by Jamie Knight
I shook my head. “I’m not. I love you. I want to be Billy’s daddy and for you to be my wife.”
“Yes!” Lila cried, almost jumping back into my arms.
Suddenly everything was right with the world, and my luck had finally changed. In fact, I was the luckiest man in the whole world.
Epilogue - Lila
I always thought Spring weddings were a bit cliché. That was until I had one, and then I saw how beautiful they could be. It was late March, and the flowers were already out. We opted for an outdoor wedding, the potential argument about which church to hold the ceremony too much for either of us to bear. The debate about what kind of authority to have preside easily solved by the hiring of a Justice of the Peace. It would have been a sea captain to make things really interesting, but Carl got seasick.
We were back in Vegas, having found a pet-friendly house where we could have Lucky, and Billy could have his own room. As soon as we had moved in, Aria came over with the crib, complete with the photo of Carl. There had been some awkwardness at first but when she was convinced that we really were happy together and everything was fine, my friend lightened up a lot. I don’t think it was ever Carl she was mad at so much as his dad — a sentiment Carl seemed to share.
I didn’t really have much family left, so my side was filled mostly by Aria and her family, including Irene, her brother, Ryan, and his wife and their baby. It was kind of nice that Billy wouldn’t be the only kid at the wedding.
I was so happy to be getting married but also dreaded the possibility of seeing Conrad again. He would be there, of course, along with his young bride. Though to be fair, he had kept his promise to stay out of our lives and hadn’t even made any hints about wanting to see Billy as his grandad in the six weeks since we got back into town. Every aspect of the wedding had been decided on free of his influence, at least for the most part. It felt oddly liberating.
I pushed the negative thoughts aside and got ready to walk down the aisle. The Bridal March was rearing up on the accordion played by Carl’s second cousin. We wanted an organ, but the logistics just wouldn’t allow for it. None the less, I was just happy to be walking down the aisle toward Carl who was holding our little Billy, decked out in an adorable baby tux. Lucky following close behind me as the Ring-bearer. Wearing a darling doggie tux, he carried our rings in a basket in his mouth. It really was a thing to behold.
I got up under the flower arch, and we turned toward the Justice to get things rolling, Lucky sitting down obediently by my side. We said our vows, which we wrote ourselves and exchanged rings, adding an Irish wedding ring to the blue diamond Carl had surprised me with a few weeks before. My love said it would make things feel more official.
The fact that he was willing to get married at all, marriage after all being a legal contract encouraged by the government for taxation and population purposes, was a massive step for him. The Carl Willcox I had known in high school likely wouldn’t have been able to stand in front of a Justice of any description without at least trying to head-butt him.
The delightful glow stayed with me as I walked the aisle again, this time as Carl’s wife, holding his hand as he held our beautiful baby, our cute little dog scampering close behind. It really felt like we were finally a proper family.
The reception was at a nearby restaurant. Ryan had rented out the place, having both the money and power to do such a thing, even in a city where he didn’t live. Not that I was complaining. The restaurant was beautiful and had been decorated perfectly. There’ wasn’t a single petal of a single flower I would have changed for anything.
Then it came. The moment I had been quietly dreading since we started planning the wedding. The father-daughter dance. My father wasn’t around anymore, and he and Conrad had been really good friends for years. Besides which Conrad was my newly minted father-in-law, so it only stood to reason. Though, if I was honest, having a mother-in-law who was younger than me was a bit weird.
Conrad came over to the table with none of the arrogance I had come to expect from him.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, bowing deep.
I really didn’t want to but decided it would be good to make an effort for Carl and Billy’s sake.
“I’m really sorry about that whole mess. My ego can get away from me sometimes. I considered Billy my last link to Carl and was terrified to lose that.”
I knew I should have said something but was absolutely speechless. Conrad had truly struck me silent with his genuinely humble apology.
“Not that you let me get away with it, of course, mama bear. I really respect the way you protected your son like that, at such great cost to yourself. More than I ever did for Carl. I swear I’m no longer a threat to your family’s happiness.”
I felt a lot better about the whole situation, my lingering fear of Conrad being the last shadow on my life with Carl.
“You should have more children,” I suggested.
I couldn’t help but notice the slight hint of pain in his expression. He tried to hide it, but it was too late. I had seen it and already felt bad.
“Would if we could, my dear. Though Malina and I are discussing adoption. So Billy might still be an uncle, after all.”
“That would actually be really cool,” I said encouragingly.
No sooner had I sat down than the string quartet kicked into a slightly surreal, symphonic rendition of “Josie.” Taking Billy with us, we swirled and danced around the dance floor, Lucky bouncing around our legs, not to be left out of the fun.
We went a bit too hard, and I actually collapsed against Carl, laughing as he held me. Recovering my balance, if not my dignity, we kissed tenderly, and my world was all him in that moment.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Yes, more than I can say. Are you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Pinky promise?” I asked, knowing full well where it might lead.
“Pinky promise,” he said, hooking my pinky and pulling him towards him again, kissing me passionately with lots of tongue.
We were both more than ready to start off our honeymoon. Leaving Billy with Irene and Aria and Lucky with Chris, we took a limo to the hotel. We already checked in and had our room key, just in case we ended up in just such a situation.
Somehow managing to get the key card into the slot while also carrying me, Carl whisked me over to the bed like a fairy tale prince laying me down gently.
“Turn over, sweetness.”
I obeyed him immediately flipping over onto my belly, realizing that the dress was held on with clasps on the back, which Carl had undone as quickly as running a scale on a piano. I could feel the cool air on my lower back, which made me sigh with relief. The Dress was beautiful but wasn’t the most comfortable thing I had ever even worn in my life. An issue quickly rectified by Carl’s skilled hands, leaving me in only my panties, stockings, garter, and shoes.
Starting with taking off my shoes, Carl gently ran his hands the length of both my stockinged legs, before unclipping the first of clips of the garter belt. He reached around under me, getting the ones at the front. Gently rolling down the stocking from my right leg, he moved over to the other before pulling down my garter belt as well. Taking my panties by the sides, he pulled those down too. Leaving me naked and entirely open for anything he might want to do. There was nothing I was thinking about in that moment aside from giving him pleasure.
Apparently, Carl had the same thought because rather than jumping on me and pounding away, like the bugle in the front of his tuxedo pants would indicate he wanted to, he planted a row of soft, wet kisses all the way up the length of my back to my neck. Which he then commenced to lick, suck, and gently nibble, instantly making me even wetter than I already was.
As my new husband worked miracles with his beautiful mouth, he stroked one of his hands back down over my back and up over my bare ass, gently cupping my tender, naked pussy. His touch made me gasp and moan even
louder. Carl knew just how to touch me to get the strongest response.
Leaving his hand where it was, he took off his suit one-handed with surprising speed as well as ease. Then, naked as I was, my love climbed on top of me, easing his cock deep inside my desperate, aching pussy. I moaned long and loud, not having to worry about waking Billy. The noises only got louder as he picked up speed, pumping my pussy like he had done before, but it took on a whole new aspect knowing that we had made a firm commitment to each other. I was completely his, and Carl was completely mine. It gave me a wonderful sense of security that let me just relax and enjoy what was happening in my pussy and really be in the moment.
Turning me over onto my back, my husband turned me toward him, putting my legs up around his neck. Getting a bit adventurous, he started to devour my pussy in that position, both hands on my hips, giving extra support. I held on to his wrists for both support and in tenderness as he licked me to heaven.
When I had regained my senses, Carl moved my legs down to his arms, resting my knees on the crooks of his elbows and filled me once again with his hard cock, slipping it deep inside me. The pleasure shot through me like fireworks. I had never been so happy.
It wasn’t long until I cam hard, my pussy quivering and grabbing Carl’s cock. It was like my body was begging for his seed. I wanted him to put another baby in me. Our wonderful Billy deserved a little brother or sister.
My love moaned. He thrust in harder and came. His cum filled me up, warm and comforting. But it was also like something special happened between us. I knew our family was going to be getting bigger, and I was proud to carry Carl’s child again. He would be with me every step of the way this time. This time, nothing was going to pull us apart.
THE END
My Client’s Secret Baby
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Chapter One - Cooper
It was synchronicity, my heart beating in time with my feet. My pace set by the sounds in my earbuds: Second Coming by Dante Street Massacre. This was the third and final element in what was quickly becoming known as “The Sacrament Trilogy.” From what I knew, I was the first one outside the band and the record label to hear it. The copy came courtesy Chris, my co-worker at Sure Thing Graphics, whose brother was one of the band’s three vocalists. Chris wasn’t really into music, so he paid the kindness forward.
The disk spun in my Discman. I was a sucker for vintage tech I couldn’t really remember from childhood. Typically, I was more into County. The old stuff. Dark and dirty songs sung by genuine tough guys with amphetamine habits and prison records. But for running, I wanted heavy metal. It was a ritual really, selecting the music for my morning jog, which I had come to think of as an almost meditative experience. One of the few things capable of quelling the inner rage I felt like beating drums in my chest—not that it had ever done me much good.
I got into conflicts anyway, never one to leave a stare down even when I really should. Every fight I’d been in ended with me injured and bleeding in some fashion. Yet, I did it anyway. Whatever my perceived enemies did to me, nothing compared to what I was already doing to myself.
The choice of disk was obvious that morning. It was still sealed from when I received it the previous morning, just before the customary post-ping pong staff meeting. I carefully slit up the side with a kitchen knife, watching I didn’t scratch the jewel case. The CD locked in with a resounding pop. The stop button immediately struck, so I would not hear a single note until I was off and going.
The music filled my head, blocking out the world, symphonic Metal by way of Norse Folk, many of the lyrics performed in Norwegian for the sake of authenticity. A particular, resonant quality also permitted their English tracks. It was just what I needed to take my mind off things. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt someone. Especially myself.
It was as though the fates had heard me. No, worse, the fates had heard me, and they were laughing. I could almost hear it echoing across the distance, through the mists of creation and human imagination, from high in their insurmountable tower. One of the few advantages to getting in trouble as much as I had, was I got to a point where I could feel it coming. Even with music in my ears and my heart pounding in my head, I could sense it coming. The sensation was not a part of the usual five senses but a slight tightness in my chest. Conflict was coming, and it was close.
I could feel the limo before I saw it. The absurdly supped-up engine made the pavement vibrate beneath me. There was no way I could outrun it, not being the Bionic Man. Though I could still make things difficult for them.
I didn’t let on at first, jogging on as though I didn’t know exactly where they were. The window began to whirr, starting the slow journey down, so the back passenger could shout a smoking offense that he thought was clever. This was the moment that I chose to halt.
My sneakers almost left skids behind me as I stopped. The limo, electric white and the approximate size of a beluga whale, continued on its merry way—for a while at any rate. Coming squeaking to a halt, the long, body lurched forward several inches before settling to a stop. The driver backed up at speed.
At least that was what was how it looked in my head. I was nowhere near them at the time, having cut off to the right and into a park. Bastard that he was, I wagered not even Lars Ivanov would go plowing through dogs and kids just to intimidate a guy. Even he had to possess some standards.
The gambit paid off. When I finally stopped to look, there was no sign of Ivanov or his douche-mobile. Though that was mostly because he was coming up behind me, all four tires remaining on the designated road.
“I always come back,” he grinned, like the crocodile he was.
“Like herpes.”
It didn’t matter if he got out right then and beat me with a tire iron—a distinct possibility considering the mobster’s reputation—the insult was still worth it, just to see the look on his face after I took the piss right out of his bullshit, tough-guy line. He just couldn’t wrap whatever it was that passed for his mind around the fact that I wasn’t scared of him.
“Excellent, Mr. Jones. Very good indeed.”
“Thanks. Now fuck off and stop harassing me. The emailed threats and letters in the mail I could stand. Even the car bomb was a bit of a laugh, mostly because it failed so fucking miserably, but this stalker shit has got to end. I could almost swear you were in love with me.”
“The bomb wasn’t supposed to go off. We just wanted to make sure you were paying attention,” Ivanov chuckled.
“Fuck you very much.”
“I honestly hope you enjoy it while you can because I am going to burn your life and everything in it like a cane field in a high wind. You screwed me over when you dropped my account. I needed those ads to help rehabilitate my reputation. My casinos would be mentioned in the same breath as the Dalton chain if it had only gone through.”
“The contract was ended properly. We did nothing wrong,” I explained, still very much in my right mind.
“Except telling all the other companies in town why you dropped the contract. I can’t even get so much as a meeting with any of them because of you,” Ivanov snapped, a cold rage burning in his eyes.
“Rightfully so, I would say.”
“You guys were the best. Now you are going to be ash. You fucked me, Jones, and nobody fucks me.”
“I’m not surprised with that kind of attitude. Though I suspect your gut helps too. Have you ever considered working girls?” I inquired.
He sneered at me. “Sure, why not? How old is little Camilla now? I’m sure she could be convinced with enough—”
That time he saw me coming. His eyeballs almost flew out of his head in shock. My punch landed on the bulletproof window, which had gone back up double-time before I had a chance to drag the jerk out onto the street and curb stomp the bastard.
I don’t remember if it hurt. If it did, it couldn’t have been very much because I just kept pounding on the window like a drum with both my fists, roaring like a monster.
I could hear Ivanov screaming, “Drive! Drive!” from inside the backseat. The limo peeled away so fast it left little black tire-marks behind it.
It was ten blocks before I gave up the chase. My legs collapsed out from under me. Camilla was a sore spot. When it came to her, my emotions had no limits. I had gotten into a fistfight with my best friend when had he wanted to so much as date my little sister. They got married. Ivanov would find out what pain really was if he ever went near her.
The jerk was escalating, trying to throw me off. Ivanov wanted to find a weak spot so he could attack me even harder. And, idiot that I was, I had given him one. My only consolation was that Aden, Camilla’s husband, was a war veteran with a confirmed kill count that could make the mobster blush in abject humiliation. I had never actually seen it but was pretty sure Aden could kill someone with a pencil.
Resetting the disk player, I finished my jog as well as the album as I came through the front door. Checking for any broken bones, I bandaged my bleeding knuckles. I took two pain-killers before hitting the shower, getting really for another day of work.
On the way to the office, I could smell the bakery before I got there. A favorite of the guys at the firm, I had been going there every morning for most of my adult life. Not for myself. I was strictly Keto, but Camilla did love her caramel eclairs, and old habits died hard.
“I’m going to get fat at this rate,” she said, already working on a pair when I dropped the distinctive paper bag on the reception desk.
“Aden?” I asked.
“Great minds think alike,” she said, making me smile.
Camilla could always make me smile, even when we were little—annoying as she could also be. Not that there was much time for that. Our relationship changed forever when our dad walked out. Camilla was only four and didn’t really remember, but I did. I was only ten myself but still felt responsible for her. A habit that proved very difficult to break.