His Amazing Baby_A Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  But this, it’s bigger than me. If I can help shed light on this sex slave ring, I can save people, maybe even little girls.

  Mark Sheer is going to die. I’ve already decided. But first I need him to get hungry. When he gets hungry, he’ll bring me right to the little girls.

  And then I’ll kill whoever is in charge of that sex slave operation as well.

  The lights flicker on in my killing room as I descend down the stairs. I walk across the smooth surface and begin to assemble my tools: knives, syringes, serums, ropes, and more. I spread it all across the work benches and go through the methodical and important task of cleaning and sharpening every implement.

  Everything must be perfect for a kill. It’s time to plan how Mark Sheer will die. I can take him at any time, and I will as soon as he gives me that whorehouse he visited. That place can quiet the screaming need for months if it ends up being as important as I think it is.

  Eventually, my mind drifts back to Amelia. She was perfect today, asking the right questions as the right times, but sticking close to me. She didn’t even argue when I put her GPS device back on her ankle when we got back to the house. She smiled, thanked me, and then disappeared up into her room. I heard the shower running and so I came down here to do some work.

  She seems sure. I can see it in her now, that resolve that comes before a serious decision. I didn’t think it would happen this quickly, but she did so good today. She had a million chances to escape, each of them better than the next, but she chose not to.

  It never occurred to me that I could share this part of my life with someone. I assumed that anyone who saw this part of me would turn and run away. I’m a monster and I know it, but when Amelia looks at me, I don’t think she sees a killer. She doesn’t see a saint, either, and that’s okay with me.

  I don’t need to be good. I just need to be respected and understood. I don’t know if she can even truly understand, but she comes closer than anyone has before.

  I slowly lose myself in my work, so much so that I don’t hear the footsteps on the stairs. I dimly become aware of someone standing over near the entrance to the killing room, and I grab the closest knife before whirling around.

  Amelia smiles at me. “Scared?”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “It’s a bad idea to sneak up on me here.”

  “I’m sorry. I said your name.”

  “I guess I didn’t hear.”

  “Lost in your work.” She cocks her head and walks toward me. “What are you doing?”

  “Preparing.” I turn back toward my tools. “This is what I’ll need to take the pedophile.”

  “Take him?”

  “That’s right. I’m going to drug him and bring him here before killing him.”

  “Why?” She looks at me, her eyes slightly wide.

  “You know why.”

  She watches me for a second before stepping up to my workbench. She picks up another one of my knives, this one with a long, hooked blade. She runs her finger over the edge again, but this time doesn’t cut herself.

  “I used to be afraid of these things . . . “ She trails off then cocks her head at me. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” I say softly.

  “I guess it’s always been inside of me.”

  “What’s inside of you, Amelia?” I step toward her, gently placing my knife back down on the table.

  I’m at her mercy. I’m not sure if she even realizes it. But she’s armed and I’m not, and she can kill me at any moment. The thought sends my heart racing. She’s still an unknown. I still locked her in my basement. There has to be some level of hate still left inside of her.

  Maybe this is her real test. Maybe I have to show her my throat before I know she’s mine.

  She holds the knife lightly in her hand. “I’m not afraid, you know,” she says. “Out there on the street today, I wasn’t afraid. I was more excited.”

  “How did that feel?” I ask softly.

  “It felt good.” She seems surprised. “We were talking about a pedophile. About hunting him down and killing him. And it felt good.”

  “That doesn’t scare you anymore?”

  “Not at all.” She laughs lightly, almost as if she’s shocked to be saying all this out loud. “I think I like it, Noah.”

  I stop inches away from her. The knife is between the two of us, its point against my chest. All she needs to do is press forward and the blade will do all the work. It’ll sink into my chest and pierce my heart, killing me quickly. Then she’ll be free.

  All she needs to do is kill me. She looks at the knife then at me. A smile runs across her beautiful face and I want to reach out and touch her, but the tension is too thick.

  Silence falls between us as she looks from the knife and back to me. I know she’s thinking about it, or at least she realizes what this moment means.

  She could kill me, take everything I have. There’s a lot of money in this place. She could start over, have a new life. Put all of this killing behind us.

  Part of me wants her to do it. If she’s going to betray me, I want her to do it now. I want her to sink the knife into my chest while looking into my eyes. I want her to be the one that finally kills me and turns the tables on me.

  Do it, I want to say.

  She slowly lowers the point of the knife from my chest.

  I reach out and grab her wrist, hard. I squeeze and she lets out a surprised sound as she drops the knife. It clatters onto the ground as I pull her roughly against me, kissing her lips hard.

  She melts into my kiss as passion flares up from inside of me.

  She made her choice. That was the moment. She chose this, whatever it is, and now I’m going to take what I want. I’ve been patient, so damn patient. I didn’t push too hard. I let her come out of her shell and explore her new world.

  Now I’m going to take her. I’m going to sink my cock in that tight, delicious little cunt until she sweats, bends, moans.

  I’m going to bind her to me. After this, there will be nothing else, no getting away, no knife to my chest.

  She’ll be mine, pure and simple.

  16

  Amelia

  I could practically feel his heart beating through the tip of the knife. What started out as a simple conversation suddenly took an unexpected turn.

  I didn’t see it at first. It didn’t occur to me that he was unarmed and I was armed. He’s the captor and I’m the captive, and I’m not supposed to have a weapon. I didn’t think about it until he stepped forward, pressing the knife against his chest, and stared me down.

  He was daring me. He wanted me to stab him. I could have killed him so easily. I know how sharp the knives in that room are. If I had just pushed, he couldn’t have done a thing to stop that blade from killing him. Maybe he even wanted me to do it.

  But I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t the second I realized what was happening. He was testing me, and I knew I was going to pass his test, assuming passing meant not killing him. There is going to be blood on my hands, and probably sooner than I expect, but it isn’t going to be Noah’s.

  The truth is, I want him more than I can explain. I need him, really. I need him to explain to me what’s happening inside of me, why I suddenly want to kill, why I’m no longer afraid of embracing it. I need him to show me how to do it.

  Most of all I need him to make me feel again. When he touches my body, it’s like a veil is lifted from my face and I can suddenly experience the world in all of its intensity again. Noah makes me feel that, all of it, every inch of the world around me. His skin, his kiss, his touch lights the world back up and makes the fuzz in my brain disappear.

  I don’t know how or why, but he does it. Something changed for me that night when he took me, and slowly through the days we’ve been together I’ve come awake to that change. I’m a different person, and although it scares me, it also excites me beyond my ability to explain.

  So instead of killing him, I’m kissing him. I knew it would come
to this. In his killing room, surrounded by his implements of death, he presses his body against mine and takes me.

  His hand is hard against my wrist as he kisses me, holding me rough against him. I moan into his kiss, every ounce of desire and need overflowing into him. I needed this moment more than I realized, and I know that I’m ready.

  I could have run away earlier today. But I didn’t want to. I saw a bunch of opportunities, but I just ignored them all. I know where I want to be, and it’s with Noah.

  He turns me and presses my ass against the workbench. He swipes away his tools, sending them flying onto the ground, then lifts me up and sits me down in front of him. He slams me back against the wall, kissing me hard. I wrap my arms around his neck as he presses in between my legs.

  I gasp as his lips find my neck. “I knew this is what you’d choose,” he whispers. “Since the moment you touched yourself for me, I knew you couldn’t stop yourself. You’re mine now and you know it.”

  “Noah,” I moan as his fingers pull open my jeans. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  “Good.” He smirks at me, taking my hair in his hand. He tips my head back, sending s sharp bit of pain through my scalp as his other hand slips down underneath my panties and finds my soaking clit.

  Pleasure and pain. That’s what Noah is. He’s my darkness and my joy. His fingers tease my clit as he holds my hair firmly, chin in the air, throat exposed to him. He kisses my neck as his fingers slide inside of me, sending deep shivers of pleasure through my entire spine.

  I writhe against him, desperate for his fingers to keep doing their dirty work. I moan as he slides them in and out, pushing deeper and pulling back. His lips press against mine again, tongue touching my own, before he pulls his hand from my jeans. I gasp and whine a bit but he pulls my shirt off over my head, tossing it aside.

  His lips tease my nipples as he squeezes my breasts together. I love the way he handles me, rough but sensual, like he can’t hold himself back. He breathes in my smell and I feel a shiver run down my spine as he pulls me off the bench and turns me around.

  I support myself with my hands flat on the bench top as he pulls down my jeans from behind. I watch him over my shoulder as he stands and teases my exposed pussy. I can feel the cool basement air against my soaking clit as his fingers slowly slide inside of me, fucking me from behind.

  I dip my head forward then whip it back as he slaps my ass hard. I gasp and stare at him, mouth hanging open. He grins and takes my hair in his hand, wrapping it over his palm, and then slaps my ass again.

  “Don’t struggle,” he says softly. “This is my pussy, my ass. I can do whatever I want with it.”

  He teases me by pressing his fingers deep inside of me again before slapping my ass. The mix of pleasure and pain overwhelms me again.

  He releases my hair and I watch as he unbuckles his belt and slides his pants off. He pulls his shirt over his head and I stare at his muscular body and the tattoos that snake up along his skin. He’s gorgeous and dangerous and everything that I want, need, and yearn for.

  He slides off his boxer briefs and I watch as he slowly strokes his thick, hard cock. He steps up behind me and teases my wet pussy with his tip, sliding it up and down. He takes my hair again and pulls me back toward him.

  “Beg,” he says simply.

  “Please, Noah,” I whisper. “I need it. I can’t stop thinking about you deep inside of me.”

  “You want me to fill you up?”

  “Yes,” I moan. “Please. I want you to come deep inside of me.”

  “Filthy fucking girl,” he says softly then pushes me down again.

  I gasp as he slides himself deep inside of me.

  It’s that perfect mix of pleasure and pain again. His cock is thick and long and he stretches me out as he pushes deep between my legs. But it feels so fucking good to finally have him inside of me that the slight aching pain only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

  “Fuck, girl,” he grunts. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  He slams deeper inside of me, pulling my hair back. His other hand squeezes my breast, teases my nipple, and he begins to fuck me.

  His cock slides in and out slowly at first, but deep and firm. I can’t believe I’m getting fucked by a serial killer in the place where he keeps all of his knives, but that only makes me more excited. We’re surrounded by death as he fucks me, and I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before.

  His cock slams deep inside of me, fucking me rougher. I twist my hips and buck back against him, taking his every inch. He spanks me again, rough and hard. I love the feeling of his callused palm against my smooth ass.

  “You like that, don’t you?” he whispers in my ear. “You like that I slap this perfect tight ass, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I moan, his cock sliding deep inside of me.

  “You like a little pain.” I feel him pull out of me and I turn around to watch him bend over and pick up his belt. He folds it in half and smirks at me as I stare at him, a little bit of fear coming into the pit of my stomach.

  He slaps my ass with the belt. Not hard, but enough to feel it. I gasp as he reaches around my hips and finds my clit. As soon as he touches me, I can feel the pain mingle with the pleasure, making my entire body shake.

  He slaps me with the belt again and again. Not so hard that I cry out, but hard enough to leave a red mark. All the while he works my clit.

  “I knew you’d like this,” he says. “I can see it in you. We’re alike, me and you.”

  “How?” I ask him. He slaps me again and I groan.

  “You like pain,” he says. “A little pain makes the pleasure that much sweeter. But it’s more than that.”

  He grabs my hips and spins me around, pressing his mouth against mine. I kiss him back eagerly, starving, needing it. He pulls me and lifts me back up onto the work bench, pulling my ass to the edge of the table and lifting my legs up. He presses his cock deep inside of me and I gasp, moaning, head pressed against the wall.

  He reaches up and his hand takes my throat gently but firmly. “You have it inside of you, too,” he says. “The darkness. You’re a filthy, needy little girl that wants my big fucking cock.”

  “Noah,” I moan as he fucks me. He’s not holding back anymore, I can see it in his eyes. My body is dripping sweat at this point from the exertion and the sheer pleasure.

  He’s gorgeous as his cock slides in and out of me. His muscles are tense and hard and I can see how much strength he has inside of him. He could break me to pieces if he wanted to, but instead he works my body just the right way, pushing me along that fine edge of pleasure and pain.

  This is all pleasure, though, as his cock slams deep inside of me. He takes his thumb and begins to work my clit, and I know that I’m close. My moans come faster, deeper, as he continues to work me, fucks me, ruts me, slides himself deep inside of me.

  “Keep going,” I beg him. “Just like that. I want to come so badly.”

  “Good,” he says. “Come on my big cock, Amelia. Come for me like the bad girl you are.”

  I can feel it crest and slide through me. The orgasm is intense, more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before. For a second, the world goes white as the pleasure explodes through my body. I can dimly feel my muscles tense and grip the bench but the only thing I can really experience is pure bliss rushing through me.

  And then I’m back to reality. I reached forward and pull him toward me, kissing his lips, greedy and needing his touch. He continues fucking me, faster now, deeper, and I work my hips with him.

  “Fuck girl,” he groans, and I can feel him come inside of me.

  His hot cum fills me as his body tenses and he groans. He thrusts deep into me, filling me, and it’s an entirely new pleasure.

  Slowly, he winds down and pulls out. I collapse into his arms and he holds me there, standing against the workbench, our breaths synched and deep. For a second, I’m not sure where I end and he begins.

  It
’s a dizzying feeling as he slowly pulls back and brushes the hair from my face. “Good girl,” he says, a smirk on his lips.

  I smile, smack his chest, and then kiss him gently again.

  It shocks me how normal it feels to be held by him. Only a few days ago I was thinking about how I might be able to escape, though I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Now I’m thinking about helping him, getting involved with him. I can’t tell if I’m insane or sick, but at this point, I don’t know if I care.

  This is what I want now. Or at least he’s what I want. Noah is unlike any man I’ve ever met before, and I don’t want to let that go.

  I only hope that I can step up when the time comes.

  17

  Noah

  There’s a slow and steady rain falling from the sky. That makes things a little more difficult, but it shouldn’t be a problem. I glance across the street and spot Amelia in position, her hood up masking her expression, but I suspect she’s smiling.

  Three days have passed since I took her in my killing room. We haven’t done that since, though the pressure and the tension is still very strong between us. We’ve been too busy preparing for this moment.

  Amelia picked this stuff up faster than I thought she would. She’s obviously not ready to do anything on her own, not yet at least, but she’ll make for a workable second. Her instructions are simple: hang back, observe, and run if things go bad.

  I have the real job.

  Mark Sheer, the pedophile bastard, steps out from the coffee shop. He looks both ways down the street, obviously trying to see if I’m following him, before heading off down the block. I fall into step, keeping a fair distance back, staying cautious. On the other side of the street, Amelia begins to move, keeping pace.

  Ryan has been following Sheer every night since we last met up with him, and apparently he has been visiting this sex slave brothel more often. Probably the anxiety caused by catching me following him has pushed him to embrace his demons. That’s good for us, since I don’t want to wait too long to take him. As far as I can tell, Sheer is following his usual routine tonight, and is headed toward the west side of town to fuck some underage girl.