by Jane Henry
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
She sighs. “You hated that I used our story—”
I shake my head sharply. “I did not. I misunderstood. We were tricked. Set up. I’m honored you were inspired by our story.”
She sighs and smiles happily, then her eyes go half-lidded when I nip her second nipple. I kiss and suckle and kiss and suckle, until she’s keening with pleasure and practically begging for me.
I lean down and whisper in her ear, “No coming without daddy’s permission. Do you understand me?”
She gets a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Or what, daddy?”
I growl low in my chest. “You know exactly what happens. You’ll end up over daddy’s knee for a good spanking.”
She melts beneath me. “Noted, daddy.”
I can’t wait any longer to take her. I need her. We need each other.
Still holding her wrists in my hand, I line up my cock at her entrance. Her hips rise to meet me, and I gently glide between her folds.
She sighs and moans at the same time, blissfully content with our reunion. I rock my hips and move in and out, building a rhythm of pleasure and connection, until she’s panting and gasping, and my own need for release is imminent.
“I love you, Katie Kat,” I whisper in her ear. “Daddy loves you.”
“And I love you,” she says on a moan. “May I—may I, daddy?”
“Yeah, baby. Come for daddy.” I love granting her permission. She throws her head back and moans as she’s consumed with bliss, my own release fast on her heels. I lash into her and hold her to me, as pleasure ripples through me at the sound of her own moans of pleasure. When we finally settle down from our highs, I roll gently to the side and take her with me.
“That’s daddy’s good girl,” I whisper. “Such a good girl. You came back to me.”
“I did,” she whispers. “Because this is where I belong.”
Epilogue
Katie
The soft melody floats through the air. That’s my cue. I should be nervous. My fingers should be trembling as they clutch my bouquet to my chest.
But they don’t.
I’m not nervous at all.
I hold my flowers tight. A calm smile warms my face. My gaze focuses on where I’m headed.
To him.
Darius stands at the makeshift outdoor altar, a vision of absolute perfection in his tux. His eyes are shining, as they rest on my face. His lips move as he mouths my name. “Katie Kat.”
I’ve chosen to walk down this aisle alone. To give myself away to him. I’ve been lonely for so many years, and now, after this walk, I’ll never be again.
He’ll be my husband. And his family will be my family.
And though I walk by myself, I do not walk alone.
Soon, there will be one more person in this world for me to love with all of my heart.
And we three will be a family.
Making it to the end of the aisle, I reach my future, my hope, my everything. I pass my flowers to Miranda, my maid of honor, the woman who helped make this day possible. I offer him my empty hands to hold.
He takes them, his thumbs stroking my skin, his gaze locked with mine.
We exchange vows with whispered words, as if we are the only two standing here in Gran’s field.
My book came out just last month, and quickly soared the charts, and Darius has pulled everything together for me. Billboards at the casinos and hotels, a tour across the country. Everyone wants to learn how Beauty tamed her Beast.
I look around at the small group of smiling faces, happy at least one face is absent. My lawyer told me I could press charges, but I chose not to mar my happy ending with litigation. Rumor has it, Tiffany’s moved north and changed her identity. Seems she was ready to turn over a new leaf, or so Rawley says.
My eyes shine at Darius. I forget everyone around us. It’s just me and him, under the starlit sky. We exchange wedding bands, marking each other with a tangible symbol of our love.
And then, we kiss. For the first time as man and wife.
That night as we dance together below the stars, we laugh at our good fortune. My heart warms with happiness when Gran grabs my hand, with tears in her eyes, and says, “Welcome to the family, Kaite.”
It was not an easy road to get here. There were twists and turns and bumps along the way.
But I’d do it all again to be here in his arms.
He leans down, his whispered words tickle my ear. “Katie Kat. You’ve given me everything. Tell me—are you as happy as I am?”
A secret smile plays at my lips. “Yes, but maybe even more than you.”
He pulls back so our eyes can meet. “How so?”
“Because I know something you don’t.” My hand goes to my waist. “Something that I think will bring you even more joy than this night.”
His eyes go wide, his face frozen, waiting. “What?”
“I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”
He holds my gaze for a beat, then a wide grin spreads across his features, lighting up his face. “We’re going to have a baby? I’m... I’m going to be a father?”
I nod my head. “Yes. And a damn good one, too.”
His brow knits in confusion. “But... we’ve been so careful. How did this happen?” Darius is a planner, always one step ahead of his own calendar. In control of his plans for the future.
But sometimes, some things just... happen.
“Apparently, I was so caught up in wedding planning, I must have missed a pill or two. Then, I missed something else. My period. I was two weeks late when I put in a frantic call to Miranda. She took me to the doctor, and he confirmed what I already knew. I made her swear she’d keep my secret. I wanted to tell you. Tonight.” My breath stills in my chest as I wait for his reaction.
“Katie. Oh, Katie. This is... the best thing I’ve ever heard. Next to you saying, ‘I do,’ of course.” His arms are around me, and he’s lifting me in the air, twirling me around. Kissing my cheek, my lips. “Thank you. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
My feet meet the ground and he takes me in his arms, holding me even closer, and we dance together under the Georgia stars.
My family.
Thank you for reading Be My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance. Please read on for previews of other books you may enjoy!
Previews
Keenan: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms)
By: Jane Henry
Excerpt
Keenan’s walking to a large closet, bigger than my room at home. “I mean to find if you’re telling me the truth, Caitlin.”
“Of course I am,” I tell him. “What use would it be to lie?”
He turns to face me, a length of rope in his hands. For some reason, the combination of the rope in his hands and the way he’s eyeing me makes me shiver. “Not much use if I caught you in a lie,” he says truthfully. “Doesn’t mean you won’t try it. But I’ve work to do and can’t trust you. Give me your wrists.”
Panic wells in me at the sight of the rope. He restrained me once, and I hoped he wouldn’t again. I hated being restrained.
“Why?” I ask, but it’s the wrong response. With a firm set of his jaw, he spins me around and cracks his hand against my backside. I gasp in pain and move to get away from him when a second hard blow follows the first. My cheeks flame with embarrassment. I’m humiliated at being punished like this.
“Stop!” I say, but he lands one final smack of his palm against my ass before he spins me back around to face him.
“I should punish you properly,” he says. “Give me cheek like that again, and I will.”
It’s not lost on me that his father demanded just this, that he punish me. Is this what he has in mind?
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I protest.
He spins me around he grabs my chin so roughly, his fingers hurt. I wonder if he leaves marks. “Obedience,” he says tightly. “Submission. I�
�ve given you more leeway that I should have. But I have my reasons. And your warnings are up, Caitlin. Now give me your wrists, or I will punish you properly.”
With tears in my eyes, I obey. I hate him. Hate him. I was hidden away, apart from others, and my first interaction with people outside the confines of my home has destroyed my faith in humanity. My father had good reason to be hidden away like he was. Good reason. I swallow the lump in my throat and ignore the way my nose tingles while he ties a knot around my wrists.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now, you’ll wait on the side of the bed while I get ready.” His voice drips with condescension, as if he thinks I’m only a child who needs correcting.
I scowl at him. I hate that this is my first interaction with the outside world, and he’s taught me hate.
“I don’t like that look on your face,” he corrects. “Wipe it.”
I hate him. I hate him.
It’s almost like I hear an audible snap in my brain, like my resolve’s been tied with string that can’t bear any more weight.
“You’re no better than your father,” I snap, flouncing onto the bed. I don’t curse, I will not, but I want to hurt him. “You’re a jerk, just like him. I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing, and yet you arrogant, domineering—” I’m so angry, hot, fat tears well in my eyes and I can’t speak anymore.
The way his eyes flash at me, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “I’ll show you no better than my father,” he says, his jaw as hard as granite as he reaches for me, flips me over, and presses me onto my belly. I roll, trying to get away from him, as panic floods me. He’s going to hurt me. I can see it in his eyes.
He didn’t save me from his father. He kept me for himself.
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Say Daddy: A Mafia Billionaire Romance
By: Shanna Handel
Luke
I believe that inside every strong woman is a little girl. One who longs to be cared for. Protected, spoiled, cherished.
I’d go one step further to say that hiding within the heart of some women is a baby girl. One who longs for a man—a big strong man who she knows she can always count on no matter what. One who would lay down his life to protect her. A man who will guide her and correct her.
And when she’s very naughty, take her over his knee and spank her.
Call it kink, call it taboo, call it what you will but it’s a power exchange older than time; a daddy and his baby girl.
Men like me have a deep yearning woven into the fibers of our being. When we find our baby girl, we want to be her protector and her hero.
Her everything.
We long to have her arms around our necks, whispering words of love and devotion. Her body tight against ours as we give her pleasure she didn’t know was possible. We want her adoration.
I want my girl to think I hung the moon in the night sky.
I want her to know that I’d do anything to bring a smile to her face.
I want my baby girl to know that everything I do, I do it for her.
I’ve finally found that girl. But my soul won’t be satisfied until I hear her say that one magical word.
Daddy.
Buy Say Daddy on Amazon
Daddies: A MFM Ménage
By: Shanna Handel
Lulu
It’s a short ride and I’m three blocks from my building when I see the gold swirling letters on the sign of Bachman’s Jewelers.
The name makes my heart hammer in my chest. The anxiety of missing a deadline courses through me. I’ve never missed a deadline, and my boss is riding my ass to turn in a first draft of my story—a paragraph even.
And I have nothing.
Determination wells inside of me. I’m going to infiltrate this mob, today. I don’t know how, but I’m doing it.
Right now.
The beautiful gold letters grow closer. Maybe behind those walls is something. Something I could write about. “Let me out here! Please.” I tap the shoulder of the cab driver.
He pulls over and I shove a crumpled bill in his hand.
I slide out from the cab and stand before the impressive storefront.
“Bachman’s,” I breathe, my gaze caressing the sign. My hand grabs for the door handle and I feel electricity run through my palm from excitement.
I’m greeted by a picture-perfect Beauty. A crisp white button-down shirt is tucked into her floral skirt. A string of pearls hangs around her neck. She comes rushing over, her large brunette curls bouncing off her shoulders. “How can I help you?”
“Hi there.” Can’t she tell by my thrift store vintage dress and knockoff yellow purse I have no business in this place? I study her open, eager face. She’s one of those who’s going to be excited and polite no matter who you are—like a small, yapping lap dog. “I’m just browsing.”
“I totally understand. This place is gorgeous, isn’t it? Take your time and call me if you need me. My name’s Charlie.” She gives me a wink as if to tell me that she remembers a time she too couldn’t afford this place.
Giving her a tight smile, I move toward the back of the store.
Lucky for me, a couple comes in, perfect pedigrees and dressed to the nines. They ooze wealth and the desperate need for all the attention in the room, which Charlie happily provides them.
Leaving me to browse around on my own.
What am I looking for?
I take a long look at Charlie. She’s knee deep in diamonds and commission-based sales, not that she needs the money. She’s paying me no mind whatsoever.
Taking the opportunity I’ve been gifted, I dash down the long hall. To the right there’s an impressive office; a small clock sits on a huge mahogany desk. At the end of the hall is a black door, a blinking green light shining from the lock. One you must need a keycard to open.
To my left is a longer hall. A dark one without an overhead light. One that looks foreboding, yet for my intent and purpose, promising.
At the end of the hall I can make out the glint of a silver door handle.
Like any journalist worth their ink, I have to know what’s behind that door. Dashing down the hall, I wrap my fingers around the handle. My heart is beating so hard in my chest, I can hear the blood as it whooshes through my arteries.
Am I on the precipice of mortal danger? What will I find on the other side of this door? I have no idea, but something in my gut, an instinct older than time and stronger than my will to survive bubbles up, telling me to push down and open that door.
Even if I shouldn’t.
I follow the golden rule for good reporting—always listen to your gut.
I push the handle down and open the door slowly, grateful there’s no sound of a squeaky hinge. Peeking past the door, I find a large, dimly lit warehouse. The ceilings are high, the floors concrete. The place looks vacant.
Strange. I’d thought Bachman’s was next to Daughtry’s Clothing store. This must be some kind of shared hidden place behind them both. Finding nothing of use, I turn to head back to the jewelry store. As I’m closing the door, I hear the deep timbre of a man’s voice. One I’d recognize anywhere.
It belongs to Jet; the tall, broad-shouldered man with the ice blue eyes and sleek black hair. A newly initiated member of the Bachman Brotherhood and the man I’d first pegged to seduce in order to pen my tell-all about the family’s kinky sex lives.
I know him from around the city. We’ve danced at the Bachman family’s favorite club, Gotcha’s, him holding me close as we sway. Chatted at a few parties, always finding ourselves in a dark corner together, a light banter flowing between us.
Using all my womanly wiles and tricks of the trade, I tried to get him to hook up with me, but he declined, saying, “I don’t mix business with pleasure, unless I’m forced to,” whatever that meant.
Now I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I grab onto the words, mission, shipment, and danger.
Intriguing.
Stepping further into the big open
space, I close the door quietly behind me. Tiptoeing toward the sound of the voice, I hold my breath, terrified to make a noise.
I see no one. And the talking has stopped. I look left, then right.
The place is eerily silent. Further in the warehouse are a few doors, mostly closed. There’s a blue glow coming from an opened door of a room in the back. I want a closer look, but my body freezes in fear.
Though the voices have gone, I sense I’m not alone. I feel eyes on me. Prickles raise on the back of my neck and I turn as slowly as one of those ridiculous girls in the murder mystery movies who know the killer is just behind them but still call out, “Who’s there?” anyway.
Only I say nothing, my words caught in my throat, unable to form a sound with my sandy dry tongue.
Materializing from the shadows, Jet stands before me, looming like a giant—one that wants to gobble me up. A thatch of black hair hangs over his eye and he brushes it out of the way to get a better look at me. “Are you lost, little girl?”
His words send a tremble through me, tightening my nipples. “I was just… I guess I did get a little lost and—”
“Nosing around where you shouldn’t be?” He gives a raise of one dark, intimidating brow. I shake my head. “I-I was… investigating.”
“Well, around here do you know what we call investigating?” he asks, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.
“No.”
He says, “A cause for a disappearance.”
My blood runs cold, a white heat flashes over my face. “M-murder?”
“Maybe.” As he studies my face, a slow calculating grin crosses his face. “Of course, in this mafia, we are gentlemen. We hate to lay a finger on a lady.”
I say, “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“What have you heard?” Jet demands.
If I’ve risked my life, I may as well try to garner some information from him. I egg him on, hoping for dirt. “That you punish your women… physically. That you inflict pain to keep them in line. To make them submit to your will.”
“Then you’ve heard wrong.” He gives a predatory grin that doesn’t match his words. A second voice joins our conversation. “Partially, at least.”
