His Surprise Baby

by Valentine, Layla

  He was an older guy, a bit new to social media, but great at finding sponsors for Bradley and coordinating with Heidi to ensure they fit the “new image.” A true image, as it so happened—one of domestic bliss as a proud papa.

  All the new sponsors had also helped finance their house in Miami, where they’d moved after Bradley got transferred to the Miami Eels. There were days when he missed the boys from the Sharks, and the years they’d played together, but Miami was so much more fun that he didn’t see a point in complaining.

  There was a beach at the edge of their property, quite close to where they docked their speedboat. The boat, named ‘Surely Temple,’ had been a gift to Heidi after Isaac was born. She’d claimed that the labor had been a straightforward one, and thus didn’t warrant a gift, but Bradley had allowed no argument on the subject.

  Besides, he liked seeing her face when they were on the water; she lit up from within, and stuck her head off the boat to feel the breeze, like a puppy leaning out the car window. They’d gotten Isaac a little inflatable jacket, and would drive out to the middle of the ocean, where they’d sit as a family with a picnic, watching the sunset.

  And, besides Miami being an all-around better time, the Eels were no slacks. In fact, Bradley’s intuition told him they may well be posed to go all the way to the Super Bowl. He kept these thoughts private, though; he didn’t want to jinx anything.

  Heidi, with all the media drama behind her, had seamlessly slid back into her PR career. It helped that they were out of Orlando, which had become toxic. In Miami, she was able to network with ease, no trail of dirty laundry hitched to her heel.

  It also didn’t hurt that she’d gotten all 53 of Bradley’s new teammates onto her roster. Even though she could only work part-time because of the baby, business was booming, so much so that she was trying to persuade Meredith to move down to Miami and help her run things.

  The team loved her, and jokingly told Bradley that he was good and all, but they were more grateful for his awesome wife. Bradley was equally amazed watching her multitask, going out for drinks with potential new clients and still getting home in time to put Isaac to bed.

  So, here they were, present day—Christmas morning. All last-minute house prep had been finished, stockings hung from the fireplace, etc. They had a real, rustic working fireplace in this house; in the move, they’d decided to find a home that was a little more family-friendly and a little less modern bachelor pad.

  Eventually, they’d settled for a massive colonial with distinct Spanish influences. There were rose bushes, a swimming pool with colorful painted tiles, and a winding stairwell through the center of the house. It had been built in the 1920s, and there were hidden passageways, a remnant of prohibition. Down the line, there would be plenty of places perfect for hide-and-seek with Isaac when he was old enough to walk.

  It turned out that ‘Winter Wonderland’ was a totally unrealistic theme for a Spanish-influenced house in Florida. Heidi and Bradley didn’t care, though; their son would get a snow-covered Christmas, even if that snow was just cotton.

  They were on their deep blue velvet couch in front of the fireplace, Bradley balancing both his coffee and a squirmy Isaac.

  “Present time?” Heidi asked eagerly.

  Bradley looked at her, giddily bouncing on her toes in a silk robe, her hair tied up in an effortless bun. She looked as if she belonged on a balcony in France, with a croissant in hand and a view of the Eiffel Tour behind her.

  Perhaps I should take her there, he thought absently.

  Instead, he replied, “Present time!”

  ‘Present time’ promised to be good this year; they’d received gifts from around the world. Fans, friends, interested business partners—all had sent Heidi and Bradley some Christmas token.

  Heidi pranced over to the enormous tree (it topped out at least nine feet high) and Bradley chuckled, following behind, baby in his arms.

  “I’m glad you’re so excited,” he said to her.

  She looked at him and admitted, “I love presents.”

  He snickered, and then unable to resist, let loose a booming laugh.

  “What?” she asked bashfully.

  “No, nothing, it’s just—you don’t usually seem to care about, like, worldly goods.”

  “I don’t. I, um…” she trailed off, blushing. “I really like surprises. I know it’s a little childish.”

  He grinned and pulled her in for a light peck on the cheek.

  “I think it’s adorable,” he said.

  “Good, because I’m about to tear into these presents.”

  And so she did. With the three of them, one happy little family, sitting around the tree, they began to dig through piles of gifts, and unwrapped an impossibly large assortment of treasures.

  Isaac looked on, cooing happily, but was too young to comprehend the celebration. Nevertheless, Bradley knew both he and Heidi felt the milestone of their first Christmas together, even if the baby didn’t.

  From out of the gift bags and wrapped boxes came champagne, gift cards, silver serving dishes, hand-knit sweaters, candles, lotions, jewels—on and on and on. Heidi grinned at each and every one, her face lighting up.

  Bradley noted that, out of all the lavish items, the ones she seemed to like most were the handmade things or gag gifts. She fell to pieces laughing over a pair of slippers in the shape of s’mores, and was ecstatic to find in one box an inflatable pool toy in the shape of Bradley’s face.

  Is that a thing for sale now? Bradley wondered with some incredulity. I hope not.

  At last, Heidi collapsed to the floor, exhausted from her fits of merriment. Bradley lifted Isaac from his own arms onto Heidi’s chest, and watched as mother and son cuddled in a pile of presents. Was it possible to be this happy?

  “Dear,” he said lightly, “would you like your present from me?”

  “Can I have it while lying on the floor? I am…very comfortable.”

  He snorted. “It fits in my back pocket. Sort of.”

  At that, he reached into his pants and pulled a few folded pieces of paper out. He lifted Isaac off of Heidi’s chest, and filled the new blank space with the papers.

  “Merry Christmas, my love,” he said softly.

  She read the pages, still a little worn out from the excitement of all the presents. Suddenly, she sat straight up, like a mummy emerging from a tomb in old horror flicks.

  “Bradley,” she asked shakily, “what is this?”

  “That, is the deed to your new building.”

  She searched his eyes, trying to discern if he was kidding. He was not.

  “Why did you by me an entire freaking building?”

  He smiled. “If you read closer, you’ll see it’s actually an office building. For when you get your PR firm up and running, full time.”

  “But it’s huge!”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “because I know you’re gonna be a big deal. I figured the company will grow into it.”

  “Oh my God,” she stammered. “I love you. Thank you, darling. This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. I hope I’m worth it.”

  She crawled over to him and smacked a big kiss on his lips. A naughty grin crossed her face.

  “Let me put Isaac down,” she said, “and then I can give you your gift. I’ll be back in five.”

  She hoisted the baby out of Bradley’s arms and skipped out of the room. Bradley looked on, confused.

  Where is this going? he wondered.

  While Heidi was gone, he sifted through the pile of gifts, amazed at the sheer quantity. After all that playboy bullshit, people the world over still liked him. That was a really, really good feeling—to know that he hadn’t screwed everything up.

  Bradley was opening a box of French truffles when he heard footsteps. Looking up, his mouth dropped wide open.

  Heidi was wearing wildly sexy lingerie—all black, satin, and lace. The sheer bra cupped her breasts, which had swelled in size since having Isaac, and almost
revealed the pink nipples he liked so much. There was an inch of fabric covering her crotch, and what a tantalizing inch it was. She had even put on five-inch leather heels.

  She turned around and revealed her pert ass, which had a thin thong strip running between its cheeks.

  “Oh, damn,” he whispered.

  He wanted to grab that ass, run his hands over those thighs, and press his face to the prize between them. Bradley stood up and moved towards the woman he loved, wanting to kiss every inch of her perfect body.

  “Uh-uh,” she said, holding out a finger and waggling it in his face. “Not yet.” She pivoted quickly on her heels, and over her shoulder, called back, “Follow me.”

  He did as he was told because, uh, duh, look at this woman—he’d follow her instructions to the end of the Earth. She guided him through the house, that ass bouncing up and down the whole time.

  Once, he reached out, just to grab a little piece of it, and she swatted him away. Looked like he was going to have to follow her achingly slow lead, no matter how hard he’d become with the teasing.

  Heidi strode up the stairs and Bradley gulped, worrying he wouldn’t make it all the way to the bedroom. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and wiggled her hips.

  “Now can I touch?” he managed. “Please?”

  “Not yet,” she said with a smirk. She turned around to face him and sat down on the top of the stairs, arching her back. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

  She slipped two fingers into her mouth, then traced them down her collarbone, over her satin-sheathed nipples, did a loop around her belly button, and finally plunged them into her underwear, beginning to touch herself.

  Heidi set to work, thighs straining, making herself moan. Bradley panted; he wanted to do that, all that and more, until every piece of her body heaved with desire. She took her fingers out of her panties, and while licking them clean, stood up, and continued walking.

  He followed her, obedient like a dog, until they arrived in their master suite. Bradley looked around the room, dazed, and noticed rose petals and candles. At some point—who knew when—she’d transformed their room into a romantic oasis. In the middle of the hardwood floor stood a single chair.

  “Sit,” she commanded, indicating the chair. He did so, unquestioning.

  She moved to the wall, fiddled with a few buttons, until suddenly a sexy R&B song came through the sound system.

  “I wanted to show you,” she said, slinking around his chair, “just how much I love you.”

  From behind the seat, she leaned close to his ear, and whispered, “Remember—no touching.”

  She came around to face Bradley, and he could feel himself flushing to the top of his forehead. His cock strained inside his pants.

  With painstaking slowness, Heidi reached behind her and unclasped her bra, releasing her perfect, bouncing breasts. She took her nipples in her fingers and squeezed them, even lifting one to her tongue and letting her mouth dance around it.

  Before he knew it, she was on her hands and knees, crawling towards him. She raised herself up until her breasts were at the height of his knees and spread his legs open, pressing herself between them. She brushed her tits over the insides of his thighs, and he wriggled, wanting desperately to touch her.

  Heidi shook her head; still no touching allowed. Deliberately, she tilted forward, until her mouth was positioned right over his hardened cock. She let her lips dangle open, so close that he could feel her hot breath through his pants.

  “Please,” he said simply.

  “Not yet,” she replied once more, and stood up.

  She turned around once more and hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties, then gradually tugged them down, past her ass and onto the floor.

  Now, wearing just high heels, she slunk back towards him, face flushed. She settled herself onto his lap, legs around the chair.

  Once more, she whispered into his ear, “No touching.”

  She began to slowly grind on him, letting his cock harden more and more, occasionally gyrating upward so that her nipple would graze his mouth.

  “Heidi,” he said huskily. “Please.”

  She looked him in the eyes, and at last relented. “Fuck me.”

  He needed no further encouragement. His hands locked around her thighs and pulled her closer to him as she swiftly pulled off his pants.

  Seconds later, he was inside of her, thrusting deeply, her inner walls clenching around him, wanting all of him.

  Bradley gasped, overwhelmed with sensation and the intensity of his love for the woman in his arms. Brimming with desire, he slapped her ass, and raked his fingernails across her back—he knew how much she liked that.

  Sensing that Heidi was approaching her peak, Bradley increased the speed of his thrusts, stroking her clit with his free hand. A minute later, Heidi cried out, and he kissed her fervently as they climaxed together, plunging over the edge into breathless, delirious ecstasy.

  He held her close, enjoying the aftershocks of Heidi’s orgasm as she pulsed around him.

  After a long moment, he broke the silence.

  “That was—”

  “Fucking hot,” she interrupted with a grin. “Let’s do it again.”

  He hefted her into the air and threw her on the bed, prepared to revel in a day of Christmas miracles.

  The End

  Now that they’ve found each other at last, where will Heidi and Bradley be the next time the Super Bowl rolls around?

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  Triplets For The Billionaire

  Ana Sparks & Layla Valentine

  Ready to go again?

  Triplets For The Billionaire is up next!

  Copyright 2018 by Ana Sparks and Layla Valentine

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Charlotte

  The steady clacking of the keyboard is soothing as I sit alone in my apartment, searching for a job to replace the temporary position I was let go from a week ago. The job pool is as sparse as always; finding decent work seems to be harder than ever.

  Since being made redundant two years ago—when the company I worked for was taken over by the unstoppable juggernaut that is SharkTEC Financial—it’s been an agonizing and unending search, trying to find a position I can settle into. Jobs for temp agencies have reigned supreme, with small jobs in between that I’m almost always overqualified for, such as cleaning rich assholes’ penthouse apartments.

  I worked for years to get my bachelor’s in business and finance, and when I started working for Stratton and Company, I thought I had my whole life figured out. I thought all the hard work had paid off, and I would be set for life.

  I realize now how naïve I was, but when Dillon Bradshaw decided to sink his claws into the struggling company, no one expected just how many employees he would actually lay off. Even though I’d worked hard and made a name for myself at Stratton and Company, that didn’t save me from the dreaded ‘restructuring’ that CEO Dillon Bradshaw insisted upon. I was booted just like the rest.

  I would be lying if I said I don’t hold some bitterness, but I can’t exactly blame the Stratton family for selling up. With such stiff competition, it was becoming increasingly difficult to find loyal, reliable clients. SharkTEC Financial yanked the few clients we managed to snag right out from under us with the ease of taking candy from a baby.

  Ultimately, Bradshaw is to blame.
The rich pretty boy is famous in business circles for his ‘talent’—though I’d say he’s just had a lot of dumb luck. He got a pretty big check from his folks when he turned 21, and unlike any normal guy in his early twenties, he decided to stick the cash into some investments.

  Now, eleven years later, he’s one of the richest men in the country. As much as I hate to admit it, the guy does have some entrepreneurial skills. He was able to start up and successfully run a multibillion-dollar company before 25, an achievement not many can ever dream of.

  Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to like the man. He’s number one on America’s Top Ten Hottest and Richest Bachelors, meaning thousands of women fawn over him, but I’m not exactly considering throwing myself at the man who ruined my life—absurdly good-looking as he may be. He doesn’t even know I exist, but his large presence in the world of finance continues to haunt me, even to this day.

  Realizing I’m a month late on my rent, my search for a job is admittedly growing a bit desperate. I scour the local job boards every day, longing to find someplace I can settle in, at least for more than a few weeks. Someone with my resume shouldn’t be struggling this much; the unfairness of it all makes me want to scream.

  Realizing I’ve spent far too much time dwelling on the past, as well as that bastard Dillon Bradshaw, I refocus my attention on the screen in front of me. I’ve entered several key phrases to narrow down the already lacking job selection. In spite of myself, and the feeling that I deserve better, I decide to click off all the filters and check sections that had previously gone ignored.

  One listing catches my attention almost immediately, having been posted half an hour ago. A click to the link takes me to a short and succinct job description.

  Apparently, whoever posted the ad is looking for a ‘discreet’ maid. I’m not quite sure what they mean by that, but the payout on offer is enough to put that thought on the back-burner. No real details or clues give me an idea of who posed this ad—even the email address given was clearly made specifically for this listing. I scan the requirements briefly, humming under my breath as I read them.