A Billionaire's Heart (Erotic Romance Bundle)

by Dalia Daudelin

  I raise my arms in irritation. “Awesome. Why didn't you tell us?”

  “Because she asked me not to. She didn't want you guys to rush into anything, and I'm sure she still doesn't. Like the lawyer said, there's no time limit. Take this at your own pace. Eric and I have already been trying to conceive for a year.”

  “But you're not pregnant yet?”

  “No, we're having some issues. Specifically, he's having some issues that we're working on. I'm perfectly fertile, and I'm sure you guys are, too. So when you're ready, you can fulfill Grandma's wish for us all to start our families.” Her voice is horse, and her eyes stay fixed out of the window. She's quiet for a few minutes before the lawyer clears her throat.

  “So, if you all understand, you can call me after you give birth. I can transfer the money whenever you need it once you have a child. I'm sorry, again, for your loss.”

  When the woman hangs up, the three of us sit in Mila's living room. Usually we're quick to talk things through, but this is a new issue. I want to have kids... but is now the time? I don't know what I want to do otherwise.

  What will Noah think?

  Mila stands up, grabbing her phone as she does so. “Well, I have to pack and get ready to fly out for the funeral. I love you guys. Drive safe.”

  She leaves the room, which feels a few degrees colder. Why is she being so cold about this? She should be comforting Ella, at least.

  I reach out and take Ella's hand. Her lip quivers again, but she holds back the tears that threaten to fall down her face. “Hey, we're not mad at you. For keeping it a secret, I mean. And I'm sure you and Eric will figure out your fertility issues.”

  “Yeah,” she replies, nodding with her eyes closed. The tears finally slip down her face. “I hope so.”

  I just hold her hand for a while. I hold her hand like I used to when we were little girls and she was scared of thunder storms. She lets go first, gathering all of her bravery just to stand up. “I guess I'm going to head home now.”

  “I love you, Ella.”

  She looks back at me and smiles a mirthless smile, her eyes miserable. “I love you, too, Lila. I'll text you when I get home.”

  I don't know how I'm going to tell Noah about this, or even if I should. He knows I went to Mila's house to talk to the lawyer some more, but could I lie to him about this?

  No, I shouldn't do that. You don't lie to the people you love without a damn good reason.

  What would I even say? Hey, baby, we could be millionaires if you knock me up? No. Maybe just a simple, You should impregnate me.

  I roll my eyes and head into Noah's office, bending over him to hug him from behind.

  “Hey, babe. I spent today mostly playing video games, so if you need help around the house or anything I can help out.”

  “Nah, the house is fine. Hey, I have something to talk to you about.” I kiss the top of his head, breathing in the smell of his shampoo before sitting down in the chair next to him.

  “Okay, shoot.” He smiles and leans forward. God, this man is so sexy. I can't believe I managed to snag such an awesome boyfriend.

  Taking a deep breath, I look out the window. “Well, we found out about the inheritance that Grandma left behind.” I pause, trying to find the best words to use to explain this to him.

  He, of course, picks up on my anxiety. “Oh, was it bad? A collection of porcelain dogs or something?”

  I shoot him a strange look, then laugh. Hard. “Yeah, and we have to display them in our window!”

  “Oh no! What will the neighbors think? We'll be that tacky family that everyone hates. I'm not sure I can do this!”

  I smack his arm and then lean back. “No, it's actually great. She left behind two million dollars for each of us.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “But there's a catch.”

  “It's the porcelain dogs, isn't it?” He giggles, then takes my hand.

  “No, you ass. We have to, um, start our family.”

  Cocking his head, he watches my face. “What, like get married? I've been ready to get married for a year now. I have-”

  “Don't tell me!” I yell, covering his mouth with my hand. I don't want to know if he has a ring for me already! “Keep it a surprise! That's not what she means, anyway. We have to, uh... You know. Get pregnant.”

  “I'm down.”

  Staring at him, I try to understand. Did he just nonchalantly tell me he's ready to have kids? This isn't at all what he usually says about this. “What?”

  “I said, I'm down. I'm ready to have kids, too. I haven't told you yet, but I got hired by a new company which means I'll be making more than double what I was before. Couple that with the inheritance, and I know you and I would be great parents... plus you've wanted a kid since forever!”

  I start crying. I don't know why, the tears just start rolling down my face. Things are going to be okay? We're going to pay off my debts, and I'm going to be a mom? Maybe?

  “Oh, babe, don't cry. I know how stressful school has been for you. If you want, you can wait until you graduate.”

  “No,” I say. Knowing what I can have has made it obvious to me what I want to have. I don't want to be in school. “I want to have kids. And I want to stay home with them. I've always wanted to homeschool any kids I would have in the future.”

  “Whoa, intense!” Noah kisses me, smiling as he wipes away my tears. “But that sounds great to me. So, when do we start?”

  “Um, right now? Or, well, I don't really know when I ovulate, but until I know we should probably try every day. Is that okay, or is that too much?”

  “I'll do whatever I can to give you what you want.”

  And with those words, he stands up, reaches around me, and pulls me up into his arms. Like I'm a princess, and he is my knight in shining armor. I giggle as he carries me away from his office and up the stairs to our bedroom.

  He's never done this before. Carry me to the bedroom, I mean. Noah is very manly in his own way, but I tend to discourage grand romantic gestures.

  Not this time, though. I finally feel like I know what I'm doing, thanks to Grandma. And because of that, I'm willing to be girly. I feel so feminine swept up into Noah's arms like this. Petite, and a little bit naughty.

  We get to the bedroom, where Noah promptly trips! He manages to set me down gracefully before steadying himself, with me laughing next to him. “I think I can walk the rest of the way.”

  He pouts, but I pull him down for a kiss. I pinch his ass, too, which makes him yelp.

  “What was that for?”

  “It's because you're too damn sexy!” I reply, then throw myself onto the bed. I wink at him, and he joins me. He pushes me backward, his strong, big hands pushing my arms above my head. I'm going to have so much fun. Oh, I hope I'm ovulating right now.

  Noah's fingers tickle my wrists before lightly fluttering down my arms. Each hand scoops up my breasts, groping me. They're a bit sore, but all that matters is how good it feels to be touched like this. There's no more fear of getting pregnant on accident.

  I never took birth control, so we relied on condoms. Not tonight, though. No, tonight Noah is going to finish inside of me. I shudder in anticipation, excitement, and a little bit of fear.

  Pushing my shirt and bra up, he sucks a nipple into his mouth. I wiggle below him, moaning my approval. His tongue, hot and wet, tentatively touches the very tip of my nipple. He blows on the sensitive, brown skin. The bump raises and stiffens.

  I push his face into my breast, which makes him suck harder. It hurts, but it feels sooo good. He bites and nibbles at my nipple, sucking hard and leaving a hickey beneath my breast.

  Noah's hands wander lower, and press up against my mound. He quickly unbuttons my jeans, pulling them down along with my panties. Noah's touched me before, but there's something so special about this time. Our first try and conceiving.

  I feel like I might go insane with desire. I mewl and groan, begging him to touch me more.

  “I'm
going to knock you up,” he says. His voice is powerful, deep. Very different from the Noah I know. Someone new and interesting is in my bedroom, and his manliness is intoxicating.

  He pulls my legs up and spreads them wide before spitting on his hand. He pulls his pants down then lets his spit lubricate his cock. He slides into me easily, and then his warmth surprises me.

  “Ohh,” I moan, arching my back. His cock seems just a little bit bigger today. Maybe he's had an impregnation fetish all along. He pumps into me, the sounds and smells of our sex drowned out by the pleasure and ecstasy I'm feeling.

  Noah's strong hands slide down my thighs, and he picks my legs up, putting my ankles on his shoulders. “I think this is the perfect baby making position. I'm going to knock you up, and your belly is going to swell. There's nothing you can do about it. You're going to be my pregnant wife.”

  “Yes!” I reach down, and he grabs my hands, using them to fuck me harder and faster. I cum easily from this, with his cock hitting my soft cervix. “Oh, oh, oh!” My high pitched cries are met with his own grunts as he shoots his sperm deep into my spasming depths. And he stays there, until ever last drop of his cum is inside of me.

  We fuck twice more that night, enjoying each other more than we ever have. I fall asleep with his cum dripping out of me.

  Four weeks later, after four weeks of endless sex in every position, I'm almost ready to give up. I haven't felt even one symptom that would have made me use the pregnancy test I bought the day after Noah first came in me.

  My period can be weird and irregular, so I don't even know if I'm late or not.

  Still, for some reason, I wake up thinking that I should test. I go into the bathroom with a plastic cup, and fill it with my urine. Taking a deep breath, I dip the stick into it. I set a timer on my phone for three minutes, and hear Noah shuffling around the bathroom downstairs. The alarm goes off just as he turns on the shower.

  My hands are shaking as I look over at the sink where the test is sitting.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, fear making my voice crack. I cover my eyes and move closer. Gaining all my bravery, I look down.

  “WHAT!” I yell. Noah shuts off the shower.

  “What's wrong?”

  “I'm pregnant! Babe, I'm pregnant!”

  I have to call Ella! I have to tell Mila! I wonder if they've been trying, too?

  My Billionaire Savior

  BBW, Billionaire, Rough, BDSM Erotica

  Dalia Daudelin

  Turning 25 is rough. Maybe for most women 25 is a good age, and maybe most women would spend their birthday at parties and cake and presents and plenty of drinking. I'm spending it shaking with anxiety and strongly considering calling off from work.

  They'll probably just think I want my birthday off, though, no matter how much I tell them my stomach hurts. No matter how true that is. Hell, I think this job is going to give me an ulcer soon, if I don't already have one.

  See, I guess most people wouldn't mind getting cake and having a short party at work on their birthday, but I do mind. I mind it a lot. Because I'm fat, and I work at a gym, and all of my coworkers are snobby skinny assholes. It wasn't even a big deal until the new manager was hired, who promptly fired most of the people that liked me at all and replaced them with men and women that belong in fashion magazines.

  Any time the manager catches them mocking me, he just joins in, poking fun of me, reminding me that my hips are too wide and my breasts don't fit in my bra properly. He'll even yell at me when I have to go to the bathroom just to compose myself so I don't cry!

  I have to go in, though. If I call off on my birthday I will just get fired, and I've already been looking for another job for weeks. No one is hiring. The economy is impossible. So even though I work with people who abuse me, I need the job to pay for my apartment. I need to go to work.

  My hands shaking, I brush out my long brown hair. The waves reach down to about the center of my back. My hair is usually thick, but with all the stress I'm under, it's starting to fall out. The oils I put in my hair helps slow the destruction, though, and leaves it shiny and healthy looking.

  I brush some brown mascara over my thick eyelashes, fluttering them a bit as it dries. I examine my face. I definitely look like I'm going to break down crying at any second. Breathe in, then breathe out. I have to compose myself, or I'll just be made fun of even more.

  I blast pop music on my drive to work in an attempt to cheer myself up. My pink blouse is one of my best shirts, and it even makes me look a little bit skinny. Over khaki pants and nude ballet flats, in my opinion I look cute today. I arrive a few minutes early, but it looks like everyone is already here.

  Sighing and adjusting my hair, I check my makeup before getting out of my car and into the tall building.

  The front of the building is mostly windows, tinted slightly to give our patrons some privacy. I head over my desk, the front line of the gym, where every new member or visitor checks in and pays before heading to their chosen machines.

  I open my bottom drawer and stuff my purse in there, pull a pen out from another drawer, and set to work filling out the paperwork for some new gym members. Best to keep myself busy- if everyone sees me working maybe they won't bother me with taunting.

  Of course that hope goes right out the window as I hear the clicking of Maria's high heeled shoes. She helps with the phones and does personal secretarial work for the manager, typing his letters and getting him food most often. She's an absolute bombshell, her long blonde hair and Nordic features awe inspiring even while she's insulting me. Today she's wearing what looks like a very expensive red dress with black heels, her cleavage shaking a bit with each step toward me.

  “Happy birthday, Sarah! Why don't you join us in the break room for some cake!” Her cheery voice has me on edge. This is always how she sounds when she's about to do something extremely mean to me. I try to gulp down the knot in my throat and smile, but I know I only come off as pathetic. I set my pen down on my desk and stand up.

  Following her, my hands begin to shake again. Trying my best to prepare myself for what's to come, I take deep breaths, in and out, as I watch her hips sway back and forth with her movements.

  The break room is decorated, colorful streamers and confetti placed here and there. The white board on the fridge even says “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH”. As I enter the room, I'm greeted with smiles and pats on the back.

  The warm welcome actually calms me down, and I smile and thank everyone. There's a cake on the table, but I can't quite read it before Maria moves in front of it. There's a flick of a lighter, and the candles that read 25 come to life. My coworkers push me towards the table.

  I bend over and blow out the candles, my eyes closed. When I open them, I can finally read the cake, and as I do my heart sinks and the horrible feeling I've had all day comes back a million times worse. I stand back up and force myself to smile. I can't let them see me upset. I'm done with letting them win.

  “Thank you guys so much, the cake looks great!” I lie. Everyone looks puzzled or annoyed, but Maria just smiles and pats my shoulder. She starts to cut the cake while I try to ignore everyone else's angry stares and my own need to run out of the room and cry. She hands a few pieces to others before handing me my piece.

  She had cut the cake so that I would get the piece that specifically has the word “fat” on it. The entire phrase on the cake was “Happy Birthday, Fat Ass!”

  I can feel my ability to hold back my tears breaking, and I excuse myself back to my desk. They know they won, I can see it in the wicked smirk Maria gives me as I turn toward the door to leave. I manage to keep my cool until I reach the end of the hallway, but as soon as I see my desk I break down. Sobs wrack through my body, so painful that I hunch over a bit. I have to hold myself up with my arm on my desk.

  I set down the cake on the edge, sitting in my chair and lowering my head into my arms. This is usually our slowest time, so I figure I can take a few minutes out here to let myself sob it out, be
fore I go clean myself up in the bathroom.

  Of course, I don't hear when the door does glide open. Nor do I hear the soft rubber soles of expensive leather shoes against the carpet as a man draws near. It's only when the man is near enough for me to hear the slight jingle of keys in his pocket that I realize I'm not alone, and look up at the intruder.

  When I see who it is, my back straightens and I wipe my tears off my face, standing up. “Mr. Calaway! I wasn't told you'd be here today, I'm so sorry for how I look. Can I take your jacket?”

  Mr. Calaway owns the company. Even though he's 44 years old, he's so handsome that it almost hurts to look at him. Not to mention he's filthy rich. Maria's been trying to get him to date her since she got hired, but he's too smart to fall for a gold digging bitch like that. I see concern in his deep blue eyes as he runs a hand through his short, jet black hair. “Why is a beautiful woman like you crying?”

  I stiffen, and the words come out of my mouth as a stammer. “I-it's just been a rough day already. It's my birthday and... and I'm having a hard time coping with getting older...” He eyes me suspiciously, before looking down at the piece of cake. The bright red FAT glares back up at him, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

  “I'll be right back.”

  I watch as the clearly fuming man makes his way down the hall and to the break room, where everyone else is still eating cake and laughing.

  The room goes quiet, presumably from the shock of seeing our boss there without any warning. I look around the corner, trying to better hear the conversation.

  “Would someone like to explain to me why this cake says 'Happy Birthday Fatass'?”

  “Oh, it's just a joke, Mr. Calaway...” I hear Maria's whiny, high pitched voice say. There's not even a hint of worry in that sociopath's words.

  “This is not the kind of joking we do here. Whose idea was it?”

  There's silence for a moment. Then, one of the trainers speaks up. “Maria and Brett's, sir.”