Carrying the Billionaire's Baby (Breeding Erotic Romance) (3 page)

“Splendid,” she said, with
a tight smile.

Things moved quickly from
that point. With a hand on my arm, Ms. Brook collected me from the
chair in the office and ushered me back into the hallway and then
into another room. This one was an ornate bedroom, again with
striking views of the city through giant windows running across one
side. In the distance, I could see planes taking off from the city
airport, their lights twinkling like shooting stars.

“All right, Ms. O’Connor,”
started Ms. Brook, directing me toward the big four-posted bed in
the centre of the room. “As Mr. Atherstone was to tell you, tonight
will be your first session. There really is no reason to
delay.”

She pulled at the sash of
the robe around my wait, and then tugged the soft fleece away from
my shoulders. I stood naked in front of her again. She just kept
talking.

“There is a bathroom
located over there, stocked with everything you might need. Feel
free to take a shower or freshen up in any way you would like. I’ve
had the room stocked with fresh towels.”

She turned and stepped
toward an oak wardrobe standing against one of the walls of the
bedroom. She threw open the doors and looked inside with a
satisfied smile.

“There are a variety of
clothing options available for you here. Take what you’d like.
There are more conservative options and, of course, some items
designed to arouse. Wear what makes you comfortable. Wear what will
make you ready. Everything has been ordered to fit you
specifically.”

“But how did you know I’d
be the one…” I wondered out loud, again unable to stop myself. “All
those girls out there were different sizes.”

Ms. Brook stared back at
me like I had just asked the stupidest question on earth. A chill
washed over my naked body. Finally the withering stare gave way to
her tight smile.

“Again, my dear, Mr.
Atherstone is a man of considerable means. And so some women’s
shelters across town will be receiving some very generous donation
packages tomorrow morning.”

She turned back to the
wardrobe. “You’ll also find in here a collection of…” She paused,
searching for the right words. “A collection of implements,
designed to get young ladies in the right mood for this sort of
thing. Again, use what you like.”

She closed the wardrobe
doors and looked back at me, sizing up my heaving breasts. I was
breathing deeply. Nervous. I couldn’t help myself.

“And don’t worry, love,”
she said, her eyes locking with mine. “Just relax and have
fun.”

She walked toward the
door. “Take the time you need,” she said. “When you’re ready, just
open this door. And I’ll take it from there.”

Alone.

I stood naked in the
billionaire’s bedroom, my eyes focused on the twinkling lights of
the city outside. The windows must have been thick, secure — maybe
bulletproof — because the room was dead silent. Though I could see
tiny cars moving about in the night below me, I couldn’t hear a
thing.

The cold air in the room
made me shiver.
Well, April,
I thought
, you signed a
contract. There’s no going back now
.

I moved to the washroom —
ornate, like all the rest — and washed my face, then went to
explore the wardrobe and investigate its contents. Inside, the
antique piece of furniture was divided into several compartments. A
couple of drawers were filled with bras and panties of an
assortment of colours and styles, while at least a dozen dresses
hung from hangers. I let my hand drift over them, feeling the soft
material. These weren’t cheap.

The wardrobe also held a
wooden box with a hinged lid. Opening it, I was shocked to discover
what Ms. Brook had meant when she said “implements” — the box was
filled with sex toys. Vibrators of varying sizes and design, and
dildos and handcuffs and some things I had never seen
before.

My sex life was never that
adventurous, to be honest. Missionary, mostly. Quick, fast. I don’t
know. It wasn’t that I disliked sex, but more than it was never a
major focus for me — never something that defined me.

Still, the box of sex toys
was curious. I reached in and picked up a medium-sized pink
vibrator. Touching it carefully, as if it might explode in my
hands. Running my hands over its length, I found the switch at the
bottom. It came to life with a soft hum, buzzing in my hands with
such force that I gasped and stepped backwards, nearly dropping
it.

I sat down on the
bedspread, still nude, and held the vibrator up to my
face.

Taking stock of the
situation again, I realized a few things. First, that I really
couldn’t back out of this now. I had no idea if that contract I had
signed was actually legally enforceable but I knew that I
definitely didn’t want to cross a billionaire, much less a
billionaire’s team of lawyers. And besides, I didn’t regret signing
it — I did want to help.
I very badly want
to be a father
, he had said. I liked
that.

But helping meant sex. It
meant having sex with this man, right here, right now, in this
room. And I honestly didn’t know if I could do that.

I lay back on the bed,
spreading my body out. Even with my arms and legs outstretched, I
barely took up a quarter of the space. I tried to push my stream of
analytical thoughts and questions out of my mind. Tried to stop
worrying. I knew that, if I was going to do this, I needed to just
embrace it. To enjoy it. To let myself go.

The vibrator was still
buzzing in my hand. With a deep breath, I let it caress my body,
dragging it across my breasts and my nipples, erect from the cold.
The feeling of the plastic on my skin drew familiar feelings from
deep within me.

And so I kept going,
letting the vibrator drift down my stomach, going slow — taking my
time. I pushed negative thoughts of my head. Instead, I thought
only of Mr. Atherstone. I thought of his striking eyes. His strong
body. The way he sort of half-smiled when he spoke. The rugged
mystery that so fascinated me. And I thought of the way he wanted
me.

The vibrator ran across my
soft folds, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I was wet —
wetter than I expected, as if my body had prepared for this long
before my mind had. I ran the vibrator over my clitoris, barely
letting it come into contact, and felt an incredible wave of
pleasure — so strong and so overpowering that I audibly moaned into
the empty bedroom. I held the vibrator there with one hand, letting
the other come up and touch my breast and tweak my nipple. I moaned
again.

I very badly want to be a
father.

I thought of him, as the
vibrator pulsed against my wetness. I imagined him, his body
pressed against mine, his hands on me, his essence inside me. And I
thought about giving him the one thing he wanted but couldn’t
have.

The vibrator parted the
lips of my pussy and I pushed it inside, just a little. I moaned
again.

“Yes, yes, Mr.
Atherstone,” I whispered with my eyes shut tight.

I was ready. I knew it
then. I wanted to make love to this man. Even if “love” felt like
the wrong word to use in this context.

But I wasn’t going to
pretend. If Mr. Atherstone wanted me, April O’Connor, then he was
going to get me as I am. Maybe it was the arousal, but I decided
right then and there that I wouldn’t spend an hour primping or
dolling myself up in an expensive dress and a pair of high heel
shoes I probably could never realistically walk in. I was not going
to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I pulled myself up from
the bed, padding over to the wardrobe and returning the vibrator to
its box. Then, still naked and still very much wet, I walked to the
door and opened it a crack, just as Ms. Brook had instructed.
Without a thought, I flipped the light switch on the wall to the
off position, and darkness filled the room. Only the lights of the
city outside brought any illumination.

I lay back down on the bed,
spreading my legs and letting a finger drift again over my
wetness.
Ready
, I
thought.

And then, from the
hallway, footsteps.

My body tensed as I lay
naked on the bed. I shut my eyes, darkening things further. His
footsteps drew closer on the tile floors of the penthouse. I knew
he was close.

I drew a deep breath in as
I heard him approach. I was nervous. Nervous but excited. Scared,
yes, but somehow I knew this would all end up okay.

“Turn over,” he said. His
voice was soft but firm.

I complied. I didn’t think
twice. After all, this was more than just sex — this was a
job.

Rolling over, my face
buried in a pillow, flat on my stomach, I waited. I ran my hands up
and touched the headboard above me. His belt buckle jingled as he
slipped it off his waist. I could hear the soft rustle of his
clothing being placed aside. I tried not to peek, but couldn’t help
myself — with hair over my face, I glanced behind me, and saw
him.

I saw all of
him.

Mr. Atherstone was in
perfect shape for a man his age, with a smooth stomach and toned
arms. But it was his manhood that really stood out. His cock was
hard, sticking straight out, long and thick. I felt my own arousal
building again as he watched him move toward me.

His eye caught mine — I
was never very good at furtive glances — and he gave me that same
half-smile. Then he reached down and ran a hand up and down the
shaft of his cock, keeping his eyes locked with mine.

He stepped toward me
quickly. “Put your hips up,” he said again. I obeyed without
thinking. I had never had a lover who had been so direct — so
certain about what they desired of me. I liked that he didn’t mince
words.

I raised my naked rear-end
up, supporting myself on my knees. And then I felt him step onto
the bed. He lowered his body over mine, enveloping me with warmth
and the sweet subtle scent of his cologne. I could feel the bulge
of his manhood against my back, throbbing again and
again.

He drew a hand over my
arm, lightly — barely touching my skin. But his touch was electric.
I had to fight not to squirm beneath him.

“I’m so glad you said yes,
Ms. O’Connor,” he whispered, his lips so close to my neck that I
could feel the words brush up against me.

“Spread your legs,” he
demanded. An I did, quickly, knowing what was coming as he
repositioned his body over mine. He pushed his hard cock against my
wet lips, moving so slowly it was almost agonizing. I was surprised
by my own desire — how much I wanted this man I had previously only
seen in magazines or on TV. The man who had surprised me so much by
wanting me to bear him a child.

A child
, I thought, remembering what all this was for. His manhood
was uncovered, already wet with his own precum. I wondered if he
had prepared like I had done, getting himself aroused in the other
room. But all these thoughts vanished as the first hard inch of his
cock penetrated inside of me, stretching me with a kind of
pleasurable pain.

I moaned involuntarily as
he sunk himself in deeper, pushing so far in that I could feel the
base of his shaft against my ass. He filled me up with an
incredible warmth and I was so glad he paused for a moment with his
cock deep inside so that I could savour the intensity of the
feeling — and brace myself for what was to come.

He started to fuck me,
slowly at first, but building — faster and faster. His hands were
planted on the bed, close to mine, and unconsciously I moved so
that our fingers were touching as he thrust into me. My pussy ached
with lust. His breath was warm on my shoulders. He broke his
silence with a moan as he started to fuck me faster, the springs of
the bed propelling us, driving him deeper and deeper.

I could feel his body
trembling against mine in the dark room, his hands starting to
shiver and quake — I grabbed them and held them tightly, pushing my
wetness back against the driving force of his cock, which at that
moment I knew was actually motivated by a driving desire to shoot
his seed inside me and impregnate me with his child.

“Give it to me,” I
whispered, hair falling across my face. He moaned again, rearing up
and putting a hand through my hair, grabbing it and pulling it in a
way that caused whole new levels of incredible pleasure. He pulled
his cock out until just the head was left inside, then pushed back
in quickly — with everything he had.

He did that once, twice,
three times — and then I felt him go over the edge.

Inside me, his manhood
started to quake, he leaned back over me, his hands on top of mine,
gripping them, the heat of his body white hot against my
skin.

He groaned as the first
burst of his seed shot inside me. Then again, and again, so much of
his hot cum filling me up, dripping deep inside.

He grabbed me by my hips
and held me so that he remained complete enveloped by soft folds as
his orgasm ripped through his body. I shut my eyes tight and
enjoyed the feeling — knowing full well what the cum inside me
could mean.