by Jamie Knight
“Hey!” I yell at him.
I wonder if my tech business has gotten into some kind of trouble. I’ll fire whoever is responsible for sloppy or fraudulent jobs like using copyrighted code or telling crass jokes in the workplace. They don’t have to sue me for it.
The guy just keeps walking.
“My kid’s home!” I shout out at him, annoyed, even though I know he’s just doing his job as a process server and it’s not his fault.
He shrugs while he keeps walking away.
Fuck.
I rip open the envelope and scan its contents. Someone named Michelle is suing me for firing her… who have I fired recently? No, wait. She’s suing me because she got fired, but apparently she never even worked for me. She worked at the ski resort where Catharine worked…
Double fuck.
As I continue to read the complaint and see the details alleged about Charlie’s birthday party, I can finally put a name to the face of the woman Catharine was talking to at North Pines before she took off.
I had been wondering who that person was. She’d looked familiar but I couldn’t place her.
It’s this chick. And she must have told Catharine some shit about me that just isn’t true. I have better things to do than be so petty as to call a ski resort and complain because their employees were rude to me.
Michelle was rude to me, but I’m used to it. And maybe I even deserved it. I guess I am a rich prick who thinks I can do what I want, because I can, and maybe that attitude rubs off on Charlie too much, so it’s good for someone to put me in my place.
I didn’t appreciate how she was mean to Charlie, mind you, but Catharine smoothed that over just fine. I certainly wouldn’t go out of my way to get them fired because of it, so this girl has her story mixed up.
I wonder where she even got the idea.
Then I notice that the complaint says that a call was made by me to the ski resort.
I think I know what happened. I just hope I can fix it.
Epilogue - Catharine
There’s a knock on my door and I wonder if Amanda has come back to check up on me. It’s been a few days since I told her what was going on.
I’ve taken my phone out several times, with the intention of calling Daniel to tell him the news and to ask him for his side of the story instead of only relying on Michelle, but each time, I get cold feet. Or, cold fingers. Fingers so cold they can’t possibly dial the number they’re supposed to dial.
“Amanda, I’m okay…” I start to say, as I open the door, but then I see that it’s not Amanda.
It’s not Sally or Gia or any of my other friends, either.
It’s Daniel.
“I’ve been meaning to call you…” I start to say again, but he’s picking me up and carrying me into my apartment!
He puts me up against the wall and says, “I didn’t get you fired.”
“You what?” I ask, almost forgetting about that thing I was so mad at him about, because I’ve been worried about how to tell him this other thing I think he’ll be mad at me about.
“I called the resort to find out how to contact you. But that’s it. I think I fucked up bad, though, because there were rumors about our little tiff that had happened, and the resort thought I was calling to find out who you were so that I could lodge an official complaint or something, so they asked around to find out more details about what had happened and then they fired you and Michelle so that if I made the complaint, they could say they’d already taken care of it.”
“Oh,” I say, but his lips are on mine, and I can’t get any more words out.
“Don’t talk,” he says, grabbing my ass cheeks and squeezing. “Just let me fuck you. I’ve been wanting to so bad. It all makes sense now and I swear I didn’t do anything to get you fired. Or I didn’t try to or mean to, anyway.”
“Okay,” I manage to get out, before he kisses me again.
“Can I fuck you?” he asks me. “I want to fuck you.”
“Yes, but…”
My pussy is already dripping wet and he’s ripping off my skirt so that he can put his hands in between my legs and feel it.
“Okay, good, since you clearly want me to fuck you, don’t talk. Don’t say a word until after I’m done fucking you.”
“Okay,” I say again, thinking, if you say so. But just remember this when you find out what it is I want to say.
He hurries to take his belt and pants off and then he pulls my panties over to the side. He looks down at my pussy while he’s rubbing my clit and says, “Oh my God, I’ve missed your pussy. I’ve missed seeing it and playing with it and tasting it and fucking it.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I tell him, but he puts his fingers in my mouth and I start sucking them.
“You’re such a bad little girl, sucking my fingers like that, but I love it,” he says, as he enters me, his cock as hard as I have ever felt it.
It feels so good to have my pussy stuffed by his big cock again. I’m instantly drenching it as I slide all around on it. He grabs my ass and then bites my nipples, gently.
“I need you. I need this,” he says.
“Oh, my God, I’m going to cum,” I call out, grabbing onto his shoulders and clawing at them with my nails.
“Me too,” he says, and I can feel him pulsing and throbbing inside me.
He doesn’t even bother to pull out, and I don’t bother asking him too, since I know we’re way past that point. I don’t know what his reason is, other than pure lust and being caught up in the moment.
“Mmm,” I moan, and at the same time, he grunts as he spills his seed inside me.
His cum shooting out into my pussy while my own juices are dripping all over his cock feels so good.
He carries me over to the bed and we lay down next to each other, panting.
“That was hot,” he finally says. “Now can we please get back together?”
“Yes,” I say, “but I need to…”
“No buts,” he says, putting his finger over my mouth. “I want you without limitations or restrictions. I want you to be my girlfriend, my fiancée, my wife, whatever you want to be. Charlie’s step-mom. Maybe Charlie’s adopted mom if we can work that out somehow. And I even want us to have a baby. It’s why I came in you. I need to claim you and knock you up so you can never leave me again.”
“Well, that’s good,” I say.
Finally, he stops talking and looks at me.
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“Because I’m pregnant,” I tell him. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you. I’m sorry it took me a while to work up the nerve but I didn’t know you’d have this good of a reaction. I’m pregnant and it’s yours, of course.”
“Fuck yeah!” he yells out, which was definitely not the reaction my cold fingers were expecting all those times they refused to dial his number. “That’s great news. Charlie will be so happy to have a baby sibling! And even more than that, he’ll be happy that you and I are back together!”
He kisses me, and I kiss him back, amazed.
“So, was that, like, a marriage proposal?” I ask him.
“It sure was,” he says, twisting my hair in his hand. “If you want it to be. I mean, I’ll have to get a ring, because I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but that’s no problem, of course, and then we can be engaged. I just want to make us official in some way. I want to tell the world that you’re mine and you’re having my baby!”
“Okay, then,” I tell him, “let’s wait a bit on the engagement, just for a more natural progression of things, but I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again. I’m sorry I believed stupid Amanda over you. I promise I started doubting her and believing you wouldn’t do that but I just couldn’t bring myself to work up the courage to talk to you about it.”
“It’s okay,” he reassures me. “It took me getting nearly literally slapped with a lawsuit to figure out what had happened and come
talk to you.”
“So she really did sue you!” I say. “That bitch.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “My insurance will fight it and you’ll testify on my side, of course.”
“Is that why you came here?” I ask, jokingly.
“Yep. This is all a bunch of fake excitement over being the father of your baby, just so I can convince you to testify for me and not for Michelle.”
I laugh and nuzzle my chin against his broad, strong chest. I feel safe with him holding me, and I feel it’s right where I belong. With him, and Charlie, and our baby.
“I love you,” he says, and then he touches my belly. “And I love our little baby too.”
“I love you, and Charlie, and our baby, too,” I say, and put my head up for one more kiss before drifting off into what I think will be the best post-Christmas miracle sleep ever, because I’m living the best dream I could ever ask for come true.
THE END
In with the New Baby
A New Year’s Secret Baby Romance
Copyright © 2019 Jamie Knight Romance.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Prologue - Lincoln
I’m not supposed to be lusting after my physical therapist. Especially not after how I acted when I was last in her office.
I know she thinks I’m a cocky jerk, but I have my side of the story, and I’ll tell it to anyone who wants to listen, because I really want to save whatever it was that Amanda and I had before I flipped out.
I know I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help but get mad at what they were suggesting for my medical treatment. I don’t let anyone tell me what to do.
But her? I might let Amanda tell me what to do with my hurt knee, if she’ll let me do whatever I want to the rest of her body. I want to grab that juicy ass in my hands and squeeze. I want to spank her while I bend her over and put my hard cock in her.
I haven’t felt like this about anyone for a long time. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way about her, when I’m her patient. But I can’t seem to help it.
I want her. Not just stretching my leg while doing exercises, but also letting me stretch out her tight little pussy with my cock. Not just trying to help fix my knee so I can get back to fighting, but also on her knees for me, with my cock down her throat and her legs spread wide for me while I rub that hard little clit of hers until she cums, begging me to fuck her.
I might want her for more than that, too. I might just want her for good.
What the fuck am I even thinking?
I’m usually not the relationship type. I have too much baggage, and dark secrets in my past. Too much pent-up anger wanting to make me explode. But with her, the only way I can see myself exploding is inside her, shooting my cum out into her, even though I know that could make a baby, and I never even thought I’d want a baby.
But I can see those wide child-bearing hips carrying my baby. I love every inch of her hourglass shape and I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in her belly.
I want to own her, claim her, make her mine.
And I always get what I want.
Chapter 1 - Lincoln
This sucks.
All of New York City has probably heard about the drama that went down at Big Apple Physical Therapy today and I know I rightfully sound like some monster, so I feel the need to tell my side of the story – not that I’m proud of it, mind you. I’ll rewind to just before it all got really heated and set the mood for the big horrific event.
Like I said, this sucks. That’s what I was thinking then and what I’m still thinking now when I mull over the occurrences in my mind, after the fact.
Here I am, a former Navy SEAL taught not to drown by being nearly drowned, and an MMA fighter who has taken the most hits possible. But I guess it’s my own fault. I’m a 34-year-old dude in an 80-year-old man’s body.
The last fight, last night, really fucked up my knee. I think it’s blown out and it doesn’t help that it’s been operated on to repair the tendon that then developed scar tissue to make it even worse. But I’m a man, have always been so, and nothing like that is going to fucking stop me.
Go hard or go home, I always say.
The next big bout with Cesar Ramirez could be coming up soon. He’s been trying to get me to go up against him. He’s good, though I hate his guts, but it’s the real deal. A hundred thousand dollars ain’t nothing to sneeze at. I just need the doctor to give me a pass and I’ll be straight.
Don’t I always get what I want?
Still, my body is fucked up. After having been deployed in Afghanistan, then Iraq, I have to admit I’m tired. I’m a tough motherfucker, but I just need to settle down for a while. Find a nice girl who can take care of me and who I can take care of in return.
God knows I wouldn’t have a hard time finding one. Women throw themselves at me like candy, saying I’m hot and good in bed, but really they’re probably just after my money. I was somewhat of a celebrity who built a name for myself in the MMA world, first in New York City and then in Vegas. My friend Damien, with whom I served in the military but who later became a financial advisor, helped me invest my earnings from fights, sponsorships and from acting in commercials wisely, and now I’m super rich.
Damien’s a smart guy now only in the financial arena but also with life in general, and he always says I need to find like a kindergarten teacher or someone like that. A nice girl with compassion and love and, most important of all, as Damien says, it has to be someone who is willing to put up with my bullshit.
He makes it sound like it might be tough for someone to love me, though. For me to find the right woman. I just don’t get it. I’m a nice guy but no one else sees that. I suppose I’m a big rough around the edges, as this little incident at Big Apple Physical Therapy shows.
I was taught to be tough, the caretaker everyone can depend on. I’m the one who takes care of everyone else.
I don’t want anyone to pity me or feel sorry for me.
I need to take care of myself.
So today, with the holidays not too far off even though I’m not feeling as if I’m in very good holiday spirits – but when am I ever in any kind of good spirit?, let’s be honest – I’m driving in some lightly falling snow over to Big Apple Physical Therapy, where I’ve been referred for my knee. Damien assures me it’s a great place – he went there himself after being injured in war, and he says his physical therapist Anne was the best.
Still, I’m not thrilled about having to go, and that’s putting it fucking mildly. My Ford F150 that I just bought rides like a charm. I love the new smell of a truck. She’s my baby. The only one I can depend on.
I might be a billionaire but I still like to drive a humble truck. Plus, not many people in New York even have the luxury of owning a car so I know I’m lucky.
When I arrive, I walk in and see that the waiting room is a mess of magazines I know I won’t even read. I hate that I have to come here. I don’t want to wait. I’ve got shit to do.
I walk up to the counter and ring the bell. Who has a bell anymore, anyway? It’s the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. It isn’t the Dark Ages.
No one is there, and no one answers. I just want to turn around and leave.
Fucked-up knee or not, I don’t have time for this, and I’ll look for any excuse to get the fuck out of here.
I wait a few minutes and start to leave.
“Can I help you?” someone finally walks out and asks.
Great. Just when I thought I was about to get out of here.
She’s dressed in scrubs but I guess she works the desk, too. She looks respectable enough, so I give her a chance.
“Yeah,” I say. “Name is Lincoln Drake. I’m here for some rehab.”
The woman clicks away at the computer.
“Yes,” she says. “We have you scheduled. A referral from Dr. Hung.”
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“Yeah,” I say. “He’s a good dude but he thought I needed a specialist.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “My name is Anne, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.”
So, this is Anne, the physical therapist that Damien had mentioned was so great and helped him so much. At least I’m glad I got a good one and not some quack.
We shake hands and I follow her into an examining room. I jump onto the crinkly white paper on the table and Anne looks at my chart.
“So, tell me, Mr. Drake, are you feeling any pain right now?”
“Fuck yeah I am.”
When am I not?
But it’s particularly bad lately, hence why I have to be here.
“On a scale of one to ten, one being the least severe and ten being the most severe, how would you rate it?”
I take a minute to think about this. It fuckin’ hurts but I don’t want to be a pussy, either.
“I would have to say a seven.”
“Seven?” she asks and starts to write on her clipboard.
“No,” I say, deciding to be more honest. Fuck it, if I’m already here, I might as well let them try to help me. “I have to say it’s an eight.”
She looks at me.
“An eight?
I nod my head.
“Yeah but I don’t want you to think I’m a wimp.”
Anne laughs.
“It’s not about that, Mr. Drake.”
“Lincoln,” I say.
“Lincoln,” she says. “If you’re in pain, you’re in pain. And given your background, I can’t say that I am not surprised.”
I lean back against the wall as the white paper crinkles under me and sigh.
“Whew,” I say.
Anne laughs.
“Why do you seem so relieved?”
“Because when it comes to pain, I’m supposed to be a man.”
Anne shakes her head.
“Like I said, you certainly have an impressive background and I don’t think anyone would argue that you’re not a man.”
