Knocked Up by the Master: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “For us to walk out of here eventually?”

  “Yeah. They’re going to be looking for us on foot. Know where they won’t be looking for us?”

  “Please tell me this isn’t going where I think it is.”

  “Driving a police cruiser,” he says with a wicked grin.

  “Lucas!” I whisper urgently. “You can’t be serious. Stealing a police car is like… They’d probably dig the electric chair out of storage for that.”

  He puffs dismissively. “Probably just a felony or something. But that’s only if we get caught. Don’t worry. We’ll ditch the car way before they can trace it back to us.”

  I cover my face with my hands. “I’m in love with an insane person. It’s official.” My heart clenches and my stomach feels like it just froze over. Did I really just drop the “L” bomb by accident? I peek out at Lucas from between my fingers, afraid of what I’ll see on his face.

  He’s grinning like an idiot. A gorgeous, handsome, idiot. “Hot damn,” he says, sounding far more country in that moment than I’ve heard from him yet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just professed your love for me.”

  “Stop,” I whimper, wanting to curl into a ball and throw myself down a drain somewhere so I can just drift out to sea and forget this ever happened.

  “Oh hell no. Not a goddamn chance in mother-lovin’ hell am I going to stop now. If you wanted to get rid of me, you just made a big mistake, darlin’.”

  I chew on my lip, watching him and loving how the excitement is written so plainly on his face. “Is that right?”

  He hooks his hand around my waist, pulling me into him and making me feel so small and fragile in his powerful grip. He plants a tender kiss on my lips, letting his touch linger as long as he pleases before pulling back and smiling crookedly. “Damn right it is. Now c’mon. We’ve got a cop car to steal.”

  I look to the ceiling and shake my head, because I know I’m about to go along with this insane plan.

  “Now the trick here is we just have to look like we know what we’re doing. Pretend you’re supposed to be here, and no one will question us. Okay?”

  “That doesn’t really work.”

  “Not with that attitude, it won’t. Trust me. Just follow my lead.”

  Sure enough, Lucas has no trouble looking confident, and he starts casually walking toward an elevator that’s definitely in an area of the police station meant for official use only. I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or if he’s really right, but no one so much as gives us a second glance. I have to force myself to step into the elevator because it’s crowded with four men and a woman in police uniforms. Lucas doesn’t even hesitate. He leads me in, turns around, and crosses his hands in front of his waist.

  “Mind pressing the basement for me?” he asks the woman who stands closest to the buttons.

  I give him an incredulous look, but his only response is the faint flicker of a smile on his mouth. The crazy bastard is enjoying this… I really must be out of my mind to go along with this. My heart is thundering so hard in my chest I’m legitimately afraid I might pass out.

  The woman gives him a smile that makes me want to throat punch her, then pushes the button. Eyes off, a voice inside me growls. He’s mine.

  I would laugh at myself if I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. Listen to me. First I tell a guy I’ve known a little over a week I love him, now I’m getting ready to go postal on a police officer just for smiling at him. Still… She should keep her eyes to herself.

  “You guys hear about the naked jean terrorists?” asks Lucas.

  My back goes rigid and my eyes bulge. Is he fucking serious? I nudge him as subtly as I can, but his grin only widens.

  To my surprise, his question is met with laughter from everyone in the elevator. I have no choice but to join in the laughter, but in my current state I can only manage a wheezing, confused kind of high-pitched whine. Thankfully, one of the officers has such a loud laugh that my own is drowned out in the small space.

  “Yeah, man,” says an officer with a mustache. “Fuckers were picking people off with pairs of fucking jeans from fifty stories up. Absolutely classic.”

  “We should see if they want to sign up to be a sniper for the force,” adds another man. “Could use that kind of guy on our side.”

  “Yeah,” agrees Lucas, and I can tell from the way his grin is growing that he’s about to say something absolutely stupid. “I guess accuracy is in his genes.”

  There’s a collective pause, then another burst of raucous laughter.

  The door dings, and all the officers file out, clapping Lucas on the back as they go. When the doors close again and we’re by ourselves, I raise my eyebrows at him and give him as hard a shove as I can. “In his genes? You almost got me arrested for murdering you in front of an elevator full of police officers.”

  Lucas chuckles, leaning against the back railing of the elevator. “I thought it was jeanius.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “I can’t even…” I say, shaking my head and following him into the parking garage full of police vehicles.

  “How do we know which car the keys are for?”

  “It’s got one of those clickie things,” he says, holding the keys in the air and pressing the button a few times until the tail lights burst into life on a cruiser not far from us. “Jackpot. C’mon. Let’s go.”

  I know I should put a stop to all of this before it gets out of hand, but in so many ways it already has, and the more time I spend around Lucas Tate the more I think he’s closer to a force of nature than a man. He wills it and it becomes truth. If he wants to steal a freaking police cruiser and drive out to the country with it, he’s going to do it. If he doesn’t want to get caught in the process, he won’t. It seems so easy to believe it when I can set my eyes on him, but as soon as I close them, it’s like the spell is broken.

  I don’t want to stop believing in him, though. The complete sense of peace I feel around him is as intoxicating as a drug, and I never want to lose it, so my feet move before my brain even gives the okay, and the next thing I know, I’m hopping into the passenger seat of a stolen police car.

  “This is beyond a bad idea. You know that right?”

  He turns the key in the ignition. “You keep telling me that, but here you are,” he says, flicking his eyebrows up casually.

  I sigh, buckling myself in and bracing myself for what’s to come. “Here I am,” I say to myself.

  “Well, if there’s one positive to this insanity, it’s that I’m now less worried about your brother and his friends trying to kidnap me and more worried about the police coming after us because we’re stealing one of their cars. How did you even get the keys, anyway?”

  “Well,” he says, pulling out of the parking garage, where a group of onlookers are standing with members of the press--I can only assume they are hoping for a chance at the illustrious jean assassins.

  Just as we take the corner, I notice a familiar face in the crowd. Ronnie Tate. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets against the cold of the night, watching the door intently and with so much violence in his eyes that I’m sure everything Cynthia told Lucas was true. Every bit of it.

  “Did you--” I start.

  “Yeah,” says Lucas grimly. “That was him.”

  I shiver, crossing my arms around myself and sinking a little lower in the seat. “So, tell me how you got the keys. I need something to take my mind off that look on his face.”

  “Right,” Lucas says, who looks to be regaining his composure with some effort. “They asked me their questions, and then they told me to head back to the lobby. One of the guys was going to walk me down there, but I told him I had to take a leak. He told me it was down the hall, so I did a little exploring when he left me on my own. Didn’t take long to find a place with a bunch of cubicles and computers. I poked around a bit, made some smalltalk, and found a pair of keys sitting on someone’s desk. Snagged them and left.”

  I sh
ake my head. “Are you sure you’re a cowboy and not a thief?”

  “You’d be surprised how much cows are like people. Walk into a herd of cows like you’re nervous or you don’t belong and you’ll spook them. You might even catch a hoof in the crotch if you’re unlucky. But if you take to it like you belong there? They won’t pay you any mind. It’s natural.”

  “Who would’ve thought being a cowboy prepares you to be a thief.”

  “You know, you never told me what the hell made you get into being a matchmaker.”

  “I wish I could say it was inspiration or something romantic. To tell the truth, it was just because it’s what my mom did. I don’t think I ever thought of it this way, but it might have been my form of rebellion against my dad. He would never admit it, but I think part of the reason he divorced my mom was because she was a matchmaker. It embarrassed him. He must’ve thought he could change her when he decided to marry her, but my mom isn’t the type to be bullied. If anything, she just got more extreme as I got older and things got worse between them.

  “She was always talking about auras and she was really into astrology, of all things. She’s your classic hippie, but a few decades late on the trend.” I laugh a little just remembering some of the goofy outfits she wore, but it was endearing, at least to me. She has toned it down quite a bit now that she’s getting older, but it’s still not unusual to see her in a tie-dye shirt or wearing bell bottoms. “Anyway, I guess I took part of both of them in the end. I followed in my mom’s footsteps to make her proud, but I think part of me wanted to impress my dad with the way I modernized it and handled the business end of things. The irony is I only ended up pissing them both off.”

  “Damn,” says Lucas. “They don’t know how lucky they are to have a daughter like you. Once this shit all calms down, you show me where they live and I’ll set them straight.”

  “What, with your fists?”

  “What do you think I am, a barbarian? No. With my wholesome country charm and absolutely wicked puns.”

  “Oh God. You know, my dad actually would love you. He’s the worst with puns.”

  “Second worst,” says Lucas, proudly.

  “It would be a close competition,” I concede.

  “So what about now?” asks Lucas. “Is it still what you want to do? Matchmaking?”

  I look out the window, chewing on my lip as I watch the city pass us by. “I think so. Before I took the contract with Cynthia, I had pride in what I do. I can look back on my career, and even if I haven’t made a lot of money or grown the business like I wanted, I know I’ve helped people find happy relationships. When you think about it, what’s more important than that? If I can say I made people happy, I think that should make me happy.”

  “You don’t sound so sure,” he says with a wry smile.

  “No,” I say as I think about it more. “It does make me happy, what I’ve done. I just need to make sure I don’t let anything get in the way of what matters most again. Taking Cynthia on as a client was a mistake, and it’s one I’ll have to live with but never repeat.”

  “A happy mistake, some might say,” adds Lucas.

  I grip his thigh. “Good point. But I guess we still have to wait and see if this happy mistake will have a happy ending.”

  “What, you thinking about Ronnie? Don’t you worry about him.” Lucas gently pulls my head toward him, kissing my hair without taking his eyes from the road. “I’ve cooked up a little plan for him. We’re going to handle this shit once and for all.”

  “You’re not going to kill him, right?” I ask, feeling a creeping dread turn my chest cold.

  Lucas laughs. “No. He may be an asshole, and he may even deserve it. But fuck, you really think I’d kill my own brother? I’m just going to make sure he can’t mess with us anymore.”

  “Are you going to break his legs?” I ask.

  Lucas raises an eyebrow and gives me a sidelong look. “Damn, girl. Maybe I should just let you loose on him. Sounds like you’ve watched enough mobster movies to take care of this.”

  I blush. “Sorry. Can you blame me? I went my whole life without ever seeing more of a gun than the part that sticks out of a cop’s holster. Now I’ve had rifles pulled on me and your mysterious brother is stalking us with the hope of kidnapping me. I guess the only source material I have to pull on for how you handle something like this is movies.”

  “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll take care of everything. All you’ve gotta do is trust me.”

  55

  Lucas

  When we get back to Wade’s Creek, Mila makes a call to her friend, Amy, and fills her in. Judging by the bits of conversation I can hear, Amy has already heard all about the rooftop jean snipers and is highly amused.

  I laugh to myself thinking back on the whole ordeal. But even though I played down the seriousness of it with Mila to keep her calm, thoughts of my brother quickly sour my humor. Truth is, the only plan I have is to give him what he wants. I know Mila is worried I won’t be happy if I sell the ranch, and I damn well know it’s going to hurt, but there’s no price too steep to pay for her. I’m happy when I’m with her. That’s enough.

  But I’m going to have to make sure I arrange everything outside her earshot, because the sweet little thing would never let me go through with it, and I love the hell out of her for it.

  Either way, I figure we have a day or two at least before Ronnie catches up with us. Chances are, he’s got someone hanging around town who will give him a call when we show up, but I shouldn’t need long to get everything in place. All I need to do is call the oil company that leaves me a handful of voicemails every week and let them know I’ll sell. I can skim off however much money I need to start fresh with Mila, and give the rest of the fucking money to Ronnie. I don’t like letting him win, but the cost of playing his game is too high. It’s not worth losing her.

  “Amy couldn’t stop laughing about our rooftop shenanigans, as she called it,” Mila says, smiling wide when she joins me on the porch.

  I pat my lap for her to sit down on my leg where we can look out over the fields. I can see Missy and the girls mulling along near the west end of the grazing fields where the good weeds and wildflowers are. As usual, she’s leading the pack and getting first nibble.

  I was happy to see everything was how I wanted it when we came back. Whether I’m selling the ranch or not, I didn’t want my last day or so in the place to put it to shame.

  “Something on your mind?” asks Mila, who I realize is scrutinizing me.

  “Nah. Just thinking how much I love this view,” I say, looking straight in her eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s so pretty here.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the land,” I say, pulling her softly in by the neck to kiss her.

  Her cheeks are the perfect shade of red when we pull apart. “You’re sweet.”

  “I’m just a dirty bastard who occasionally says a sweet thing or two. Especially if it’ll get your clothes off.”

  Her smile melts into something much hungrier and much sexier. “Is that right? So you’re just manipulating me? All your sweet compliments are ploys to get in my pants?”

  “They’re true as rain, darlin’, but you had better believe I’m thinking about getting your clothes off more often than not.”

  “I can’t exactly say you’re alone in that.”

  “You want your clothes off too? Great, what are we waiting for?”

  She gives me a mischievous little smile and smacks my chest. “You know what I meant. I spend my fair share of time thinking about getting your clothes off, too. And about the dirty stuff.” She says quietly, but her embarrassment only turns me on even more.

  “Damn,” I say, picking her up as I stand. I have one arm hooked under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. I steal a quick kiss, which is a bad idea because it only fuels the fire growing in my stomach. “You want dirty?” I ask with a grin. “That can be arranged.”

  Mila narrows her eyes, but I can t
ell by the way she’s watching me there’s no objection in her mind. She’s ready for whatever I have planned. Granted, it’d be a stretch to call anything in my head right now a plan. All I know is I have a sudden and insatiable desire to strip her naked and fuck her in the pastures beneath the stars. I want to see the earth smeared across her milky skin, and I want to watch her perfect fingernails digging into the dirt as I draw climax after climax from her.

  I descend the porch, still carrying her, and take a turn for the fields.

  “Should I be worried?” she asks.

  “Only if you’re afraid of getting dirty.”

  “Dirty? What do you mean exactly?”

  “In every sense of the word,” I say, having to walk a little awkwardly with the way my raging hard-on is straining against my jeans.

  It’s well past midnight, but I don’t feel sleep calling me. There’s too much to do and too little time. Besides, what better way to say goodbye to the ranch than to take my woman one last time in the fields themselves?

  I lay her down on a soft bed of grass and don’t waste any time stripping her pants. I love the way her eyes dart around and realization settles in, but she does nothing to fight it.

  “What if a wild animal comes after us?” she asks. “Aren’t we kind of exposed out here?”

  I shrug. “A mountain lion is going to have a bad fucking night if it tries to stop me once I get started.”

  “So I’m guessing you wouldn’t appreciate it if I mentioned I had to pee really bad?”

  I straighten, frowning at her. “No. I wouldn’t. But you had better hurry or I’ll come after you whether you’re finished or not.”

  She gives me an amused look, hopping to her feet in nothing but her black panties. I strip out of my own clothes while she wades through waist-high grass and gradually fades into the darkness a few dozen yards away. I’m down to my briefs when I lose my patience.

  “Mila!” I shout. “Come on!”