His Eternal Flame

by Valentine, Layla

  “Welcome home, Dillon,” she calls from my bedroom door, resting her hip against the wooden frame.

  She’s clad in one of my robes, and what appears to be very little else. I shake my head quickly, trying to remain at least moderately coherent.

  “What are you…ah…” I trail off as she draws closer, allowing the robe to drop off of her slender frame.

  As I’d guessed, she’s wearing next to nothing underneath, save a lacy black thong with a white ribbon on the front. Her breasts are on display, and if the hardness of her nipples is any indication, she’s as aroused as I am. She’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

  “Oh, you know,” she begins, keeping her voice casual even as she presses her hand against my chest. She curls her fingers in the fabric of my shirt, pulling me back with her. “I just thought I’d offer you a few…options. IVF is awfully expensive, and there’s something so…impersonal about it,” she says slyly.

  Now that there is no mistaking her intent, something inside of me snaps.

  I lurch forward, whatever else she intended to say lost as I press our lips together in a searing kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck, softly moaning her approval as I reach around to grab the swell of her ass in my hands. I pull her close to me, the now-straining fabric of my slacks pressing against the white ribbon that sits so prettily in the center of her thong.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” I murmur huskily, lifting her up by her rear and groaning under my breath as she wraps her legs around me.

  She’s pressed firmly against my clothed manhood, and it’s all I can do not to dry hump her in the middle of my living room. I do have a bit more dignity than that, however, so I carry her the remaining distance into my bedroom. Her perfume smells stronger in here, as well as another scent that makes my cock twitch with desire.

  “I could hardly wait for you to get home,” she purrs, her womanly scent hanging heavily in the air.

  I can make out the spot where she’d been lying on my bed. Quirking my lips into a sly grin, I push her onto the edge of the bed. As much as I’d like to indulge in some foreplay, something tells me that she’s as eager to get to the main event as I am. She scoots back obligingly as I shuffle on top of the sheets, fiddling with the button on my pants.

  “Allow me,” she breathes, reaching out to undo it with ease.

  An almost feral possessive feeling washes over me, and as she frees my manhood, I force her onto her back before she can properly get a good look. She gasps softly, and I fix her with a gaze that I can only hope reads as intensely as I feel. She stares back at me with parted lips, taking my large hand in her own and guiding it between her thighs. As I press my fingertips to her panties, I can feel her wetness already soaking through.

  “I really shouldn’t reward you for having fun without me. Are you sure you can handle a second round?” I ask, sliding my fingertips along the indentation of her slit.

  She shivers, looking faintly taken aback.

  “Of c-course, Dillon,” she gasps.

  “You are to call me Master in here. It’s only befitting of my naughty little maid,” I correct her, and she shudders beneath me with what I can only hope is a desire as strong as mine.

  She bites her lip, nodding her consent. Without another word, I curl my fingers around the waistband of her underwear. Sliding them down her legs, I’m awash with her heavenly aroma. I ball the panties in my hand, bringing them to my nose to deeply inhale her scent.

  Another gasp, accompanied by a soft moan, spills past her lips.

  “Master, please,” she begs, bucking her hips towards me.

  I want to taste her; I want to bask in the vision of her laid before me in such a beautiful state. However, I simply shed the rest of my clothes and shift closer to her, settling comfortably between her thighs. She braces herself, seeming gripped with anticipation. I smirk, positioning myself at her entrance. She’s soaked to the core, and when I press into her, there’s just the perfect amount of give.

  “God,” I mutter, and she breathily repeats the sentiment.

  I begin to slowly move inside her, trying to keep a slow and steady pace to start. To my surprise, she’s quickly being drawn to a place of near hysteria, raking her nails across the sheets and moaning beautifully for me.

  No longer holding anything back, I angle myself just so and begin to pound into her with all the force of my intense lust. She bounces slightly with each thrust, a tiny squeak erupting from her lips each time I hilt my cock inside of her. She begins to clench around me, and I can tell she’s close.

  I lean in, ghosting my lips to her ear. I move faster, losing myself in the passion of the moment.

  “You’re mine, little maid,” I hiss, bottoming out inside of her a final time.

  “God, yes,” she screams, toes curling as she begins to tightly squeeze me with her inner walls.

  I spill my load deep inside her, a sense of satisfaction washing over me as she writhes beneath me.

  It’s some time before she’s able to gather herself enough to make her way out of my apartment, saying she’d rather sleep in her own bed. I can tell she’s afraid of growing too close to me. All the same, when I ask her to return the next morning, she offers me a coy smile.

  Little does she know that she’s going to see what I use those handcuffs for, next time. Not to mention the maid outfit I ordered…

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte

  When I agreed to be Dillon’s surrogate, I’ll admit that I didn’t really know what I was signing up for. The first night was wonderful, and the week following finds me spending almost every moment in his arms. He takes the week off of work, explaining that he’ll be away on business for the majority of the next few months.

  He wants to spend as much time as possible inside of me, filling me to the brim. I know how desperately he wants me to conceive, and truthfully, I can’t deny how much I enjoy feeling him nestled deep within me. I’ve had my share of sex, but nothing like this.

  While he’s been nothing but kind and warm, I can’t ignore the knowledge that this isn’t a relationship. As much as it may feel like it, and as much as it seems like we’re going through the motions, I’m just the oven for his prized little bun. It’s a feeling that’s difficult to shake at times, but while I’m in his arms, I can at least pretend that there’s something more between us.

  It’s strange how deeply he seemed to desire me when I was ice cold, but now that I’m receptive to him, his feelings have dampened. When we’re not screwing, he seems miles away. There’s a distant look in his eyes, something almost haunted.

  I know he’s going to China for a business trip, but every time I try to get more information about it, he clams up. I can only suspect it’s another ruthless takeover, and he simply doesn’t feel comfortable admitting it. I can’t say I blame him, there. I still hold some resentment regarding his treatment of people throughout his business career.

  All the same, when it comes time for him to go, I’m reluctant to set him free from my arms. He seems even more reluctant to leave. I brush a hand through his dark hair, rubbing the pads of my fingertips against the skin of his scalp. His eyes are closed, and it’s the most peaceful I’ve seen him look.

  However, his breathing shudders from time to time, and I can only wonder just what has him so bothered. With his personal jet making the preparations to leave at any moment, it’s now or never. I have to find out what’s troubling him so deeply. I want him to know he can confide in me, even if we aren’t really a couple.

  “Dillon,” I murmur, and he peeks a single eye open. I offer him a faint smile, which he returns after a bit of hesitation. Biting the bullet, I plunge ahead. “Something is bothering you. I can tell. What does this trip involve that has you so shaken?”

  He stiffens, and I can tell his immediate reaction is to draw away. I hold tight to him, however, continuing the soothing motion of my fingers through his hair.

  “Please, Dillon. You kn
ow you can tell me anything,” I murmur.

  His expression turns briefly bitter, but he seems to settle into my grip.

  “It’s not the trip itself that is the problem,” he begins, picking at a loose thread on the robe I’m wearing.

  I hum quietly to let him know I’m listening, enjoying the few moments we have left together before he has to leave for a few months.

  “It’s…we’ve been trying really hard to conceive, haven’t we? I can’t bear to think I’m leaving you behind to pursue the very sort of venture that made you hate me,” he mutters, his jaw clenching against the tears that I know threaten to fall. As assertive and calculating as Dillon is, he’s a true softie at heart.

  Taking a moment to consider his words, I wonder just how much I mean to him. Is he only concerned that I’ll turn my back on him and take off with his child if the mood strikes me? I can’t help but think there’s more to his feelings than that, but maybe I’m just projecting. I have come to care quite deeply for him, after all.

  Deciding to set his mind at ease, I lean down and press my lips against his. He seems somewhat surprised by the sudden show of affection, and I try to pretend I’m not as flustered as I truly am. For all the sex we’ve been having, I’ve not really been affectionate aside from the truly intimate moments.

  “You’re worrying yourself over nothing. You’ll go on your trip, and maybe…maybe I’ll have some news for you before long. If you think I’m going to turn tail after all we’ve been through, you’re going to have to try much harder to get rid of me. I’m having this baby for you, and I hope we can remain friends after. I won’t deny I’ve not quite moved on from the past, but I’m trying. You should, too,” I say carefully.

  He remains silent, as if he’s not heard me. For a moment, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

  “I’ll miss you, Charlotte,” he whispers.

  I find myself tearing up at the thought of him leaving, laughter spilling past my lips at just how dramatic we’re being. He turns to face me, considering my expression for a moment before moving to close the distance between our lips. I brace myself, my breath catching in my throat. If I can just pretend for a moment longer…

  A sudden vibrating sound jolts him away from me, and the spell is broken. He curses under his breath, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. He swipes the screen, staring at it with a faint air of melancholy.

  “I have to go,” he mutters.

  I exhale the breath I’d been holding, forcing a cheerful smile. He glances towards me, and before I can speak, he kisses me tenderly one last time.

  “Take care of yourself, all right? If you receive any news, call me immediately,” he says awkwardly as he pulls away, obviously flustered.

  I can’t swallow my chuckle, reaching out to caress his cheek.

  “I’ll miss you too, you know,” I confess.

  His lips curl into a delighted smile, but another vibration from his phone draws him away from me. My lips part, and I speak without thinking.

  “I lo—” I begin, cutting myself off in the middle of my sentence. He seems not to have heard me, glancing towards me with an adorable tilt of his head.

  “What’s that?” he asks quickly, watching me for half a second before shuffling around to gather the last few items he’ll need for his travels.

  I feel my cheeks grow aflame with an intensity that could rival the sun, and I avert my eyes from him. I can’t believe I’d nearly slipped up like that. I can’t believe that I would say such a thing to him. Most of all, I can’t believe that it’s true.

  “I’ll, uh… I’ll call you with any news, of course. Be safe,” I stutter, rising from his bed.

  He’s letting me keep his extra key, insisting that I can stay in his apartment if I begin to feel that my current home is too unsafe. Though I can’t tell him as much, I plan to remain for at least a little while after he’s gone. I want to breathe him in for as long as possible, to surround myself with the essence of Dillon Bradshaw.

  Oblivious to my thoughts, he offers me a final smile before walking out the door. I hear him call out a quick goodbye, and as I hear him slip out of the apartment, I feel tears well up in my eyes. How have I managed to get myself into such a mess? What was I thinking, agreeing to this strange situation? Who will I turn to when Dillon’s had his fun?

  Shaking off the treacherous path my mind is taking, I allow myself to recline in his bed for a moment. A short nap, and then I’ll go home. I don’t plan to spend his entire absence surrounded by reminders of the man. That would be crazy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlotte

  A month later finds me in his master bathroom, staring wide-eyed at the pregnancy test in my hand. I’ve been unable to banish Dillon from my thoughts, and it seems that for the next eight months or so, I’ll always have a piece of him with me. Uncertainty grips me for a long moment, and I’m not quite sure what to do with the positive test in my hands.

  I withdraw my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the stick. It’s not the same as getting to see it in person, but I hope that Dillon appreciates the sentiment. I send the photo to him, meandering through the penthouse as I settle in for the long haul. He has a personal doctor that he wants me to see, so I suppose I’ll just wait for some sort of direction once he receives the message.

  I’m not left waiting long, as moments later my phone begins to buzz, dozens of times in rapid succession.

  I open the text menu to see Dillon having something of a fit via messages. The first few messages ask if I’m serious, then, as if the three-second pause had been too long, he sends a half-dozen more messages asking if I’m all right. As I move to answer the texts, my phone begins to play the distinct tone I’ve set for the billionaire businessman. Bracing myself, I swipe the phone and hold it to my ear.

  “I’m on my way,” he says immediately, and I chuckle in disbelief.

  “You can’t just blow off your business trip, can you?” I ask, and he huffs rather melodramatically. I listen to him as he seems to rummage through some paperwork, speaking in a Chinese dialect to someone.

  “I told them I’ll be back. It’s only a fourteen-hour flight,” he says dismissively, though I’m almost certain I can hear angry shouting in the background.

  I part my lips to argue, but he’s speaking in a rush before I get the chance.

  “I’ll be there around ten tomorrow morning. I’ll call my doctor and have him schedule us. See you soon,” he says quickly, hanging up the phone.

  I sputter incoherently for a moment before realizing he hung up. The reception was so poor, I could barely even hear him.

  I draw my cellphone away from my ear, glancing towards the clock. Well, seeing as Dillon would probably stroke out over the idea of me venturing into the big bad world today, I decide to watch a few soap operas on his enormous flat-screen TV. There’s something a bit strange about seeing every blemish in extreme high definition, but there’s not much else I feel like doing. It’s been a long day of throwing up into the toilet and finally working up the courage to do the test.

  I drift off in the middle of my favorite show, lost to the world until the front door bursts open late the next morning. I jolt upright, panicking for a moment. I feel strong arms wrap around me, yanking me off my feet and holding me close.

  “I’m going to be a dad!” the intruder booms, and I relax into his arms upon realizing that it’s anything but a crazed murderer.

  Dillon shakes with barely-repressed emotion, and I move to shift out of his grip. He only tightens his hold on me, adjusting me so he’s carrying me in the bridal position.

  He sweeps me away to his bedroom, where he gently kisses along the column of my neck. Startled yet thrilled, I open my robe to allow him access to my breasts. Instead, he simply settles his cheek against the still-flat plane of my stomach.

  I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I remain silent as he simply revels in thoughts of the future. He’s going to be a father, and though it will be unl
ikely that I’ll get the chance to know my child, I’ll be a mother, nonetheless.

  “Kiss me, Dillon,” I request softly, reddening as he tilts his head to look up at me.

  Smiling, he presses a kiss just above my navel. Pouting, I give him a slight shove. Undeterred by my irritation, he draws close to me and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

  “I don’t know where I would be without you,” he murmurs.

  I smile weakly, brushing a hand through his hair. As much as he means to me, and as kind as he’s being, I know he doesn’t love me. I guide his head back to my stomach, soothing us both by gently scratching the back of his neck. He groans gratefully, getting comfortable against me.

  Apparently exhausted from the trip, he drifts off into a peaceful slumber. Well, we’ve got a busy few months ahead of us.

  * * *

  The first doctor’s appointment goes swimmingly, though we learn very little. Claiming to know a more advanced facility, Dillon schedules me for routine appointments at the new practice as well as a 12-week ultrasound with a separate clinic. I give it very little thought, but he is thrilled. As much as I expect the time to pass agonizingly, the ultrasound appointment comes around remarkably quickly.

  I’m in bed enjoying a short snooze. Dillon has gone to pick up some snacks, tending to the cravings I’ve been having. He’s already a good father, and I can’t deny that I’ve considered the fact that he would be a good husband. I try to ignore those thoughts, however. I find myself exhausted since finding out I’m pregnant, though I suppose it’s mostly psychological. I simply can’t get enough sleep.

  I hear Dillon step through the front door and I roll onto my side with a soft groan. I squeeze my eyes closed, holding a pillow over my head.

  “Come on, to the doctor’s office we go,” he announces grandly, scooping me up and marching towards the door.