Billionaire Boss's Baby

by Roxeanne Rolling

  His hands are already on my breasts underneath my clothes.

  “All right,” I say. “That’s enough. I’m the pregnant one and I get what I want. And right now I really just want your cock deep inside me.”

  “Is this one of those weird pregnancy cravings? Like how women want pickles and ice cream together or something?”

  “I don’t think it’s that weird to want your cock inside me.”

  John laughs and I help him get his pants off. We’re both naked now and I try to lie on my stomach but my belly is getting too big.

  “From the side,” says John, and shows me how I can lie on my side and he can lie behind me.

  His cock is so long that he doesn’t have any trouble getting it inside.

  I groan as it enters me and fills me up completely.

  “I read this in a pregnancy book,” says John.

  “Some pregnancy book…” I manage to say, between groans as John continues to thrust hard into me.

  It’s not long before I’m coming. For some reason, everything feels extra sensitive today.

  John’s only a few moments behind me, increasing his speed as I come and releasing his seed deep inside me, holding his cock in me all the way up to the hilt.

  “That’s it baby,” he says, stroking my hair as I continue to experience the orgasm, which rocks through me causing me to scream out.

  “That felt…good,” I manage to say, flopping back on the bed.

  Everything is more effort when you’re pregnant.

  “I wanted to tell you something,” says John. “And I don’t know of a better time…”

  “Yeah?” I say.

  “I love you,” says John, simply, staring me in the eyes. “I’ve felt this way for a long time… I don’t know how long but the time never seemed right. Finally, I realize the time is never going to be perfect until I make it perfect…”

  “I love you, too,” I say, and he leans down and kisses me gently on the mouth.

  The days continue and turn into weeks. I spend most of my time at John’s place. We talk about our plans for when the baby is born.

  The baby’s not premature, that’s for sure. It’s taking its sweet time.

  Meanwhile, I make sure to keep my blood sugar stable with plenty of fruit. I’ve never looked better in my life and my hair and skin shine. John’s always bugging me to eat more and he keeps me properly fed. It turns out he’s actually quite a good chef. For health reasons, we’re not spending most of our meals together at his place, rather than eating out. That way we can be sure that I eat plenty of the right foods and don’t just fill up on expensive but not necessarily healthy restaurant food.

  Finally, the day comes and my water breaks.

  John’s at work, but he rushes home through the traffic on his motorcycle. (I forgot to mention what had happened to him when he rushed over to the hospital when I was sick. He had a minor accident but just got back on his bike and ignored his superficial injuries.) Even though it wasn’t a bad accident, I’ve been worried ever since…

  But John arrives at his apartment (where I’m basically living now, even though John’s paying the rent on my other apartment). He’s got the bags already loaded and he helps me get into the station wagon.

  “We’re all set,” says John, looking nervous for perhaps the second time in his entire life. “Right?”

  “All set honey,” I say. “Let’s go have this baby!”

  John turns around to look in the rear view mirror and backs the car out of the parking space. We’re in the garage underneath his massive Manhattan. apartment building.

  He puts the car in park suddenly and turns to me.

  “What’s going on?” I say. “Shouldn’t we get to the hospital. I don’t know how long I have before I go into labor and…”

  “This will just take a minute,” says John. “Hey, I may be a billionaire but timing isn’t necessarily by strong suit…”

  He suddenly opens up his car door and gets out of the car. Now I’m freaking out. I need to get to the hospital pronto.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I say calling out to him.

  He comes around to my side of the car and opens my passenger door.

  But he doesn’t make any move to undo my seat belt or anything. He’s also not reaching into the glove box…he could have done that anyway from his seat.

  He gets down on one knee on the cold parking garage concrete floor. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little box.

  I know where this is going and I burst into tears of joy. I’m completely overwhelmed with emotion.

  He cracks open the box and a tasteful yet very large and surely very expensive engagement ring greets me.

  “Sarah,” says John. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  I’m crying but I manage to say, “Of course, John.”

  He slips the engagement ring on my finger. He must have had it modified because it fits on my slightly swollen pregnant finger just perfectly.

  We stare happily into each other’s eyes for a moment, after he kisses me, but he says, “Well, all right, we really better get going.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “My contractions are…”

  “Got it,” says John, already running around to the drivers’ seat again.

  He doesn’t speed, which impresses me, but we get to the hospital probably with plenty of time to spare, all because John spent hours mapping out the best routes to the hospital at different times of the day, depending on different traffic patterns which are all tracked online.

  He’s not a billionaire for nothing, I tell myself.

  21

  John

  Two Years Later

  “Why are you going, Daddy?” says John Junior, my son.

  “Mommy and I never got to have a honey moon,” I say. “You’re going to stay with your grandmother. She’s going to come over here and take care of you.”

  “What’s a hubby moon, daddy?”

  “A honey moon,” I say, correcting him. “It’s a vacation when people get married.”

  I’m probably not going to be able to explain the nuances of a honey moon and marital customs to my two year old son, but I try anyway.

  The doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it,” says Sarah, rushing through the apartment towards the elevator, where she waits for her mother to arrive.

  I still have the same ridiculous elevator door, where people just arrive directly into the apartment. Ever since having a child, I’ve wondered if it’s perhaps not too practical. Maybe a regular door would be better. Sarah and I have talked about moving out to long island, and we might do it someday. But for now we’re content to live in Manhattan.

  We got married one year after Sarah gave birth to John Junior. It was a small wedding, and we managed to keep the paparazzi out of it. Now that we’re happily married, there’s no more “scandal,” so the press ends up just leaving us alone. In their eyes, we’re just boring old regular people, albeit very rich ones. We’re no longer celebrities with “scandals.” And that’s just fine with us. We’re happier than we’ve ever been. John has been an absolute joy, although at times he certainly can be a handful.

  Despite my wealth, Sarah and I never wanted to take an exotic vacation because of John Junior. We didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone until after his second birthday.

  “Hi, John,” says my mother in law, giving me a kiss on the cheek, and simultaneously handing me what feels like a zillion suitcases.

  How long does she think she’s staying? I think to myself.

  The honeymoon is supposed to be just two weeks. I don’t think either Sarah or I would want to spend more time away from John Junior. We thought about bringing him, but for what we have planned it might be a little too much for him.

  “OK, honey,” says Sarah, bending down and kissing John Junior. “You’re going to stay here with your grandmother, OK? We’ll be back very soon. Just two weeks.”

  “I’ll miss you,” says Joh
n Junior.

  But he looks bravely up at us and I know that he’s actually looking forward to the time with his grandmother. Aside from us, she’s his favorite person.

  My mother and law and I have in the past had a somewhat tense relationship, and Sarah certainly has had one with her own mother. Things have been very, very tense between them. But with John Junior, Sarah’s mother is like a completely transformed woman. With him, all her tenseness falls away completely. Her voice becomes sweet and soft and it’s a pleasure watching the two of them play John Junior’s games together.

  “Ready, honey?” I say, putting my arm around Sarah.

  “You take good care of your grandmother, John,” I say, winking at my son.

  My son... I love saying those words. It’s a magical feeling being a parent. Something you can’t imagine until it happens to you. I know Sarah feels exactly the same way.

  We’re both shedding a few tears as we leave the apartment.

  “It’ll be OK,” I say. “It’s good for his development to spend some time with other people. I read it in one of the parenting books.” I’ve just about devoured all the books on parenting I could find. “This is just the right time for it to happen. Plus, it’ll be nice for just the two of us to spend some time together. We’ll be back really soon.”

  “You’re right,” says Sarah, giving me a kiss on the lips. “How did I ever land a husband who’s not only so handsome but also so intelligent?”

  “How did I ever get such a beautiful and smart wife?” I say.

  I lean in and kiss her.

  “Get a room, you two,” says the new doorman, waving at us jovially. He’s a big man who I can’t help think looks almost exactly like Santa Clause…or his twin brother.

  We take a private jet that I’ve contracted out. First, we’re headed to a beach in Mexico, and then we’re headed to Japan, France, and Egypt. It’s not going to be your typical honey moon in that we’re not going to be spending all of our time at the beach. Sarah hasn’t spent much time traveling the world so we thought it might be good for her to get out and see some other cultures. I think she’s really excited about going to Japan and Egypt and of course France…

  Of course, I’ve been to most of these places, but then again I’ve been to almost all the countries in the world. The difference is that I’ve never been to them with Sarah…

  “I’m so glad we get to take this vacation,” says Sarah, sitting next to me. She takes my arm, grabbing it hard.

  “You’re not afraid to fly, are you?” I say, suddenly realizing that I’ve never heard her talk about flying.

  “I…I don’t know,” says Sarah.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” I say.

  “It’s just that I’ve never flown before.”

  I almost laugh. In this day and age, it’s rare to find someone who’s never flown at all.

  “Well,” I say. “That’s a good thing. That way your body hasn’t yet decided if you’re scared of flying or not. So let’s decide right here and now that you’re not scared of it.”

  “OK,” says Sarah, leaning into me. “That sounds good. Anyway, I’m not scared of anything if you’re around.”

  I laugh.

  Even after two intense years of raising a kid together, our love hasn’t diminished at all. It’s as strong as it ever has been.

  I give Sarah a couple mild over the counter sleeping pills, so that she can get some rest. She’s been up practically all night with John Junior who couldn’t sleep, apparently nervous that we’re leaving…

  John Junior has changed my life just as much as Sarah has. I think back to the last three years, starting with that night in the Hamptons and almost laugh at how crazy the whole adventure has been…

  There’s no way I could have known on that first night that this attractive woman at the party would change my life forever…change it for the better.

  I think back to the wedding, and the speech I gave. I left out a couple of the most embarrassing details in the speech, but generally I told the whole story. After all, everyone pretty much already knew the story. It had been published ad nauseam in the tabloids anyway.

  It was a nice wedding, and with Sarah asleep in on my shoulder, and the plane now cruising through the air at a good altitude, I let my mind drift back to that wedding day It was one of the happiest days in my entire life, when everything seems completely perfect. That feeling has never completely gone away. Sure, I have hard days here and there, and I still have a huge company to run, but something changed on that day that we got married. It was as if something magical happened…

  But I don’t want to get too sappy.

  Let me try to describe it another way.

  It was a small wedding. But…

  Well, I shouldn’t start describing something that I can’t remember that well.. Somehow, my happiness overwhelmed the memory of the actual wedding.

  I do distinctly remember hiding out in the closet with Sarah after the ceremony was over. And everyone was looking for us, but I had my head up Sarah’s wedding dress and she was moaning crazily. Fortunately, no one found us.

  I drift off to sleep, along with Sarah. As I’m dozing off, I wonder if we’ll share the same dreams. Sometime, when we happen to tell each other our dreams, it seems that we have been dreaming of the same things…

  The plane lands in Mexico, and we’re helped to our hotel by a nice guide who speaks English.

  I’ve never told Sarah, but I’m actually fluent in Spanish, and the guide is almost astounded when I respond to his English in fluent Spanish with a passable Mexican accent. I even know how to swear like a Chilango, which is a person from Mexico City. When I was a kid, before I got so interested in making money, I refused to watch anything on TV except for the telenovelas. I don’t know why, but I was completely obsessed with listening to Spanish, and after ten years, I could talk as well as any hispanohablante.

  “You’re Spanish is really good,” the guide says to me in Spanish. Then he adds, in English, “Your husband speaks very good Spanish.”

  “I didn’t have any idea you spoke Spanish,” says Sarah. “What other hidden talents are you hiding from me?”

  “I think that’s it,” I say. “Spanish…not a lot else.”

  “I’m sure there’s a ton of other things,” says Sarah, winking at me.

  “Here’s a tip for your trouble,” I say, in Spanish, to the guide, who’s busy arranging our suitcases in the hotel room. I hand him a folded up 100 dollar bill. I know that’s going to be very valuable to him once he changes it in for pesos.

  “I bet you have a lot of hidden talents yourself,” I say, as Sarah wraps her arms around me.

  “Maybe this is the time to show them to you,” says Sarah.

  “Oh yeah?” I say. “What are they?”

  “Let me show you,” says Sarah. “Although, you’ve already seen some of them before. But I’ve saved a couple things for our honey moon, if you can believe it.”

  “I think I like where this is going,” I say.

  “I think you’re going to,” says Sarah, hugging me tightly, before sliding her body down along mine. I’m standing up and she drags her breasts along my body. By the time she’s kneeling on the ground, with her breasts pressed against my knees, and her mouth pressed against my crotch, my cock is raging against my pants.

  “It’s been too long,” I say, as she undoes my belt buckle.

  “What are you talking about? Didn’t we have sex yesterday?” she says, laughing.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I say.

  Sarah laughs even harder.

  Unlike other couples I’ve heard of, our sex life hasn’t died down in the least bit, even after having a kid. We just make sure that we set aside some time each day, after we’ve put John Junior to bed usually, to make love. We’ve grown in our abilities to appreciate one another’s bodies and we’ve continued to learn things about what we each like.

  For instance, Sarah knows know
exactly how to give me a blog job that will drive me completely wild and crazy. If she wants to, she knows how to bring me to orgasm now within thirty seconds. It’s not that my stamina has changed at all, but it’s just that Sarah knows me and my cock extremely well.

  This isn’t one of those times though, and Sarah draws it out for ten glorious minutes before I come, my cock shooting my seed in one of the most delicious orgasms I’ve had in the last year.

  “My turn,” I say, greedily, before she flops down on the bed and I stick my head up her skirt and go to town. There’s almost nothing I love the taste of more than my wife’s pussy. Eating her out is just…it’s like heaven. I absolutely can’t explain why some people don’t like going down on their girlfriends or wives. They talk about it as if it’s some chore that they don’t like doing. But to me, nothing could be further from the truth.

  22

  Sarah

  We spend a few days in Mexico where John continues to impress me with his Spanish skills. Everyone we meet seems impressed to, since not only does he Speak very good Spanish, but he actually could pass for a native.

  Next stop is Japan, where we are immersed in an intense cultural experience that’s nothing like Mexico.

  “I miss John Junior,” I say to John, while we’re picking at some Sushi. John doesn’t speak Japanese and neither do I (not even a couple words), so there’s no way to tell what in the world we’ve ordered except to try it. John goes first, diving in with his chop sticks, and making a strange face as he takes his first bite.

  “I’m just kidding,” he says, his face returning to normal. “It’s actually pretty good. I still don’t know what the hell it is, but it’s pretty good. But, yeah, Sarah, I miss him too. Maybe we can talk to him tonight on the computer.”

  “That’d be great,” I say. “The times might line up so that it’s morning over there. I hope he’s not giving my mom too much trouble.”

  “I think we should be more worried about your mother giving John Junior too much trouble,” says John.