Have My Baby: Baby and Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  “That’s fuckin’ disgusting!” I say.

  She says nothing.

  I look at her and smile.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “What?”

  She still ain’t lookin’ at me.

  “How about coffee sometime, to make up for this disgusting drink? Or maybe even lunch? At a burger joint?”

  She doesn’t look at me.

  “You know I can’t.” She pushes back her long dark hair behind her left ear. “That would compromise a professional relationship.”

  Damn it, I think to myself. I take another sip of the disgusting drink. I’m not used to being turned down. Usually I’m the one turning down the many women who flock to me. Amanda is a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure.

  But that just means that when I finally do, she’ll taste so good to eat because she’ll have been worth the wait and the effort. I haven’t even been able to look at another woman since I met her.

  “I just wanted to do something for you to let you know how much I appreciate you,” I tell her, in an apologetic tone, with a fake pout on my face that I know she sees because she smiles a little bit.

  I look away, across the street. A used car salesman is moving his arms up and down, pointing to a brand-new Jeep Grand Cherokee. He’s talking to some guy in a baseball hat and pink Izod shirt, with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “So, it’s a no?” I ask.

  “Not exactly,” she says.

  I brighten.

  “So, can we?” I ask.

  I feel like a kindergartner pestering his teacher for recess or his mom for a snack. I remind myself to act more chill. I look over at Mr. Pink Shirt, who storms away while the salesman runs after him.

  “Yes, but it would have to be professional,” she says. “I can’t date clients.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say. “I knew that.”

  I pound down the rest of the drink. For something that’s initially so disgusting, it really isn’t that bad after a while.

  “OK,” she says. “Let’s get back to work.”

  I stand up.

  “Sure thing.”

  She starts walking back in the gym, then turns around.

  “Let’s talk after tomorrow’s session.”

  “Sure thing,” I say again.

  I follow her in and am willing to do anything she asks me.

  Especially now that I know she wants to date me, even though she claims it’s not going to be a date.

  I think that that’s just talk. Both she and I know better than to pretend, but since that’s what she wants to do, that’s what I’ll do.

  Chapter 7 - Lincoln

  The next day we meet for lunch at this little place in the West Village with an outside patio. It’s very simply called Pete’s Burger Joint. Simplicity must be its whole goal.

  I have no idea what to order since the options are so limited that it’s like, how many different ways can they dress up a hamburger and call it by some different name I can’t keep track of?, but I don’t say that to anyone out loud, because Amanda had chosen the place and I’ve told myself not to be a grump on this date. Or this not date.

  Still, I brought Rex along for emotional support. Although he’s not a service dog, I rely on the good nature of lots of places that let people bring their dogs in, which is why I was glad we were coming to this place with the outdoor patio.

  It had been my only request, and we had a plethora of options since no one wants to sit outside in the early winter in New York, but Amanda didn’t protest, which is a good sign. When she suggested this place, she said she liked the shakes here. They only have chocolate and vanilla, though, so I can’t see what there is to like.

  Rex is a good boy. Already so loyal to me for saving him, he sits, stands, waits, or lies down quietly whenever I tell him to. Plus, I think Amanda will fall for him and that’s to my benefit.

  Amanda shows up wearing jeans and a winter coat. She looks good. I can see her curves – she can’t hide them even under a wool jacket – and she has her hair up, curly and dark, looking casual but very cute. Of course her juicy ass is more tempting to me than any of the burgers on the menu and I wish I could bite into it.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi.”

  She looks down.

  “And who is this?” she asks.

  “Rex,” I say. “But I’ve been calling him Rexie lately.”

  “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  “I didn’t. Until the other day.”

  Rexie puts up his paw and Amanda shakes it.

  “Nice to meet you, good sir.”

  Rex pulls his paw back, yawns, and lies down at Amanda’s feet and falls asleep.

  She leans down and pats his head and neck.

  “He trusts you,” I say.

  “Really?” she asks.

  Rex whimpers and curls up even more tightly and soon starts snoring.

  Amanda looks up at me.

  “Like I said,” she says, as if to remind herself as well as me, while she moves slightly so as not to bother Rex. “This is business. You know, like going out for coffee with your professor to talk about your work.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I say.

  This is more than just coffee, I want to tell her. This is burgers. And shakes. They may be the simplest ones on the planet, but they’re still more than just coffee.

  But I don’t want to push it too far and risk losing the date that’s just started. I remind myself to stay on my best behavior, something that has never been an easy task for me.

  I look down at Rex. I’m happy that he’s happy and that I’m here with Amanda.

  The server comes over.

  “How are you both today?” he asks.

  “Wonderful,” Amanda says and looks at me.

  “What can I get you?” he asks.

  Amanda orders a chocolate shake, raving about how good they are to the server, and I ask for just a Coke.

  “Sure thing,” he says and looks at me. “Would you like something to eat? We have some wonderful burgers.”

  “Sure,” I say, although I have to bite my tongue from saying, So I noticed, since that’s all you have here, other than the two flavors of shakes. “What about you, Amanda?”

  “I’m all set. Just wanted that shake.”

  She says it as if she’s trying to remain professional, as if ordering a burger with a patient she treats at the physical therapy center would be a cardinal sin.

  I order a Molten Lava burger, so named because it comes with fiery habanero peppers and pepper jack cheese and who knows what else.

  “That sounds good,” Amanda says, and I know she’s tempted.

  “Come on, have one with me,” I tell her. “It’s just a burger.”

  Not a wedding ring. Yet.

  “Alright,” she acquiesces, and then orders a regular Pete’s Burger.

  I guess she has simple tastes. But I like it.

  “Thank you!” the waiter says and turns to leave.

  “Someone really likes you,” Amanda says.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That waiter,” she says and lifts her chin in his direction. “He’s obviously gay and finds you attractive.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say.

  “No, it’s true.”

  “That’s fine,” I say.

  Lots of people like me. Men, women, gay, straight, bi — I don’t care. In fact, I like the attention.

  “But I do want you to like me as well,” I say.

  That’s all that really matters to me, now that I’ve met her.

  Amanda says nothing and looks down at Rex.

  “Listen,” I say. “Once again, I really want to apologize for being such a dick to you.”

  She says nothing.

  The server returns with our drinks.

  “Your burgers are coming right up.”

  “T
hank you.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  Amanda sips her chocolate shake while saying “Mmmmm,” and it’s a turn on even though I know she doesn’t mean it to be. We look across the street, where a school bus full of kids empties out in front of some kind of hippy museum.

  “That’s fine,” she says, in response to the apology I’d just issued for the second time.

  I say nothing.

  I watch the kids entering the museum. Chaperones and teachers make sure they adhere to the buddy system.

  “It’s so nice to see kids so eager about learning,” she says.

  I look over to see them, but my eyes grow blurry.

  “If you mean learning about beatnik poetry, then yeah,” I agree.

  “It’s an art museum,” she says.

  “Oh. That’s right.”

  I had seen the place a hundred times but couldn’t remember.

  “Can’t you see the sign out front?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “I don’t believe you,” she says.

  “No, I can.”

  “What is it?” she asks and places her glass on the black marble table. “What’s wrong?”

  I don’t want to say anything.

  “Lincoln,” she says and puts her right hand on top of mine. “Tell me.”

  I sigh and look over at the kids again. They’ve disappeared into the museum — that I can tell — but it’s all mostly still a blur.

  “My eyesight is bad,” I say.

  I look up at her and give her my best sad puppy-dog look, one which I hope rivals Rexie’s.

  She looks at me, says nothing, and takes a sip of her shake.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she says. “It makes sense.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  I down the rest of my drink and look around for the server to order another one. Just then he comes over.

  “Hello again, sir,” he says. “Would you like more Coke?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “Be right back.”

  Pete’s Burger Joint definitely has good service – I’ll give them that. I’m beginning to see why Amanda likes this place. There is beauty to simplicity.

  I look at her and repeat my question.

  “I said, what do you mean?”

  “All those blows to your head,” she says. “It makes perfect sense.”

  I start to sweat and feel sick to my stomach. Part of it is that I haven’t eaten, but between the knee and now my eyesight?

  “Listen,” she says. “It could be that or it could be just age. Eyes wear out as we get older, just like all of our body parts. Why don’t you get it checked out?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m sick of fuckin’ doctors.”

  “Alright, then, it’s your loss.”

  “What’s my loss?” I ask.

  “Go get your eyesight checked out, and then you can ask me to dinner.”

  “What do you call this?” I ask her.

  “Lunch.”

  I lean back and smile.

  “Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to ask you to dinner as the next step.”

  “You don’t have to,” she says. “But if you do….”

  The server returns with our burgers.

  “Enjoy, guys,” he says, before leaving again.

  I bite into my burger, which definitely lives up to its name. It is spicy.

  “I’m hungry as hell,” I say to Amanda, as if to change the subject off of my bad eyesight.

  Although I want to keep it on the subject of our next date, that’s for sure.

  “Good,” she says. “You keep your part of the bargain and you can keep my part as well.”

  “So, it’s all on me?” I ask and laugh.

  “You’re the stud fighter, after all, aren’t you?” she asks.

  “You know it.”

  We eat in silence until Amanda says, “Well, I have to finish scarfing this down because I have to start my shift. This is all professional, of course.”

  “Of course,” I tell her.

  She gets up to leave and I wish I could pull her close to me and kiss her. I’d lay her down on this table and fuck her brains out in front of anyone passing by who might want to see.

  I couldn’t do that, of course. There were the kids on the field trip to think about. But in my quick fantasy, I’m ripping off her bra, my hands fumbling with her massive breasts, to get to those little nipples that are hard as hell for me, and standing up just wanting me to nibble on them like I have been this burger that’s almost as hot as she is…

  But she seems determined to leave and it’s silly to think there would be sex on our first date. She might not count this as a date but I sure as fuck do. I wonder if she’ll kiss me after our second date. And let me into her panties by the third, so I can turn her around and get a great view of that fine ass of hers.

  Rex wakes up, looks at Amanda and gives her a whiny yawn.

  “Bye, baby,” she says and pats him on the head, breaking me out of my fantasy. “Take care of your daddy now.”

  I laugh and look at Amanda.

  “You know he will,” I tell her, although really I want to say, “I’m going to be your daddy before you know it. Or at least, that’s what you’ll be calling me as I slap your ass and call you a bad girl for letting me do whatever the fuck I want to that hot body and sweet little cunt of yours.”

  “I hope so,” she says. “You need it.”

  She walks off and I stare after that ass and body. She is just so hot I can barely take it.

  “We’ve got work to do,” I say to Rex, as he lies back down and closes his eyes.

  Yes, Miss Amanda, I say to myself as she turns the corner without looking back.

  I will definitely be the one working on you soon.

  Chapter 8 - Lincoln

  A few days later, I show up at Amanda’s condo. I had my eyes checked and she said to come over and that she’d cook for me. I told her I hadn’t had a good, home-cooked meal in a long time. Let’s face it… my mother never cooked a day in her life, especially with the booze flowing.

  I knock on the door. I brought flowers and a nice bottle of wine. While this is not supposed to be a real date since she’s not supposed to date her clients, I go all out anyway. Yeah, she’s hot and all but I really like this girl.

  Sometimes it’s possible to mix business with pleasure.

  And I want to pleasure Amanda until our bodily fluids are so mixed up, we can’t tell whose is whose. I’ll make her cum so much she’ll forget her own name, and mine too, even though I know she’s hooked on me. That’ll be okay, though, because my cock will be so far down her throat while I’m sucking on her hard little clit that she won’t be able to call it out.

  She opens the door and I tell myself to be the perfect gentleman, even though I really want to fling her down on the couch and tear her clothes off.

  “Hi,” she says. “Come on in.”

  I walk in, feeling a little embarrassed suddenly. I can feel my face turn hot and red.

  “These are for you,” I say.

  I hand her both the flowers and the wine at once.

  “Thank you,” she says. “You are so sweet.”

  I just look down and clear my throat.

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” she says. “Dinner is cooking.”

  I follow her into the kitchen. It smells great. She’s making a beef stew with all the fixings.

  “Sit down,” she says.

  I sit at the bar that divides the kitchen and the dining area.

  She brings the wine over with two glasses.

  “If you will do the honor,” she says and smiles.

  She looks great. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. She looks so different than she does at work. And she looks even sexier, too, even though I didn’t know that was possible.

  “So, what did the doct
or say?”

  “What?” I ask, as I push the corkscrew down and pop the cork out.

  “The doctor, you know,” she says.

  She looks at me with the mixing spoon in the stew.

  “Oh yeah, yeah,” I say.

  I sit the cork up to make it look fancy and all, like I’m really sophisticated.

  I pour the wine in the two glasses. The guy at the wine section in the grocery store said this is good stuff.

  “He said it’s nothing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Just age, no brain damage.”

  “Well, that’s good,” she says.

  She lets out a little airy laugh.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  She comes over and picks up her glass.

  “Cheers,” I say.

  She says nothing and stares at me as she sips the wine.

  “Most pleasant,” she says.

  “You think so?”

  “You know it.”

  I begin to relax a little bit. It feels nice to be here and with her. She starts asking me about where I’m from and why I’m in New York City. I tell her that when I got back from being deployed, I felt like damaged goods and didn’t want to go home and have to answer a lot of questions.

  I had been stationed in San Diego, while training with the SEALs and doing some joint task force training. I was no longer needed, due to my injuries, and should have hightailed it home to Texas but didn’t want to, so I let my fighting career take me to New York and Vegas.

  Now that I’m not fighting much, I’m mostly in New York, and I let Damien do my finances; he’s always calling me to sign some paperwork and agree to do some trades. He says it’s important to be in the center of the financial world, whatever that means. I think he just likes that his friend is close to him – and the feeling is mutual.

  Plus, there are MMA training gyms here with top notch coaches. There was nothing like that back home. It seemed to make sense to be here.

  “I know what you mean,” she says.

  She puts a plate in front of me that is full of bread and cheese, and we start munching.

  “This is my favorite cheese,” she says.

  “I like it,” I say.

  It is good. A classic wine and cheese pairing, to compliment the nice guy and girl pairing as well, if I do say so myself.