Pregnant By My Boss: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance Compilation

by Cassandra Dee

  So I picked up the phone. On some off chance, maybe she was socializing with Rhonda. Again, this is one area where the relationship has gone off the rails. Because we’re fake-married, fake everything, so why the fuck did Kitty and my mom have to get along like a house on fire? It was so perverse, really ironic.

  But Rhonda denied seeing my girl.

  “No Gray, I haven’t seen your wife,” she said lightly, “Why, how long has she been missing?”

  I glanced at my watch.

  “Two hours,” I said. I’d talked with Kitty on the phone earlier, so yeah, two hours was about right.

  Rhonda burst into peals of laughter.

  “You’re overreacting,” she chided merrily. “Two hours doesn’t make for a missing person.”

  My brows lowered.

  “It does,” I growled insistently. “I know where she goes, she’s my wife for crying out loud.”

  Rhonda was silent for a sec.

  “Well maybe you should let up a bit,” she said lightly. “Even wives need their freedom you know, you’re acting like a stalker, tracking her every move.”

  I shook my head again. Rhonda just doesn’t get it. I’m a Daddy and my wife is my beautiful girl. So this wasn’t stalking, this wasn’t some weird possessive instinct. This is the Channing household, we roll this way.

  “Listen Mom,” I ground out. “Just tell me where she is. There’s nowhere for her to go. She gave up her dorm room after we got married, so she’s got no place to live. Oh shit,” I paused hesitating. “Would she stay in a hostel?”

  My skin crawled at the thought. Those things are so fucking dirty all the time, with cockroaches and mice, the water contaminated. Not only that, but they’re filled with horny teenage guys, all trying to save a buck while fucking a couple girls at once. So my hackles rose at the thought of my girl in danger. Oh shit, oh shit, I had to save her, I had to find my sweet Kitty and get her pussy out of the line of fire. That cunt belonged to me, and me only, dick stabbing into the air at just the thought of her sweet wetness.

  But Rhonda interrupted again.

  “Seriously Gray, you’re overreacting. It’s only been two hours, and besides, why would she want to leave? That girl is head over heels in love with you, I see the way she looks at you. She worships the ground you walk on, so why would she take off?”

  I grunted.

  “Maybe Kitty was kidnapped,” I ground out. The thought made my heart stab with pain, back almost doubling over.

  But Rhonda couldn’t see and she chortled with laughter.

  “That’s unlikely. The Milano’s filled with security guards, not to mention thousands of video cameras tracking the casino floors. So calm down, son, she’s fine.”

  But the thought of that pretty pussy in danger put me on edge, my thoughts swirling, rising to a fever pitch. Shit, my girl needed me, she needed me bad and I blurted out the story to my mom, opening Pandora’s Box.

  “I fucked a virgin,” I ground out. “I fucked a virgin, that pussy’s not safe.”

  As usual, Rhonda wasn’t surprised by my depravity.

  “She’s fine,” my mom said airily. “Kitty’s gonna be fine, don’t worry.”

  But the words kept rolling like I couldn’t stop.

  “No, you don’t get it,” I rasped harshly. “That pussy is mine, I put my mark on it, I bought it.”

  Rhonda rolled her eyes.

  “Seriously Gray, you’re so dramatic sometimes. I don’t know where you get this, neither I nor your dad was like this. Calm down. It’s okay, she’s probably just shopping, buying something nice for herself. Kitty deserves it, being married to you.”

  But Rhonda was the one who didn’t get it. She thought we were a normal couple, people who went to the movies and held hands while walking down the street.

  “No, it’s not that,” I rasped again. “I fucking bought her.”

  “Of course you did!” said my mom breezily. “What man doesn’t buy nice things for his woman? That’s the way I taught you, a good wife is worth her weight in gold.”

  Clearly, Rhonda was misreading things, and I set it all out, harsh and clear.

  “We’re not married,” I ground out. “Or we are, but it’s fake.”

  There was a short silence, but then Rhonda spoke.

  “I saw your wedding certificate myself, Gray,” she reprimanded gently. “I was at the ceremony, don’t you remember? You absolutely are married. Unless there was some mistake? A typo? You can get that all sorted at the county clerk’s office.”

  “No Ma,” I practically roared this time. “It’s Dad’s fucking will. How I couldn’t control the Milano unless I got married. So I did it. I paid Kitty to marry me and we’re getting a divorce in the future. Now that ownership is mine, she’s not gonna be my wife any longer.”

  Rhonda was confused now.

  “Gray, what are you saying? Did she need a green card? Who is Kitty if you paid her?”

  The story came rolling out then, the whole ugly, gruesome thing.”

  “She’s a cocktail waitress at that hotel. She’s just some random chick that I picked up, and when we ended up in the office, I decided the girl was perfect for my plan. I needed a wife, and she needed money. What could be simpler?”

  But it just ended up confusing Rhonda more.

  “Like a mail order bride?” she chirped. “You had a girl delivered?”

  I shook my head in frustration.

  “Nothing was delivered. We fucked in my office, you burst in on us, remember? You were there. That was the first time I met Kitty too, and inspiration struck. So I paid her a pretty penny to sign the marriage certificate, and the hotel is all mine now. What don’t you get?”

  I was sure Rhonda would be shocked and horrified but instead, she was curiously calm.

  “So you think Kitty took off because of the divorce? Or because of the marriage?”

  “Because of the divorce, of course! She wants to be married to me, like you said, she worships the ground I walk on.”

  I shook my head furiously. Suddenly, this was all so fucking confusing because doubts crowded my mind. Did Kitty worship the ground I walked on? Did Kitty love me like that? If she did, then why had she taken off with no notice? Oh shit, suddenly my thoughts were a mass of confusion, gut churning with anxiety. Aw fuck, did I just fuck up mightily? Shit, fuck, shit.

  And I could hear Rhonda’s exasperation on the phone.

  “Worshipping the ground you walk on is just a figure of speech, Gray. No one does that unless you’re Jesus himself. And frankly, if I were married to you, I’d want a divorce.”

  Complete silence for a moment.

  “Thanks, Ma, thanks. Real heartwarming.”

  “Just saying,” said Rhonda airily. “You’re not exactly a nice person, you know.”

  “Of course I’m not nice!” I raged. “I manage an empire, I deal with so much shit that you never see, I can’t afford to be nice. It takes so much out of me to keep this fucking place going, and now I’ve given away the girl I love because of this fucking hotel!”

  Suddenly, I realized the words that had come out of my mouth. The girl I loved? What was that? It was like hearing a dog moo, it was so fucking strange.

  But as soon as I said it, my gut settled because it was absolutely true. Kitty is my woman, one hundred percent, but even more than that, I’m her man. All my talk about dominating her, possessing her, and making her crawl was just talk. I was the insane one, I was the one going fucking nuts because she’d been gone for two hours. I was the one climbing the walls because I couldn’t locate my beautiful girl, calling my mom for help.

  And whaddya know, but at that very moment, the door clicked open and there stood the curvy girl herself, curls bouncing, breasts so fucking delectable. The cell literally dropped from my hand, clattering to the floor but not before I heard the last of Rhonda’s tinny voice.

  “If you love her, then show her Gray. Don’t make a real mistake and drive her away. Show her Grayson, she’s wort
h it.”

  And with that, I took a deep breath, blue eyes hungry and needy, eating up the sight of my wife. Because this was my woman, and I wanted her, and I needed her … for keeps this time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kitty

  I’d decided to go shopping. Because shit, there was a deep ache in my pussy that needed to be walked off. That’s right, my lover had done me a heavy last night, and god, it was amazing. The breathless pounding, the intense pump left me shaking, screaming out with pleasure. Even now, I could feel a slight trickle between my legs, last of his male cream dripping out. So yeah, the session had left me sore, and a walk past the stores on the Strip would just the thing.

  Yawning, I got up and stretched, luxuriating in the sunlight. There’s a thing in Nevada called one hundred over one hundred, and that means one hundred days of the year, we have temps over a hundred. Today was definitely one of those days, the desert literally baking, and to be safe, I grabbed a frappucino in the way, sipping on a frozen drink while trying to keep cool.

  The stores were fantastic, utterly luxurious, the window displays gilded with gold. Shit, this was so different from when I was on my own. Back then, Forever21 and H&M were my only options, if I was lucky. It depended on whether or not their plus-size shipment had come in, otherwise I was stuck with a whole lot of nothing.

  And taking a deep breath, I slipped into a designer store. Ahhh, that felt nice! Expensive places blast the A/C so that it’s like a polar wind, and a welcome arctic breeze hit my face and shoulders, making me shiver appreciatively. But I’d forgotten about the help. Because immediately a whip-thin saleslady cornered me, face shiny and tight from too much plastic surgery. I could almost feel the disdain rolling off her in waves because in my t-shirt and cut-offs, I looked more college girl than wife of a hotel magnate. But hey, customer service is trained to be nice to everyone right?

  Evidently not. Shooting me an evil stare, the woman literally clacked her red fingernails together, hissing.

  “Can I help you?” she said icily. “Can I help you find something other than our free AC?”

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. True, I looked a little messy with my hair sticking sweatily to my neck, but that was no way to treat a customer. I could be the Sultana of Oman for crying out loud, there was no reason to be mean.

  But I figured the heat had gotten to everyone, so nodding politely, I stepped up to a rack of clothes. Each one was perfectly hung, the hangers exactly two inches apart.

  “No thank you, just looking,” I murmured, taking in the selection. Hmm, these were cute, pink dresses with a ruffly hem at the bottom. Gray likes me in feminine stuff, so he’d appreciate seeing me in this.

  “Actually,” I turned back to the saleslady quickly. “I was wondering if you could help me find this in a bigger size? I’m not really a four or six.”

  The woman stared at me pointedly.

  “We don’t carry your size,” she said icily. “Nothing in this store is going to fit you,” she said, waving her hand about.

  I goggled at her again. Was I hearing this right? Was this woman being absolutely, completely rude? This was so off the charts that it had to be make-believe.

  “I’m sorry,” I said firmly. “I’m just asking for a bigger size. Maybe a sixteen or eighteen? If you could check in back, I’d be so grateful.”

  But the woman shot me another freezing look.

  “Like I said,” she hissed. “We don’t do clothes for big girls. Girls like you don’t belong in this store.”

  And the blood drained from my body, leaving me weak yet frozen in place. Could this really be happening? It was like I was back in high school being taunted by the cool clique, the girls with the perfect straight blonde hair and ski lift nose. Once again, I was Fatty Katty, the pudgy girl with sweaty hands and coke-bottle glasses. My face flushed hotly and I was about to turn and leave, ashamed, when suddenly I realized there was no reason to take this treatment.

  “Here,” I said, fumbling in my purse. “Here, let me give you my card so that you know where to charge my purchases.”

  My husband’s black AmEx card glinted ominously under the light. And sure enough, there was Gray’s name right there on the front. GRAYSON CHANNING, in block caps, with absolutely no doubt who it could be. He’s a king here on the strip, everyone knows who owns the Milano.

  Of course, the woman’s attitude flipped from night to day.

  “Oh, and you are …?” she said, gushing and fawning. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you knew Mr. Channing.”

  I looked pointedly at her.

  “I’m his wife,” I said, enunciating slowly. “We’re married, and I’d like to shop here please. What was your name again?”

  The woman mumbled something, stammering over her words while looking at the ground, so I leaned in closer.

  “Claire, you said? Great, Claire. I’d like to get this dress in a fourteen, if you don’t mind,” I said speaking slowly. “I’d appreciate it very much.”

  The woman scuttled off, my card gripped in her hand, but I wilted once she was gone. That had been so painful. I should have felt powerful and triumphant, showing her up the way I did, but the thing is I just felt sad. These catty games aren’t me, and tiredness and exhaustion overwhelmed my frame then.

  So while yeah, I bought a pink dress and wore it out of the store, that was the end of my shopping expedition. I had no more energy to walk the strip, Gray’s card or no. I didn’t want to be a queen, I just wanted to be with him.

  But opening the front door slowly, clearly my days were numbered because Gray was on the phone with someone, discussing our divorce. I heard him grunt the words, “fake,” “wife,” and “marriage,” and my heart plummeted all the way to my toes. Oh god, it really was over, the sinking feeling in my stomach seemingly bottomless. Tears pricked my eyes, a lump forming in my throat.

  But I couldn’t face him just now. I couldn’t, it’d be too painful. So tiptoeing, I let myself in quietly, hoping to slip upstairs without making a sound, but no such luck. Gray hung up with a clack, and whirled to fix me that piercing blue stare.

  “Just give me a minute to go upstairs,” I mumbled, head down. “I know you’re busy.”

  Gray didn’t need me. He had his hotel now, and I was just an accessory, something to toss away once the deal was done. I made to scurry away, and vowed to start packing my bags. Why the hell did I buy this dress? It was just one more thing I had no place to wear in my old life.

  But the alpha male had words for me.

  “Where were you?” he ground out.

  I mumbled something incoherent, head down.

  “Where were you, kitty cat?” he asked again, deceptively cool. “And why are you wearing that dress? Did you have a date?”

  I swung startled brown eyes to look at him before looking down at my purchase. It did look date-like, I admit, the pink material flirty and feminine.

  “I didn’t have a date, I just went shopping,” I said slowly. “Why?”

  He looked at me speculatively, eyes dangerous.

  “You’ve been missing for two hours.”

  “I know, but I took myself shopping on the strip.”

  “Why didn’t you call my driver?” he interjected smoothly. “You know you can always take a car.”

  What was this, twenty questions? Annoyance stirred in my soul, and I straightened my shoulders, looking him straight in the eye.

  “I decided to walk, that’s all. Get some fresh air, maybe stroll a little.”

  A black eyebrow raised.

  “On a day like this?” Gray asked smoothly, blue eyes inscrutable. “It’s fucking a hundred degrees honey, why would anyone walk? Fuck it baby, if you were meeting some other guy, just tell me now. I can take it.”

  I gaped at him, dumbstruck.

  “Gray, I absolutely wasn’t meeting anyone. Absolutely not. We’re married remember? And if I was, would I be this sweaty? Look, this dress is wilting, I was out walking in the sun.”


  This was ridiculous, and I hated the charade. I hated having to defend myself, to tell him where I’d been when I was one hundred percent innocent. Besides, it wasn’t part of the bargain. We weren’t married, not really, so the billionaire needed to butt out.

  “Where I was isn’t your business, anyways,” I sniffed, turning away. “I go where I want to, you’re not my boss, Grayson Channing.”

  But that set him off because before I even took one step, the big man was on me, that face a mask of anger, blue eyes blazing.

  “Don’t you ever talk to me like that,” he rasped hoarsely, dark streaks marking those perfect cheekbones. “Don’t you ever talk like that.”

  I shivered at his nearness, breasts quivering, almost touching his chest. But the thing is I had nothing to live for anymore, so I threw everything to the wind.

  “We’re not really married,” I retorted sassily. “So you can stop now. We’re gonna be divorced soon anyways, so why keep up the charade? Why keep going the way we have?”

  And suddenly I was face down over the big man’s knee, gasping, the air gone out of my lungs.

  “Gray!” I cried out, but it was too late. That pink dress was flipped over my waist, matching pink panties pulled down my ass cheeks and a big hand flew down with a loud smack.

  “Ahhhh!” I cried out, arching my back. “Ahhhh!”

  But the man was so furious, he didn’t even hesitate. Another smack came, and then another, so many that they rained on me, my ass burning as my pussy wept. Because oh god, he’d pushed my panties aside, and between each smack, the alpha pinched my clit, making me shudder.

  “Ohhh!” I cried out again, writhing uncontrollably. God, my breasts were smashed against his legs and I was gonna come so hard, even as he humiliated me. “Unnnh!”

  And it happened then. Everything rolled so fast that I couldn’t control it, the heady sensations in my puss, the stinging in my butt. And of course, the excitement, always the excitement of being with Grayson Channing. Even though I hated him in my mind, my body’s still his and everything fell apart. Spasms wracked my cunt in a typhoon, each hit on my butt enhancing the flames, each pinch of my clit shoving me over the cliff.