Accidental Husband_A Secret Baby Romance

by Nikki Chase

  He doesn’t need telling twice.

  He hooks a finger under the waistband of my panties and tugs them off, then pushes my legs apart and buries his face between them. I moan as his exploring tongue unerringly finds my most sensitive spot. His fingers spread my outer lips as his other hand continues to stroke his huge erection.

  I watch him jerk himself off until I can’t help but throw my head back, giving into his expert tongue that’s flicking and teasing my throbbing nub. Every stroke on my clit sends a pulse of pleasure through me, an exquisite electric tremor.

  I rest one hand on his head, my fingers running through his hair, as he unrelentingly devours me. My back is arched, pushing my desperate cunt harder into his face, my body urging him on.

  My fingers scrabble and grasp at him—I’m no longer in control of my body. He is the master of me now. I move to the rhythm of his tongue, writhing in time with each delicious stroke.

  My face is hot as I throw my head back and moan again. This feels out-of-this-world good, but I want to feel him inside me, to feel his hot cum spurt as he climaxes.

  With a wrenching effort, my shaking hands push his head away.

  He looks up at me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that, because I could feel you shivering and it wasn’t from the temperature.”

  I laugh breathlessly. “Oh, I liked it alright. But it’s your turn, mister. I want to taste you too.”

  Surprise flits across his gorgeous face—pleasant surprise. Then, still stroking himself, he gets up to his feet and shoots me a lascivious smirk. “Get on your knees.”

  My knees feel weak and unsteady and my heart is pounding in my chest, but I come to kneel in front of him. Somehow, his thick, engorged shaft looks even bigger from up close.

  Luke has the biggest cock that I’ve ever seen, and I can hardly believe I took his entire length inside me—twice. It must be nine or ten inches long, thick and hard and strong.

  He looks on in amusement, obviously enjoying my wide-eyed admiration. “Changed your mind?”

  I wrap the fingers of my right hand around the base of his shaft, silencing him. He’s so big that my thumb and index fingers barely touch. I take his throbbing, velvety tip into my mouth, and he groans in delight, his hands gently coming to rest on my head.

  “Good girl,” he grunts. “I know you can take it.”

  I start slowly, coming to terms with just how big he is. I can’t just stuff him into my mouth. I need to work my way up gradually. My hand strokes up and down his thick shaft as I lick and suck his tip. Feeling a little more confident, I dip my head and take more of him.

  He groans in appreciation, watching my lips wrapped around his fat cock. I begin to bob my head up and down, my wet lips leaving a trail of saliva on his hot flesh. With my hand and my mouth in tandem, I work into a rhythm, taking more and more of him with every stroke.

  His fingers are intertwined in my hair as he guides me, sometimes slowing me down, sometimes urging me to speed up, to swallow more of him. He’s being kind of bossy—normally not something I like, but coming from Luke . . .

  Everything about him excites me, spurs me on, and I feel my slickness dripping down my thighs.

  “Did I tell you to stop playing with yourself?” he asks through heavy breaths.

  With my lips spread wide by the thickness of his manhood, I look up, meeting his hot, searing gaze.

  “Fuck. You look so fucking sexy,” he groans. “Play with yourself. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

  I reach my hand down between my legs and play with my pulsing clitoris, keeping myself wet and slick and ready for him. My mouth is stuffed full and I can feel him right at the back of my throat.

  He’s taking control but he’s gentle with me, letting me go at my own pace, never forcing me to take more of him than I can manage.

  I raise my head, and his shaft, slick with my saliva, slips out from between my lips. I’m about to take him into my mouth once more when he stops me.

  Before I can say anything, Luke stands up and in one swift movement lifts me up from the ground. Losing my balance, I wrap my arms and legs around his strong body. I can feel his hard muscles straining, rippling under his skin as he carries me, pressing me back against a wall.

  We lock lips once more, a deep, hungry, urgent kiss. I grind myself against him, wriggling and moaning as my slick folds press against his hard body. I can feel his rock-hard cock and I can barely contain myself.

  The cold of the wall on my back contrasts with the heat radiating from his skin, from his thick, iron rod. I crane my neck downwards—I want to watch that fat cock slide inside me.

  With one hand, Luke grips the base of his shaft and teases me with this tip, brushing it over my slick lips.

  I beg and moan, desperate for him to take me, to plunge into me, but my entreaties fall on deaf ears. I nibble at his neck, nipping his skin gently and playfully.

  “Please, Luke,” I gasp. “Please. I want you, I need you. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  He smirks through the haze of his own lust and need. And then, finally, he gives in. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name when I’m done with you.”

  I cry out as he enters me. His thickness stretches me as he slides in. Wet and ready as I am, his sheer size still means that he has to go slowly.

  Inch by inch, he pushes inside. Gentle, tentative. I moan and I cling onto him, my fingers scrabbling and scratching at his skin.

  “I’ve got you right where I want you now,” he whispers. I can feel his hot breath in my ear, his hot flesh against my own.

  He thrusts a little harder and I cry out as I finally take all of him. The slick walls of my pussy are stretched to their limit and I can feel him at my very center, the core of me. He leans back a little and begins to glide in and out of me, slowly at first but soon picking up speed.

  “Oh my God. You feel so good inside me,” I pant.

  “I can make it feel even better,” he rasps.

  I hold on for dear life, my body impaled by his manhood. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, focusing completely on the sounds of his breathing, the gentle slapping of flesh against flesh, the delicious feeling of being filled up so completely.

  Luke moves faster and faster, deeper and deeper, branding his claim on me with every thrust. His groans are guttural and loud. He presses his body harder against me, pinning me tightly to the wall.

  His movements reach a feverish pitch, and I scream in wild abandonment as I feel my climax approaching. And then, with one final plunging push, his whole body tenses, every sinew strained. He roars as he finishes, his cock tensed and hard as a stone, plunged deep inside my pussy.

  I give myself over to my own climax. I scream as I feel his cock pulse with his orgasm, his hot cum spurting into me. We climax together, pressed up against the wall, in an explosion of heat and power and lust. My body is wracked with each pulsing wave of my orgasm, until, with one last shudder, the two of us are spent.

  It’s like the calm after the storm. Where there had been gasping and thrusting and sheer raw sexual energy, there is now only the sounds of our heavy breathing and the delicious exhaustion that only comes after good sex.

  For a minute or two, neither of us move or speak. Luke still holds my weight and his cock remains inside me, still hard, still huge. When I finally summon the energy, I lean into him and kiss him, relishing the salty taste of well-earned sweat on his upper lip.

  Gently, I push him away, extricating myself from him. When he puts me down on the floor, it’s all I can do to remain standing. My legs are Jell-O. I stagger over to the bed and collapse.

  “Wow,” I gasp. “That was . . . something.”

  He chuckles between labored breaths. “You’re really something. You wake me up from a naughty dream, and then you somehow one-up my dirty imagination.”

  He comes and lays next to me on the bed.

  For the second night in a row, we fall asleep in each ot
her’s arms.

  The thing is . . . I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want to let him go.

  And that scares me.

  Tessa

  The next week at work is intense and I don’t see as much of Luke as I’d like, even though he tries to make some kind of contact every day, even if it’s just a good-night text.

  After spending all this time and effort trying to distance myself from him, and then when I actually get what I want . . . I’m pining after him.

  I’m trying to catch his eye as he comes out of meetings, I’m feeling irrational flashes of jealousy when I see him talking to other women, and I’m generally just feeling crappy.

  I still haven’t told him about the baby. I need to—I know I do—but every time I try, something gets in the way or I convince myself that it’s not the right moment. Time is slipping by and the longer I leave it, the harder it gets.

  Luckily, I am mostly occupied during my work hours. It’s not just me—everyone is all hands on deck, kept busy by this new merger and the issues caused by the regulators stepping in. There’s as much overtime as anyone wants. Disentangling certain departments from InFini and Alder Industries is a mammoth undertaking, and I don’t think anyone expected it to be quite such a monumental task.

  I’m taking a quick break one afternoon when my phone vibrates—it’s a message from Claire. I told her to send me articles and pictures of Luke to keep my resolve about ending the marriage. I haven’t had time to tell her yet about my second thoughts.

  Another one for you. Not sure why you’re tormenting yourself like this. Can I stop yet? C x

  It’s a TMZ link again. They haven’t gotten any scoop from Luke himself, so they’ve decided to keep running older pictures of him with various models.

  Playboy Billionaire Now Taken—but Can He Give Up His Old Ways?

  The headline immediately creates a sinking feeling in my stomach. Claire’s probably right—I’ve spent enough time with Luke now to know him better than some celebrity gossip website looking for clicks, but I just can’t help clicking on the headline and into the article itself.

  Luke Alder seen here three months ago with lingerie model Eva Starke. Luke’s reportedly off the market now, having gotten married in a secret impromptu ceremony in Vegas last month. But can his new wife keep his roving eye in check?

  The blonde model is hanging off of Luke’s arm, and the two of them are laughing. Probably at one of his corny jokes that I like way more than I’d care to admit. She’s gorgeous and thin and famous—why on earth is he still interested in me? How long is it going to be now until he gets bored and ditches me?

  I close the web browser window and lean back, massaging my temples. Why am I doing this to myself? Don’t I owe Luke a little more respect than to be looking at these trashy articles? He’s never been anything but a gentleman.

  I make a decision—a decision to not make any decision.

  I’m having a good time with him now. I can’t deny that. So why rock the boat? I’ll just let things play out how they will and enjoy the ride while it lasts.

  And I definitely don’t want him to only stay with me because of the baby, out of some sense of duty. So I won’t tell him yet.

  It can wait; there’s still time.

  Isn’t there?

  Later that night, Luke gives me another quick phone call.

  “Brock is all over my ass at the moment, Tess. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend any time with you. He barely lets me go to the bathroom. You might think I’m exaggerating but I’m not. I think my Dad has been on to him, telling him to make sure I don’t screw up this deal.”

  “I understand,” I say into the phone, even as my heart clenches. When I saw his name flash up on my phone, I was hoping he’d come over, wishing he’d already be downstairs, waiting for me to buzz him up to my apartment. “Honestly, don’t worry about me. You just do your thing.”

  As soon as I get into the office in the morning, I feel it come. A wave of nausea, strong and immediate. There’s no stopping it.

  Again? Damn it, I thought this might have stopped by now. How much longer is it going to carry on for? It’s too goddamn much.

  I rush into the bathroom and throw myself into a stall, wrenching the seat up and just about managing not to get vomit all over myself.

  As I’m kneeling there, porcelain bowl in front of me and grotty tiles under my shins, a voice pipes up from outside the stall.

  “Tessa, is that you? Is everything okay in there?”

  It’s Paula. Damn it, couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? As if I wasn’t miserable enough already.

  The whole office has been buzzing with activity so I’ve been able to keep my head down, focusing on my work to avoid contact with my co-workers.

  They know I’m married to Luke—they must—but I haven’t let anyone get close enough to feel comfortable asking me. That’s just the way I like it.

  But now that I’m trapped in here with Paula, it looks like my luck is running out. She’s the office gossip. Every office has one, and I’m lucky enough that it was her listening to me puke my guts out.

  “No, Paula, I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me,” I say, forcing out what’s meant to be a small, breezy laugh. But I sound tense, even to myself.

  “You’ve got morning sickness, haven’t you? I can tell,” she says in an annoying sing-song tone.

  “What? No.” More nervous laughter escapes from my mouth. “It’s probably just something I ate.”

  She doesn’t respond for a few seconds. I hear a tap running and the sound of her pressing down on the soap dispenser.

  “Come on, Tessa, you don’t need to lie to me. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard you vomiting in here, you know.”

  I can see her feet standing right outside the stall, like some sort of weird stalker.

  I weigh my options.

  I could tell her truth. Sooner or later the whole office will notice my expanding belly, after all. But I can’t let Luke learn about the baby through office rumors.

  Or I could say that I just really like this new Indian place near my apartment, even though it doesn’t agree with me.

  Or I could say that, no, actually I’m just a hardcore alcoholic and I drink heavily in the mornings. I’m married to the boss, after all, so it’s not like he’ll fire me for my habit.

  I open my mouth but my planned lie is pushed aside by a sickening wave of nausea. It’s like I’ve completely lost control of my body.

  Paula makes a saccharine, sympathetic noise. “Aww, sweetheart, I know this can’t be pleasant to go through, but once the baby comes you’ll forget all about it. Congratulations!”

  She leaves, her heels clicking against the tiles and the door slamming shut behind her.

  Oh, no. I can’t let this happen. She’s going to go out there and tell everyone and the news will reach Luke. I need to stop her.

  I clean up as best I can in a frenzy, hoping there’s no puke on my clothes or in my hair—I’m a classy broad, you see—and dash out of the bathroom.

  I scan the room frantically and finally spot her. Paula the bean-spiller. There she goes, ambling over towards the executive boardroom where—this is the point at which all the blood drains from my face—I notice that Luke is just coming out of a meeting.

  She’s going to try and talk to him, probably congratulate him on the baby. What the hell, Paula?

  I charge across the office, probably looking extraordinarily undignified but I don’t even care. I intercept Paula gets there, her mouth already open to talk.

  “Hi Luke,” I gasp, winded. “Do you mind if we talk privately for a moment?”

  He grins lasciviously, one thick eyebrow going up. “Oh, do you now?”

  I grab his arm and frog-march him away.

  “Thanks for that,” I hiss at him. “As if the whole office isn’t already gossiping about us.”

  “I do try,” he chuckles, obviously finding it funny that I’m so tense. Ma
ybe he’s used to being the subject of gossip, having had his face splashed across the pages of countless newspapers and magazines.

  As we’re walking away, I glance behind us to see Paula looking on forlornly, sad that she’s been deprived of her chance to gossip.

  It’s only a matter of time before she starts telling other people.

  Luke

  Tess is marching me down the corridor, her grip tight on my arm like she’s afraid I’m a prisoner who’s about to escape.

  “Jesus, you’re going to leave a bruise,” I joke. “I get it, you want to talk. You don’t need to death-grip my arm.”

  We arrive at an empty office and she practically shoves me in, shutting the door behind us and pulling the blinds closed too. She looks a little wild-eyed and panicked, and for the first time I drop the sarcastic act.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Tessa keeps opening her mouth like she has something to say but then changes her mind.

  I noticed that, just before she practically tackled me to the ground, a middle-aged woman had been trying to get my attention. Is this about her?

  Is she jealous or something? About a plain, middle-aged woman I’ve never spoken to before in my life? What the hell’s going on?

  I place my hands on her shoulders and rub her arms, trying to soothe her. “Tess, if you have something to say, come out with it. You’re starting to freak me out a little now. Seriously.”

  She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a few deep breaths, her chest rising up and down with effort. She appears to come to a decision. “There’s no reason to freak out. I’m just getting a little overwhelmed with work, and I wanted to catch up with you to confirm a few things. It’s nothing serious, I promise.”

  I frown, skeptical. All of this just for work stuff? Really?

  Am I putting too much pressure on her? She’s taken to the job so naturally that I’ve just kind of been leaving her to it. Is that the wrong decision?