AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories)

by Carmella Jones

  “Mrs. Franklin,” I whispered, a bit more loudly.

  “Bye, see you two later!” she said shoving me into Mitch’s arms and closing the door.

  Chapter 9

  We walked around for a little while and decided to get ice cream cones. We sat on a bench as we ate.

  “So, you got plain vanilla?” he asked.

  “Yeah, butter pecan and cookies and cream are probably my two favorites, but there is always going to be something about classic vanilla. I don’t know, I guess I just like simple things,” I said. “Besides, you got a scoop of chocolate, a scoop of vanilla, and some sprinkles.”

  We both laughed.

  “Yeah, I keep it pretty simple. Chocolate has a really rich flavor, so the vanilla and chocolate really balance each other. The sprinkles are just fun,” he said with a shrug.

  We licked our ice cream and I looked at him a moment as his tongue worked around his.

  He really was a good piece of eye candy. I imagined he didn’t actually do any of the construction work now that he had done so well for himself, but his body was still in great condition.

  I’m not sure what face I was making as I was thinking, or if I was still looking in his direction, because I was shaken from my thoughts by him kissing me.

  A long, long kiss.

  “Well, that’s nice,” I said when our lips parted.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be. I liked that,” I said.

  “I like you,” he replied.

  We finished our ice cream and began the walk back to my apartment. He held my hand on the way and told me about the history of the construction of a few buildings we passed. I told him a little of my history at a few buildings we passed.

  “So, a lot of your stories involve King.Was he Regina’s father?” he asked as we neared my block.

  I took a deep breath and pulled my hand back. As we walked I put my hands in my jacket pockets instead.

  “Kingston and I had been an item since he first held my hand when we were three,” I began. “When we were five, he kissed me on the nose. At fourteen I really kissed him for the first time under the streetlight at the bottom of our complex. He was the boy next door, my best friend, and then my husband as soon as we turned eighteen. Regina was born not quite a year later.”

  “Childhood romance that was actually the real thing. That’s nice,” he said genuinely.

  “It was,” I agreed. “Our parents didn’t mind when we wanted to get married right out of high school. We had goals and were going places. We both were working toward a degree online. I worked days, he worked nights, we didn’t want for anything, and were able to lend money as needed within the family. Regina had both her parents and we had each other, so everything was as good as someone like me could dream. We were saving to get out of the hood.”

  I led our walk and we made the lap once around the block where I showed him my old apartment building.

  “Well, it seems like you are doing okay on your own with Regina, and Mrs. Franklin seems helpful,” he said.

  I shook my head.

  “It’s been six years since he died,” I told him. “I live in the same hood, just a different building. I don’t go to the back of the block, because that’s where my parents, my husband, and his mother’s memory live for me.”

  “Well, you seem willing to make new memories, and I would love to be in a few of them,” he said.

  Something about the way he looked at me made something move in me that I had not felt in a long time. He placed a hand to my cheek. Then he kissed me again.

  I put my arms around him tightly and returned the kiss. It reignited a warmth that had been cooling for six years. With New York winter all around, I suddenly felt like I was bathing in California sun. When we pulled apart I realized we were under the streetlight.

  Chapter 10

  When we reached the door he leaned to kiss me good night. I took a look down to Mrs. Franklin’s. Regina was there for the night. She also seemed to approve of my getting to know Mitchell better.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked.

  “Sure, I would like that,” Mitchell said.

  I nodded and turned to unlock the door.

  “I can make us some coffee. Relax and have a seat,” I encouraged.

  I excused myself to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. I went to my room momentarily to toss the clothes Regina and I had gone through but not chosen in the closet.

  As I returned to the kitchen, the pot was about halfway done.

  I went through the cupboards looking for something I could serve with the coffee and remembered Mrs. Franklin had sent over one of the sweet breads she baked. Regina and I hadn’t been home to eat it. This time it was apple walnut. I sliced some off and warmed it in the microwave a few seconds. Then I put it on a TV tray with the coffee.

  “That smells great,” he said,

  I sat the tray on the coffee table in front of us and handed him coffee. I didn’t really want anything, now that it was ready.

  Well, I realized I wanted one thing.

  When Mitchell took the mug from his lips, I leaned over and kissed him again. That was all the invitation he needed.

  As if he had been waiting for a cue from me he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into his lap. We kissed and made out with me straddling him until both our hair was a mess and his shirt was unbuttoned and his buckle and pants were unfastened.

  “Let’s go to my room,” I said, breathing heavily.

  “Whatever you want,” he replied standing to follow me.

  I took his hand and led the way. Once we were there, I faced him and kissed him again. He wrapped his hands under my thighs and lifted me to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He laid me back on the bed and stayed on top of me.

  “I’ll be honest; it’s been six years, and I’ve only ever slept with my husband,” I said.

  “Eight months, only six partners before you, and you are the first who is black. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I feel like seven may be it for me,” he said.

  He kissed me more deeply and groaned, rolling his body into mine. It seemed like we couldn’t get the rest of our clothes off fast enough. As soon as his pants were off and my underwear was out of the way I felt every inch of him rubbing against me, already hard and wanting. I moaned and ground myself against him, wanting him just as badly.

  “This is probably going to hurt,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while,” I said.

  “Among other reasons,” he said, giving one long stroke against me. I looked down to actually see what he was working with.

  “Oh, I see,” I said, surprised.

  His dick was definitely something to be reckoned with. Long and thick barely described it.

  “We can go slowly,” he said.

  “No,” I said, not wanting to change my mind.

  I arched my back and rolled my hips against him, assuring him that I wanted this. It only made me wetter, especially now knowing what I was in for. As soon as I felt him in the right spot I pushed myself against him, sending the tip of his head into me.

  It caught him off guard and he groaned in surprise and pleasure. I continued to rock my body up and down against him, slowly wedging him deeper. It was a challenging, tight fit. I couldn’t remember King being so snug.

  I began making a small “oomph” sound with each motion, which turned into a steady moan. He wrapped his arms around and beneath me and began making longer strokes, bringing himself fully into me.

  We didn’t slow down. We didn’t take it easy. My body badly missed making love, and was enjoying experiencing Mitchell. I pulled him closer to me, clutching him to my breast, and his hips rocked harder and deeper. With each move we both breathed harder and moaned louder.

  Before long I was cumming.

  Mitch was not stopping.

  He worked his body harder and more passionately, continuing his long strokes.
Then I suddenly felt him slam his hips hard into me. He began to stay close and grind himself against me quickly. I did the same, bouncing against his cock. He tilted his head down, kissing my breasts as they smashed and bounced between us.

  He continued making love with me this way until I was asleep, dreaming about the experience.

  The next morning I naturally woke for work, but with pleasant company beside me. I remembered that Regina would be leaving from school for Mrs. Franklin’s. I rolled on top of Mitchell for one last bit of pleasure before my day began.

  Chapter 11

  The work week went smoothly. Every day Mitch was there for lunch. It was slow enough Monday through Wednesday that I could sit with him. Friday morning, just after Regina left for school, there was a knock at the door.

  I had forgotten about the 7 ounces I was supposed to sell. This would be the money pick up. Even with all my tips from Mitch and the rest of my customers I didn’t quite have it. I had paid a few bills.

  I stayed quiet. After a few minutes, the messenger left.

  I was careful heading to work and decided to pull out my husband’s old pistol. I didn’t always carry it, but when there was a lot of crime in the news or if I was selling and carrying quantity it made me feel safer. After that knock, this felt like a day I might need it.

  Nothing happened on the walk to work, but it still settled my nerves knowing I had it. I would try to earn enough tips to get as close as I could to the money I was short to pay Armand for the week.

  A good plan, but I didn’t get the chance. Just before I expected Mitchell for lunch, Armand came in the restaurant. I asked another server to cover for me while I spoke to him out back.

  “Something happen this morning?” he asked.

  “I haven’t sold as much this week. I figured I could make the difference I needed in tips today and send it with the second messenger tonight,” I said

  “D’vinity, we had an arrangement,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I know, I’ve just been busy this week,” I said.

  “But not busy making sales,” Armand said, stepping closer.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I told you I could cover large amounts for you, but I’m thinking now we might be able to make an arrangement,” he said.

  As he reached for me, Mitchell appeared from behind, reaching for him. He spun him around so they were facing each other. Before Armand could make a fist or speak, Mitch decked him. Armand was immediately down for the count.

  “What do you owe this man?” he asked.

  “About—” I started.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said.

  He opened his wallet and threw the small stack of hundreds in it at Armand, who was now holding his bloodied nose.

  “I don’t know you, but you are out of D’vinity’s life,” Mitch said.

  “Says who?” asked Armand.

  “Says her man, me,” Mitch replied without flinching.

  Armand shook his head and waved us off.

  I took Mitch’s hand and led him to the kitchen to get a towel with ice for his hand.

  “I’m sorry. A few times when money has been tight I have sold weed for him to get by. I recently started trying to move large quantity because I thought I could make money faster so Regina and I could move,” I explained.

  I think Mrs. Franklin would have something to say about you two leaving,” he teased.

  I looked at his knuckles.

  “No bruises, but a little swelling,” I said.

  “I would have something to say about you two leaving as well,” he added, holding my face, so I had to look at him.

  “Would you, now?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’d have something to say about anything that makes it so I can’t get to know you both better,” he said.

  As he leaned in to kiss me, I suddenly remembered where we were. I looked around and half the staff was watching us.

  “Come on, I’ll tell you about the specials for today and we can decide what movie to go see Sunday.”

  THE END

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  Chapter 1

  I was running late, again. It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed, and most days I used part of my lunch break to take a nap. The baby wasn’t even as big as a grape yet, but it was wreaking havoc on my body. In the fast-paced world of journalism I was beginning to fear being a black single mother wasn’t going to cut it.

  I was single by choice. Anthony kept asking me when I was going to let him make me an honest woman. I tried to tell him that couldn’t happen until he was an honest man. He was my boyfriend, and my boss, but I trusted him about as much as I trust a cab driver. We were headed the same direction as long as I was enjoying the ride, but I wasn’t looking for a chauffeur or a husband.

  “Don’t you look nice today? That for me or the camera?” he called as I passed by his office.

  “You know I’m always camera ready, Anthony,” I said, not breaking my stride.

  I needed to touch up my makeup. Each morning I gave an update on crimes from the previous newscasts and each evening I broke the latest crime news. Most of my personal time was spent talking to locals and keeping an ear on what was going on around town. Then there was that private time I spent with Anthony. Lately, that was affecting my job in more ways than one.

  “Morning, Jayne. Here’s your hot chocolate,” said my assistant, Kirby. “French vanilla flavored marshmallows and a caramel drizzle over the top, so it gets better as you sip. Also, I noticed you had more morning sickness last week when Fat Steve used hazelnut creamer, so I hid the rest in the supply closet.”

  Kirby was a gay mix, of what I hadn’t figured out yet, nor had I asked, and my pregnancy angel. He set the cup on my desk with a few notes about calls and appointments, and returned to his desk as quickly as he’d left it.

  “I’ll call them later. I’ll email him. Move that interview to Tuesday,” I said to myself.

  As I sorted what Kirby brought in and went through my own voicemail and email Anthony entered my office and shut the door behind him. He leaned back against the door with his hands in his pockets and looked at me over the desk.

  “You have the best view in the building,” he said, stepping forward.

  “You did set me up with a nice window,” I smiled and continued typing on my computer.

  “I meant because I was in the room,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.

  He was attractive, and he knew it. Still, somehow, that suited him. His arrogance added to his appeal. He wasn’t rubbing in that he was the best, it was more that he knew people just thought he was the best, so he accepted it. He knew I would deflate his ego every time. He liked that I was a challenge. I liked that I didn’t intimidate him the way I did so many other men.

  “If you’re trying to get me to have sex with you here, you should have let me settle in better first,” I said.

  “Ouch, you pick your hot chocolate over your white chocolate. Don’t tell our son his mother was able to refuse me,” he laughed.

  “We don’t know the sex yet,” I said, facing him.

  “I only produce studs,” he said, running his hands through his jet-black hair.

  I got up from my chair and walked to the front of my desk. Then, I leaned back, placing my bottom against the edge.

  “What do you want, then?” I asked.

  “First, a good morning kiss from my best reporter,” he said.

  He kissed me deeply. Then, he stood for a moment with his forehead pressed to mine.

  “Then, we’ve got to talk,” he s
aid.

  Chapter 2

  I hated when Anthony said that. It meant he was going to invite me to dinner with his family and then tell me bad news. I loved the dinner; it was good authentic Italian food. Even better, I didn’t have to cook, and the baby seems to like it, unlike everything else I wanted to eat. The bad news I could usually do without.

  “Jayne, the old man wants us all to come to dinner tonight. It’s Little Ricky’s birthday. I forgot. Why don’t you take the day off and go get the kid a present from us? I think he’s turning like fourteen, fifteen. I don’t know what to get him; it would be easier if he were turning eighteen,” he said.

  “Anthony, you know I go on in a few minutes. I have to do updates about the kid in the hospital from the gang stabbing and last night’s new evidence in the restaurant burnings. What is this about?” I asked.

  “Nothing, I just forgot to tell you and I forgot to get a present,” he said shrugging as he looked at things on my desk.

  “Nothing, my ass. I just got my nails done over the weekend. I can claw it out of you,” I said.

  Anthony put down the folder he was pretending to look at then raised an eyebrow at me.

  “That may not be all you get out of me,” he said and put his hands at my waist.

  “Unless you mean blood, you know what you are imagining is not happening in the office. Why are you trying to have me away from work today? Is something wrong with the show? Did someone get to crack a story I wanted?” I felt nervous, or nauseous.

  Nauseous, definitely. No more French vanilla anything either.

  “You were right about the kid in the hospital,” he said.

  “It wasn’t gang related. I knew it,” I said.

  I shook my head, because I had called this and he hadn’t let me run it. I reported the piece on air, just the facts, but I really wanted to present the story in a way to make viewers consider the existing evidence. Any fool could spot a cover story, but he edited the script had I tried to sneak to the prompter and watched me film.

  “The police released a statement saying the partial footprint at the scene beside the victim matched a dress shoe, for one thing. I don’t know any gang members who wear dress shoes while they commit crimes,” he said.