Full Shred: A Billionaire's Secret Baby Romance

by Adair Rymer

  “Oh. Oh, God.” Claire cried between gasps of air. She had propped her body up on her elbows and folded forward. Her body quivered for a second time. This time she stared right at me as she came. Another first for me, this girl was full of surprises.

  I had to be the one to look away, when I came. I grunted, crushing my thighs into the bunched up sheets and blankets. I closed my eyes, my brain and senses were on fire as I exploded into her. All I could do was hope the condom held.

  When all the tremors stopped I noticed that Claire's arms had wrapped around my neck. I opened my eyes to truly see the beautiful creature below me. Yeah, Claire would never walk a runway, but that wasn't a bad thing. She was pretty in a whole different and new way.

  Her painted eyelashes, encapsulated her green eyes. The sheen of sweat from her afterglow made her pale skin radiate. I watched a few beads trail between her breasts and down her slim, but not anorexic, stomach. This girl seemed to get more attractive the more I looked at her.

  I let her pull me in for something I never did after sex. I broke my first rule and I kissed her. We explored the inside of each other's mouths like a teenage couple. It was a unique experience. Dangerous...

  I suddenly remembered why I had my three rules in the first place.

  “So a gymnast, huh?” I said, finally coming up for air. I fell onto my back beside her. There was a box of tissues near the bed that I used to clean myself up. I was suddenly fucking exhausted.

  “Yeah. And you have some nice tats for a business executive.” Claire breathed heavily, wiping the stubborn blond bangs out of her wet face. She cleaned up as best she could before declaring it hopeless and laying back down.

  She came down on my arm. Usually I would've pulled it toward my body because I'd be getting ready to leave anyway. This time, though, for some reason, I pushed it further out, allowing her to rest her head on it. She turned her head to me and said, “I guess we both have our secrets.”

  Laying like that, next to her, I couldn't help but let my eyes drift around her room. The place was an utter mess, clean but disorganized. The recycling bin was almost exclusively filled with alcohol bottles. There were a few face down picture frames, and a cork board with conspicuous blank spots, but otherwise covered in pictures.

  “Of course,” I laughed, looking back at Claire, but she was already asleep. I'm getting rusty, I thought. I should know a rebound fuck when I see one. Claire just broke up with her boyfriend.

  Her hesitance, then eagerness, Claire was obviously wounded. Part of me felt weirdly protective. Who the fuck was this guy to do something like that to her?

  It didn't matter. Tonight was fun, but I'd never see Claire again.

  It was late. I needed to get home, take a shower and get some well-deserved sleep. I wasn't at Claire's college by choice and talking with lawyers and administrators always drained the shit out of me.

  I tried to slide my arm out from under her, but I couldn't. Or rather, I didn't want to. At least, not just yet. Between Claire's soft breaths and the rain that just started to pick up, there was something serene about that moment.

  It didn't help that she'd buried her head into the crook of my neck. Claire was so soft and warm, and I loved the way she smelled. The cool light that filtered in through the window turned her skin light blue. God, she was so beautiful. I could just stay. I hadn't ever done that...

  Was I really about to break the second of my three rules?

  No. Never that.

  Claire was amazing, and flexible, but she was just a hook up. That's all. I slid my arm out from under her and got up. Looking over her, I quietly dressed and got ready to leave.

  I paused on my way out. Maybe she didn't have to be just a hook up. I hadn't found anyone yet that could solve my particular problem, and I was quickly running out of time.

  I looked at her one more time, studying her soft, fair features. She wasn't the kind of girl I was ever seen with. And that made her perfect for what I needed.

  I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, an envelope, and penned a short proposition.

  “I'll be seeing you later, Claire.” She stirred at my low whisper, but didn't wake. Claire had no idea what I had in store for her.

  Chapter 2

  Claire

  The email notification buzz of my phone woke me up like it did most mornings. I barely needed an alarm anymore. My head throbbed, but that was unfortunately normal too. Ever since Chance—

  “Stop it, Claire.” I wasn't allowed to start torturing myself until after my first coffee.

  It wasn't until I stretched that I realized how sore I was. And I smelled terrible. It was a cocktail of sweat, alcohol, shame and... sex.

  Oh, God, was he still here! I held my breath and snapped my eyes fully open to scan the small apartment. It was quiet, the mystery man was gone. I breathed out and fell back into my destroyed bed.

  It was just a one-night-stand, it didn't mean anything. Not that I've ever done that before. People do that all the time right?

  Was that blood? I tore back the cover. It wasn't a lot of it, just a few red spots dotted my sheets. His back! I clawed at him when he threw me onto the bed. My clit tremored, remembering the sensation of still having his cock inside me as I fell. I saw the used condom in my trash. Well, at least it was safe, rough, sex.

  I remember the broad strokes of what happened last night. It was all so painfully cliché. I met the mystery man at the bar, he bought me a few drinks and we came back to my place and had sex. The details were a little fuzzy though.

  On top of the pile of last nights clothes was the belt I wore. I remembered Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome making fun of it. I studied it for far too long. “Screw him,” I muttered. “There's nothing wrong with my belt.”

  I was gross and needed a shower, but I felt great. Had it been that long since I had sex? I didn't want to go down that train of thought because it always ended with my ex, Chance. Instead, I just enjoyed the relaxing calm that came with waking up after experiencing the most amazing orgasms in my life.

  Eventually I rolled onto my side and grabbed my phone. I didn't need to check the message to know that it was from work. It always was. How miserable was it, that part of me was glad that at least someone was trying to get a hold of me?

  I transferred here to wrap up my bachelor's degree and was fairly new to this city. I still didn't know many people and the few I did I had nothing in common with. It was always hard for me to make friends. And when I did... Thoughts of my time with Chance finally flooded back like a landslide, threatening to bury me.

  I hated him so much, but I hated myself even more. How could I let my guard down so easily. I promised myself that I'd never let another Chance into my life, never again.

  “It's just me and you now, Angry Cat.” I slid the phone into the elastic waistband of my panties and grabbed my stuffed animal off the floor. It was a plush, cartoon cat that had been turned inside out, restuffed then stitched back up grotesquely. It was ugly thing that would've terrified most children, but I always loved it. It made me feel a little less alone.

  “Aaaaannd this is why I don't have many friends.” I stopped talking to Angry Cat, putting him down on the bed, and got up to make coffee.

  My legs barely cooperated. I had bruises all over them and it felt like my muscles were replaced with jelly. A guilty thrill filled me. Flashes of being pushed up against the wall, of his strong hands, and his hot breath lit my head on fire. I didn't even know sex could be that hot.

  How did this happen?

  Images of the mystery man's hard tattooed body hijacked my brain and I could feel my stomach getting warm. With his expensive suit and car, the man from last night wasn't my type at all. I wasn't into the young executive/lawyer type. Granted, I'd never met one that was as sexy as him.

  I closed my eyes. I could still feel his short dark hair between my fingers, and see his bright blue eyes looking through me. When I was up against him, it felt like my tits were being pushed into chis
eled stone.

  Then he took off his shirt. With all those tattoos he looked like a superhero. It wasn't even fair. He was nothing like I thought he'd be. My fingers pushed through my light bristle of pubic hair and gingerly touched my clit. Just thinking of him, and I was already getting wet. The way his fat cock flexed in my hand—

  The phone in my panties vibrated against my hip, jerking me away from thoughts of his cock. Another email. ...yay... I wanted to scream at the world to shut up and let me have my private little fantasy. I sighed instead and pushed it all from my mind. What did it matter? I was never going to see the mystery man again.

  I checked my phone on the short walk over to my coffee maker. I set it down on the counter and read the always-condescending email from my boss, while my hands automatically did the morning coffee-making ritual.

  I skimmed the barely punctuated walls of email text to find the point of the messages. I'd never met a woman like my boss, Brenda. She could ramble with both her mouth and her fingers. How did this women work in finances for a college this big?

  Almost a page later, I found what I was looking for. “The numbers in your report are incorrect, we need it redone by Monday.” We always meant you, as far as she was concerned.

  Monday? Did she really have no idea how much work that was? That last report took me two weeks! How did she expect me to comb through every single student's grant paperwork in two days! I was only a lowly part-time clerk and researcher, I didn't even have access to most of the necessary filing software. I'd have to go through everything manually again.

  It was Christmas eve, there was no way the archive room was even open today!

  “I may not have friends, but at least I have a fun, rewarding career...” I thought, darkly, blowing on my too-hot-to-drink coffee, and wishing I still had some cream liqueur to add to it.

  There was no way I was working through my holiday weekend for a boss I hated, I thought, defiantly. I had real school work to think about!

  I needed to find another throw away job. Was it even worth it though? I only had six months left for my bachelor's degree, then I would have to start searching for real. Despite my boss, I actually loved the work I did. It was hard, tedious work, but helping people afford a higher education was such a satisfying feeling.

  “Oh, God!” I spat out the sip of coffee I'd taken all over a small stack of envelopes I hadn't opened yet. The bitter taste screwed my face into a scowl. I forgot that I bought the cheapo coffee.

  I started drying off the envelopes with a handful of stolen dining hall napkins, but when I realized they were just bills, I stopped. Why waste perfectly good napkins on bills I can't afford to pay anyways. That was the other reason I wouldn't quit my job, I just couldn't afford to.

  I hated being a broke college student. I couldn’t even afford drinkable coffee. At least dining hall sugar packets would help. I might've even had some milk left, maybe? When I reached for the fridge to check, I saw one of my bills attached to the door by one of my magnets.

  'Thanks for the workout last night. Be ready at six p.m.,' read the note written on the envelope.

  Workout? I covered my face with my hand in shame. “I did a split for him last night. I haven't done a split in years.” I can't believe I did that for a total stranger. Was I out of my mind?

  What kind of hold did he have on me,that I would even consider doing that? I felt so stupid, like I was trying to impress him or something.

  Also, 'six PM'? Be ready for what? What could that possibly mean?

  I quickly browsed through my texts and contacts. Nothing. He wasn't in there anywhere, I couldn't even ask him if I wanted to. I couldn't remember his name. I pulled the paper off the fridge and reread it a dozen times. What could I have agreed to? Then I flipped the envelope over.

  'P.S. The name's Maynard, by the way.' Maynard... I definitely would've remember that name. Maynard didn't leave a number or even a last name. Unless that was his last name, but who would just leave their last name? With all those tattoos, Maynard didn't strike me as a secret agent.

  “I don't think so, Maynard.” I slid the bill into the bottom of my pile. We had our whatever-that-was, but I was done making a fool of myself for one weekend. I didn't have enough info to act on his note if I wanted to.

  Be ready where? My apartment? Or did I say I was going to meet him somewhere?

  Besides, I was sure that he'd never show even I did 'get ready'. Guys like Maynard liked the thrill of the hunt, but were never satisfied with the feast. It was good that he was gone, he was probably just like Chance.

  Been there, done that.

  Wait, the numbers were wrong? That fog and lust started to finally lift and give me back control over my mind. That didn't make any sense. I was always super thorough. The numbers were right, they had to be. I was so sure of it.

  At least I thought I was?

  Working with other peoples money was the worst. I laid my forehead down on the counter. At least if I worked at the coffee shop and I screwed up someone's order I wouldn't get fired. Maybe I should just quit?

  Dread sat in my stomach like lead. Who was I kidding? I couldn't quit without having another job. I took a long bitter sip of my coffee, then set it down to go hop in the shower. I needed to get to the archive room at work as quickly as possible. Maybe if I brought in a small sample size on Monday, that would be enough?

  Probably not, but I had to try. I sighed as the hot water washed the last traces of Maynard from my skin. It looked like I was working through Christmas after all.

  ****

  I passed through the finance building's front entrance, still jotting down notes from the inconsistencies I found while searching through the files. It was dark and cold outside, by the time I finished working for the night. The harsh December winds threatened to rip the scrap of paper out of my hand.

  It was impossible to check all the files in the six hours I was allowed to be in the building. I was right about the office being closed, but I was able to convince the security guard that it was extremely urgent. I hoped I'd be lucky enough to do the same tomorrow, I needed all the time I could get.

  I was so angry and singularly focused on my project that I didn't notice the man holding the sign until I almost collided with him. The man was bundled up, in a dark suit and tie and wore a chauffeur’s cap. The name on the sign made me do a double take.

  'Claire' it read, in bold letters.

  “Is that you, ma'am.” The older gentleman with the sign, politely asked. “Are you Claire?”

  I glanced quickly to either side, to see if I could spot any cameras filming me. This couldn't be right. I'd never been picked up by a driver before. I'd only ever even used a taxi a few times.

  “I'm A Claire,” I said hesitantly, looking past the professionally-dressed man.

  The white Rolls Royce gleamed in the overhead streetlights. I half expected prince charming to step out of the vehicle. Or, I would've if I hadn't spotted a commercial-use inspection sticker.

  “From the description Master Maynard Cooper gave me, I do believe that you are the correct Claire.”

  Maynard? The guy from last night? What the hell? A million questions rattled around my head. Was he some sort of nobility or something? “What's all this about.”

  “You've been invited to a private function. It's something of an exclusive holiday party.”

  “There must be some kind of mistake,” I looked at him with blatant skepticism. “I barely know Maynard.”

  “You must have made some kind of impression on him, Miss. As you were the only guest he charged me with personally collecting.”

  Collecting? Was that supposed to be flattering?

  “What if I say no?” A casual hook-up was a mistake I could live with. But if I kept doing it, it wouldn't be casual anymore, nor would it be a mistake. And I wasn't ready for that, not yet. I didn't care how rich this guy was, or how good he smelled, or how many times he made me come...

  “Then I would drive you back t
o your apartment, if you wish.” The driver replied without hesitation.

  There were no direct trains from home to work, and because it was Saturday, I had to transfer twice. It took me forever to get here today, and I really wasn't looking forward to a few frozen hours outside trying to get back home. My hands were already starting to get numb from the wind.

  I took a moment to Google 'Maynard Cooper'. This whole thing was almost too crazy to believe. Who knows? This driver could work for a serial killer, and it was his job to deliver confused, partially-frozen, blond girls to his Master.

  Maynard Cooper, there he was. I thumbed through a few tabs on my phone. Those crushing blue eyes and fierce jaw line, it was him alright. Apparently, my mysterious stranger was a billionaire with an affinity for extreme sports. That would explain the tattoos, I guess.

  His parents built their empire off real estate and were apparently well known philanthropists, having set up several charitable organizations. Tragically they died in a car accident ten years ago, leaving their fortune to Maynard and his sister, Bianca. I wanted to research him more, but it was just too cold for that. It felt like my thumbs were about to fall off.

  What did the man who could have everything, want with me?

  “Why me?” My teeth were beginning to chatter. Ugh, I hated the cold so much! Why did I have to come to school so far north! The freezing temperature made even thinking difficult.

  “I wouldn't presume to know, Miss. Master is a man of...” The driver thought on this for a second. “Very particular taste.”

  Was that a warning or an explanation? Either way, it sent I shiver through me that no cold blast ever could. It felt dangerous, but thrilling all at the same time. An impossible dream

  “Would you care to sit inside while you make your decision?” The chauffeur opened the backseat car door. Heat rushed out and wrapped me like a warm blanket.

  “What is that?” I looked inside to see a hanging black garment bag hanging.

  The driver reached in, laid it across the seats and unzipped it to about the halfway point. “A shirtwaist Herrera taffeta ball gown. Your attire for the evening, Ma'am.” He paused,then continued, “Should you chooses to accept, of course.”