The Marriage Pact: A Baby Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Get up in the morning and get to your new job,” Dad said. “It’s a paid internship and everything. Fifteen dollars an hour, with the potential to grow if you want to stay on longer than a year. And if you don’t want to go, then pack your bags.”

  “You’re seriously gonna kick me out if I don’t show up?” I asked.

  “You raise hell constantly in this house,” Mel said. “The least you can do is be productive before you come home and do it.”

  I looked between Mel and my father before I saw the guilt roll behind his eyes. That was what this was about. Mel didn’t like having me around, so Dad was throwing me somewhere he knew I’d be safe so his pretty little wife wouldn’t have to deal with me.

  I couldn’t take this anymore. I threw my napkin down on my plate, guzzled the sweet tea set in front of me, then slumped off. What the fuck was he doing, suddenly taking an interest in me? He’d been clocked out since I was fifteen! Since Mom died. Why the hell did he suddenly think he had a say in my life now? I was twenty-two years old, and I had a good head on my shoulders. Sure, I raised a bit of hell. Sure, I liked looking at hot men. But what woman didn’t?

  “Such bullshit.” I slammed my bedroom door behind me before I flopped back down on my bed. Why couldn’t my father just continuing to play “house” with his Barbie wife? Why the hell did he have to drag me into it?

  I no longer wanted to be at the house, so I fished around for my car keys, grabbed my purse, and checked to make sure I had Dad’s credit card. Then I ventured out the front door before anyone could stop me. If Dad was into people who spent his money faster than he could count it, then that was what I would start doing. If he wanted to start playing house, then I would start becoming the woman he wanted to play house with.

  After all, he loved her, right?

  I got into my car and drove to the nearest bar. I threw back a couple appletinis and munched on some bar food, and I soon found myself four drinks in. I was giggling with the bartender as he hunched over and smiled at me, and for a brief second, I thought about taking him to my car. If I really wanted to piss my father off, I could wake up with a boy in my room the next morning, but there was something appealing about drunken car sex that made my mouth water.

  But a neon sign caught my gaze out the window, so I turned to see what it was.

  A blinking “We Do Piercings” sign was out there, and I was drawn to its colors. I paid my tab and wrote down an insane amount for a tip for the beautiful man who made my drinks. Then I shoved out of the bar and walked across the street. My lips were smiling and my nose was numb, and by the time I could take a decent breath, a man was grasping my tit.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” he asked.

  “Go for it!” I exclaimed.

  The alcohol numbed the pain of the piercings, and for a little while, I forgot everything. I forgot about my mother dying and the funeral. I forgot about all the hands I’d had to shake. I forgot about walking five miles by myself to her gravesite every day because Dad couldn’t stand to take me. I forgot about all the boys I couldn’t talk about with my mother and all the advice that had gone unsaid because Dad was too uncomfortable with those subjects. I forgot about how Dad paraded around different women every week before he sprung on us that he was marrying Mel.

  I forgot about how he missed me walking up onstage to get my college diploma.

  How could he fucking forget? Sure, he was there to hug me after the ceremony, but the look in his eyes had told me he hadn’t gotten there until after I had walked. Coupled with the hickeys on Mel’s neck, it was easy to figure out what the fuck he’d gotten so entangled with and what was so much more important than his youngest daughter graduating.

  I had dreams of running my own business one day. Dreams of opening my own shop I could grow into a conglomerate. Dreams of stepping in as the CEO of a company. Dreams of having enough money to buy a company, like Grant Jacobs did with my father’s.

  Wait. I was going to be working for Grant Jacobs.

  Scratch that. I was going to be working alongside Grant Jacobs. This might actually be useful to me.

  “There you go,” the guy said. “How do they feel?”

  I looked down at my nipple piercings and smiled. The bars were rose gold and had little disco balls on each end. They caught the light and sparkled every color I could ever imagine, and it was perfect for someone like me. I never could pick out which color was my favorite as a child. Orange was so happy, and yellow was so bright. Red was so sultry, and blue just went with everything. Why couldn’t I have all the colors?

  Well, now I did, right there on my tits.

  “How much do I owe you?” I asked, smirking.

  By the time I got home, everyone was in bed. No one was waiting up for me to see how I was. No one had sent me any text messages asking me if I was all right. My sister wasn’t even awake in her room to poke her head out as I came up the hallway.

  No one was there. Just like they weren’t there when Mom died.

  I passed out face-first into my pillow, and suddenly, I saw Grant. His deep green eyes glared at me while his dark hair hung around his face. I reached out, running my fingers through it, but suddenly, he had me pinned to the wall. For a man who was almost fifty years old, he was strong. I ran my hands up his arms, feeling his veins bulging from his muscles before I wrapped my legs around his waist. My hands ran up his strong chest, tracing every divot his muscles provided before he thrust his hips forward.

  I was breathless. His cock tore at my insides and pressed against every beautiful space. His strong legs rolled his muscle-bound hips, snapping my skin against his while his balls pounded my ass. His lips devoured me, sucking my pouty bottom lip in with his gleaming white teeth. He tugged on it, and I moaned, but before I could reach the best part of the dream, my fucking alarm went off.

  I woke up panting, my chest flushed. The pain from my nipples pulled me from my dazed sleep, and as I lifted my shirt, I couldn’t help but laugh. Fuck. I was about to start my new job with a boss my mind was obviously curious about, and I’d just had my nipples pierced.

  I didn’t even know if I had a bra that would cover this shit up.

  This internship might not be as bad as I had first thought, though. Not only was Grant Jacobs a fine-looking forty-nine-year-old, but he owned one of the most prestigious up-and-coming businesses in the South. My business degree readied me to shadow someone like him, and being next to him at all times would give me a good look into the world behind the degree I’d obtained in school.

  It would also give me a beautiful look at his ass.

  “Crissy, you up?!” my father yelled from downstairs.

  I groaned as I rolled out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about my nipple piercings, but I certainly knew what I was going to do about this internship.

  I had an hour to piece myself together before I had to be in his office.

  Chapter 3

  Grant

  Today was the day. The day I took on the hellion that was Crissy Marks. I did everything I could to embrace the walking disaster, including setting up a last-minute desk for her outside my office. I didn’t want to look up and see her every damn morning, but it was better than throwing her to the wolves that sat on every other floor of this building. I sat at my desk and gathered a few things I would require of her, and as the clock on my computer flipped to 7:30 a.m., I heard a ding go off on my computer.

  I sat down at my seat and started scrolling through my emails. Reminder notices of meetings I needed to attend got jotted down in my calendar, then starred so I could pull them up for Crissy. I knew I’d have to hold her hand through the first few days, but after that, a girl like her should get the hang of it. I continued taking notes, filing emails, and sorting through my day until I came across an email that caught my attention.

  When I saw the email address, “Sectual_Synner,” I knew it was spam. I hovered my mouse over the ‘spam’ button, but the su
bject line caught my eye.

  What do you think?

  Usually, spam subject lines were more salacious than that. They either had “cock,” “erection,” or “tits” somewhere in them, along with a bunch of characters. Part of me got curious. I would have to send a request down to the I.T. department to check our fucking spam filters on our work emails, but before I could catch myself, I was opening the email.

  And right there on my screen was the most perfect set of tits I’d ever seen.

  The milky white skin bloomed in all the right places. There was the cutest little mole on the side of the left breast, just begging for my tongue to lap at it. The rounded, pink nipples were reddened and sore, telling me the piercings I was staring at were new. The slender barbells were capped with little disco balls that glittered against the flawless skin of the owner, and instantly, I felt my cock harden. I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 7:45, which meant I had to do something. I was expecting Alex and his daughter any second, and my pants were tented with a raging hard-on.

  But I couldn’t peel my eyes away. This picture couldn’t have been meant for me, but I wished it had been. I hadn’t been with anyone in over a decade. Not even close. I didn’t go out to bars to drink. I didn’t go dancing to relieve tension. I didn’t even set up a site for women to come find me.

  I just didn’t do that.

  But knowing these beauties were out there churned a feeling in my pelvis I hadn’t felt in over a decade.

  I scrolled down the picture, getting a look at just how perfectly the luscious tits hung on the body they were strapped to. I could see the beginning of the waist dip of the beautiful body before the picture ended, and I had to bite back a groan. I wanted it to keep going. I wanted to see what more there was. Maybe there was a little pooch behind this woman’s belly button. A pooch that would feel perfect in the palms of my hands. Did she have rounded hips? Maybe a nice, bouncing ass?

  My mouth watered at the idea until I got down to the one line of text sitting just underneath the picture.

  “What do you think? Sent from my iPhone...XOXO, Crissy.”

  My jaw unhinged before I clicked the email closed. Holy shit, Crissy Marks had sent me a picture of her tits. Holy fuck, I knew she was going to be a hard one to keep in line, but what the fuck was this? Baptism by fire? Raking my hands through my hair, I leaned back in my chair. The clock on my computer shouted five minutes until eight, and I could feel my palms sweating.

  I’d just salivated over Crissy Marks’s tits.

  For fuck’s sake, her father was my right-hand man! The only person I considered a friend. What the fuck had just happened? How the hell did she have my work email? She hadn’t even shown up for her first day of her internship yet.

  I stood up and took a few deep breaths as I turned to stare out the window. I only had time for some cleansing breaths before the two of them would show up, and if my cock was still hard, I could simply keep staring out the window. As the city of Baton Rouge hustled and bustled below me, I closed my eyes and tried to rid myself of those voluptuous tits. This was Alex’s daughter, and I was supposed to be the safe choice, the mature choice. I was supposed to be taking her hand and leading her through things, whipping her into shape, molding her for a world that would crush any woman like her in a heartbeat.

  She was about to be my employee, and I couldn’t allow a knee-jerk reaction to a picture that wasn’t meant for me to compromise that.

  Just as I felt my cock settle back down into its rightful place, a knock came at the door. I looked in the reflection of the mirror and saw Alex standing there. For a split second, I just stared at Crissy. It had been awhile since I’d seen her, but the way her blouse protruded from her body told me her tits were exactly what had been in that email. I searched her bosom for the outline of those barbells. She was smart enough to wear a thoroughly padded bra, and for a moment there, I felt my cock twitch again.

  Fuck.

  “Grant?” Alex asked.

  “Come on in and take a seat,” I said. “Just gathering my thoughts.”

  I heard them sit down, and it afforded me a chance to take a few more breaths. I finally turned around and was met with Alex’s anxious smile, but then my eyes landed on Crissy. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and matching heels with a pale blue blouse that was tucked in. The top couple buttons were undone, giving me a bird’s eye view of the lacy bra she had on underneath. I cracked my neck and cleared my throat, readying myself for the conversation at hand, but before I could open my mouth, Crissy’s voice invaded the room.

  “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Jacobs,” she said. “It’s an honor.”

  “Don’t thank me just yet,” I said. “You’ll hate me before this internship is over.”

  “Oh, I highly doubt that,” she said.

  I eyed her for a second before I looked at Alex. His anxious smile was gone, and in an instant, he was out of his chair. Without a word, he hurried out the door and closed it behind him, and that left me alone with Crissy.

  And still, her tits were floating around in my mind.

  “The job in the beginning will be fairly simple,” I said. “You’ll be managing my calendar, running a few errands, sitting in on all the meetings I attend and taking minutes, as well as keeping up with details on various projects I’ve assigned to my junior executives.” I paused. “Shouldn’t you be writing this down?”

  She was staring at me, but she wasn’t moving. Her eyes scanned my body as I clasped my hands behind my back, and for a split second, I wondered if the email was intentional. It wouldn’t take much for her to pull up the company website and find out how to contact me, so maybe that was what she had done. Maybe the beautiful picture my cock was still trying to digest had actually been meant for me.

  “Got it all up in the vault here,” she said, tapping her temple.

  “Uh huh,” I said. “Crissy, you’re aware this is a serious job, correct?”

  “Of course, Mr. Jacobs,” she said.

  “And you’re aware that the desk out there, the one with the brand-new computer and telephone, is yours, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” she said.

  “If you aren’t interested in this position, I can find someone else to fill it.”

  “I’m more than interested,” she said, grinning.

  She’d sent the picture to rattle me. I knew it. That smug little grin on her face as she leaned back in her chair told me she thought she was just playing a game. The way her tits jutted out from her chest and the way her leg crossed over her knee reeked of a power play. She was trying to one-up me in my own damn office, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Part of whipping her into shape would be to show her who the fuck owned this company and who the fucked worked for it.

  “Come the end of the week, you’ll be fielding all my phone calls and emails,” I said. “Reminders for meetings, scheduled lunches, anything that requires my attention will need to be inputted into my computer. The calendar application on your computer is synced with mine, so what you input, I can see. If people want to see me, they will go through you. You’ll take appointments, learn the names of the people I network with, and, eventually, you will be speaking for me. All of this will occur within the span of four months, and if it doesn’t, you’ll be let go. Do you understand?”

  “I do, Mr. Jacobs.”

  “I see you’re still not taking notes,” I said.

  “Like I said, all in the vault,” she said.

  “Unfortunately, I believe this company will have a bit more information to hold than what your little vault can maintain,” I said. “Find a way to keep track of things. Whenever we meet like this, I expect you to be taking notes.”

  “Is there a pad and a specifically-colored pencil you’d like me to use, Mr. Jacobs?”

  Holy fuck, she needed to stop calling me “Mr. Jacobs.” My cock couldn’t take much more of it.

  “Why don’t you use your phone
?” I asked. “You seem to be pretty handy with it.”

  For a second, her face faltered. The smug grin and the confident glint in her eye flashed with something I couldn’t quite pick up on. I sat down at my desk and grabbed my pen. Then I looked back up at her and nodded toward the door.

  “You’re free to go,” I said. “Take that vault and go set yourself up at your desk. You’re on the clock, Miss Marks.”

  Chapter 4

  Crissy

  Thirty minutes into my day and I was already over it. He acted as if the computer system was some high-tech piece of gold I’d need a key and the hand of Satan himself to operate. The computer didn’t even have a password on it for fuck’s sake. I set up a password so it would lock when I was away. Then I went into the calendar system and began toggling things around. His schedule was all sorts of fucked up. No wonder he was so on edge. I switched a few lunch meetings around and shot off a few emails about the changed times. Then I looked up and saw his eyes hooked on his computer screen. He was squinting at it, no doubt registering the changes I was making. Then he sat back and locked his hands behind his head.

  There was no denying that Grant Jacobs was a fine piece of meat. He did more for that suit than it did for him, but tailoring a decent suit was easy to teach a man. The fun little lecture he’d given me this morning was already making my head pound. Like I was some idiot who couldn’t remember a few bullet points in a conversation! His commanding nature was nice, though. He enjoyed having the upper hand, and I could admire that in a man. If my nipples hadn’t been so fucking sore from the night before, I would’ve smirked at the fact that they were hard right now.

  But then my mind fluttered to that crack he made about my phone. Why would he say something like that?

  I leaned back in my chair as I pulled out my phone. I started flipping through a few things, swiping a few pictures, and ogling a few pretty blue eyes. The men all had baby faces, which was cute until you figured out their tongues worked like a baby’s, too. A real man, a man like Grant Jacobs, would know how to use his tongue in just the ways I was looking for.