Her Boss’s Baby: An Office Romance

by Chloe Lane

  That's enough for him, because then he's spreading me wide, making me move my feet apart to give him the access he needs. He runs two of his thick fingers over my slit and that alone is enough to bring me almost to the edge, I'm so sensitive, so ready.

  “Fuck, Skye, you're soaking wet.” I hear a sound—him sucking his fingers off. “And sweet.”

  I can't stand it any longer. I need him inside me, and I need it now. “Please—” I start to beg again, but he cuts me off.

  “Quiet. You be as quiet as you can.”

  He lines the head of his cock up with my entrance, and his hands grasp my hips tight.

  Then he thrusts in, all of him at once, filling me completely, stretching me almost past my limit. I cover my own mouth with my hand, stifling a cry of sheer pleasure.

  Down below us, a couple walks in the dark. They're so busy looking at each other that they never turn their faces up to the balcony.

  I'm almost a little disappointed.

  And then I'm lost in the sensation of being claimed, fully, by my own boss.

  Chapter 10

  Matthew

  This is the last thing on earth I should be doing—fucking my secretary on my balcony, in full view of everything and everyone. But it's the only thing on earth that I want to be doing right now. And Skye wants it, too. I've given her every opportunity to back out, and here she is, taking all of me, working her hips back to take even more, to get every last inch.

  There are two reasons I brought her out here. First, and least sexy, is that my air conditioning isn't working—and the last thing I want is for Skye to overheat during this moment. And second, I'm hoping that being out on the balcony will distract her from the part of me I'm not ready to reveal in full light yet.

  I came back from Afghanistan with a scar across my lower belly, and I fucking hate it. It’s a showstopper, which is why I haven’t bothered to get intimate with many women since then. They always want to talk about it, and marvel over it, and it makes my skin crawl. I don’t think Skye would do that, but between her offer this morning at the office and the way she seems to want me just as much as I want her, I can’t think straight.

  Better to avoid the entire thing. Better to just leave it on the bedside table for another day.

  I thrust into her and her muscles clench around my cock, so tightly it’s unbelievable. Skye isn’t a virgin—she would have said so—but she might as well be for how she clamps down on my length, wet and fresh and strong.

  She bends over, legs spread wide to keep her balance, hands firmly clasping the railing. She’s doing a fucking great job of staying quiet.

  Well, even though I told her to do that, I’m going to make it a challenge.

  I settle into a rhythm, slow but strong, and reach around to the front of her waist, starting at her belly button. With every inch I work my fingers toward her clit, she rocks back against me with a little more force. When I finally make contact, she pushes herself back against me as hard as she can, and I hear her hand slap against her mouth.

  I swirl my fingertips over her pulsing button, and immediately I get a reaction. Her pussy tightens around my cock in time with my fingers, and she lets out delicious little mewls into her own hand. She’s dancing on my cock, her hips working from side to side, and it’s bringing me closer and closer to my own edge.

  But her first.

  “Are you ready to come for me?”

  She has to take her hand away from her mouth to answer. “Yes. Oh, God, please yes.”

  “Hands on the railing, sweetness.”

  Reluctantly, she puts both hands back on the railing. “But I might—”

  “Make a sound, so that the rest of the city knows what I’m doing to you?”

  She nods, not even willing to say it out loud.

  “I guess you’ll have to decide if it’s worth the risk.”

  It’s getting harder and harder to put words together, and with every stroke my mind melts down even further into Skye’s sweet body. My mind screams a warning—this is risky, this is dangerous—but at the same time, another part of me is urging my body on. This could be the woman who opens the rest of my career by opening her legs. She’d be the perfect person to present to my father. How could he deny me the trust fund money with Skye’s big green eyes looking up at him? I couldn’t resist her. I can’t resist her. And I can’t imagine anyone could.

  I pump into her, the heat building in my own hips. I can feel every muscle tensing, working to fuck her harder. She lets out a moan, cutting herself off just at the last moment.

  “Good girl,” I tell her, and she gushes over my skin. So that’s what she likes. I can fucking do that.

  I pick up the pace, giving myself over to this moment. I’ve long stopped looking down into the park to see if anyone is watching. I don’t fucking care if they’re watching. All I want is Skye. All I’ve wanted from the moment I first saw her is Skye. I tried to tell myself that it was all her—she was the one who looked at me with fuck-me eyes across the office every day. But deep down, I was just as guilty.

  Guilty can feel so damn good.

  Skye meets my rhythm with every movement, and then she says something I don’t expect. “Do it.”

  “What?” I force the word out through gritted teeth.

  “Come inside of me. Get me pregnant. You need this baby, Mr. Hunter—” The Mr. Hunter almost does me in. “And I want it. I want to have your baby.”

  “I can’t do that.” I also can’t stop thrusting in and out of her. I’m past the point of no return.

  “Please, Mr. Hunter. Please. I want this. I need this.”

  “I—”

  “You don’t have a condom, do you?”

  “No.” I don’t know what I was planning to do—pull out and come hard on her back, in that nice little crack between her ass cheeks. Yes. That was it. That was the plan, but now, with her wetness all around me, her smooth voice begging me—she’s literally begging me—to fill her up, to make her mine, even though this can’t be long-term, she can’t possibly want to be with me forever—

  My mind reels with it all, but Skye bucks her hips back against mine. ”Please,” she says, one last time, and I can hear in her voice the need, the want, the desperation.

  I’m a man who’s known for maintaining control. I was in the Army, for God’s sake, and I’ve built Hunter Housing from the ground up with my bare hands. I’ve pulled it out of the scorched earth and made a home for hundreds of people. I want to give homes to hundreds more. All I need is a baby. All she needs is a safe harbor.

  What are the odds, anyway? It would have to be fate for her to get pregnant right now. When she doesn’t, we can always resort to using my plan...

  I can’t deny her.

  Her please echoes in my head, driving me over the edge. I hold her tightly, pulling her back so I can drive my cock as deeply as possible into her one last time, and I come hard, filling her up until I’m completely spent.

  There’s no going back now.

  Chapter 11

  Skye

  One month later

  “You're going to be fine,” Matthew says, rubbing his hand in a slow circle over the small of my back. Matthew—I still can't get used to calling him that, no matter how much we practice it. It's all part of the agreement we made.

  After that night on his balcony, we sat down and got serious about what it's going to take to make this work. We both agreed that feelings can’t enter into it—that's too complicated, and it would get too ugly if we hit a snag in the road.

  “What if I am pregnant?” I'd joked. I knew deep down there was no way I would be—it wasn't the right time in my cycle.

  “We'll cross that bridge,” he'd said, a note of seriousness in his voice.

  “I'm not pregnant.”

  “You couldn't possibly know for sure yet.”

  “I can, and I do.” A tiny flicker in the back of my mind prompted the remote possibility—maybe I was pregnant—but I quickly dismissed the
warning.

  It was more important to discuss the terms of our agreement.

  No emotional attachments.

  I would not be at risk of losing my job.

  Robin and I could move in to one of Mr. Hunter's—Matthew's—developments, and he would make sure we were both able to get on Hunter Housing's insurance plan without waiting the normal amount of time.

  When the trust funds are finally released, I'll be paid two hundred thousand dollars, enough to pay off my loans and take care of the rent for another several years.

  All I have to do is pretend to be Matthew's girlfriend—Matthew’s recently knocked-up girlfriend. His father won't be able to prove it without a pregnancy test, and there's no way he'll be able to force me to take one.

  Though if he did, I'd be ready because I really have to pee.

  We're standing outside the door to his father's office, right next to the first of whom I assume is a few bodyguards. Matthew explained to me over one of our fake dates—all taking place out in the public eye, in case his father was having us watched—that his father is extremely paranoid and bitter. He insists on being surrounded by security guards, even at meetings with his own son.

  “I can't blame him, though,” Matthew had said, his tone flip. “I am, after all, a slightly unhinged veteran with what he calls anger issues.” Then he'd looked at me, his blue eyes steely. “He doesn't realize that I'm only ever angry around him because he's such a greedy asshole.”

  Now, after going out on several of those dates—and a few more hot fucks in Matthew's car and on his balcony—it's time to meet that greedy asshole and put the next phase of our plan into motion.

  Matthew looks across the room at the bodyguard, who raises one hand to his earpiece, then gives us a sharp nod.

  “This is a little much,” I whisper, but Matthew isn't paying attention to me. He's staring straight ahead, his back ramrod straight. In this moment, I know exactly what he looked like when he was serving in the Army. A force to be reckoned with. He still is, but the uniform would have fit him like he was born to wear it. Then he reaches forward and opens the sleek double door, stepping inside without another moment of hesitation.

  I follow along, never leaving his side.

  “Mr. Hunter,” he says, his tone formal, with an added edge that sends a chill down my spine. “I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Skye.”

  The man sitting behind the desk at the other end of the office is, without a doubt, Matthew's father. It's like an older version of him is sitting right there in front of us, silver-haired and just as physically well-built as his son. At Matthew's words, he rises from his seat, a smile crinkling his eyes, and comes around the desk toward us.

  “What a pleasure,” he gushes. I don't know what to say. I've been preparing myself for a shouting match, not this handsome older man who's now taken my hand in his for a squeeze that's as familiar as it can get without being creepy. “It's lovely to meet you, Skye.” Then he turns to Matthew. “I understand you have some news to share with me.”

  The moment stretches out around us. Matthew's jaw tightens, just a little. It's an expression I recognize from our dates. He's either surprised or angry. Probably a bit of both.

  “So you heard.” His tone is flat. This is definitely not how we'd practiced. Matthew thought that his father would be prepared to meet me, and then we could deliver the news when he was relaxed enough to hear it.

  “I did indeed, I did indeed.” Matthew's father—Richard—assesses me with the same pointed blue gaze as Matthew. Suddenly, the handshake doesn't seem so genuine. Suddenly, I'm not sure that I can trust him at all.

  It makes my stomach turn.

  But Richard Hunter isn't done speaking. He faces me again, and the smile that comes over his face doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. “When are you due?”

  “April,” I say automatically, remembering at the last moment to look a little sheepish. At least we spent enough time practicing the answer, basing the date on that first time we...visited Matthew's balcony.

  “That's wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” The tension between the two men thickens despite the friendly tone in Richard’s voice. The older man raises his hands to his face, clasped together in front of his lips as if he's considering something, deep in thought. When he lowers them, he looks at me, then at Matthew. “But there is one thing.”

  Oh, shit.

  Matthew looks as offended as I've ever seen him. “And what is that?”

  Richard raises his hands as if the choice isn't his at all. “The terms of the trust stipulate that the pregnancy has to be confirmed—”

  “Are you suggesting that Skye take a pregnancy test?”

  Richard purses his lips. “That would be the easiest way, don't you think?”

  Matthew’s face is turning red. We'd discussed my having to take a test as a possibility, but I don't think he really believed his father would take it that far.

  I realize that I have to buy us some time.

  “I'll take a pregnancy test,” I say, my voice coming down hard between the two of them. “I've already taken several. What's one more?”

  Chapter 12

  Matthew

  I didn't want to believe this about my father, but I should have seen it coming. I don't know why I always give my father the benefit of the doubt. He's never given me any such courtesy.

  The moment Skye agrees to take the test, my father turns and heads straight to his desk. He yanks open one of the drawers, the smooth sound of wood against wood the only sound in the room, and produces an unopened box of pregnancy tests. He obviously bought them at the drugstore around the corner in honor of our visit. The sound of ripping plastic echoes loudly in the silence of the room as he tears off the package wrapping.

  Skye squeezes my hand.

  For all our talk about being professional, she's looking up at me with a serious and confident expression. “It's okay,” she mouths.

  But of course it's not, because Skye isn't pregnant. I thought this was the least likely scenario, so we have no backup plan. My father will find out that I have no heir—God, that sounds so fucked up, even in my head—and then this little plan is over. I'll have to delay breaking ground on the new development. I'll have to inch toward my expansion goals one painful dollar at a time. And in the meantime, there are people living on the streets and in shelters who need better places to stay. People who fought beside me in Afghanistan, or in even worse places.

  I fucking hate that I'm losing control over this situation, but my father is already handing her the test.

  “Where's the restroom?” Skye says, looking around the office. It's the most massive one in the building, naturally.

  One of my father's guards appears from a narrow hallway to our left. “This way, Ms. Dawson.”

  I haven't told him her last name yet, but clearly someone from the firm has been watching us and investigating her. They know about Skye.

  It's a small comfort that we've done a good enough job at convincing them that we're a couple. Good enough that my fucking asshole of a father has done some background research on her. Looks like they haven't been able to touch her medical records yet, because if they had, this conversation wouldn't even be happening. There are no medical records, only a fake ultrasound image that I had printed up just for this occasion.

  I want to laugh out loud. I should never have tried to play him for a fool, and now he's probably going to retaliate by never releasing the trust.

  “Drink?”

  Skye hasn't been gone a full minute yet, the guard disappearing down the hallway behind her. They'll probably make her piss on the stick right in front of them, so they can witness her taking the test to make sure it's the real deal.

  “Why are you doing this?” I hiss.

  My father gives me a skeptical look. “Do you honestly think I'd take you at your word after all the conversations we've had? After what you've done?”

  Anger blooms in my chest, sick and hot. “Jesus, Rich
ard. Are you ever going to let that go? I was eighteen.”

  “You were eighteen, and you had a future ahead of you,” my father says mildly. “And I wish you wouldn't call me that.”

  “Sorry, Dad.” The word is coated in acid. “Are you ever going to forgive me for doing a stint serving my country? Or are you just going to be pissed forever that I didn't go to Brown like you wanted?”

  “You threw away that opportunity more than once. I'm allowed to have my own feelings about it.”

  Another surge of bile rises in my throat. “You're taking it out on heroes. Real heroes. I hope you know that.”

  He shakes his head, deciding to get himself a drink. There's a beverage cart parked in the corner of the office, and before my father speaks again, he pours himself a whiskey neat. “You weren't a hero for abandoning your mother and me.”

  “I didn't abandon you. You're both fully functioning adults.”

  “You lied to us. Imagine how she felt when we got that letter.”

  That letter is the letter that gets sent to every parent when their son or daughter arrives at boot camp. I couldn't stop them from sending it. It was the first time my parents learned that I was joining the military, and I did it because there was no other way out. Brown seemed like a trap meant to keep me under their thumb, and I couldn't live that way anymore—couldn't chafe under the expectation of being filthy rich for moving money around. I wanted to do something. And they didn't agree with my choice.

  He's still retaliating, seven years later. I've been out of the military for four years. There's no reason he should still be so fucking hurt about any of this.

  The scar across my stomach throbs, the way it always does when I'm pissed the hell off. I take a deep breath, and then another. The scar hasn't healed. It never will. But I know what will take my mind off of this whole ridiculous ordeal—losing myself in Skye's curves, in the melodic sound of her voice, in the way that she runs her fingers through my hair, gently, so gently...