Jay's Lucky Baby - A Secret Baby Romance

by Layla Valentine

  Seeing me, her already scowling features sharpened into a sneer.

  “I bet you think you’re real special, don’t you?”

  I was frozen for a minute, her glare boring into me deeper. Then, I hurried on past, toward the rich wooden door that was already open a crack, as if expecting me.

  One knock and his voice floated out: “Come in, Donna.”

  He was sitting with his legs up on his desk, hands behind his head. Seeing me, he lowered them.

  “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

  I nodded. No way was I going to admit that I had missed him—certain parts of me more than others.

  Spreading his hands on his desk, he swept a stack of papers to the side.

  “I called you here for a very special reason.”

  “Yes?”

  Folding his hands on his desk, his dark, steely eyes penetrated my tight white T-shirt.

  “Come over here.”

  I did as I was told, stopping right in front of his chair. We stared at each other for a minute, Carter clearly enjoying my obvious discomfort. He raised his hand to showcase a black silk blindfold.

  “This is for you.”

  Taking it, I glanced at him for confirmation.

  “Now?”

  He nodded, and I tied it around my eyes. As darkness enveloped my sight, it occurred to me how much I trusted Carter to be doing this with him. Blind like this, I was helpless. He could do anything to me.

  Next thing I knew, my arms were being grabbed and I was being steered into the cushioned, rotating chair he’d been sitting in before.

  “Don’t move” were the next words I heard as my T-shirt was pulled over my arms and head.

  An exhalation, then, “Hell, did I miss you.”

  “I—” I began, but he cut me off.

  “No talking this time.”

  I nodded to show my understanding, but inside I was reeling. So I had been right after all: Carter didn’t give a damn about me or what I wanted. I was just a living fuck doll to him.

  Still, there was no use resisting the current of pleasure that ran through me as he grabbed my breasts over my bra, his fingers lithely sliding under the cups. Now, it was my bra being tossed aside. Then…nothing.

  There I was, sitting in his office chair, my top half fully exposed, breasts out, and Carter was nowhere to be found. Just as I opened my mouth to break his orders and call out for him, he struck my breasts.

  “I said no talking.”

  “Fuck you,” I blurted out immediately.

  Grabbing me by the hair, Carter hissed in my ear, “You won’t get to if you keep this up.”

  Letting me go, his fingers sliding through my hair, he continued. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  I did nothing but slump back into the chair, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that was building with his every touch. Then, I was lifted upright, carried a few steps, and put down on my feet.

  “Don’t move,” Carter said.

  There was the sound of drawers opening and closing, and then my arms were moved behind my back and tied together with something slick yet tight. Carter’s hands ran over my newly-bound arms, starting at my shoulders and going all the way down to my hands. Sticking his in between the material as if taunting me, he quickly continued to my ass, squeezing and rubbing the flesh and then smacking it.

  Soft moans escaped my lips, and Carter chuckled.

  “Sounds like you missed me, too.”

  When I quieted myself, he only chuckled again. I took a step away, and Carter grabbed me and pulled me to his still fully clothed form. His lips brushing my shoulders, he traced a zigzag of kisses down my back, licking, sucking, and nibbling until I was trembling with his descent.

  He reached my ass and deepened his sucking nibbles, surely leaving hickeys on the delicate skin. When my moans were no longer soft but loud, he stopped.

  He drew back, and then there was the sound of fabric moving and the tinkle of a belt buckle. Then, the hard pole of Carter’s dick pressed between my ass cheeks.

  “And now,” he said, digging himself in deeper, “I’m going to fuck you.”

  The sound of him smacking my ass reverberated throughout the room.

  “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  He grabbed my neck, brushed my lips with his. Then…nothing but the barely audible pad of footsteps. Once again, Carter had left to do…something.

  He returned as a flick of hot fire on my ass. When I cried out in pain, Carter patted my head and wrapped his arms around me, shushing me.

  “There, there, I know.”

  The next time the hot fire dashed against my belly. Holding me as I struggled, Carter whispered into my neck, “The thing is, pain can be pleasure sometimes.”

  With his next strike, he slipped his finger inside me. Now, I wasn’t moving because I couldn’t; I wasn’t moving because—as strange as it was—he was right.

  My whole body was tingling with pleasure, pleasure that was only growing with his rhythmic body strikes and finger jerks. By the time he slipped his finger out of me, my whole body was swirling with want and I was practically panting. Carter patted my cheek with what must have been the whip.

  “Hmm, you like this even more than I expected.”

  He ran his fingers over my lower lip, pressed his to it, and then, pulling away, said, “Though, if you want me to stop, I can.”

  Next thing I knew, he was gone. Reaching out around me unsteadily, I just found more nothingness.

  His voice came from behind me. “Do you want me to stop?”

  I stumbled in the direction I’d heard the voice come from and was stopped by my wrists being grabbed.

  “No!” I groaned, and my cheek was slapped.

  “No talking, remember? Nod for yes; shake your head for no.”

  I did nothing and he continued. “So, do you want me to stop?”

  I shook my head, and Carter released me and shoved himself inside me at the same time as he struck my ass.

  Oh fuck, yes.

  My whole body was exploding with pleasure, but Carter was just getting started. Holding my hip with one hand, he pumped into me with his dick, slow and soft to start, with leisurely flicks of the whip in time every so often. My moans and his satisfied grunts filled the room as he built his pace.

  Already, I was almost at the edge, and Carter’s cock was harder than I’d ever felt it before. As he ramped up his pace, so too did his strikes get harder, more painful, the pain and pleasure doing a dance in my body that had me howling. Right as I was on the edge, about to come, Carter grabbed both my hands and growled into my face.

  “Beg me for it,” he said.

  My pussy pulsed frantically around his hard pillar.

  The words slipped out of me. “Fuck. Oh fuck, please, Carter. Fuck me. Let me come—please.”

  He ran the whip over my cheek.

  “Tell me you love it. You love being fucked like this. Tell me you love me.”

  As my pussy clasped impotently, more words spilled out of my mouth.

  “Oh fuck, Carter,” I begged. “Please, just fuck me. I love how you fuck me. I love you. I—oh fuck, please just let me come. I love you.”

  Running his hands down my body, Carter delivered me to my orgasm. With the most brutal thrusts and whip strikes yet, he plowed into me, in and out and back in again, slamming into me so hard that I almost fell over. But I didn’t care, because I was coming, and he was coming. Warm, hot perfection flowed into me, and my screams of ecstasy flowed out.

  Then, we collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor: me and my master, my savior, taunter, and deliverer.

  At some point, as we lay there and his fingers danced absentmindedly over my bare skin, it occurred to me that, in the height of it all, Carter had ordered me to tell him that I loved him.

  As if reading my thoughts, Carter’s voice came out coolly when he spoke. “It’s fun ordering you to do and say any ridiculous thing I think of.�
��

  I said nothing, my heart tumbling out of my body and to the floor at my feet. His hand stroked my hair as his words caressed my cheek. “You’re getting good at this.”

  He slipped off my blindfold, and I stared dully at the mahogany door—the same door I would be leaving through soon. But then, Carter stopped stroking my hair and turned my chin so I was facing him, so he could see my reaction to his next question.

  “What would you say to extending our contract a bit—me helping you more if you help me more?”

  I averted my gaze so he wouldn’t see the warring excitement and worry on my face.

  “What did you have in mind?” I asked.

  His hand picked up its stroking of my hair, his words just as easy as the strokes, a casual, ‘why not’ sort of proposition.

  “Oh, a few more adjustments to my pipeline routes in return for another two weeks of spending time with you.”

  I said nothing. We both knew what “spending time” actually entailed. What I didn’t know, however, was how I actually felt about all this, whether this was all a good idea. The hurt I felt at every one of his slights, every one of his sudden withdrawals, no matter how unintentional or expected, was only growing.

  As he continued his stroking, he said, “Come on, Donna, how bad could it be?”

  I sank back into him, into the warm enjoyment enveloping me. I knew what answer was going to come out of my lips, though what I really wanted to explain to him was that I knew none of this would be bad for my body; it was my heart I was worried about. I knew Carter’s reputation. Falling for him would be spiritual suicide. My best bet for saving myself would be to storm out of there right now without another word.

  And yet, I couldn’t stop the inevitable word from slipping out of my lips.

  “Yes.”

  At this, Carter propelled himself onto me, his lips pressing into mine, his tongue dancing with mine with a passion I’d never felt from him before.

  He released my lips so he could say, “Excellent, Donna. I knew you would. You see, I have a work trip planned. It’s going to be like nothing you’ve ever seen before—what’s the matter?”

  Seeing him scanning my face, I made myself smile.

  “Nothing. I’m just tired; that’s all.”

  Suspicion flickered amid the black of Carter’s eyes. Then, he ran a hand through his blond hair and, extricating himself, rose.

  “You’re right. It’s time to go. I’m late as it is.”

  As I accepted his offered hand, I couldn’t resist an interested, “Oh?”

  Carter tossed his answer over his shoulder on his way to the door. “I have company. You can let yourself out. I’ll text you details about the work trip later. Goodbye, Donna.”

  The door shut behind him, and I stared miserably at its stupid, perfectly cut, too-tall frame. A few minutes ago I had been worried about leaving it for the last time. Now, I was sure that doing that would have been the right thing, that I had just lost my last chance of getting out of this confusing mess unscathed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carter

  “I lied.”

  Those were the first words out of my mouth as Donna hopped into my black sports car.

  Though, really, that was a lie too; after seeing Donna’s reaction to my mention of the work trip, I’d decided to switch it out for something more spontaneous. But I couldn’t have her knowing that, have her suspecting that this might be more than just a nice release. Because it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

  Even in the dark, I could see Donna’s big blue eyes were narrowed already, so I wasted no time in telling her.

  “We’re off to somewhere different tonight—in town. Just for the night.”

  She still wasn’t looking at me. Although our latest meeting in my office had only been two days ago, I would’ve thought that she would’ve been more pleased to see me. As least as pleased as I was to see her.

  But all she said was, “Okay.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “That’s it?”

  Her answer was immediate. “I thought I’m not supposed to talk, that you didn’t want me to.”

  Different answers jousted in my head: “Of course I do, babe,” “Donna, what’s the matter?” and “You misunderstood me; that was just for fun, for sex.”

  “Okay,” was the one that came out.

  The rest of the ride was one long, tense silence. Donna said nothing, just kept her head twisted determinedly to the window.

  “You know,” I said finally, “I’m not paying you to talk, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

  Again, another immediate and cold answer: “How was your appointment the other night?”

  As I weaved past a particularly slow minivan on the road, it took me a minute to process what Donna had said. Our last office tryst had been three days ago. She must have been referring to my excuse for leaving. It had been a lie, of course, but she didn’t know that.

  My glance at her confirmed it. With the hard line her mouth was in, there was no denying it. This cute, ridiculous girl was actually jealous.

  “As good as could be expected. My brother isn’t one to be dislodged easily.”

  Now, she turned to look at me head-on.

  “You have a brother?”

  I nodded.

  “Not many people know, because I don’t want them to.”

  Silence, then, “Why?”

  More lies swam through my head, but it suddenly seemed easier to just tell the truth.

  “I don’t like him, I don’t get along with him, and he reminds me of painful parts of my life that I don’t like thinking about.”

  Donna was looking at me strangely, in a way she never had before.

  “Oh,” she said. She opened her mouth again, then, as if thinking better of it, closed it. In a soft voice, she finally asked, “Why?”

  I kept my gaze on the road ahead as I said it, concentrating my eyes on the long stretch of highway ahead of me so I wouldn’t see it in my mind again.

  “My mother killed herself, and I found her. I was 14.”

  The silence was the same as when I had found her, but at least I was doing good focusing on the long strip of gray road amid the swath of navy sky ahead of me and not seeing Mom’s gray, lifeless face.

  “Oh, Carter, I’m sorry,” Donna said, putting her thin fingers atop my tense claw.

  “It’s fine,” I replied tersely, focusing on the view ahead of me—the gray and the navy. “She wasn’t happy.”

  Another shocked silence. Donna was probably contemplating how to respond to the most inappropriate of responses.

  “But finding her, losing her like that…that must have been so hard for you.”

  The gray and navy were unending, the same road, the same sky, the same drab colors for this drab day. Donna was expecting an answer from me, some show of something. She was going to be disappointed.

  My words came out cold. “We’re almost there. Ten more minutes.”

  This next silence was disappointed or expectant or some combination of the two.

  Finally, Donna said, “I can’t stand it when you get like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “When you just—I don’t know—shut down. Like you don’t feel anything, like you’re…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze following mine to the horizon.

  “Like what?” I asked again, and she didn’t say anything.

  “Like what?” I questioned once more.

  “Like you’re just how people say—a sociopath who’s incapable of feeling anything.”

  At her words, a smile twisted onto my face. Turning to look her in the eye, I said, “Be careful what you hear, Donna. It just might be right.”

  I didn’t react as her defiant eyes scanned my face for a crack in my expression, an uncertainty, anything. Too bad for her, I was more practiced at this than she was.

  Finally, with a muffled sort of sigh, Donna turned to the window without another word. I returned my gaze to the horizon,
where, in the dark distance, the tall structure of where we were heading loomed, just visible.

  Donna didn’t understand. The rumors were right. I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t afford to. If I let out the tidal wave of emotion surging within me, I would be engulfed by it entirely.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carter

  The rest of the ride, I was as good as alone. Donna kept her whole body twisted toward the window, as if she wanted to jump through it, join the trash strewn on the side of the road.

  As I drove, burning in her quiet contempt, I realized just what I had always liked about her. From our first conversation, she had never treated me how other people did, like an unfeeling jerk who’d already done them wrong. No, she had treated me with compassion, with an implicit belief in my goodness, even as I had pushed her away. And now? I took another glance at her turned-away, tense back.

  Now, I had confirmed her worst fears, proven all the rumors correct. Tonight, she would give me access to her body, but not her heart. No, I’d lost the right to that.

  I returned my gaze to the parking lot I was pulling into. I turned off the car, went over, and opened Donna’s door. She got out without a word.

  By now she must have seen the huge “Elitch Gardens” sign, but she made no comment on it. Or on anything else. No, she stood there outside my car as quiet as I had ordered her to be the last time in my office.

  Taking her hand in mine, I asked her, “If I order you to talk, will you?”

  As I led her to the ticket booth, she gave her sarcastic answer to her shoes, a shiny black pair of ballet flats.

  “Sure.”

  “Good,” I said, “Do it then. Tell me about yourself.”

  As I nodded to Todd—the friend of a friend who was manning the ticket booth and who, upon seeing us, got out and opened the gate—she did, rhyming off things as if they were a speech she’d memorized.

  “My full name is Donna Carlene Whitburn. My favorite color is blue, though my ugly house’s door is purple. My parents and I lived and worked on our family ranch, which had been in our family for generations. We raised and sheared sheep and sold the wool. We were happy until we were kicked off our land by—”