Knocked Up and Punished: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance Read online

  “But there’s a chance,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say with exasperation. “There’s a chance.”

  “Reid... Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to laugh or think I’m crazy.”

  “I promise,” I say, hoping all this talk hasn’t gotten her out of the mood. But I’m getting the feeling this was something she needs off her chest, and no amount of passion could have stopped it from coming first.

  “I was scared at first, when I knew I could be pregnant. It terrified me. But now… I can’t stop hoping it’s true. I want to have the baby. And I feel like a complete and total idiot. Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis a little early or something, but--”

  I kiss her hard to stop her from saying more. She wants to have the baby. She wants to have my baby. Goddamn. All rational thought blurs into incoherent noise and my lust takes over. She wants to have my fucking baby, and knowing that drives me up the fucking wall with hunger.

  I grip her ass and lift her, hastily unzipping my pants and pulling them down to free my cock. I grip myself and guide my entire length into her in one thrust. She cries out, eyes squeezing shut with pleasure and pain.

  “You’re so fucking warm,” I growl. “So fucking tight.”

  “You’re so big,” she breathes.

  “You like that, sweetheart?” I ask, pounding into her so hard the salt shakers on top of the fridge clink together.

  “God. Yes. Reid.”

  I force my hand up her dress, reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, stripping it from her and letting it fall to the ground. I slide my hand under her dress, which is bunched at her hips, and cup her full tits, feeling her nipples hardening instantly into nubs against my touch. The softness of her skin and the tightness of her pussy are putting me dangerously close to being over the edge, and it’s way too soon for that. As much as I desperately need to cum, I don’t want to waste this. I want her to have the orgasm of her life.

  I grip her waist with both hands beneath her ass and push her up the fridge, helping her to slide her thighs around my shoulders. My cock comes free, still slick with her wetness and aching for more, but there’s no way in hell I’m rushing this. Magnets are knocked out of the way as I push her up and they clatter to the ground. Her slick pussy is in front of me and I don’t waste any time. My tongue flicks across her clit, circling slowly as I suck and kiss my way over every inch of her. I bring my hand around to work her with my thumb while I plunge my tongue inside her entrance. She clenches against me, and her walls close in around my tongue. I love every second of it, and even with her thighs pressing against my ears and muting my hearing, I can feel the vibrations of her moans through her skin.

  I bring her as close to the edge as I can without pushing her over. I want her to cum while I’m inside her, and I want her so turned on and desperate for it that she lets go of all her inhibitions.

  “You want my cock, sweetheart?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Beg me.”

  “Please,” she says, eyebrows pulling together as she breathes in heavy lungfuls of air. “Please, give it to me.”

  I smirk. “Good girl.” I ease her legs off my shoulders and let her back down, turning her to face the fridge. I can see the edges of her tits pillowing out to her sides and I run my hand down the smooth curve of her arched back, slapping her perfectly round ass. I ease my cock in and grip her hips, pounding into her soaking pussy relentlessly. I know she’s on the edge, and she’s going to cum any second. I thrust into her, finding my rhythm as my hips slap against her ass and goosebumps rise up on her skin.

  I’m going to cum soon, and I know she is too. I lean forward slightly to squeeze one of her tits and suck on her neck. I drive my cock deeper into her, panting against her skin, fighting back the explosion of pleasure as long as I can. Just when I think I can’t hold it back any longer, she throws her head back and gasps so loud I’m worried Roman might hear. Her walls tense around my cock as her pussy tries to milk the cum from me.

  As much as the thought of her wanting my baby turned me on, I was still planning on pulling out. I really was. But as soon as I feel the warm walls of her pussy tighten around my cock, I know I’m lost. I bury myself up to the hilt, loving the way her soft ass feels against me, and I cum so hard it’s like a fucking explosion is going off. My cock pulses, releasing wave after wave of hot cum deep inside her, and she doesn’t even budge. She squirms against me, rocking her hips slightly, showing no sign at all of reservations about what just happened.

  “Your mine now,” I growl.

  39

  Sandra

  Tara sits on the other side of the table at Red’s Barbecue. She’s wearing oversized sunglasses and has her lips pursed thoughtfully as she scans the menu. Normally, the sunglasses indoors things rubs me the wrong way, but right now I don’t feel like I could meet her eyes, so I’m grateful. I can still feel a faint soreness between my legs from where her ex-husband’s huge cock was last night.

  I want to bury my face in my hands and cry with confusion when I think about it. Reid and I are not compatible. He’s cocky and can be a complete asshole, yet all I can think about are the small moments in between. I think about the way he is with Roman, or the small gestures that show his protectiveness of me, like bringing me the ladder or fixing my car. Reid Riggins is the kind of guy most women say they would never, ever consider getting tied up with, myself included. Yet , I let my best friend’s ex-husband have unprotected sex with me and fill me with his cum. For the second time. Ugh.

  Some part of me keeps trying to make myself feel bad about it, too. It’s almost like the voice of my parents is ingrained into my subconscious somewhere so that no matter how far I get from them, I’ll never really be away from their judgment. That voice tells me I’m a slut. It tells me I’m irresponsible. That I shouldn’t even let a guy like Reid touch me, let alone consider having his baby. It tells me I’m being a short-sighted little girl for thinking I’m ready to have a baby with a guy I probably will never have a long-term relationship with, or have a baby at all, for that matter.

  I can’t argue with any of it. All I know is I want the baby. Maybe I’ve suppressed my biological clock all these years because I thought I’d never find the right guy to give me a baby. I don’t know what it is. One way or another, I want this baby. And if it’s not inside me yet, I want to keep trying until it is. I can’t tell a soul, either, because I don’t need an outside opinion to tell me how crazy that sounds.

  “You’re practically glowing,” says Tara. “Did you get laid last night?”

  I nearly choke on my water, covering my mouth and coughing. “Sex? What? Who would have sex with me?” I ask in an overly high-pitched voice.

  Tara lifts her sunglasses and narrows her eyes. “Since when do you keep secrets from me?”

  I sigh, running my finger along the rim of my cup idly. Neither of us have mentioned the yelling match at the festival since it happened, and I can feel it hanging between us, even now. “Can I tell you something really, really stupid?”

  “Okay…” says Tara slowly.

  “I want to have a baby.”

  “Oh,” says Tara. She sounds a little relieved. “That’s not stupid. I mean, you’re starting to really get settled in with the new business, in a few years you could even--”

  “No,” I say. “I mean… I want to have a baby like… now.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “Well, I saw this thing on TV about how dangerous it is for older women to have babies, and you know, I’m getting older. And who knows how big a family I might want, so I’d need to get started soon,” I realize I’m talking fast and making very little sense, but I can’t seem to slow down or stop. “And everyone thinks you need a guy to have kids, but I mean even if I was by myself what would be the big deal?”

  Tara frowns. “Did you have a one night stand last night?”

  I lower my head, breathing out some of the stress of keeping it all to myse
lf. “Technically, I think it would be a two night stand.”

  “Oh my God,” says Tara. “With who?” I can see the hint of anger behind her features, waiting to burst free. She suspects.

  I wince. I should have told anyone but her. She cornered me though. And it’s not like I can just say it was some guy she wouldn’t know. Everyone pretty much knows everyone here. “I--well--don’t want to say.”

  Tara gives me a dry, threatening look. “Come on. Tell me.” There’s a touch of menace in her words. She knows. She just wants me to admit it.

  “No,” I say.

  “Sandra,” she says warningly. “You can’t just drop a bombshell like this and then hold back the juiciest part. You’re going to tell me. So help me God, or I swear I’ll come over this table and we’ll scrap. Right now.”

  I grin, but Tara doesn’t return my humor.

  “Girl,” she says. “I’m dead serious.”

  Tears well in my eyes. “I can’t,” I say.

  Tara lifts the sunglasses and I see the full certainty of it in her eyes. She’s put two and two together. She closes her mouth and presses her lips into a hard line, planting her palms on the table. “You fucked Reid.” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.

  “Yes…” I say quietly. “But the first time was an accident.”

  “Oh, okay,” says Tara, a little too loud and in a tone verging on hysteria. “Sorry, Reid! I slipped and fell and your cock just stuck right into my pussy. Over and over again. At least it was just an accident, because if my best friend fucked my ex on purpose that would hurt really bad, you know. But thank fucking God it was an accident.”

  The whole restaurant is watching us now, and likely storing away the juicy bit of gossip they just heard. By afternoon, everyone in the entire town is going to know I slept with Reid.

  “And this baby talk?” she asks. “You have the fucking nerve to want to have my ex-husband’s baby? You think he knocked you up? You think you want that?” Tara stands, eyes wet with tears. “Believe me, honey. You don’t want Reid Riggins or his fucking children in your life. He’s a deadbeat loser, and he turned my only son against me.” She stomps toward the door and then turns again, pointing a well-manicured finger at me. “So fuck you and fuck him. I hope he does get you pregnant so he can ruin your life too.”

  “Tara, please. Just wai--”

  The door slams behind her, making the little bell dangling above it ring innocently. There’s a few painful seconds of silence before the restaurant starts to hum again with conversation. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, judging me. I grab my purse and rush outside, needing to be anywhere but here.

  I get in my car, which Reid finally gave me back after dinner and… what followed after dinner. Tara’s words keep repeating in my head, the sting still fresh. But growing up with my parents forged a certain stupid stubbornness in me. It’s not something I’m proud of, but Tara basically telling me I shouldn’t want to be with Reid makes me want to be with him more. It doesn’t erase the guilt or shame of it, but there it is. Where before, my feelings were a gray, muddy, and hard to read middle ground, Tara helped make it more clear. She wants to turn this into her or him? A year ago, I would have chosen her any day of the week. Now, I’m not so ready to take her side.

  She has blown me off one too many times. She has chosen her boyfriends over me more than once. She thinks I can just be her doormat, loyally waiting for her until she needs me? Screw that.

  I just hope I’m not using him and the potential of having a baby as an excuse to take my mind off my real problems. One way or another, I’m going to lose my bakery. My world is going to be turned upside down and I’ll have to pick up the pieces and rebuild. Is it so wrong to want a man in my life to help me do it? I’ve turned away help for so long because it always felt like a surrender, or charity. Being with Reid would be different. Somehow. I don’t know exactly how I know, but I feel it so surely it can’t possibly be wrong.

  When I get back home I see Mark’s truck waiting outside. I sigh, bracing myself for the interaction I know is going to leave me wanting to hit something.

  He’s leaning against the truck, wearing a casual outfit of a polo and slacks. I can see hints of Reid’s features in him, but Mark has lived a soft life, at least physically, and it’s written all over him. From the slight sagging skin under his jaw to the ruddy complexion and the pudge around his belly.

  “Sandra,” he says, giving me an oily smile.

  “Mark,” I say matter-of-factly, trying to walk past him and avoid this all together.

  “Easy there. Come on. I just wanted to share some good news.”

  I turn, exasperated, but distantly hoping he may actually have something to say that I want to hear.

  “We’re going to be able to offer you twenty percent more for the bakery.”

  “Great,” I say. “You’re still going to be about eighty grand short of covering the brick and mortar. Forget about the crushed dreams and all that.”

  “No problem,” he says, obviously not bothering to listen to me. “The only hitch is that we’re moving the demolition date up. I was able to get approval from the mayor to start earlier. Two weeks.”

  His words knife into me. My stomach feels like ice and fire swirling together. Two weeks? I thought I had months. “I can’t... “ I say slowly. “You can’t just do that. It has to be illegal.”

  “Honey, you signed it away in the contract. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to get a lawyer to act fast enough to do anything even if there was a problem. Just take the money and move on. That’s my advice.”

  “Just take the money and move on,” I yell. “Yeah, the money that doesn’t even cover what I still owe on the bakery? You’re going to take my source of income, leave me with debt, and expect me to just rebuild? I won’t be able to get a fucking loan when I owe close to sixty thousand on the mortgage for a demolished store.”

  Mark sighs, checking something on his phone. “Right, well I have to take this. Just thought you should know.” He steps into his truck and puts the phone to his ear, pinning it there with his shoulder as he drives off.

  I watch after him, hoping a meteor will fall from the sky and obliterate Mark and his stupid truck. Or maybe the ground could just open up and give him the quick ride to hell he deserves.

  I sit on the front porch and throw myself a full-blown pity party. I cover my head with my hands and cry into my knees, thinking about how unfair it all is. I had everything finally going the way I wanted. I fought, struggled, and battled to make a life for myself without my parents’ charity. I made something of myself with nothing but hard work and perseverance, even with everyone in my family trying so hard to convince me to give up and live the easy life. I can just imagine my father’s condescending voice and what he would say if he were here now.

  Dear, you knew it would end this way. You had to know this little game of yours wouldn’t be fun forever. Come home. Stay at the lake house. We’ll make sure you have everything you need.

  Easy words. I feel like a sailor from the old myths, watching on shore as a siren tries to lure me to my death with a sweet, tempting song. That’s exactly what it would be, too. It would be the end of me. I am who I am because I resist. The moment I give in, I become them. I become the people I’ve fought so hard not to be.

  “Saw you crying outside,” says Reid. “Figured you’d cry inside if you didn’t want to be bothered.”

  I look up to glare at him as he sits beside me on the porch. “Just leave me alone,” I say.

  “Sure. As soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

  I sniff, shrugging my shoulders. “My life is just falling apart one huge piece at a time. No big deal.”

  “Just ask your parents for some cash. Money fixes everything, right?”

  I turn toward him, fists clenched in my lap. “You don’t know me at all. You know that? Do you really think I just let my parents pay for everything?”

  Reid’s eyes narrow.

 
; “I haven’t taken a penny from my parents since I moved out at eighteen. I worked my way through college and I’m still paying off the loans. I worked to save enough and get a loan to open the bakery. I’d rather fail then go back and beg them for money.”

  He raises his eyebrows, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “It’s not about the the result. It’s how you get there.”

  I smile a little, surprised he can sum it up so succinctly. “Yeah… Exactly.”

  “Most rich kids just accept it. What made you turn away from all the money?”

  I lean back. I never really tried to pin it down to an exact moment, but now that I think about it, my thoughts bring me to a particular day when I was younger. “When I was twelve. I remember going into a bakery with my mom and dad to get some danishes one morning. While we waited for our food, I watched the baker and the workers behind the counter. I remember being mesmerized by how hard and fast they were working. The workers were like parts in a machine, all perfectly tuned. There was something on all their faces. It wasn’t really happiness I don’t think. It was more like a satisfied kind of exertion. You know? Like they were doing something they enjoyed and doing it as well as they could. That was enough for them. I don’t think at that moment it mattered how much money they made or how big their houses were. It was just the satisfaction of doing something well.

  “Then we got in the car and my parents spent the rest of the car ride belittling the baker and the workers. They thought it was disgusting to see how hard they were working. My parents even spent a while speculating on how much money they probably made and compared it to the passive income from interest on their trust funds.

  “I guess that was when I realized that my parents weren’t like regular people. They were just… there. The baker and the workers were all striving and living and doing something. They were impacting people’s lives, even if it was a small thing. My parents just secluded themselves in their rich people bubble and never gave anything back. The only goal they had was to protect the wealth they already had and to protect the family name, whatever good that does.”