Baby Batter: A Baby For The Billionaire Single Dad Romance

by Alexis Angel

  I pant as he slides his finger all the way in, curling it in a hooking motion and stroking somewhere inside my pussy that makes sparks fly behind my eyelids. With his finger nestled there, he simply rubs it against my insides; he leans into me, his lips wrapped tight around my clit, dancing with it as he flicks his tongue in precise maddening motions.

  I’m trying hard not to moan, but it’s getting harder to resist. Really hard.

  Sucking while his tongue laps at my clit, he starts rubbing with his finger faster, and I can feel my insides boiling and clenching. I’m pulling at his hair desperately and, thank the gods, he has eased his hold on me and now I can sway my hips freely. I place my legs over his shoulders, locking him in place and reeling him in while I press his face against my pussy, rubbing myself against him, my mind completely devoid of any semblance of rationality. In this precise moment, I’m just existing.

  One harder flick of his tongue against my clit and a thunderstorm consumes my mind. I pull him into my pussy so hard that I can even feel his teeth against my flesh, and I come just like that. My whole body trembles as I thrust at him, goose bumps all over my skin.

  He pulls back, leaving only his finger inside; instead of taking it out as I come, he keeps on fingering me without mercy. My whole body is trembling and there’s a violent pressure mounting on my insides. Something inside of me is clenching and I try and grab Malcolm’s hand; he looks up at me, a grin on his face, and redoubles his efforts.

  “Malcolm, I think I’m…” I think I’m what? I don’t even know what I’m feeling! But, judging by the look on his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I grit my teeth, close my eyes and… Oh God, what is this? My whole body is contracting, and it seems as if I’m about to explode. Really explode.

  And that’s exactly what happens.

  My pussy clenches around his finger and an orgasm spreads through me like a flood. And I mean that quite literally; I’m gushing! I’m… I’m squirting! Oh, God, I really am squirting, and in a way I never thought was even possible. The pleasure is so intense I feel all of my muscles burning. Warm juices shoot out of my pussy and drip down my folds, pooling between my thighs on the leather seat.

  My limbs flailing, I throw my head back against the seat, breathing hard. He comes up, sitting by my side, and touches my cheek, caressing it, and lays his lips against mine. I can still taste my pussy on his mouth and by god I love how it feels.

  But he isn’t done yet. His finger is still inside of me and, instead of pulling it out, he starts sliding it in and out of me. He starts slowly at first, almost as if he’s teasing me, but I’m as wet and ready as I can be. He goes faster, with each thrust of his finger he increases the pace and soon, and soon I’m pressing my legs together, locking his hand into place as he fingers me toward insanity.

  When he pushes one more finger inside of me, I have to grit my teeth. My body is still trembling and shaking, and even so, I can already feel that storm of pleasure building back up, the roar of delight inside my mind.

  He starts biting at my neck, pinching my nipples at the same time with his free hand. I throw my head back, my hair falling over my shoulders, and I choke down a scream as something explodes inside my mind. I come... I come really hard. But he doesn’t stop. This time, I know he’s not going to allow me any kind of rest.

  We’re going for it all the way. No brakes, no nothing.

  And the car comes to a stop.

  As the haze of lust clears from my mind slightly, I see the situation I’m in.

  The car is idling outside my condo on the Upper East Side – 72nd and Park Ave. From his files I know Malcolm lives at One57 – like every billionaire I’ve ever met.

  We’re naked. I’ve just had an earth shaking orgasm.

  His cock is in my hands, hovering inches above my pussy.

  And I need to stop.

  “This is me,” I say, looking at him – wondering what he’ll say. “This is my stop.”

  Long sighs. Deep breaths. Malcolm seems unfocused at first, but his discipline finally gets the better of him.

  “You want to get out of the car?” he asks.

  I nod my head as he leans back and lets me start to find my clothes.

  “When will we…” he lets the question hang in the air as I snap on my bra and stuff my thong into my purse.

  Its short work to put the dress back on. Hair a mess. Going commando in a rumpled dress after a tussle in the back of the limo. I mean, the doorman will probably know what I was up to, but I’m sure that I’ll be able to run through the lobby into the elevator at this hour without anyone else noticing.

  I look at Malcolm and realized he’s still waiting for the answer to my question.

  “You can fuck me when you love me, babe,” I say coolly.

  He actually chuckles as I leave the limo.

  Good thing he doesn’t see my ear to ear grin.

  This game…it’s gonna be fun.

  Athena

  Wow.

  All it took was the next day, and once more we’re naked. This time, in Malcolm’s bed.

  I know I should be saying something smart right now, but let me just repeat that: wow.

  All I can say is that we haven’t had sex.

  Because I just stopped us.

  This time it was Malcolm. Texting me around 10:30. Asking if I was still up. I’ve been around the block long enough to know a booty call when I see it. So I responded. The truth was, seeing his message got me wet.

  So I came over. And we messed around again. Limo part two. I never knew that messing around could be this intense, this good … and the thing is, Malcolm genuinely cared about pleasuring me. He wasn’t using me just so he could get off; he cared about what I was feeling, and that…

  Well, that’s something I’m not accustomed to.

  Which makes what I’m about to do that much harder.

  “Where are you going?” Malcolm asks me as I swing my legs off the bed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around my naked body. “We haven’t even fucked.”

  “Home,” I whisper, looking back at him over my shoulder. He sits up on the bed and reaches for me, resting one hand on my waist.

  “Stay here tonight,” he tells me, and there isn’t a smile or a grin on his face; his expression is one of certainty and serenity. He means it; he really wants me to stay here with him tonight.

  “Very romantic of you, but I have to get up early in the morning,” I tell him off-handedly, even though what I want to say is the exact opposite. In fact, all I want to do right now is get under the covers with him. Seriously, what’s happening with me? We just fooled around, it’s not like something important happened between the two of us. We didn’t even fuck. And still … I feel a tightness inside of my heart, an urge to slip under the covers and hold tight to his naked body.

  But I can’t do that, not when the future of my company is at stake. I have to be strong and focus on the end goal. I have to make Malcolm fall in love with me, whatever it takes. And if I have to be a cold tease in order to make that happen, that’s exactly how I’m going to behave.

  “You’re choosing your job over me?” he asks me, cocking one eyebrow and trying to act as if it doesn’t matter whether I go or stay, although in truth, I can see a few wrinkles of disappointment showing around his eyes and lips.

  Lucky for me, I know how to conceal my own disappointment.

  “That’s right. As fun as this was, I have stuff to do,” I tell him as I pull my thong up and then squeeze myself inside my dress. Running one hand through my hair, I turn around to meet Malcolm’s gaze. “Goodbye, Malcolm,” I say and, without waiting for his reply, I leave the bedroom.

  Each step I take through his apartment feels like a knife plunging deep into my chest, but there’s no way around it. I have to do this. As much as I enjoyed my time with him, I can’t forget what happens when you fall in love … you get used, abused, and hurt. And, after all, I’m not here to fall in love; I’m here to make him fall in love.
/>
  I reach for the door’s handle and stop for a couple of seconds before turning it. Deep down, I’m waiting to hear his footsteps as he follows after me and stops me from leaving, pinning me against the door and kissing me again… But I don’t hear his footsteps, and he doesn’t follow after me, and so I turn the handle and leave his apartment.

  The moment I step inside the elevator and the doors close in on me, I lean back against the wall behind me and let out a deep sigh. Running one hand through my hair, I look at my reflection in the mirror and smile.

  My hair is disheveled, and my makeup is slightly smeared, and still … I look so much better than what I did before. I look like someone just fucked my brains out (which, well, ugh. I know. I wanted to. But I need to hold out. But if non-sex orgasms with this guy are like that, then what is sex gonna be like, ya know? Maybe I should stop talking in the parenthesis).

  But more than the amazing sex, I actually enjoyed the time I spent with Malcolm. He’s not the asshole I thought he was and, even though I once thought that Ben was a nice guy as well, I can’t help but trust my gut on this one.

  Speaking of Ben … I hear my cellphone ringing from inside my purse, and something tells me that it’s my lovely ex-boyfriend. I fish it out and, to no surprise, I see Ben’s phone number plastered on my screen. Even though I don’t have his number stored on my phone, I still remember it.

  “What do you want?” I ask him right away, and I even surprise myself as I notice all the aggressiveness in my voice.

  “Oh, I like it when you’re angry, babe,” Ben chuckles from the other side of the line, and I feel my stomach lurching with disgust.

  “Drop it. What the hell do you want, Ben? Because if you just called to annoy me, I --”

  “I didn’t call to annoy you, Athena. I called to remind you of our little conversation… You’re on the clock, babe, don’t forget about that,” he tells me, and my fingers curl so tightly around the phone that I wouldn’t be surprised if I just crushed the damn thing.

  “I’m handling it,” I growl with a whisper, rage welling up inside of me. I can’t believe that, after what he did to me, Ben had the cheek to show up uninvited into my life just to blackmail me.

  “Oh, I know you’re handling it. I remember how you handled things… like my cock. Remember that, Athena? Give Malcolm the same treatment and I’m sure your company will be safe.”

  “I fucking hate you, Ben.” Without waiting for his reply, I end the connection and throw the phone back into my purse. See what I told you? First you love them, and then they crush you and reveal their true selves.

  I just hope Malcolm’s different…

  Oh, what am I saying? That doesn’t matter the slightest. Whether I like him or not, my business depends on Malcolm falling for me.

  I need to make him love me—and I need to do it fast.

  Malcolm

  I've never wished for a magic pause button in life … until now. Being with Athena Hawke was like free falling through space at five hundred miles an hour, with the air getting knocked out of my fucking lungs.

  It was exhilarating, and I've never felt so alive. I never thought that feeling was possible, without being strapped to a rocket. It was a sense of euphoria better than any drug, and everyone else in the room just melted away.

  I'd like to freeze that moment, and hold it a little longer. Smile at its perfection. Gaze at it.

  I don't even know what I'm fucking saying. It's like I hardly recognize myself today.

  Why is it that every fucking song I'm hearing makes me think of her?

  Fuck. I shouldn't be thinking about her, but I am. She hasn't left my mind. Not even for a minute.

  The way she held back emotionally last night—the precision, and control with which she wields her words.

  How she can pull herself back from the brink - when every animal sense is telling her to go.

  I was able to break through that wall of hers. I got her to drop her guard, even if it was for only one night.

  The problem is: I want more. I have a taste, and it's not enough. I want the whole package. I want to fuck her.

  I don't just want to steal into that stoic outer fortress of hers—I need it. I need to storm it, and knock down every fucking wall.

  I look at the calendar on my desk and absentmindedly find myself circling yesterday's date. I run my pen around the date over, and over, the lines deepening and reminding me of its importance in quick circles. It's like I'm fucking crazy.

  My phone rings and I don't bother answering it. Instead, I lean back into my leather office chair, and run my fingers through my hair, as if I'm trying to smooth out the thoughts in my brain.

  But how can I? My brain is still stuck on last night. Instead of a pause button, life has gifted me with a repeat button.

  Athena isn't just another woman. She's an equal. This is the realization that dawns on me. There was a connection—I felt it. I couldn't make that up if I tried. I've fucked a lot of women, but being with Athena is going to be something entirely fucking different.

  We shared a connection that I didn't even know I was capable of having with anyone, let alone Athena Hawke.

  But none of that matters. I can't fall in love with her.

  I'm not going to lose my business just because Athena has gotten under my thick skin. Sorry, but there isn't a woman in the whole world worth that.

  No fucking way. There's too much at stake.

  Just as I open a spreadsheet on my computer, and give myself a pep talk—something along the lines of 'I better fucking get my shit together and focus on work or else,' Andrew walks in.

  It's more of a march than a walk really, like he means business. I catch the faint whiff of cigar smoke on his suit. He must've won another case today. He always smokes a celebratory Cuban cigar after a victory.

  "Well, if it isn't the gladiator himself," he smiles, clapping his hands in one triumphant gesture. "You've made it this far; I know you've got this contest in the bag, which is a good thing man because I'm telling you, the vultures are circling."

  Those words snap my thoughts to the present. What am I doing thinking about Athena, when I have a battle to win?

  I should be thinking like a gladiator, and not a fucking bleeding heart poet.

  "And which vulture are you referring to now?" I ask.

  "Ben."

  "Ben Danvers? That fucking asshole just doesn't know when to quit," I say.

  "He's still holding a grudge you know," Andrew says, reaching across my desk for the bottle of whiskey. "You don't mind, do you?" he asks, pouring a glass before I can even answer.

  "I think I'll join you," I shrug. "I can use a drink."

  "Ben can't ever get over the fact that you got the best of him with that company buyout."

  "That was years ago."

  "But to him, it feels raw—like it happened yesterday," Andrew says. "He's got something to prove, I guess."

  "I can be ruthless, but not that ruthless," I say. "That local business was important to a small, working class community … and you know it."

  "Look, I've got your back on this man—always have. I get it. You did the right thing. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that was an act of Mother Teresa or something."

  I laugh. "Give me a fucking break."

  "No, I mean it. It took a lot of heart for you to do that—instead of letting Ben make a killing on that deal, you scooped it up and let the owners buy it back from you after making them a fortune. It was a generous act."

  I shrug. "It was the right thing to do."

  "See, that's what I'm talking about," Andrew says. "There's a heart hidden in that cold exterior of yours. Little do most people know, but you've got a soft spot the size of Texas in that chest." He points at me, and gives a quick wink.

  "Well, there's no way in hell Ben's ever going to get his hands on my company."

  "I hope not," Andrew says, shaking his head.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It
just means that this contest isn't over—you've only completed the round for mortals out of 100,” she says to me, her words cool and crisp and her eyes mischievous. “There's still a lot left for those who still believe mistakenly like you that they can win.”

  "Since when did you become a pessimist?" I ask.

  "I'm a realist. There's a difference. And just as long as you don't listen to your cock, and fall in love with a gorgeous pair of legs and tits, you'll be fine," he smiles.

  As Andrew's talking, I remember that I'm seeing Athena again tonight. I look down at my watch, and gauge how much time I have.

  There must be something in my face that worries Andrew because he turns to me, "You aren't falling in love with anyone, Malcolm, are you?"

  That's a good question…

  Athena

  Date Number 3.

  Yes, hun. This is Date Three. Because I’m counting dinner at Masa as a date. And the booty call the other night with no sex as a date too. Tonight is the night I think.

  It’s working; I think Malcolm is finally swallowing the hook.

  Now instead of booty calling me, he actually went the date approach. Changing his strategy.

  And, instead of me being the one setting up the next date, he actually decided to do it himself. And his choice of venue actually surprised me; we’re meeting at the Met, the Museum of Art. To be honest with you, I had no idea that a man such as Malcolm would be interested in art. In women and alcohol, sure, but not in art. Maybe, though, he’s just doing this in order to impress me.

  Well, it’s working.

  “Right on time,” Malcolm tells me as I walk up to him, an easy smile on his face. He’s standing at the bottom of the Met stairs, looking classy in his usual Tom Ford suit and wearing an overcoat. I open my mouth to reply, but then I close it again, the words dying in my throat. I was so excited about meeting him again that I forgot all about my fashionably late strategy. Crap.