Knocked Up by the Master: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Why were you buying tickets to Bermuda if you have a personal plane?” I ask

  His confidence falters for a moment, and somehow he’s even sexier in his moment of vulnerability. “I guess you caught me. I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

  “You don’t strike me as the type of guy who needs to make excuses.”

  “Sometimes, no. But I wanted you so badly I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  I blush. “You keep saying that and I might start to believe you.”

  “You had better believe me,” he says, eyes igniting again with a hint of the fire I saw before. He kisses me, but it’s not like the furiously, hungry kiss from the conference room. His lips brush mine tenderly now, almost lovingly. I kiss him back, until my body feels like it might melt into a puddle right here on the runway.

  He pulls back with a cocky grin. “Easy. I’m all for exhibitionism, but if you keep looking at me like that I’ll have to fuck you right here, and I don’t think even I could get us out of a night in a cell for that one.”

  I look away, embarrassed. “Maybe we should get on your plane, then.”

  He takes me toward the plane, where his pilot is already opening up a door that folds out into a staircase. Damian helps me up carefully, as if he’s worried I might fall. Normally the kind of attention he’s showing me would probably insult me, but there’s something so sincere in his protectiveness that I can’t seem to get enough.

  The interior of the plane is more extravagant than I would’ve imagined. The carpet is plush and looks like it would feel amazing if I was barefoot. Polished wood paneling and even paintings adorn the walls. The main cabin is set up more like a living room than a commercial airliner, with a few comfortable looking single seats, a couch, a mini-bar, and even a fish tank lit from underneath to display an impressive collection of expensive looking fish.

  “Aren’t there weight limits on airplanes? Can you really have a fish tank and still fly?”

  “This model is designed to hold at least sixty passengers. Keeping it under fifteen lets me have some luxuries.”

  I laugh. “So you chose a fish tank?”

  He shrugs. “If I’m honest, I don’t even pay attention to it all. In my line of work, extravagance inspires confidence from my clients. I show them what they want to see. No more, no less.”

  “What exactly do you do?” I ask.

  “Sir,” says a pretty young flight attendant who hurries in from the front cabin. I take her in from head to toe and an immediate, stabbing jealousy spikes through me.

  Of course he’d have a beautiful flight attendant on his personal plane. He has probably slept with her, too. I push the thoughts away as soon as they come though. I didn’t even know Damian an hour ago. I have no business even feeling a hint of jealousy over what he might have done before that. All I have a right to care about is how he acts going forward.

  “What is it?” he snaps.

  “Mr. Holland said to tell you there was a problem with the contract. He said you’d--”

  “Damn it,” growls Damian. He look to me regretfully, but seems to have already made up his mind over something. “Make sure she’s comfortable.” He leans in to kiss me again, but he’s distracted and the kiss is little more than a peck. “I’ll be as fast as I can. Wait here for me.”

  I watch him go, settling into the comfortable chair with a growing sense of unease. Being apart from Damian seems to break the spell. All the certainty I had that I wasn’t being insane by sleeping with him and getting on a private jet with him is going up in smoke. I dig my fingers into the armrests of the chair.

  “Would you like a drink?” asks the flight attendant.

  “Yes, please. Something strong,” I add.

  She smiles and moves off toward the bar.

  I look to the doorway when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. But instead of Damian’s imposing figure, it’s a slim woman with an amazing body. She flashes a smile to the flight attendant, who looks extremely uncomfortable. “I didn’t think he was expecting you,” she says cautiously.

  The woman glares. “Do you expect him to fill you in on every detail of his personal life? Scurry off, honey. I need to talk to her.” Her eyes shift to me and I can’t help squirming in my seat.

  The woman clicks over in her expensive heels and sits across from me. Her smile is predatory. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. Damian did say he’d bring some fresh meat for us to play with tonight, but you’re not what I was expecting.” She looks down her pert little nose at me, like I just fell out of a dumpster.

  My stomach turns cold at her words. Fresh meat? “I’m sorry. Who are you?” I ask.

  She purrs an obnoxious imitation of a laugh. “I’m Faleena. Damian’s woman. His only real woman, despite whatever lies he filled your head with to get you this far.”

  I don’t want to believe her, but all the doubt already swirling around my mind makes it impossible not to cling to what she’s saying. “Why would he lie to me?”

  “Oh, to be so naive again,” she muses. “What a luxury.” Faleena leans forward like she’s about to let me in on a grand secret. “He told you what he had to so you’d come with him. He probably fucked you too, didn’t he? Made you feel special?”

  I can’t meet her eyes. My fingers curl and uncurl on the hem of my dress. I feel like the dumbest woman in the world for falling into his trap, and right now I want nothing more than to leave, to never look back and pretend this was all a bad dream.

  She throws her head back and laughs. “Of course he did. Well I hope you enjoyed your one-on-one time with him. I don’t expect he’ll be very interested in you past tonight. Only a real woman can keep his attention for long.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I wouldn’t blame you if you ran off. But if you’re going to leave, you may not want to wait long. He won’t let you go if he catches you.”

  I take my bag and push past her without a word, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the tears of embarrassment. They come anyway. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew the perfect guy would never fall into my lap like that, but I still went along with it like an idiot.

  What did I get for putting myself out there for once? For letting go and living a little? I get to look like a silly, stupid little girl. I feel like an even bigger fool when I remember the way he came inside me. At the time, I was so lost to his will that I didn’t even consider the implications. I’m an idiot. I’m going to go home. Then I’m going to wait out the rest of my vacation time, and I’ll go back to work. I’ll move on and pretend none of this ever happened. It’ll be a bad memory, and if I’m lucky, I can eventually push it so far from my mind it disappears.

  Unless he got you pregnant. A nasty little voice says in my head. I scoff at the thought, shaking my head and wiping away the tears, already moving on from the self-pity stage and into the angry, resentful stage. What would be the chances of that? A guy like him probably had a vasectomy a long time ago so he could go around fucking whoever he wanted without protection like the animal he is. I should make an appointment to get tested. Lord only knows what kind of diseases the man could have.

  A distant part of me questions whether I should believe the word of that catty bitch of a woman, maybe I’m latching onto the idea of his betrayal too quickly. It’s almost an excuse that will let me go running back to my simple, predictable life. After all, it’s one stranger’s word over another. But what I was about to do was so far beyond my comfort zone, it only took the shadow of doubt to shatter my confidence. Running off that airplane was easier than walking into the conference room, and isn’t that what I’ve always done? The easy thing. I don’t know why it should surprise me that I’m doing what’s easy now.

  My thoughts leave an empty, painful pit in my stomach. On one hand, I believe the woman. Guys like him don’t just come along to sweep girls up into some life of romance and passion. He could have any woman in the world, so of course she was telling the truth. Luring me onto that plane was just
a game for him. I guess simply sleeping--no fucking, it was definitely fucking a woman isn’t enough of a challenge for someone like him, he has to add humiliation and degradation to the mix.

  Second by second, my confusion and doubt over running off the plane is solidifying into a single, overwhelming emotion. Anger. It’s getting easier and easier to explain to myself how Faleena’s words must have been true, and it’s getting easier to picture Damian as some kind of monster instead of the man I thought he was.

  I make it back inside the airport terminal, using a staircase like the one he led me down just a few minutes ago, but this time choosing a different entrance at random. Once I’m back upstairs, I look out the huge windows overlooking the runways and spot Damian striding back toward the private jet. He looks so big, even from up here. So imposing. So confident.

  I set my jaw. And so much like an asshole. Fuck you, Damian. I hope I never see you again.

  20

  Damian

  My cock is already throbbing with the need to take her again when I climb the stairs back onto my private plane. Maybe I will. I’ll just tell the staff to stay in the pilot’s cabin so we can have some privacy. I bet my little kitten has never been fucked at ten thousand feet.

  The grin on my face slips when I step into the cabin.

  “What the fuck is she doing here?” I ask Jenny, my flight attendant, whose mouth is working silently, unable to come up with a response.

  Faleena stands, smoothly pushing Jenny aside and answering for her. “I’m afraid I scared away your little plaything. I implied we were back together,” she practically purrs.

  “Where is Kylie?” I ask, ignoring Faleena and searching the cabin and then the pilot’s cockpit.

  “She left,” says Jenny in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “She left?” I roar. “She fucking left? You let her leave?”

  Jenny’s eyes well with tears, and despite my rage, I know I’m taking my anger out on the wrong person. I grit my teeth, pushing out the closest thing to an apology I can manage. “It’s okay. Go wait in the cockpit while I deal with this.”

  Faleena gives me an amused arch of her eyebrow. “Really? We’re going to resort to name calling already? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were just a brute in expensive suits.”

  “Fuck off. I need to go find her.”

  “She’s long gone,” Faleena says, stopping me at the door. “She left at least ten minutes ago. Judging by the way she stormed out of here crying like a baby, she’s probably already in her car on the way home. But you two exchanged information, of course?” It’s not a question. Faleena watches me with knowing eyes. “You wouldn’t fuck someone without knowing more than their first name…” Her lips form a mocking pout. “Or would you?”

  I look out over the runway, knowing how slim my chances are of finding her now. “What the fuck did you tell her?”

  “Enough to make sure that cock of yours never goes near her again.” She steps toward me, swaying her hips purposefully and pulling her shoulders back to expose her cleavage. “Because I want it all to myself again.”

  The anger that rises inside me is so hot and unstable that I have to hold an open palm up to stop her from coming any closer. I’ve never laid my hands on a woman in a way that wasn’t meant to bring pleasure, but I swear to God, if Faleena takes another step toward me right now… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself.

  “Get the fuck off my plane. Get the fuck out of my life. I never want to see your face again. Do you understand me? You’re dead to me.” I thought she already was dead to me when I broke things off a few months ago. Like all the relationships before, I didn’t let it go on for long. Every woman until Kylie has felt like an empty husk compared to her. Scratch the surface and there’s nothing of meaning inside, nothing for me to hold on to. Not Kylie though… It sounds crazy, but I just instinctively know that she’s meant to be mine. And now she’s God knows where because of this fucking bitch.

  Faleena’s confidence finally slips. Her eyebrows pull down in confusion. “You’d throw me away for that little girl? She can’t handle you, Damian. Not like I can. She’s not worth your time.”

  “Out,” I say quietly, already feeling the loss settling into my chest like something black and putrid knowing the feeling will fester. Not worth my time? I’ve never felt anything like I felt when I was with her. I knew I didn’t need dates. I didn’t need to know her favorite color or her zodiac sign or what her childhood was like. I felt the connection between us on such a pure, primal level that there was no question.

  She is the one, and now she might be gone forever. I know my chances are slim, but I’m not going to stop looking for her until I find her again. The thought of her out there right now thinking I used her is eating a fucking hole in my chest, and worse--the thought that I might never see her again is too much. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to find her.

  Thanks so much for reading this preview of Knocked Up by the Dom! You can find it on Amazon for $0.99 or free through Kindle Unlimited. Click here to check it out!

  21

  Bonus Content - Single Dad Next Door

  I’ve included a free copy of my top 10 bestselling novel, Single Dad Next Door. I unfortunately didn’t have any more BDSM books in my catalog to include, but if you want to see what I write when I’m not writing about doms, spankings, and BDSM clubs, Single Dad’s Virgin is an amazing place to start. I really hope you’ll give it a chance!

  SYNOPSIS:

  My billionaire boss needs me to do something absolutely crazy.

  He wants me to pretend we’re engaged.

  But I can’t say no, or he’ll lose his daughter and I’ll lose my job.

  Fine then. I’ll wear his stupid ring. I’ll be the perfect fiancée for one month.

  There’s only one problem. I don’t want to stop pretending.

  Housekeeper for a stunningly handsome, male-model billionaire? Yep, that’s my job and it’s as dreamy as it sounds. I get to live in his ridiculously huge mansion, and all I have to do is take care of his mom and daughter, who are practically family. To top it off, the notoriously bossy Mr. King has been away for business since I started.

  But he came home today.

  Liam King looks like he stepped out of a GQ magazine, and the way he undresses me with his eyes should be illegal. He ignites my body. Every part of it. But It doesn’t matter how tempting he is. I can’t have him.

  I can’t risk my job. Even if a guy like him was actually interested in a twenty-two year old virgin like me, I can’t give in. I’ve been in enough relationships to know how they all end: disaster. And if I lose my job, I lose the closest thing to a family I’ve had since my mother passed.

  But a fake engagement doesn't really count as a relationship… Right?

  Prologue

  “You knew it would end up like this,” he says, tracing a path between my bare breasts with his finger. Goosebumps form in the wake of his touch, rippling across my skin.

  I never thought I would be here. Not with him. Not in a moment like this. Things like Liam King don’t happen to girls like me.

  I could lose myself in the green of his eyes, like a forest lit by the sun. I could trace the perfect line of his jaw for days. But he’s not mine. Not really, at least. Why is that so hard to remember?

  “Maybe you knew,” I say, laughing my insecurities away and into the crook of his neck

  He kisses me softly beneath my ear, smirking. “You can’t lie to me, sweetheart. You wanted it to be like this. Admit it.”

  I roll away from him, giggling as he tries to pull me back. “I won’t,” I laugh.

  He pins me down, bare skin against bare skin, eyes boring into mine. There’s a fire in his gaze more real than the sheets beneath me or the room around us.

  He’s not really your fiancé, Aubrey. It’s not real. Don’t turn it into more than it is. You’ll only end up hurt.

  The smile on my face fades, but he kiss
es me, not noticing. I let myself melt away in his embrace, pushing down the doubts, fears, and even the hope. Those are all problems for tomorrow. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy this. Whatever it is.

  22

  Liam

  It feels good to be back home after a month out of the country. Some people buy houses on the cheap and flip them for a profit, but that’s small time shit, as far as I’m concerned. I flip businesses, corporations, fortune 500 companies--the sky's the limit. I buy them out, gut them, and then streamline the infrastructure, reorganize the customer experience, and increase productivity. I can make a powerhouse out of a flop, and I’ve been doing it for fifteen years. It has made me billions, sure, but that’s not what I’m after. It never has been.

  Doing what I do is a fucking addiction, and it’s the only thing in the world powerful enough to get me to leave my daughter for weeks at a time. I spend many nights laying awake, wondering how I can say I love her more than anything and not feel like a fraud, because I know as soon as the next conquest presents itself, I’ll jump on it. My actions might contradict my words, but there it is… I love my daughter more than anything, but even that’s not enough to squelch my addiction to success.

  I tell myself this was my last trip. This time I’ll stop and stay home for good, that I’ll work on fixing the damage the divorce caused. I’ll spend more time with Sophie and my mom. I’ll be a new man.

  I scoff as I toss my bag into the back of the car I had sent to the private airport. New year, same promises. At least the irony isn’t lost on me. I’m the best in the world at fixing failing businesses, and yet I still haven’t fixed my failing home life.