Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance (Babies for the Doms Book 1)

by Penelope Bloom

  Trust.

  Even though I didn’t fully realize it at first, that’s what this has always been about. I pushed him away at times because I felt like letting him any closer would force me to trust him, and I knew he would see that I couldn’t do it yet, not completely. I still don’t know if I can bring myself to do it in a real way. The BDSM was a way for me to try trusting him in a safe environment, almost like a game. I was able to fantasize about it and the reason I kept having to push things farther was because I had to keep pushing the boundaries of the game. When my trust didn’t feel real, I couldn’t get off. It was that simple.

  Logan doesn’t speak again until I hear gravel grinding under the wheels of the car and he comes to a stop. “Stay there,” he says, shifting the car into what I assume is park. His door opens and his feet crunch across the gravel, getting closer.

  My door opens and strong hands grip me under the arm, guiding me up and out of the car. We couldn’t have gone too far, because it felt like we only drove thirty minutes, but depending on the direction he took us, that could have led us to quite the variety of places. The air feels open and wide, and even though I can’t see, I can feel we are somewhere remote and natural.

  “Where are we?”

  “You’ll see soon. Take one step to your right and then four steps forward.”

  I pause, feeling a lurch in my stomach. He expects me to just walk where he tells me to when I can’t see anything? What if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff or something? I could fall to my death and I’d never see it coming. Literally.

  “You have to trust me,” he says.

  “One to my… right?” I ask, taking my foot and extending it, careful to keep my balance. I test the ground before shifting my weight and taking the first step. I do the same for the next step. “This way?” I ask.

  “A little more to the right. Four steps. Yes. Good.”

  My heart is pounding. I don’t know how far he wants to take this, but I feel emotionally exhausted already. It’s a constant battle not to rip the blindfold off. It feels like being confined, like I’m in a tight space without any room to stretch out and every second is intensifying the panic settling in the back of my mind.

  “Now just walk forward. There will be a slight incline, but it’s not too steep.”

  I suck in a breath, praying for some mystical injection of bravery to get me through this. For all I know I’m on completely level ground with no danger at all, but I don’t know, and the uncertainty has me imagining the worst. I do as he says, still slowly, treating every step like it could be a step over an endless chasm.

  Each time I reach the end of one of his orders, I think it must surely be the last. And if it’s not, I keep wondering how I can handle any more of this without losing my mind. But I do, step after step, order after order, and I don’t complain. Soon, I’m stepping more surely, putting my feet forward without testing first, trusting his guidance to take me on the safe path. I don’t charge ahead blindly though. I hang on to his every word, learning to use his voice as my sight. Learning to trust it.

  “Now take off your blouse,” he says.

  This command gives me pause. After close to ten minutes of learning to follow his every order without hesitation, I can’t do it right away.

  “You’re hesitating,” he says, “because you have no idea where you are right now. For all you know, I just walked you in full view of a public place. Dozens of people could be staring at you right now. But you’re going to take off your blouse anyway, because you trust me.”

  My hands inch toward the bottom of my blouse, which I slowly pull over my head, feeling the truth of his words echo through me. I would be mortified if I really was somewhere public, but the uncertainty is turning me on. The need to trust him.

  “Bra. Off,” he says.

  I do as he says, feeling my nipples tighten and grow hard against the slight chilly breeze.

  “Pants and panties.”

  I slide both down obediently.

  “Shoes.”

  I kick my shoes off, conscious of the fact that I could be mooning people as I bend down to pull off my socks too.

  “Good. That’s my good little Kitten.”

  He moves behind me, hands pressing hard into my hips and sliding down to my thighs. His thumbs splay open, tracing the edges of my mound and spreading the electric sensation of his touch all over my body. He moves his hand over my already wet slit and begins to work me, making my knees instantly weak. To my surprise, it’s working. I’m not in the slightest bit of pain, but my body is responding to every single movement of his skillful fingers. It’s not long before I’m shaking, having to squeeze his wrist to keep from falling to my knees with pleasure.

  “Not yet,” he says. “You’re cumming on my cock this time.”

  His words send a fresh pulse of excitement through me. I wait, completely deprived of my sight, feeling as though all my remaining senses are on full alert. I hear the rattle of his belt buckle and his zipper dragging down. I hear him dropping clothes to the ground.

  “On your hands and knees, now,” he commands.

  I obey, getting in position and waiting, still conscious that I have no idea where I am or who could be watching. I’ve put so much trust into him. This time it feels real. It isn’t about pain or submission. He is showing me that I can trust him completely and totally with my life. He’s still showing me that I can trust him. When the head of his cock finds my entrance though, all thoughts of why and how fade into background noise.

  There’s only the perfect fullness of him inside me and the slap of his hips against me. My knees dig into the dirt and I squeeze handfuls of grass tightly, letting my head fall so my cheek presses into the chilly ground.

  I’m getting closer and closer to climax. It builds with every slap of his skin against mine, every plunge of his length into my wetness. And then without warning, he rips the blindfold from my head. I’m overcome by the sudden brightness of it all. The sun, the mountains stretched ahead of me, the sheer emptiness. I see the thin trail we must have come up and realize I really could have been hurt if I veered too far off the path, but he led me here without incident.

  I also see that absolutely nobody is watching. It all comes as such a shock that I feel the building pressure of my orgasm falter. It wavers, suspended, ready to burst, but just out of reach. As if he knows exactly what I need, Logan leans in close until the stubble of his face brushes against my cheek. “You can trust me, Emmaline.”

  It’s the first time he has used my name while we’re having sex, and the sound of it threads into me, doing something strange to my emotions, something warm and full and lovely.

  “You can trust me,” he repeats, moving himself inside me still, slowly now. Tenderly. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, Kitten. I would sacrifice everything. I would do anything. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes,” I say, letting the note of surprise I feel at my answer slip out. I believe him. “I believe you,” I gasp.

  “Then trust me. Give me what you’ve been holding back and I promise you I will never abuse it.”

  I stare into the blindingly beautiful sight ahead of me, wrapped in this moment, in these emotions, and still painfully aware of the orgasm threatening to explode within me or slip away, once and for all.

  “I trust you,” I say. As if the words were a hidden key, my climax tears through me, breaking free with the force of a tsunami, turning my muscles to jelly.

  Logan groans with me, his cock pulsing inside me and filling me to the brim with his hot cum.

  “I love you,” he says, voice raspy and heavy.

  For once, I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I don’t second guess myself. I just speak, and the words come straight from my heart. Straight from the place of trust I can already feel swelling inside me. “I love you, too.”

  42

  Logan

  I’m at the office, wishing I could relax. I couldn’t have hoped for things with E
mmaline to go any better. But I can’t enjoy her the way I want until I find a way to put the shit with Ronnie and Dean to rest. I’m hoping Ronnie’s bullshit will end the moment I get my hands on him. I don’t imagine it will be hard to find some charges to run against him and get him locked up for a while. Dean on the other hand, that is more complicated.

  I’ve been locked away in my office all night. I dropped Emmaline off at her place, where I learned her mom is hiding out while Ronnie is still at large. After that, I came straight here to figure out how I’m going to deal with Dean, and I have what I think is the perfect idea.

  There’s a soft knock at the door. I jog over and unlock it, letting in a sheepish man. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His shoulders are bent and narrow from too many years hunched over tax documents and computer screens. You wouldn’t know it from looking at Larry, but he’s the best tax guy in the city.

  “Thanks for coming, Larry.”

  “Sure,” says Larry, removing his glasses to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. “Any time you need me. Literally, I guess.”

  I motion for him to sit across from my desk. I move to lean on my desk, facing him and splaying my hands on the polished wood. “What we talk about here stays in this office. Do you understand? You will be the only person besides myself who knows, so if I hear any of this circulating, I’ll know exactly where it came from.” I fix him with the hardest look I can, making sure he knows I’m serious. I don’t like having to strong arm Larry, but it’s important he obeys.

  “Y-yes. I can keep a secret.”

  I size him up, letting the moment hang between us. “Good,” I say finally. “I believe you.” I spend a few minutes catching him up on everything I know about Dean and what he could do to bring the company down.

  Larry licks his lips when I’ve finished. “I’m sorry to hear it, Mr. Steele, but I don’t see how I fit into all of this?”

  “You’re going to help me bring Dean down. He thinks he has everything there is on the company, but he’s missing one critical file. I have three foreign bank accounts. A portion of sales are discreetly moved to those accounts. I pay taxes on those funds, but a smaller percentage.”

  Larry’s eyes search the floor and I see the gears churning. He’s already figuring out where I’m going with this. “You want to make sure he doesn’t know about those accounts when he takes over control of the company. If someone tipped the IRS about it, he could face serious charges for tax evasion. Incarceration is rare, especially in this case. It would be hard to prove he willfully avoiding filing when there wasn’t clear documentation about the accounts.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I figured as much. That’s just the first nail in the coffin.”

  As if on cue, there’s another knock at my door. I let in Henry, who looks tired, but took the time to put on a polo and some slacks. He nods seriously to me. “Mr. Steel.”

  “Come in, Henry.”

  Larry gives Henry a curious look.

  I dismiss Larry and give Henry the same warning I gave Larry.

  “I need you to do a very big favor that’s of questionable legality.”

  Henry has always been ambitious, and as I hoped, he agrees without pause. “Whatever you need, Mr. Steel.”

  “When Dean takes over the company, he’s going to make it public again. All I need you to do is make sure Dean has this information.” I hand Henry a USB drive. “It has sensitive information about the company detailing the dates some of our deals will close. When we’re publicly traded, these events will all cause the stock to fluctuate. It doesn’t matter if Dean ever looks at these, it’s just important that it’s on his computer. It also has some fake emails saved to an alias I’ve created.”

  “You’re going to make it look like he participated in insider trading?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “He could go to prison for this.”

  “I’m aware,” I say. “Can I count on you?”

  Henry eyes the USB and sighs. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure he has this.”

  “Good,” I say, standing and clapping him on the shoulder. “Go get some rest. Sorry to wake you.”

  I watch out the windows of my office, scanning the city below me. If I go through with this plan, I’ll be willfully taking myself out of the tower that looks down on all of it. I’ll be putting myself back on the ground level, positioning myself to work back up to the top. Instead of scaring me or making me angry, the thought is rejuvenating. It will be a fresh start. I never cared as much about the destination as I cared about the journey anyway. And this time, I can start the journey with Emmaline at my side.

  I smile, nodding slowly. A fresh fucking start.

  43

  Emmaline

  My mom has already been staying with me for two days. The plan was to get her a place as soon as I could, but I just haven’t gotten to it yet. It’s after midnight when I wake up to get a glass of water. My mind replays the sensations of the previous day. Being with Logan so completely and so fully was better than anything I’ve ever felt. I don’t think my days of BDSM are behind me by a long shot, but learning I could be with him outside of that was important. It meant everything.

  The thunderstorm outside has been keeping me awake. Every time I’m about to fall asleep, a huge crash booms through the house, making my heart pound. Rain patters hard against the roof and windows, driven so hard by the wind that it’s coming in almost sideways.

  I don’t think Logan knows I spotted the guy he has keeping an eye on me, but the same white car has been parked across the street since I told him about Ronnie. Figuring it out after that wasn’t too hard. I’ve made a habit of peeking at the car. Seeing the man behind the wheel watching has become something of a comfort for me.

  But this time, I see the car door is open and the man is lying on the ground a few feet from the car in the middle of the street. He’s not moving. My brain fills in the gaps with lightning speed.

  The glass of water falls from my hand, shattering on the ground. Shards of glass pelt my bare feet and legs, followed by cold water.

  Ronnie. He’s here. Somewhere. He’s coming for us.

  My phone is by my bed. I rush toward my room as fast as I can. The first step I take brings my foot down on a thick piece of glass and I slip backwards, falling hard and knocking the wind from my lungs.

  At the same moment, the kitchen window shatters and a drunken, soaking wet Ronnie climbs through. Lightning flashes behind him, illuminating the rain that sprays through the window behind him. He clumsily uses the counter to slide down into the kitchen, boots crunching on broken glass. He holds a splintered wooden baseball bat in his hand. There’s a clump of hair wedged beneath one of the splinters.

  My stomach turns over. Did he fucking kill the guy outside? If he would kill a stranger in cold blood, what would he do to us?

  “This has been a long fucking time coming, bitch,” he growls.

  I scoot back, wincing as glass digs into my palms. My foot is an explosion of heat and pain. A trail of slick blood stretches out behind me as I back away from him.

  Ronnie’s voice is slurred, and I can tell from his movements that’s he’s drunk. “First I’ll break your legs so you can’t run. Then I’ll tell that boyfriend of yours he can have you back for a million dollars.” Ronnie laughs deeply and then pauses abruptly to cough something thick up. He spits on the floor.

  “Mom,” I whisper. I try to shout, but my chest feels so tight I can’t push the sound out any louder. It’s like I’m in a dream. Everything feels stiff and foggy.

  He’s stepping closer. Crunch. Crunch. The tip of the bat drags on the ground, paving a path through the shards of glass. I can’t take my eyes off the clump of dark hair. I expect him to swing as soon as he can reach me, and at first, I don’t think I could stop him if he did. I feel helpless.

  It’s only when he falls to his knees and comes closer that the ability to fight rises up. If he thinks he’s going to put his fucking hands on me…r />
  My head bumps into the cabinet. I run out of room to back up just as my hand comes down on a fist-sized piece of glass. I squeeze it, not caring how it digs into my skin.

  “I’ve always wondered how you would tas--”

  Ronnie’s eyes bulge. His hand comes up slowly as he tips to one side, mouth open and working silently. I’m still gripping the piece of glass that I jammed into his leg when he falls. I rip it free and scoot away as quickly as I can, gasping for breath. I can’t look away from the spot where blood gushes from him, quickly forming a pool beneath his leg. I drop the glass and shakily get to one foot. I cry out as I rip the piece of glass from the bottom of my foot.

  My mom bursts into the room, probably drawn by my scream. “Ronnie!” She shouts.

  I watch, feeling sick when I realize my mom is probably still going to go back to him. I hoped maybe he had finally pushed her beyond her limit, that she was ready to take control of her life again.

  She moves toward him, carefully avoiding stepping on glass with her bare feet. She leans down and I think she’s about to kiss him, but she pulls her hand back and punches Ronnie in the mouth.

  “You stay the fuck away from my daughter. And you stay the fuck away from me. We’re done.”

  I stare in amazement as my mom comes toward me and helps me up, leading me from the kitchen. Once she helps settle me down on the couch, the pain of my injuries finally hits me. And it hits like a truck. My foot is a blaze of agony and my hand is throbbing with icy hot pain from where I gripped the glass to stab Ronnie. To stab Ronnie. God. Vivid images flash in my mind from the last few minutes.

  Ronnie crawling through the window like some demon, backlit by lightning. His face as he knelt down to reach for me. The way the blood oozed from his leg. My mom choosing me over him. I let my head fall back against the couch. “We need to call someone,” I say after a few moments. I doubt Ronnie is going anywhere on his own with the gash in his leg, but we can’t exactly let him just lay bleeding in the kitchen bleeding out all night, either.