. He wants things just so,” she says. She walks over to the closet and opens it. Inside, I see a bunch of perfect suits and one sheer gown with feathers along the edges. She pulls out the gown and holds it up front of me.

  “Please take off your dress,” she says.

  I’m caught off guard. I mean, I knew that he bought me for the night, but dictating what I wear, somehow seems wrong. But my escort continues to wait. Finally, I decide to undress. With great effort, I pull off my dress. My stomach has all of these lines on it from the dress poking into me while I sat. I put my arms in front of it to block her from seeing.

  “Please take off your bra and panties as well,” she says.

  My bra and panties as well? This is going too far! But then again, I am going to have sex with him. Did I really not think that for $250,000 I wouldn’t be expected to take off my bra and panties?

  Once I take off my bra, I kneel down to take off my shoes. At least, there’s one good thing about this. I can finally take off these pinching things.

  “Please, keep your heels on,” she says.

  Dammit, I mutter to myself. I peel off my panties and drop them on the chair along with my dress and bra. My escort takes the gown off the coat hanger and helps me into it. There is no front. It’s just a long sheer robe. A dressing gown. It’s entirely see-through.

  “Now, go and lie down on the bed,” my escort says.

  “On top of the sheets?” I ask. She nods. I find a spot in the middle, propping myself up with the pillows.

  She comes over and opens the drawer on the end table. She pulls out a long strap with a cuff at the end.

  “What’s that?”

  “Mr. Black would like you tied up,” she explains. Tied up? My mind begins to race. No, no, no, I can’t be tried up.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “It’s very sexy. He isn’t going to do anything to hurt you…unless you want him to.”

  “Why would I want him to?” I ask.

  She laughs. “Because you will. You’ll be begging him to.”

  I understand the words that are coming out of her mouth, but I also don’t. I have no idea what she’s talking about. Why would I want him to hurt me?

  I give her my one hand and watch as she puts the leather cuff around my wrist. She then tied the strap to the bed post. Carefully, walking around the bed, she does the same thing with my left hand. I pull on my wrists. No, this isn’t a joke. Both of my hands are tied to the bed posts.

  My escort than leans over me and arranges my robe. She makes sure that the feather trim covers up my breasts and other bits and then smiles at herself when she’s done.

  “Okay, one last thing,” she says and pulls something out of her pocket. It’s a black mask.

  “He doesn't want me to see him?” I ask. My heart starts to race a mile a minute. No, I can’t have my eyes covered. This is going too far.

  “I’m sure you will later. He just doesn’t want you to see him right away.”

  She puts the mask over my eyes. Suddenly, I become a lot more keenly aware of every sound that exists in the room. Somewhere in the distance, something is buzzing. My escort exhales small shallow breaths. The bedspread makes a rustling sound while she leans over me.

  “Okay, enjoy yourself,” she says and walks out of the room.

  12

  When the mask is on…

  I wait on the bed breathing very fast for what feels like forever. My fingers nervously fidget and run along edge of my restraints. I can’t see the robe that I’m wearing, but I know it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever worn for a man. Plus, the feathers feel very soft and comfortable. It’s like I’m wrapped in luxury.

  Waiting is pure torture. There’s room in the mask for my eyes to open freely without my eyelashes touching the fabric, but all I see is blackness around me. How long do I have to wait like this? My thoughts keep going back to the amount of money that the mysterious Mr. Black paid for me. $250,000. That’s a lot of money. I wonder what kind of night he is expecting from all of this. To tell you the truth, I’m not the most exciting girl in bed. I’m actually quite boring. I don't like to
do a lot and I’m not a huge fan of being on top. When I’m on top, I can never relax enough to actually orgasm.

  The door swings open. I exhale and inhale deeply, trying to compose myself. My body suddenly gets really cold and really hot at the same time. My hormones must be going nuts. I hear the footsteps approaching the bed.

  “Hello?” I ask, not able to bear the anticipation much longer.

  “Good evening,” he says after a moment. His voice is smooth, and deep, and has a kind of oak quality to it. He doesn’t sound very old, but then again, what do I know about voices?

  “Are you Mr. Black?” I ask.

  “Yes, I am,” he says slowly. “But you may call me Sir.”

  “Just sir?” I ask.

  “Yes, just sir.”

  I don’t know what he’s doing, but it sounds like he’s walking around the suite. At one point, the closet doors open and close. And the sound of his walk changes. It’s almost as if he took off his shoes.

  His footsteps are lighter, not as heavy. A moment later, I’m pretty certain that he’s either barefoot or at least in socks. I chew on my lower lip nervously, my eyes are fixed on the darkness inside the mask.

  Suddenly, something touches my lips. It’s soft. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s his finger. I listen to his easy breaths and feel his presence on top of me. Yet, the only thing that he’s touching is my lips.

  “It’s going to be fun,” he says slowly. His voice is almost smoldering now, as if a voice could be smoldering.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just a nervous habit of mine. I chew my lower lip a lot.”

  “Well, we’ll have to work on that, won’t we?” he says coyly.

  I can’t see his face or his body, and yet my body is suddenly having a very strong reaction to him. I don't know if it’s his voice or him touching my lips, but my legs suddenly have these little pangs running through them. I curl my toes to try to relax, but more come. I hate to admit it, but I only feel this when I’m strongly attracted to someone. So much so that I can’t control it. Just thinking about this, makes my whole body clench up for a moment.

  As he hovers somewhere over me, I’m not entirely sure where, but I do feel his weight to the right of me, I feel myself shrinking. My legs press together tightly and my arms pull the restraints tightly. I’m clamming up. I’m not a particularly outgoing person. I’m a writer, for crying out loud. And my shy way of being is getting the better of me.

  “Oh no, we can’t have this,” Mr. Black says quietly, brushing his fingers on my knees. They are raised up, and when he touches them, they fall back down to the bed without much effort. I feel myself melting like butter around him. He runs his fingers along the top of my legs and a little bit on my inner thighs. I begin to feel myself start to panic. A cold sweat runs downs my arm pits. I’ve never allowed a man who I wasn’t involved with romantically to touch me before. And I don't even know what he looks like. I can’t do this. I have to give him back his money and apologize. But I really, really can’t do this.

  I’m about to say this out loud, when he puts his hand gently around my neck. The feel of his skin is warm and inviting.

  “You can relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. He runs his fingers around my clavicle and on my chest, right before my breasts he stops. I can feel my chest move up and down and his hand moves up and down along with each breath. I’m starting to relax and shut down at the same time. The intensity of this situation is getting too much, and we haven’t even done anything yet.

  “You can relax,” he whispers into my ear. His soft breath caresses my earlobe. “I’m not going to hurt you, unless you want me too.” As he says that, he presses his lips around my earlobe and kisses me lightly.

  There’s that phrase again. Unless I want him too. What does that mean exactly, I want to ask. But my mouth is as dry as a desert. It’s almost as if he had sucked all of the moisture out of the air. Except for the moisture between my legs. I rub my legs together to try to keep the moisture where it is.

  Mr. Black presses his fingertips beneath my chin, lifting my face up to him. He has a soft and demanding touch. It sends electricity through every inch of my body.

  “Would you like me to kiss you?” he asks. I want to say yes. But my mind is all muddy right now.

  “I don’t know,” I say. I have no idea why I said that.

  “That’s okay,” he says, lowering himself next to me on the bed. “But what is not okay is for you to not call me sir.”

  I nod.

  “Do you understand?” Mr. Black asks, running his fingertips around the contours of my breasts, underneath my robe.

  I nod again.

  “You have to say out loud.”

  “Yes, I understand,” I say.

  “No, apparently, not,” he says, opening the right side of my robe and exposing my breast. I feel both of my nipples getting hard. I tighten the grip on my restraints.

  “Yes, I understand, sir.”

  “That’s a good girl,” he says. He continues to run his fingers in concentric circles around my nipples, not once skirting either one. The game is starting to make me crazy.

  “Is there something you want?” he asks, probably sensing the disappointed look on my face.

  “That just feels really good…sir.”

  “Oh yes, I know.”

  I open my mouth slightly, and let a small gasp escape from my throat. I’ve never been so aroused just by someone’s touch before. I mean, he isn’t even really doing anything. Suddenly, his hand leaves my breasts and travels back to my lips. The tip of his thumb brushes across my lower lip. He’s teasing me. Toying with me. Then he presses his thumb inside my mouth and whispers, “suck.”

  I don’t even need the command. My lips instinctively press around his thumb as my tongue strokes it.

  “Mmm,” he moans into my ear.

  My cheeks heat up as my mouth opens and closes around his thumb inside of my mouth. I massage him with my tongue, taste his skin and realize that his fingers are soft and light. This is not the thumb that belongs to a man who works with his hands.

  “There’s going to be more of this to come,” he says, pulling his thumb out of my mouth. “But for now…”

  As he returns his fingers back to my body, I smile. I find his arrogance extremely sexy. I’m no stranger to arrogance - no one is who attends an Ivy League school. But most of the time, I find it tiresome and boring. But with Mr. Black, it is different. Authentic. Like he’s not just pretending to be an arrogant prick. Like he’s actually this unbelievably confident.

  “Am I ever going to see your face?” I ask. “Sir.”

  I feel him thinking about it as he returns his attention to my breasts. His fingertips are getting closer and closer to my nipples, and the wait is excruciating.

  “Yes, of course. Just not now.”

  “Why not, sir?”

  “You know, you have a lot of questions for a girl in your position.” He says laughing.

  “What do you mean, sir?” I ask. It’s not actually as awkward to say ‘sir’ at the end of each sentence. In fact, it’s kind of sexy.

  “Well, here you are, on my yacht. I just paid a quarter of a million dollars to spend the night with you. To do whatever I want with you and you are here making demands.”

  “No, not at all, sir,” I say.

  “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he says. I hear some rustling of clothing, and then something silky and soft touches my lips.

  “We’re going to have to bind this mouth of yours since you can’t keep it closed,” he says, and wraps what feels like a silk tie around my mouth.

  I should be horrified and petrified by his tone and his actions. But instead, I’m incredibly turned on. I’m actually wet in between my legs. My nipples are so hard they’re like little razorblades.

  “We’re going to take things slowly. Trust me, you’re going to really enjoy yourself. But you will also need to follow my orders. You have to do anything I say, an
ything I ask of you. Immediately. Do you understand?”

  I nod my head. My mouth again feels like a desert, but that’s because all of my moisture has escaped elsewhere.

  Again, he starts to run his fingers around my breasts, only this time he does touch my nipples. Soft at first and then a bit harder. He presses his lips and sucks on them a little, sending my body into uncontrollable shivers.

  “You have to control yourself, Ellie. And under no circumstances can you orgasm without my permission.”

  What? I don't need his permission to orgasm. Do I? No, of course not. And yet, waiting for him to say it’s okay, is incredibly sexy.

  While his lips return to my nipples, caressing me with sucking and licking and even flicking with the tongue, his hand runs down my body. It pauses briefly near my belly button, but quickly continues its way down. The soft touch of his hands on my inner thighs, opens them up, widely.

  “Oh no, not yet, my dear,” he pushes my legs back together. The wetness has nowhere to go now. I can’t even get it aired out. I moan a little.

  “Oh are you disappointed, my dear?” he asks with my right nipple in between his teeth. He’s toying with me. Teasing me.

  I nod and say yes through the fabric in my mouth.

  “Well, you’re going to have to get used to it.”

  The thought of dissatisfaction causes a shiver to run down my legs. It pools somewhere in my pelvic region. After a few minutes of caressing my breasts, he finally says, “Okay, you can open your legs now.”

  My legs fly open immediately. I feel exposed and on display and incredibly sexy at the same time. I’m laying myself out as an offering to him. I’m waiting for him to claim me. The thought of him coming inside of me, sends shivers down my body. I’ve never felt this way about anyone I’ve never seen before. But right now I’m not thinking. I’m feeling. I’m existing entirely on another plane of existence - one that’s made entirely of emotions.