His Amazing Baby_A Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Making her change in front of me didn’t bring me pleasure, although I was hard watching her body. I had to show her that I was in charge, that I’m the one with all of the power. She needs to be broken down before I can build her back up.

  At least that’s what I tell myself. Truth is, I’m winging all of this. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her or how I’m going to make up my mind, but I am sure that I’m completely and utterly fascinated by her.

  I have to take a deep breath and bring myself back to the moment. It’s around four in the afternoon and I’m wearing a dark baseball cap, a boring white t-shirt under a simple plain gray jacket and a simple pair of jeans. I’m about as non-descript and plain as possible as I sit on the bench with a newspaper in my hands, watching the house across the street.

  Mark Sheer, the pedophile fuck, hasn’t been out all afternoon. I’ve been watching him, carefully and quietly, since early in the morning just to see if I can’t catch him going somewhere he shouldn’t. It is a bad sign that he lives across the street from a park filled with children, but I can’t imagine he’d be stupid enough to prey on children so close to his own home.

  I have to keep my mind busy or else I’ll get distracted with thoughts of Amelia. I can’t have that, not while I’m staking out this bastard. I still have important work to do and the screaming need inside of me won’t ever quiet down.

  After another half hour of sitting and waiting, I watch as the front door to his house suddenly opens. I perk up and stare as Mark himself steps outside and shuts the door behind him. He walks down the stoop and hesitates there, staring out into the park.

  There’s a look on his face that I can’t help but recognize. I’ve had that look hundreds of times in my life, and I’ll never miss it in someone else.

  It’s hunger. Not for food or water, but a hunger for something ineffable, something that can’t be described. I’ve seen that look on many, many faces in my time as a killer, and I know what it means.

  Mark Sheer is surveying the children playing in the park and is clearly starving for them.

  That alone doesn’t mean anything. He could be a pedophile that never acts on his base instincts. It has happened before, and every time I come across that kind of man, I leave him alone. There’s something tragic about those pathetic, disgusting souls that are attracted to children but never act on their disgusting impulses. They deserve to be locked up in cells for the rest of their lives, but they aren’t bad enough for my knife.

  I kill the worst of the worst, I kill the real demons among us. Mark Sheer is probably one of those demons, but I’m not sure, not yet.

  He tears himself away and quickly begins walking down the street. I stand and go to follow him, but slow down as I glance at my watch.

  My shift is almost over. I spot Ryan down the street and a look passes between us. I nod at him and he nods back, slowly unfolding himself from the ground. Ryan lops on after Mark and I force myself to stop and take a deep breath. Ryan can follow Mark from here on out; I need to take a break. I’ve been sitting there watching for hours. I can let Ryan take it from here.

  Annoyed, I find my car and head back toward my house. It’s likely that Mark is just going out for groceries or something mundane, but it’s always frustrating to have to leave a stakeout just as things are happening. Still, I need a fucking break, and Amelia needs lunch.

  The drive passes fast as I think about Amelia, trying to figure out what I want from her. I make a decision, though not a long-term decision, as I pull up into the driveway. Heart beating fast, I go into the kitchen and quickly prepare her a simple meal before riding the elevator down to B2.

  The doors slide open and Amelia is sitting on her bed. She looks up from the book she’s reading and cocks her head at me as I walk slowly over to her carrying the tray.

  “You’re early,” she says.

  I laugh. “How do you know? There’s no clock.”

  She smiles. “I guessed.”

  “You guessed wrong. I’m actually late.”

  She takes the tray from me and begins to eat. I crouch down near her and smile to myself, pleased that she’s eating without hesitation. The bruising around her eye is nearly gone and I almost think she looks a little bit healthier. I’m not sure what she was eating or how much when she was living with her piece of shit father. She might be getting more nutrition than her body is used to.

  “How would you like to go outside?” I ask her.

  She stops eating and looks at me. “Seriously?”

  I nod. “I’m serious. Just on my property.”

  “Are you going to take this off?” She nudges the chain with her foot.

  “No,” I admit. “I can’t risk you running.”

  “Could I get away, even if I did run?”

  I laugh, genuinely pleased at that question. “No,” I say. “The nearest neighbor is at least two miles. And the road is at least a mile. I’d catch you long before you got anywhere safe.”

  “So why not take this thing off?”

  I grin at her. “Do you want to go outside?”

  She pauses and frowns. “Yes,” she says softly.

  “Okay then. We do it my way.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  “Finish your food.”

  She nods and goes back to eating as I walk over to the steel rod in the floor. I unlock the padlock and pull the chain through completely until it’s all the way out. I wrap it around my arm until she has about ten feet of slack total. The chain is thick and heavy, but not impossible to carry around.

  When I’m done, she stands. “Let’s go,” she says.

  I can tell she’s eager and I laugh. “Okay then. Come on.”

  I walk over to the elevator and she follows me, a little hesitant. I thumb the scanner and the doors slide open. I let her step in first before following her in. The doors shut and we begin to ascend.

  I glance at her but can’t read her expression. She’s standing in the corner staring at the floor indicator with an odd look on her face, like she’s terrified but also excited. I can’t really blame her for being afraid. She probably thinks this is some sort of trap. She’s smart to think that.

  The doors open and we walk through the hall. She’s staring all over, taking everything in, and finally I open the front door. We walk out down the front steps and I lead her to the left, into the field between the house and the garages.

  “Outside,” she whispers. I smile and watch her, following a few feet behind her, as she walks through the grass. She laughs and looks back at me. “I thought this was a trick.”

  “No trick,” I say. “You’ve been down there for a while. I figured you’d like some fresh air.”

  “Thank you,” she says softly. Suddenly she sits down on the ground and runs her fingers through the grass, laughing again. “You now, I used to go to the park when I was really little. I loved playing with the grass.”

  I sit across from her, chain in my hands. “Did you eat it?”

  She giggles at me. “A little bit.”

  “Me too. Hurt my stomach.” I can’t help but smile at the memory.

  She looks up at the sky then toward the tree line which rings my property. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I didn’t leave the city very often,” she says.

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I forgot how much I like this.”

  “What?” I cock my head and move toward her.

  “Nature.” She sighs and leans back on her hands. “It’s beautiful, you know.”

  “It is,” I agree. I lean toward her, staring at her as she surveys the area, a smile on her face. I suddenly feel happy that she’s happy, a joy inside of me that she’s feeling something other than pain.

  It hits me like a wave. It’s a feeling I’m not used to. So much of my life is spent hunting down the evil in this world and snuffing it out. I live in pain and murder and death, because that’s what I’ve chosen for myself. There are very few good moments in my life, and v
ery rarely do I spend them with other people. I live a solitary life by choice.

  This feels strange. Sitting in the grass with a woman I’m intensely attracted to isn’t something I’ve done before. It’s a simple pleasure, something most normal people get to experience all the time, but it’s new to me. The women I’ve had in my life have all been one night or less. I’m very rich, which naturally attracts a certain type of woman. It’s a type that I’ll gladly fuck and toss aside when I’m finished, but it’s not the kind I’d want to sit outside with and look around at trees.

  I glance down at the chains in my hands and feel their weight. I have to clutch them close and remind myself that Amelia isn’t some free woman here to shoot the breeze with me. Whatever pleasure I’m feeling stems from her being a captive first and foremost.

  I can’t divorce my feelings from the fact that I’m holding her leash.

  “Come on,” she says, standing. “I want to walk a little bit. I haven’t stretched my legs in . . . “ She trails off, cocking her head at me.

  I grin at her. “You’re not going to trick me into telling you how long you’ve been here, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

  “Damn.” She can’t help but smile back. “You saw through me.”

  “I always see right through you, sugar.” I stand close to her and I notice her breath coming in short and fast.

  “Come on.” She turns away and begins to walk. I stay a bit behind her, giving her some slack as she makes her way across the meadow.

  She skirts some bushes and my garden, stopping only to test the ripeness of a tomato. She moves on, toward the tree line, marching fast. We get within ten feet of the trees when I stop walking.

  “Amelia,” I say.

  She pauses and looks back at me. “What? Come on.”

  “No further.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want you to go into the trees. Let’s head back.”

  “Wait, just a little more. Please. I haven’t been outside in so long.”

  “No,” I say to her. I walk up to her and take her arm, steering her away from the trees and back toward the house. “If you want to come out again, you have to earn it.”

  “Earn it how?” she asks.

  “You need me to trust you as much as I need you to trust me,” I say. “I’m not sure how you can buy my trust, but you’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”

  She bites her lip as we walk back to the house. I gently release her arm and let her walk on her own, but stay close beside her.

  We reach the front door and she stops before going inside.

  “How long before I see the grass again?” she asks.

  “That’s up to you.”

  I look over her shoulders. “I just need to make you trust me?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I say softly, moving toward her. She steps backwards, turning to face me, her back up against the front door. I put one hand to the side of her, the other holding her chain, pinning her there.

  I can see her breasts moving up and down as she breathes deeply, staring back at me defiantly. My cock is hard as I stare into her eyes.

  “But you will?” she asks in a small voice.

  “No,” I admit. “I don’t think I will. But you’ve seen too much now. You know too much. Could I just let you leave here?”

  “No,” she admits.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “But there’s more than that.”

  “What?”

  “I want you,” I say, not shying away from it. “I want to break you, Amelia. I want to make you mine. I can see that you want the same thing. You probably think it’s messed up. And it is, but that’s why we like it.”

  “No,” she says, but she’s lying.

  “Pretend all you want. But the sooner you give in to what we both want, the sooner you can feel something good again.”

  “Like what?” she asks, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.

  “My cock sliding between your legs,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ll make your knees buckle as my fingers press deep into your tight little cunt. You think you won’t be down on your knees, dripping wet and begging me to keep going before this is all over?” I pull back and grin wickedly at her. “You’re practically ready to suck my cock right here, aren’t you?”

  She stares back at me, clearly surprised, but I can see it. The excitement. Her breath comes faster, her mouth hangs open, and for a second I think she might admit it.

  Instead, she turns away. “Let me back inside,” she says.

  “Whatever you want, sugar.” I open the door and she steps into the hallway. I take the lead and bring her into the elevator, ride it down with her, and finally padlock the chain back into place. I make sure she has only as much as she had before.

  She retreats to her bed and watches me warily.

  “Think about what I told you,” I say to her as I turn to leave. “I’ll be back with your dinner.”

  I’m hard as fuck as I ride the elevator back upstairs. I want to go back down and feel her dripping little pussy, prove to both of us that she wants me as badly as I think she does. But I can’t rush it. I don’t want to force her into something she’s not ready for.

  But she’ll be ready soon. I can feel it in my bones. She’ll be begging me soon enough.

  10

  Amelia

  Shivers of pleasure run through me as I rub my hand between my legs. As soon as the elevator doors shut, I couldn’t help myself. I slipped my hand down my panties and began to work my clit in fast circles.

  I pant softly, trying to be quiet. I don’t know if he can see me, but part of me wants him to watch. I slide the blanket off me and lean back into the mattress, spreading my legs wide.

  I want him to see me. It’s so crazy and I must be sick, but I’m dripping wet and I can’t stop myself anymore. I press my fingers deep inside of me and gasp, rolling them along my wall, searching for that bundle of nerves that drives me crazy. I slid them in and out, pressing against myself, pushing deep into my pussy.

  I wanted to lash out against him, but I couldn’t. He was right. Everything he said was right. I’m a dirty, disgusting girl and I want to choke on his big, thick cock. I want to feel him between my legs. I want him to hold me down, chain me to the mattress, and fuck me until I’m absolutely out of my mind screaming with pleasure.

  I hate that I want him so badly. He’s a killer, a freak, a bastard. He’s so cocky and arrogant. He talks to me like I’m his little pet that he keeps in his basement, just waiting for me to need to fuck him. But the fucked up part is that it makes me insanely wet with need and desire. I want him to look at me like he wants to use me until I’m a dripping mess on the floor at his feet, begging him to keep going.

  He’s a bastard, but he’s a gorgeous bastard. I want to hate him, but I don’t. I respect him. I like what he does to the rotten people of the world. If he is what he says he is, and everything suggests he isn’t lying, then he’s the greatest man I’ve ever met.

  As my fingers slide in and out, pleasure mounting, I realize that I want to help him. I want to kill with him. I hate my father and all the men like him in the world and I want to stop them. I want to destroy them like Noah does, because he’s man enough to do it. I want his strong arms wrapped around my body as he thrusts deep into my tight pussy while the body of some abusive fucking scumbag goes cold on the ground.

  I come hard, the orgasm racing through me, pulse hammering through my throat. I moan his name softly, trying not to say it too loudly, but it escapes my lips. When it slowly passes, I lie back on my mattress, panting and sweating, staring up at the wall.

  “Fuck,” I say softly to myself.

  That was a little insane. Well, that was more than insane. I must be sick or crazy. I just got off thinking about the serial killer that’s keeping me locked in his basement. I got off thinking about how I want to help him kill bad guys, and maybe even let his strong body fuck me at the scene of the crime.

  I
’m going mad, locked in this basement. But even after my orgasm, the thought of fucking Noah doesn’t repulse me. In fact, it just makes me excited all over again. That wasn’t just some crazy sexual fantasy, then.

  It’s for real. There’s a real part of me that wants to help him.

  I don’t know what to do with that information. I can’t really process it, not all at once at least. There’s still so much I don’t know about him and need to learn about him before I can possibly tell him what I’m thinking.

  He’s right. I need to trust him and he needs to trust me. I need to find a way to earn that trust, and maybe, just maybe, killing with him is the right path for me.

  Shivers run down my spine as I bury my face in a pillow and try not to get aroused all over again thinking of Noah pinning me to this mattress and fucking me raw.

  Time passes as I tear through the first Harry Potter book. I’m grateful to him that I can get into the bathroom and that I have books, because otherwise I’d be stuck sitting around suffering again.

  The elevator dings suddenly, pulling me from my book trance. I blink as the door slides open slowly. For a second, I feel embarrassed about what I did earlier, but I don’t have time to dissect that feeling. Noah strides from the elevator with dinner on a tray and sets it down next to me.

  “Eat,” he says, like he always does, and sits a few feet away.

  I nod at him and pick up the tray. “You don’t have to command me to eat, you know.”

  “I like to command you.”

  I give him a look. “I bet you do.”

  He grins. “Can’t help it.” He cocks his head and watches as I take a few bites. It’s a delicious sandwich with thick slices of fresh turkey, lettuce, tomato, and a little mustard. I’m not usually into sandwiches like this, but I’m starving and it’s delicious.

  “I want to ask you something,” I finally say after a minute of eating in silence.

  “Okay,” he says. “Ask me.”

  “You’re a serial killer.”

  A small smile plays across his handsome face. “Is that a question or a statement?”