I got dressed in a nice blouse and fitted jeans. Folks at the town had embraced me when they realized I was a single mother with a baby. They invited me to neighborhood picnics, fun, communal activities where everyone brought something to share, and soon I found myself enjoying life a bit more, making friends and even going out occasionally.
Today I was attending a reading at the local book store by an author of some renown. A local children’s chef had hit the big time with his cooking show, and was going to do a reading from his new autobiography, complete with complimentary cupcakes.
“Come on Nate, let’s go sweetie,” I said, strapping my boy into his stroller. Just like his dad, he was going to be at least six four or six five.
“Mama!” he gurgled, waving his favorite stuffed elephant.
“Thank you, sweetie,” I said, as he tried to give it to me. “Mama loves you.”
I wheeled him outside and strolled to the bookstore, enjoying the autumn day. The store wasn’t too crowded, but that was okay, as Nate’s stroller could be cumbersome to manage in a crowd. We’d just stand in the back, maybe nibble at a cupcake, and leave quietly once the reading was done.
I wheeled the carriage into the store, feeling a strange tingle, but shook it off as weird vibes. I was greeted by Greg, a local man who’d shown some interest in me. He was the book store’s manager, a kindly, balding middle-aged guy, with soft, gentle hands.
“Hey Becca,” he said. “Hi little guy,” he said to Nate, my son gurgling with recognition and shaking his rattle. “We’ve got a great crowd here today.”
But something was off. I’d expected a bunch of moms with their kids, but most of the audience was professionals, dressed nicely in tailored clothes, nice work outfits.
“Am I at the right event?” I asked. “It’s Karl Creeson today, right? The children’s chef?”
“No, not today,” chuckled Greg. “It’s Dominic Patterson, multi-billionaire best-selling author. Green Light Books is lucky to get someone of his stature,” he confided, leaning close. “Seems that he’s been relentlessly touring, hell-bent on promoting this new book.”
The world seemed to close around me. Suddenly, I knew why I’d had that tingling feeling when I walked in. Dominic was here! And sure enough, I turned around to bump into his massive frame.
“Becca,” he rumbled, his hand grasping me tightly on my elbow. He was even more gorgeous than I remembered, his blue eyes just as penetrating, just as divine, although he was deathly pale at the moment, his eyes boring into mine.
“And who’s this?” he ground out.
“Oh Greg, meet Dominic,” I said, trying to hide my consternation. I was flustered, my face hot and my heart going at a million miles an hour, but I didn’t want Dom to know.
But before Greg could get a greeting in, Dominic’s hand tightened painfully on my elbow and he swung me around towards the stroller.
“No, Little One,” he growled threateningly. “I meant, who’s this?” he indicated, jerking his head at Nate, his brows ominously drawn.
My baby had fallen asleep, thankfully, so as not to be disturbed by the dangerous undercurrents passing through the air. His face was as angelic as a cherub in rest, his cheeks sweetly slack, his mouth a baby pout.
“Um …” I stammered. “This is Nate, my son,” I said slowly.
“Little One,” he ground out, by this time his hand a painful vise on my arm. “I’m only going to ask once. Is the baby mine?”
The question hung between us, lingering in the air, all else fading into black.
“Yes Dominic,” I said quietly, looking into his eyes. “Nate is your son too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dominic
The world blurred around me and I literally thought that I’d faint, right there in the middle of the bookstore. The appearance of Becca had blown me out of the water. I could hardly believe my eyes, but there was no one else with that luscious figure, the masses of strawberry blonde hair. My Little One was right here, in this tiny New Hampshire town!
But I’d almost blacked out with anger when I saw that douchebag approach her. The guy was as dull as dishwater, but I could see possession in him, the way he looked her over, almost smacking his lips at her curves. My vision reddened with rage and I’d charged over, ready to … I don’t know, tear him apart limb by limb?
But that’s when I stopped short. Because I got the biggest surprise of my life. Becca had a stroller with her, with a little boy inside who looked … suspiciously like me. The infant’s features were soft with sleep, but I could see that he had dark hair, and the beginnings of the unmistakable Phillips chin. My breathing hitched and I literally thought I’d collapse.
But I managed to hold it together. Grabbing Becca’s arm, I’d harshly whispered in her ear, “Is the boy mine?”
I saw a faint shadow of fear flit through her eyes and mentally cursed myself for what I’d done to this girl. I promised myself to make it up to her no matter what it took, if she’d just give me a second chance.
She’d straightened proudly, throwing her head back and declared firmly, “Yes, Dominic, he’s yours.”
And that’s when I dragged her outside, to settle this once and for all.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Becca
“What do you think you’re doing?” I gasped as Dominic grabbed my arm with one hand, the stroller with the other, and began hauling us to the door.
The man didn’t reply, just an ominous, dark look in his eyes.
“Dominic,” I said, trying not to look like I was struggling against his grasp. “Stop! You’re due on stage in just a few moments! These people are here to see you.”
He ignored me, not caring about the commotion we were causing and harshly shoved the stroller through the doorframe, the rough bump causing Nate to wake and start squalling. I immediately bent to pick him up, cradling my boy against me, rubbing circles against his back.
“Shush,” I hummed. “Mommy loves you,” I murmured as the infant hiccupped and wept. Thank goodness we were outdoors now, among the trees, with just the occasional passerby.
“Little One,” Dominic ground out slowly. “When were you going to tell me about the child?”
“I … um …” I stammered. My life had been so complicated with Dominic that I decided to stick with the truth. “I don’t know,” I said simply. “You’re in a relationship with my twin sister, and I can’t imagine exposing my baby to that.”
“I’m not with Trina!” he lashed out, before ducking his head sorrowfully, shamefully. “Little One, I’m so sorry … I don’t know what’s wrong with me. After that first night together, I wanted you for myself, and so I made up all these crazy excuses to keep you by my side. I was jealous, jealous that you were going to marry my brother when all I wanted was for you to be mine …” his voice trailed.
“But why would you sleep with my sister, then?” I asked plaintively. “If you wanted a relationship with me, then why take up with Trina?”
“Trina’s a gold-digger, don’t get me wrong,” he growled. “And I wanted Caleb to see the truth. But I never slept with her, and in fact I kicked her out as soon as you left.”
I tried to calm myself, bouncing Nate up and down in my arms. Dominic had never slept with Trina?
“But Dominic,” I continued. “Why invent this elaborate ruse, with the kidnapping, bringing my sister to the island, all that stuff? It got so complicated, and I was so hurt by your actions. Why?”
Dominic looked pensive. “This is hard to believe, Little One, but I’ve been thinking about it non-stop for a year now. I think I did it … because I’m crazy in love with you,” he rushed out. “I was a man so in love that I was willing to kidnap the girl I wanted, hoping my island paradise would give us some space to figure things out.”
“And the whole thing with your sister … I realize now that I should have just let my brother get married and figure out the gold-digging shit on his own. If he needs to learn things the hard way, the
n so be it.”
But he swept me into his arms, Nate and I both.
“Can you forgive me, Becca?” he said, burying his face in the softness of my curls. “I know I’ve been a dick, but this past year without you has been pure misery,” he ground out. “I want a chance to start again with you … and Nate,” he added, glancing down at his boy. “We don’t have to get married right away, but would you consider it? Letting our boy get to know his dad?”
My heart pounded and happiness flooded my body, so strong, so potent that I almost fainted. I’d made a thousand mistakes in my past, but I knew this wasn’t another one.
“Yes Dominic,” I said softly. “It would be good for Nate to know his father.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Becca
Life changed, incrementally at first so I didn’t notice it, but by the end, we were light years from where we’d started. At first, Dominic rented an apartment in our little New Hampshire town, making the time to see Nate every day after he finished writing. He’d pick up the little boy, who’d gurgle with glee, and take him for walks, or to the park or library. I never saw a father and son bond so well.
Dominic didn’t really interact with me so much at first, although he certainly looked at me a lot. He’d just say things like, “Hey Little One, how’s it going?” when he picked up Nate, not even so much as trying to invite himself in for coffee or dinner.
But one day, when he came back, there were roses in the stroller, for me I suppose, and I’d breathed in their fresh scent, heady with perfume.
“Thank you Dominic, they’re beautiful,” I’d smiled. He’d smiled back, and seemed to loosen up afterwards, more confident in his approach.
The next time he came back from a walk with Nate, there was a hunk of cheese and some olive oil crackers, my favorite. He didn’t say anything as he handed them to me, but the next day, I’d had a cheese spread ready when he came by.
And I guess that’s how we found our way back into each other’s lives, slowly, one step at a time. I couldn’t just leave the door to my heart wide-open again, and he seemed to understand this. He waited patiently … slowly but surely advancing, with meaningful glances from his deep blue eyes, coupled with a brush against my body there, a slight jostle of my breast here.
After a month or so of this, I couldn’t handle it anymore and needed his body in me, craving that hard muscularity against me, between my legs. One day when he came to pick up Nate for their daily walk, I was waiting.
“Where’s Nate?” he said, looking around the apartment futilely. The space was oddly quiet for an apartment with a one-year old.
“Nate’s with his babysitter,” I said boldly. “I thought we’d spend some time together.”
His head had swung around, his eyes blazing intently.
“Are you sure, Becca?” he asked slowly. “Because once I start, I’m not backing off,” he growled.
I went up to him and boldly pressed my curves against him. “I’m sure,” I said simply, and Dominic’s mouth descended on mine, ravenous, his hands tangling in my hair, gripping my ass and stroking my back, desperate to reacquaint themselves with my curves.
He backed me into the bedroom, tossing me onto the big bed with an oomph, but before I could sit up, he was on me again, a big blanket made of man, his warmth and bulk pressing me deep into the mattress. His mouth was everywhere on me at once, as he unbuttoned my top, stripping off my jeans and panties.
“Little One,” he breathed. “I’ve dreamed of this so many times … so many times … god, you’re gorgeous,” he panted.
And I could tell that he wasn’t going to be able to wait. His cock was so aroused that the tip poked out above the waistband of his pants, glistening and wet from his pre-cum. I lowered my head for a taste, and he groaned harshly, before pulling away.
“Later,” he promised. “I need to be in you now,” he growled.
With that, he pushed me back, and I went willingly, spreading my thighs for this man, only this man. His cock teased my folds at first, running against my pleasure nub, lubing against the wetness of my slit, but with a stiff thrust and a roar, Dominic pushed in all the way, burying himself deep in my warmth.
“Oh god, Little One!” he groaned into my mouth. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathed as his hips began a slow pump into mine.
But now I was the one who was greedy and hungry, and with a mewl, I clawed at his back, lifting my hips up, circling my legs around his back, encouraging him to go faster and harder.
Chuckling, he increased the pace, driving his body into mine, letting me feel his overwhelming need, that throbbing, thrusting dick penetrating my deepest secrets, driving me to new heights.
With a cry, I began to come, my cunny spasming around him, clinging and shaking around his pole. Dominic, too, was overcome, and he shot his seed into me, coating me with that precious fluid that I hadn’t tasted for so long. I could feel him jerking as rope after rope hit my cervix, coating my ovaries with his life-giving sperm, sticky and wet, filling me to the brim as I twisted and cried out underneath him.
As our breathing stabilized, he held me close, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. I tried to distance myself, just for a moment, but he wouldn’t budge, his strong arms locked determinedly around me, never letting me go.
“Little One,” he growled. “That was just the beginning … now and forever.”
EPILOGUE
Becca
And that’s how I found myself pregnant again, a year after Dominic moved to town. We never used protection, and just as before, it happened shockingly fast. I was fertile and young, and Dominic more than willing to knock me up … purposefully, this time.
Because we’re getting married! I wasn’t sure about it at first, arguing that marriage was just an outdated convention, yada yada yada, but my fiancé was having none of it.
“Shush, Little One,” he said, slipping the ring on my finger. “You’re mine, in every way.”
And so my life transformed itself, from a lonely single woman in New York City, struggling to get by, to where I am now. A married mother of one, with another baby on the way, spending hot steamy nights with my billionaire writer husband. I still edit for him sometimes … but our own happily-ever-after is the sweetest one I’ve ever written.
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my journey, and I only wish my happiness on all women in the world.
All my best to you and yours,
Becca Phillips
THE END
Please turn the page for a special sneak preview!
A SNEAK PEEK
SOLD AT THE AUCTION
By Cassandra Dee
CHAPTER ONE
Ellie
“Seriously El, you can’t wear that,” said my friend Rachel.
I looked back at her, a little miffed.
“Why not?” I asked plaintively. The jeans I had on were nice, a dark denim wash, and I’d paired them with a long-sleeve top, crushed velvet with a scoop-neck. “Looks okay to me.”
Rachel snorted.
“Seriously El, we’re in Vegas for the week. We’re going clubbing at a place that doesn’t even have a name, it’s so hot. You can’t wear the stuff you usually do, now take it off,” she commanded.
I thought about refusing flat out, putting down my foot and digging in. But the thing is my friend is the one with the fashion sense, Rachel always looks amazing, knowing exactly how to do herself up for every occasion. In comparison, I was a little frumpy, dazed and confused most times, my brown hair unfashionably curly, my curves unfashionably round. So yes, I got invited to good parties because I was Rachel’s friend, but I didn’t look like any of them, skinny minnies all.
And frankly, it was amazing that Rachel and I are friends at all because we’re so different, she’s swan-like, thin and elegant, with a modeling portfolio, whereas I’m round and small, an A-student. So our interests are poles apart, not to mention our paths in life. But we’ve known one another since we were five, and
have seen one another through thick and thin again and again. Take last year, for example, when Rachel’s parents got divorced. I was her confidante, her therapist, and her anchor when she was lost at sea, adrift on waves of sadness. And I know she’d do the same for me if our situations were reversed. So despite the fact that outwardly, it looks like we have nothing in common, in fact we have a bond that goes deep, far further than mere clothes or personalities would suggest.
And since my body changed, my friend’s fashion advice was even more important. Because gone was the old Ellie from two years ago, an underweight mouse shaped like a broomstick, and in her place was the body of a woman, like Venus de Milo incarnate. I have big boobs now, a huge ass that sways when I walk, and generous hips making it hard to fit any type of pants. In fact, it’d been a struggle getting into my jeans tonight, I’d had to hop up and down desperately a couple times before they squeezed on, and the button was threatening to pop off any second.
So I sighed again.
“I don’t have anything else,” I repeated plaintively, gesturing with open palms. “There’s nothing else, look at my suitcase, nothing, nada.” And flipping open the purple travel case to reveal the interior was uninspiring. There was nothing haute couture or racy, just a couple more colored tops and a pair of grey jeans to mix things up.
Rachel pulled a face.
“Really, you didn’t bring a dress? Something a little slinkier?” she asked, picking through the stuff in my bag.
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