Have My Baby: Baby and Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  The downward cast gaze.

  The soft, nearly murmured voice.

  The tell-tale squeeze of her hand on her thigh, showing that her pussy was getting wet as she said it.

  She had also responded more or less predictably when I gently teased her about it: deferential and obedient as well as apologetic.

  It was all still guesswork, though. A hypothesis, no matter how sound, was still only that without actual, tangible evidence. Fortunately, I had a plan in that direction. Something that would let me know for sure where sweet Skye’s feelings were truly at.

  I felt the bite as I promised myself to leave her alone if it was clear she wasn’t interested. I would still be civil and professional but that would be it. I’d still be her boss, even a mentor, if she was interested in that, but not a master or a sir.

  I would still give her Secret Santa gifts as well. I had made sure to draw her name from the hat because it had just so happened that I’d had to add a new piece of paper in, on in a different colored paper than I’d used for the other employees, since she was such a late arrival to the company that I hadn’t known to put her name in there at first.

  So, even though I’d technically cheated, I felt that divine intervention had made it possible to do so in the first place. And it was only fair that I kept going with what I had set into motion.

  I was getting stressed, thinking about not being able to have her, though. I started to get inpatient, thinking I needed to know for sure whether or not she would be mine. Once I set my mind to something, it was hard for me to focus on much else until I got an answer.

  I could almost feel my blood pressure rising as I sat at my desk. The desk squeaked slightly on its rails as I eased it open. I lifted out the executive stress ball my dad had given me when I’d gotten the Senior Editor job, and its weight felt reassuring in my hand as I closed my fingers around it for the first squeeze.

  Dad knew all too well the stress that could come from working at the higher levels and such devices had done him a world of good. I’d actually had to ask him what it was at first, which makes me laugh now, since I use it so often.

  The rubber foam style ones, particularly those shapes like a globe, were common enough, but the one in the tiny box handed to me by my father was a different sort of beast. The outside was rubber, like a balloon, only a bit thinner. And it was filled with what felt like wet sand as opposed to air.

  The tension left me like an exorcised demon as I squeezed harder. An unexpected fringe benefit to using the ball was the incredible hand strength it gave me. It increased my typing speed by nearly 20 percent and gave me nearly bone-crushing power, should I choose to use the full force of it, when it came to handshakes.

  I didn’t usually choose to use such force, unless faced with some swaggering so-and-so, who was likely aware of my reputation for being chill and deciding to test me. I would start out moderate, like I did with everyone. If they started squeezing, though, I would squeeze right back, keeping up with them until they relented.

  There was one young bull in particular, a new addition to the marketing department who liked to show his superiority to all he saw. He had done a sort of demented tour of the other departments, under the false banner of orientation, and swung his absurd swagger on all the department heads, except for his own, of course. He wasn’t that kind of stupid.

  All hat and no cattle, as the saying wet down south, he had tried the same bullshit on me, tragically unaware that I was having none of hit. His face had turned an interesting shade of red and there were actual tears in his eyes before he backed down. He transferred to a different office a week later.

  I let the stress ball drop with a plop back into the drawer. The squeak sounded again as I closed it, only to be joined by another as I opened the one below it to get out some wrapping paper.

  This one wasn’t as fancy as the first two. I still had lots of the same kind of paper I’d used for the earrings and perfume, but I liked to change things up when possible. It helped to keep thing interesting, in my experience.

  With this gift I would include a makeshift card, taking full advantage of my origami hobby and slightly strange obsessions with old-fashioned writing tools. It was a fact not often publicized but every one of my published works had been originally composed by a fountain pen in leather-bound journals that looked like they were published around the time that Lord Byron was in diapers.

  I was breaking my own rules. It was already going a bit beyond the tradition by leaving a gift every morning. And here I was about to go completely beyond the pale by giving two gifts in one day. The self-appointed arbiters of society— whoever it was who had first invented the Secret Santa tradition— would be appalled.

  Not that I gave a flying, flaming, flipping fuck. I just couldn’t help showering Skye with gifts. It was the only way I had of expressing my affections. At least as far I could see.

  It made me happy to see her happy. Even if her initial reaction to the last two gifts, which I was able to see on the cameras, had been shocked disbelief.

  I couldn’t blame her, really. Especially if she was aware of the history concerning the perfume or the price tag attached to the earrings. Which I knew she was, because I checked her browser history on her work computer to find out what kind of gifts she would appreciate the most.

  Though it also didn’t escape my notice that she had been wearing both the earrings and the perfume around the office. In fact, I had video evidence that she had put on both of them within minutes of receiving them.

  Even if I didn’t have access to the secret cameras, though, I would have been able to tell. The sapphires were obvious enough, even under the soft lights of my office. I’d set it up that way to mimic the effects of candlelight. Just an idea I’d had one deep dark night while royally smashed on Absinthe. It had seemed brilliant at the time.

  The perfume was a lot more subtle, especially considering I was still maintaining personal distance despite my burning urge to hold her. My sense of smell had always been unusually strong.

  That was fine in everyday life. But it was a bit more of a problem when walking among the food vendors of a street market. The scents were so overwhelming that I might as well have been hit in the head with a brick thrown from a passing car.

  I moved the gift from the drawer to the top of the desk, closing it in the same instant. I couldn’t go yet. It would be too obvious. Most of the staff was still here are although they would soon leave for lunch, all of them taking it at the same time as usual.

  The only exception was Inga, who never left her post at the receptionist’s desk. I doubted she would notice, though, and even if she did, she was nothing if not discreet. No way she would want to ruin the fun. It helped that she had no idea what was in the box. Then there might have been a few more questions.

  Breathing deep, I waited patiently, for as long as I could anyway, patience never having been one of my virtues. The twin demons of lust and curiosity were dancing sinister waltzes in my head. Their powers of persuasion were considerable, but still nothing more than I could handle. I had a secret weapon up my well-tailored sleeve.

  Closing my eyes, I focused my mind, blocking out all external input to the point where I could no longer feel the chair under me. As far as I could tell through my self-altered perception, I was standing.

  More specifically, I was standing in the middle of a clearing. Medium length grass was under my feet, surrounded by thick and ancient woods. Overseeing it all, reaching up into the clear blue sky, seeming like it could almost touch it, was a mighty, snow-capped mountain.

  It was known as an ‘inner realm.’ As the name implied, it was a world within a world, all of which only existed in my head, as well as in the minds of anyone else able to access it. A new and abiding calm settled across my body and mind, one deeper than could ever be achieved by the stress-ball alone, although that had helped loosen me up physically to get there.

  I tended to use both
tricks together: my dad’s preferred method of stress management, followed immediately by that which was most commonly used by my mom. Although hers also tended to use homemade herbal tea I wasn’t able to get within five feet of without feeling dizzy. Still, it seemed like a nice way to honor both sides of my lineage. The yuppie combined with the hippie.

  I was returned gently onto my chair in the more agreed upon reality, the gift still on the desk in front of me. Punching up the camera feeds, I saw the cubicle farm standing empty as a ghost town, Inga reading at her desk, eating her brown bagged lunch. There were times I seriously wondered if she ever actually left or if it was maybe a Bartleby situation.

  Now was my chance. Cradling the gift tenderly, I headed out into the open area beyond my little cloisters, and set it on the desk, angling it several times until it was placed perfectly.

  The gift was sitting on her desktop just so, the letter easily visible from the doorway. I’d thought about bringing in a measuring tape to make sure it truly was perfect, but decided that would be going a bit too far.

  The leather of my computer chair creaked quietly as I sat back down once I was back in my office, waiting for the moment to come. The anticipation was at least part of the thrill.

  I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes I would be closer to knowing how Skye felt about me. More specifically, if she might be interested in me the same way I was interested in her.

  I had to be sure. It just wouldn’t be ethical otherwise.

  I sat up straight when, on the camera, I saw her enter her cubicle. She stopped cold once she saw the gift. Her expression looked basically confused.

  She looked all around, probably to see if anyone was hiding to jump out and yell “surprise.” It wouldn’t be a very good practical joke, but that didn’t mean no one would try it.

  As if satisfied that nothing was going to be attacking her, Skye approached the gift that had appeared on her desk, as though by magic, taking the note from the top. Even from that angle, I could see the ghost of a smile haunting the corners of her sweet lips as she read the note.

  Okay, good sign.

  After meticulously unwrapping the long, wide box, she lifted its lid off, revealing the lingerie. There it was. The moment of truth, the reaction, natural and raw, that would give me a true indication of what was on her mind.

  She was adorable. The expression that settled on her gentle features were an arousing combination of arousal and exhilaration with a dash of embarrassment for flavor.

  I couldn’t have hoped to see a better reaction.

  I had my answer.

  And it was very good news for me indeed.

  Chapter Eleven - Skye

  I hadn’t known where to go for lunch today, or any day, really. I didn’t exactly have the money for restaurants. At least not the ones in this area. The bakery was expensive enough but I considered it more of a business expense.

  I also didn’t want anyone to know that particular fact. So, rather than brown bagging it, which could have raised suspicions about the state of my bank account, I had gone across to the café, ordered a hot chocolate and a small sandwich and tried to look as much like a writer as I could.

  It wasn’t entirely a con. True, it was a sort of silent justification for why I was eating lunch alone, though I did actually try to get some writing done while I was there. It could turn out to be a pretty good situation, actually. Particularly after I started getting paid on the regular.

  Then again, if I was ever really in need of money, I could always try to sell the earrings online. The perfume I was keeping no matter what.

  With my belly full of sweetness and two whole paragraphs finished to the point of being polished, I had ventured back across the dangerous street. Traffic lights were apparently more of a suggestion in New York, with taxis being above the law entirely.

  Those were two things from the movies that had proved to be absolutely true. Even if the C.H.U.D.s were entirely fiction and the reputation of the city’s pizza was rather overblown.

  I hadn’t gotten a new assignment yet, but I was still on the clock, so I returned to my cubicle to look busy until the end of the day. The last thing I expected to find as I went to sit down at my desk was another gift.

  I froze for a second, more out of surprise than fear. I had to make sure the whole thing wasn’t a dream or a practical joke. Either one was technically possible, although neither was likely.

  Deciding that it was all for real and probably safe, I approached the desk, my excitement growing.

  Was I really getting two gifts in one day?

  I could hardly believe it.

  Whoever my Santa was was very generous, as well as filthy rich. That eliminated any of the other emergency hires. Like me, they had already been struggling to get by before being lucky enough to land this gig for which we hadn’t received our first paycheck yet.

  Maybe I had an admirer or friend on the permanent staff. It wasn’t P.C. but I’d already taken to thinking of my Secret Santa as a ‘he.’

  There was something about the impracticality of a gift of ludicrously expensive earrings and hard-to-find perfume that smacked, in my young mind, of a guy trying to impress a girl.

  And yet again I couldn’t help but wonder and hope that it was Simon. The gift I opened next would only confirm my hypothesis about my Secret Santa’s gender, and strengthen my guess that it was him in particular.

  As I extracted the box from its careful wrapping, the guesses flew in my head like bingo balls. The note had given a big clue, telling me to wear whatever was in the package to work the next day, making me think it was some kind of clothing item. Likely something to match my earrings and perfume.

  Nope. At least, that wasn’t how it looked at first. Lifting the lid on the box, I found it contained a beautiful set of silk lingerie. How sapphire earrings and rare perfume went with sexy underwear escaped me at first. Then the full meaning of what was happening came at me in a whoosh.

  They wanted to see me in it.

  Whoever my Secret Santa was, they were giving me an outfit to wear when we met in private circumstances.

  Arousal and embarrassment coiled together inside me like snakes. The note hadn’t specified whether I was supposed to wear the lingerie under my clothes like usual, or if they wanted me to wear only the silky and sexy underwear, presumably under a long coat of some kind.

  To be honest, both options appealed to me. Either way, I was allowing someone else to dictate something about my life as well as my body in an indirect way.

  A naughty smile touched my lips as I realized that I had been right— the most likely person to be my Secret Santa was Simon. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about the combination of good taste and anachronism that brought him to mind. Plus, he had been rather openly flirting with me, and no one else at the office had been.

  I heard someone coming and got the lid back on the box quickly.

  “Another present?” asked a co-worker of mine, a nosy redhead named Amber who I had noticed sniffing around my desk before.

  “Looks like it,” I said, with a shrug.

  “I guess someone was a good girl this year.”

  I only shrugged again. There was probably something really clever to say in that moment, a razor barb to cut the girl-bully to the bone and wipe that venomous smirk off her face. I just couldn’t think of what it might be.

  “Just be careful,” she warned. “Secret Santas are meant to be kept professional around here.”

  I shot her a confused look and was glad when she left. What a nosy hag.

  It was surprisingly awkward getting home. Even though there was no way for anyone to know what was in the box, the size of the thing still made public transit a distinctly awkward proposition.

  I didn’t waste any time. As soon as I was through the door of my apartment, I made a bee line for the bedroom. Stripping down bare in about a second flat, I slowly sl
ipped into the lingerie, letting the soft touch of the silk stroke its way along my skin.

  It felt good.

  It felt sexy.

  More to the point, I felt sexy.

  I turned to look at myself in the mirror, hoping that I would look as good as I felt, and I wasn’t disappointed. Something in the design of the lingerie accentuated all my best attributes— my petite waist and wide hips, my well-endowed breasts— while also concealing the less flattering ones— my cellulite and love handles.

  It was a new feeling, to be sure, but it was one that I really liked. With a breath of courage, I turned a bit more, so I could look at my ass. It was always the part of my body that I had the most anxiety about. My only conciliation was that my breasts were also round and firm, so at least I was proportional.

  As with the front, though, my rear looked amazing. They would probably never know it, but whoever had given me the lovely lingerie had given me something else. A new perspective of myself.

  I thought of Simon. His eyes, his lips, his hands. He had never actually touched me, but his hands looked so gentle and lovely. I wanted to feel them all over me. The same went for his lips and, if I was really lucky, his tongue.

  It was like a force of nature. There was no point in fighting in case I was torn asunder by the attempt. It was best to just go with it and see where it took me.

  Giving myself over to impulse, I lay down on my bed and opened my legs, mostly because it felt right. As before, my hands seemed to move by themselves, surprising even me with what they were doing.

  Not that I objected. It was still pretty new, but felt wonderful. Particularly when I imagined it was Simon’s hand, exploring every inch of my body that I could reach myself.

  On the way back up my thighs from a jaunt down to my knees, my hand took a turn and ended up laying on the crotch of the lovely silken panties. Curious, I started to stroke, feeling the beautiful material stroke up against my pussy. A pleasured moan escaped me, making me smile.