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

by Carmella Jones

  “No, I wouldn’t. I would still do my job, but I would probably request to get a younger, less attached agent out here to go after the poachers and change some of what I do.” Hoss admitted. He realized that the idea of hurting Candy by putting himself at risk made him rethink some of his priorities.

  “I’d appreciate that. You know, it’s funny. Your cabin, your simple life, I mean, no one’s life is perfect or simple totally, but compared to how I grew up. The dangers of being in the public view all the time, I would love to just be in the shadows now, so to speak. I want my privacy. I want to just live my life without worrying if I have the right shade of lipstick on. Is that odd?” Candy shook her head and put her head against his chest so she could hear his heart beating.

  Hoss kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tight, just grateful that the night turned out with less traumatic results than it could have, for both of them.

  “I think that wanting to be able to be yourself and not worry what other people think constantly, or who it might effect by going into a grocery store could be a thing that people often overlook. The idea of being in the spot light constantly may sound appealing sometimes, but the reality of it? Having people catch on camera the most embarrassing moments, you spilling your drink, tripping and falling on your face, and many other things that could go wrong that happens to people every day. Only, with you, everyone would see it. Yeah, I can see the appeal of privacy and wanting to be invisible.” Hoss laughed a little and shook his head. “I never did understand wanting to be front and center all the time, or hearing yourself talk. No offense to your dad.”

  “None taken, despite being a politician, my dad did get into politics because he wanted to make a difference in the world. I understand his calling, I just never wanted to do what he does. I wanted to be a wife, a mom, or just have some kind of normal, quiet job with a regular small house. Okay, having a maid is nice, I won’t lie. I don’t know what I would do without a maid.” Candy blushed a little. “But, maybe in a not-so big house, doing it all yourself wouldn’t be that bad.”

  “If you need a maid to survive, I think I could compromise long-term about that.” Hoss told her, “And, I do know how to clean a house myself. There’s more to life then the woman cleaning a house. Men are perfectly capable of cleaning too you know.”

  “One of many reasons to admire you.” Candy laughed. Although she admitted there were a lot more than that. He was an incredible man, a bear shape shifter, mellow, calm, everything she needed in her life.

  “You’re not so bad yourself Candy,” Hoss told her and then slung his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Getting injured makes me hungry, do you want a glass of wine or anything?”

  “No, I’m good, I’m content to watch you eat and heal. Healing is good.” Candy grinned at him and followed him into the kitchen. “So, your house, or mine?”

  “Definitely mine.” Hoss laughed. While the idea of a big house with maids and cooks and gardeners might appeal to some people, Hoss was definitely happy being a loner in the woods.

  “Whew.” Candy nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Chapter 7

  A few months later….

  Candy and Hoss had been married for a week, and while they’d upgraded to a slightly larger cabin, they’d kept things simple, minimal. She’d recently found out she was pregnant, and was making Hoss a present to surprise him with the news. She’d already spilled the beans to her father Henry, who was quite excited about becoming a grandfather.

  Their life was simple, peaceful - her hair was in a ponytail, she had on no makeup and she was barefoot. Looking back on the last few months of her life, she really couldn’t picture anything else making her this happy.

  “Hi baby,” Hoss said as he came in. He pulled his hat off his head and walked over to kiss her in greeting. He’d made a point to always kiss her hello and goodbye, and tell her he loved every time they parted ways. It was a ritual that Candy enjoyed having with him.

  “I have a present for you,” Candy whispered after they’d shared a few heated kisses.

  “A present? It’s not my birthday, what’s the occasion?” Hoss asked her as she handed him a little box with a pink and blue bow on it. He didn’t quite understand until he opened it up. Inside lay a single white one-sie with the words ‘I love my daddy’ on it in silver.

  Stunned, Hoss just stood there for a moment staring at it as the news sunk in. Blinking up at her he started to smile and let out a loud whooping noise before picking her up and twirling her around their kitchen.

  “When are we due to have the baby?” He asked grinning at her so wide Candy was surprised his cheeks didn’t split open.

  “We apparently conceived about two months ago. Remember that night under the stars in the field?” Candy whispered to him as she pressed a kiss to his chin. “That apparently was a good night to make a baby.”

  “I knew there was something special about that night.” Hoss said laughing. Hugging her close to him, he felt like his world was finally complete. He had everything a man could ever want. A loving, adoring wife, a baby on the way, a house that felt like a home. He always looked forward to coming home. Because of her, Candy. She made his life fulfilled in ways he didn’t know a man could miss until he had it.

  “Are you ready for the next chapter in our life?” She whispered to him as she worked on undoing the buttons on his uniform. He was off duty as a ranger now, his shift was over, which meant she could get him naked and have her way with him.

  “Absolutely, as long as you’re by my side, the future always seems bright and exciting.” Hoss told her and then placed a hand on her belly. “A baby.”

  He looked at her in awe and then kissed her.

  THE END

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  1.

  The dust settled after a sandstorm, leaving pellets of dirt and grit against huge windows in the war room. Vangorg stroked his goatee and stared out at the planet's hot surface. While many saw their planet as nothing more than an oasis for weary travelers looking for a warmer climate in the galaxy as they passed through the colder regions of space, he knew it was paradise. Narrowing his yellowed, catlike eyes, he activated what the human women would have called his “sixth sense.” He had always had the ability to foresee short glimpses into the future with effort. All he could see in his mind's eye now was destruction. He knew the time of war was coming; he felt it nearing quickly. The Slivian race had made great strides in technology while keeping their roots as ancient warriors, calling upon their ancestors in times of battle to channel great strength and also to train them in the ancient ways of hand-to-hand combat.

  As a general, he came from a long line of leaders ready to take command and jump into the fray at any given moment. Walking over to the other side of the room, he lit the hearth and the fire crackled to life. Above it was a mounted shield with his family's coat of arms, and also their people’s symbol. It was time to honor the dead with the fire as well as seek advice. As the fire crackled to life, it emitted a glowing green mist, and in it he could smell the exotic scents of pine and sandalwood. There were no evergreens on their planet, hardly any greenery at all, so plants like aloe and ferns were cherished for their medicinal qualities as well as their beauty. The women on their planet would often make salves from the plants’ leaves when they could be located. As he inhaled the aroma, he focused on his heartbeat and the blood of the ancients coursing through his body. He could feel the thousands of lives his people had taken in battle, and knew that below his
peaceful facade there was bloodlust brewing.

  “I offer thanks for many days and many more to come. I am Vangorg and I praise your achievements. Make me like you, mold me and shape me into the perfect warrior to carry on your legacy. I vow to protect our planet and our people. This is my home, and home is my paradise. I can feel times of strife ahead, and I ask for strength to lead my people to victory.” The fire quickly died down, and Vangorg felt an odd sense of peace as the rich scents dissipated to other rooms of the palace. His footsteps echoed in the empty room as he picked up his small sword and sheathed it. There would be no battle today, but soon. The storms outside had passed, and the surface was lit once again with the massive sun that eclipsed the horizon. He smiled inwardly thinking about how nice it would be to see his wife.

  Standing at their kitchen counter, Jocasta chopped up fresh spices from their window gardens to put in the sauce boiling on their stovetop for Vangorg's afternoon meal. She moved her hips and swayed while doing so, singing an old song she remembered from her time on Earth. The day she was taken had been a normal summer day. She walked along beach kicking at the sand as she went, thinking about what career she would choose for herself. She didn't already have a plan like most of the twenty-year-olds she knew. She only knew that she would enroll in the local community college and let fate decide. Seven years had passed since that day, yet she could not have been happier. She only knew that after a stranger touched her shoulder in passing she had awoken on this strange new planet. She was studied and analyzed like the other women there, but above all she was revered. The males all worshiped her for her beauty, her flaming red hair, flawless skin, and curves. Turning she saw Vangorg enter the kitchen and she smiled. “My love. My master. I have missed you. I am happy you are back in my presence.”

  Going to her he pressed her against the counter, wrapping his arms around her and letting his hands become entangled in her hair as he kissed her passionately. Her breath became rapid as it always did. He made her blood boil with passion as he did every day, not just on special occasions or anniversaries. She felt his strong shoulders and muscled back and could hear the barely audible purr of approval as his body vibrated with pleasure. Vangorg was her champion in this environment, and she had adapted to her new life well. Sure, she missed her human family on occasion, standing when the sun was at its lowest glow, staring in the distance, but she would not change anything. Vangorg had never made her feel like a captive, and she grew to appreciate his personality over time. He was truly one of the most graceful men among his people. Also, he was one of the most handsome as he fought bravely for her in their contests of skill, winning the right to choose his bride first. At first she was afraid of the arrangement, but he was an honorable man and explained that his people were dying out and needed to sire more offspring for their survival. He couldn't think of any other options than to channel the women like cattle across the galaxy to ensure their race's survival. Their women were almost extinct. Silvian women were prone to illness and many had succumbed to a plague that spread rapidly on their planet, swept in with the dust storms. Understanding this, Jocasta accepted her new role, and Vangorg saw that her every wish was granted.

  Ending their embrace and sensing his mood shift she looked into his kind eyes. “Why, husband, what has you so worried this gorgeous afternoon.”

  “I fear the winds of war are blowing in, my wife.”

  Placing her hand on his cheek in an effort of comfort, she said, “You will make the right choice in this matter, my love. Trust in your instincts. After all, it is how you got me.”

  He chuckled, “Yes. My gut was definitely not wrong. You are one in a billion, distinctive like an individual star. I will always protect you, Jocasta. Remember that.”

  2.

  Hertzog salivated and looked out the window of his starship, and howled in fury. Due to some engineering miscalculations they had bypassed the only planet where there may have been some supplies they could pirate, or at least some acceptable breeding stock. The only thing they could do now was press on and ravage any other planet they should encounter. After all, he had become infamous throughout the galaxy as a leader who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He had a taste for blood and a vice for sex, and the combination of those two things fueled his desires. He was a beast most of the time, always giving into his baser instincts. It was a characteristic of his people. He was a broad creature and prided himself on his stellar physique. He used his size and strength to overpower all of his opponents, and would have been considered in ancient times to be a god or king. Thick tentacles framed his head like a crown and his narrow red eyes held no hint of sentiment or remorse. He felt as if he was made for one thing, bred and bound for not only destruction but to rule. He did that with an iron fist, gaining the compliance of his colleagues and subordinates through fear and intimidation. Turning to his first officer, Daeong, he grunted and questioned, “How long?”

  “Three hours.”

  Hertzog only nodded and said, “Very good then. Go ahead and feed the troops, and prepare them for battle.” Remembering his last conquest, he sat down in the captain’s chair. Arriving on Altine, he had been surprised to find that the planet was inhabited, but its population was mostly male. He had wanted women to sell on the black market. Women of any variety were highly prized throughout the galaxy and could always be used in place of currency for slavery and breeding stock. He had commanded his troops to take anything they could and burn the rest. The villagers of the tiny planet— mostly farmers, as they had not evolved beyond this phase—were overwhelmed and overrun easily. They had fought against the invaders bravely, as threatened beings usually do. However, their bravery was not enough. Hertzog had burned their shelters and stolen whatever supplies they had on hand. He had also depleted their only supplies of minerals, which would not allow them to advance to the point of using combustibles in their evolution. He was ruthless and that was how he measured success. The bloodier a raid, the better it was in his estimation.

  Snapping his fingers while in his captain's chair, Hertzog waited to be attended to. In the past he had either tortured or murdered some of his previous employees for being too slow or not attentive enough to his wishes. An exotic female alien with tentacles piled high in a bun stood before him. She was dressed in next to nothing and had chain marks encircling her ankles and wrists. The marks were made over a period of time, as Hertzog made it a point to keep his slaves in shackles, satisfying his need for implicit control in everything. Kneeling at his side, she offered him the plate she balanced delicately in her hands. It was ornate and inlaid with gold and silver. She fed him with her hands from the plate. The food was a delicacy made of the finest Ethiopian earth worms full of lush spices. The dish was laden with misha beans and jockaby berries, the finest in the galaxy. As he consumed the contents of plate, the young slave breathed easier knowing that at least for today she was safe from his assaults. After consuming his meal, she promptly took the plate to the back of the ship and another woman appeared in her place. This woman was clothed in similar attire, but instead of carrying a plate of offerings, she immediately knelt in front of Hertzog as he placed his hands behind his head, sated. He knew that all he had to do was make the command and he could receive his pleasure how he chose. He preferred to let his slaves make those choices, though. They knew what their punishment would be if he was not pleased with their actions. He had made many an example, selling them at market or, if they were as unlucky as the others, putting them to death or forcing them to face ghastly tortures because of their ineptitude. The young woman caressed Hertzog's feet and massaged his toes. He relaxed his neck muscles and rolled his head backwards, his mouth gaping open slightly. She proceeded to make her way up his thighs, pressing and squeezing his muscles as she went, leaving an indentation of her fingertips on his flesh. As she proceeded in her route she reached his midsection and gently kneaded his abs. He spread his thighs wider when she completed his movement a subtle signal that he require
d more and was ready for her movements to escalate.

  3.

  Straddling his hips, the slave woman began her own private dance for him. He gurgled and groaned in response, enjoying the pressure of her body on top of his. Seeing him looking at her with his beady, eyes she paused momentarily, slightly afraid that her ministrations were not pleasing to her owner. She clenched and shut her eyes briefly, awaiting either his strike or his voiced displeasure. To her relief she found neither. He simply moaned again in relief as she continued her motions on top of him. Hertzog was not emotional. Some of his other race brothers and sisters felt the need to honor their traditions of bonding and syncing up with their chosen one, but he found that only led to a weakness in body and spirit that the greatest warriors did not ascribe to. He was bred to be a champion, and it was encoded in his destiny. Some called him a madman; others called him a dictator and a ruthless brute. He did not see himself this way, however. He only saw himself as someone doing what was necessary to create the life he wanted. He wanted to rule, and nothing would stop him, especially emotion. The only thing that separated him from the commoners of his people—aside from his great strength and military knowledge—was this lack of warmth, which he believed made him invincible. He would gladly kill an infant if it meant that he would get that infant's share of an estate or the family’s riches for himself. As the slave woman wrapped her arms around his neck, she placed her breasts towards his face, which he reached out and grabbed, making him harder still. He made a mental note to keep this woman around, as her eroticism pleased him greatly.

  Hertzog laughed as she gasped when he entered her. He didn't concern himself with her pleasure. He just wanted to extinguish his own need deep within her. As he moved his hips in an upward movement she accepted him further into her. She was warm and inviting, and Hertzog took her, rapidly pounding into her fiercely as the sounds of their lovemaking echoed throughout the cabin, his groans and her moans filling the ship. Hertzog felt fully alive during these times. His eyes glowed with lust and passion as he felt her body tightening around him. As she moaned into the side of his head the tentacles rose up on the back of his neck. He felt powerful as he came hard inside her, and they sat for a moment clinging to one another, both spent. Looking at her after their brief stupor, the light in his eyes faded as he caught his breath. He was more relaxed than ever, and even more confident in his abilities. The slave woman looked at him, slightly unsure what to do next and simply asked, “Did I please you, master?”