by Nikki Steele
He spanked me, lightly, pulling a cry from my mouth. I bit my lip when he spanked the other side, then fondled me roughly. This was different than before—than his mouth or hands. The thought of that long, hard length slipping inside me made me tremble. I’d only recently tasted it, now it was about to taste me.
His hands ran up and down the rear of my thighs, then over that sensitive area between them. I was wet again, already. “Take me,” I begged, pushing myself back toward him. “Please.”
I threw back my head, red hair fanning behind me. I had to have him. I was desperate for that physical connection which expressed what words couldn’t.
His hands moved to my hips. I felt his presence behind me; something hard brush me ever so gently. Then his fingers tightened on my flesh, and his first, sweet thrust sunk deep. I cried out, long and low. We both froze for a moment, absorbing the sensation; the intimacy of our connection.
After a lengthy, luxurious moment, he started to move again; sliding out, then back in. He moved slowly, stoking my flame. Every thrust made me want him more. I moved against him, and soon our bodies were slapping together. I was building quickly—too quickly, it seemed almost impossible to be this close already. But I was. He made me this way.
It had barely been minutes. He’d brought me to the edge twice already. But with wide eyes I found myself shaking with need, crying out that I was there, and then clenching around his member as the fire in my core exploded into blissful tremors. I trembled, crying out again and again upon him.
He didn’t stop moving, only slowed to a near-stop as he waited for me to resurface from that burst of pleasure. Then he went faster, harder, deeper. I grunted my approval, letting him take me as roughly as he wanted. Anything he needed, I would give gladly.
I pushed up on straightened arms, forcing him to sit back on his calves. He reached around to my front, taking my breasts in his hands. My sensitive flesh tingled under his fingers. I cried out in approval when he pinched my nipples. “Yes! More!”
I begged as we thrust our bodies together. I felt free. Totally wanted and accepted by this man. With Chase, I could be myself. I could be curvy. I could be pregnant. I could have multiple orgasms. Speaking of which... I began to move faster, slamming myself against him.
“Yes... that’s right... keep going...” he grunted. A hand slipped between my legs, cupping me, moving against my pearl. Oh God. It was happening again! I gasped in wonder as the tremors flashed through me—not as high as the first, but still enough to make me stiffen upon him. How could he be doing this to me? Was it his huge length, or maybe those skilled hands? I closed my eyes, dizzy, and realized it was that and more—this man loved me, and I loved him, and that knowledge alone was enough to bring me to the edge.
My nerves were sizzling, every one of them on edge but in the best way possible. I let out a little whimper of disappointment when I felt him leave me.
He chuckled. “Roll over.” I knew he was aching for release himself, and I was too eager to give him what he wanted. Within moments I was on my back; my legs wrapped around his waist. I held him tight as he took me from a different angle. I was so turned on, that he slid in easily.
“I love you,” he whispered. I closed my eyes, throwing my head back. I’d never imagined it could be this sweet, and this hot, all at once. With Chase, I finally understood the way two souls could connect when people made love. I’d been right—it wasn’t just the slow, steady rocking movement that lit my flame again. It was the man making love with me. It was looking up into his face—smiling, kissing. Tasting his skin; the thin sheen of perspiration that was salty on my lips. Feeling him, the way he chose to move back and forth, the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin, beneath my hands when he thrust forward. The sounds he made, the way he groaned and gasped, affirming the pleasure I was giving him.
He began moving faster, his thrusts stronger. He pushed himself up on his hands, and my hands moved up and down from his shoulders to his torso, where our bodies met, then back up again. I would never get enough of him. I raked my nails over his shoulders, and he threw his head back, gasping. I moved with him, tightening my legs, holding him closer. Urging him on, unleashing my passion.
We moved as one. I felt it build inside me again, and I welcomed it, not surprised any more at the emotions Chase was capable of generating. The movements were slow at first, but as our breathing got quicker, so the movements became faster. I began to moan, and soon he was slamming into me so forcefully that the noise was just one steady stream of sound emerging from me to echo around the room. I gripped him with my arms and legs, certain I would break apart if I didn’t hold on tight enough. We climaxed together, tensing up before shuddering to a stop in each other’s arms.
He collapsed against me, his arms no longer supporting him. And in that moment I felt myself truly happy—for possibly the first time in my life. I’d been satisfied—not just physically, but in the depths of my soul.
“I love you,” I murmured, enjoying the roll of the words off my tongue. It wouldn’t be the last time I said it. Rather, today was the first of many.
“There’s one thing I know for sure,” he whispered against my neck. I still held him in my arms, between my legs. I didn’t want to let him go, even as I reminded myself I didn’t have to be afraid of losing him this time. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Actually, there are two things.”
“What’s that?”
“One, I love you, too.”
I beamed, kissing the side of his head. We were still a little breathless, but his racing heart had started to slow its frantic rhythm. I could feel it beating against me. “What’s the other thing?”
“We have to get you moved in, because doing it on the stairs and the floor is way too uncomfortable.”
I burst out laughing, and he joined me. He pushed himself up, then off me. I cuddled up beside him.
“So you want me to move in?” I asked, thrilled to pieces. I mean, I’d guessed, since he was doing the baby room. But it was one thing to think it, and another to hear it out loud.
“Yes. I want you every day, for the rest of my life.”
I pushed myself up, looking him straight in the eye. “What about when you’re not here? When you’re traveling?”
He shrugged. “That’s up to you. You can stay here, or you can come with me, or whatever you want. It’ll be your home, too.”
My home. This magnificent place. As much as I hated to think of him in a moment like this, I had to thank Dan for two things: Teaching me never to settle for less than what I deserved, and taking me to the bar for my birthday.
I smiled wickedly. “Deal. As long as occasionally we can still make love in the random uncomfortable places. It keeps things interesting.”
He appeared to think about this, then nodded with a grin as he slowly disentangled himself from me, standing and then pulling me up. “I’m sure we can work that into the arrangement. A plane at 30,000 feet does count as random, right?”
I laughed. Life with Chase would definitely not be boring.
He kissed me. “Listen, I have to go make a few phone calls, before it gets too late.” Then he kissed me again, long and hard enough to leave me staggering back against the wall as he left the room.
* * *
[music]
“Well, baby, here we are,” I whispered. “This is where we’ll live, and the room you’ll grow up in. You’re so, so lucky. And so am I.”
Who would have thought that a chance meeting in a random bar, out of all the bars in New York, would end up like this? Being in love, and truly loved back? With all of my dreams coming true?
I’d sung in public, and also onstage. I was finally appreciated and wanted. I could do anything, as long as I had Chase by my side. He gave me the confidence to do things I’d never dreamed possible. And I just knew he would be a fantastic father to my child.
I realized I was humming to myself and smiled as I redressed. Moon River. Why did I choose such a wistful, heartbreaking
song? It used to make me cry sometimes, listening to it. Especially the instrumental version, which is so beautiful.
Back in the day, I’d associated the lyrics with everything I didn’t have—especially when I paired it with the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the way it played over the happiness of the lovers who had finally found each other. I’d wonder, in my heart of hearts, if I would ever make my dreams come true and finally find someone to love me—truly, completely love me. Not use me selfishly, or give me the little crumbs of affection I’d grown accustomed to, to the point where I thought they were all I deserved.
And now, here I was. I didn’t have to see happy lovers and wonder, wistfully, if that would ever be me. I didn’t have to wander through life alone.
Chase came back in at some point, when I was too lost in my thoughts to notice his entrance. He heard me humming. “What song is that?” he asked, his voice soft, so as not to break the moment.
“Moon River,” I said, feeling shy. Though I had no reason for shyness, not really. Not when he’d seen me sing onstage. That was something I would have to work through—the need to hide my voice from others. I didn’t have to hide anything about myself anymore.
“You have excellent taste,” he acknowledged with a grin.
I smiled, looking at him. “Yes. I know.” The proof was standing right in front of me.
He caught my meaning. “Not what I meant, but thank you.” He held out his hands and I walked to him. He took me in his arms, planting a light kiss on my lips.
“I was humming because that song has always made me think about wishing for dreams to come true. You know?”
“Sure,” Chase said, his arms around my waist. “That’s what it’s all about. The promise of what’s out there in the world. Wanting to go out and find whatever it is. But not feeling like you can for one reason or another.”
Wasn’t that the story of my life? He’d summed it up and, in doing so, had summed me up. I’d always had reasons for not wanting to follow my dreams. I’d been waiting for someone to come along to show me the way. Someone had.
He reached over to the light switch, dimming the main lights. Twinkling stars filled the room. “Sing it for me?” he whispered. He moved me gently into the middle of the suddenly starry sky. We began to sway, holding each other in a slow dance, as I softly sang.
I was singing to him, but also to the baby. Who would my child be? With a start like this, and two parents to love him or her, they were already ahead of the game.
The song was about two drifters, heading out to explore the world. Chase and I were those two drifters, but we weren’t drifting. We were on an adventure together. I knew the world was bigger and wider than I’d ever imagined, and I had Chase to thank for introducing me to even a little bit of it. We had so far to go.
I hummed, and we danced, and the lights twinkled above our heads as New York lived just outside the window. But we were lost in our own world, the three of us, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
-THE END-
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Author’s Note
Thanks for reading Billionaire Baby Secret!
I’d like to say a very special note here to one of my readers, Ben, who put a lot of time and effort into editing this book. Any mistakes that still remain are entirely my fault, but trust me, there are a lot less now because of Ben’s hard work. Thank you so much Ben for your help.
This was the first book I’ve written that tied music so closely to the story. I had a lot of fun researching what songs Rachel would sing on the course of her journey—hopefully you were humming along to any tunes that you knew, because I was humming and tapping my toes as I wrote the scenes!
If you have enjoyed my work, you may also wish to consider reading some of my other books. The first books in several series are free if you sign up for my newsletter. You can do so at www.nightvisionbooks.com/nikki-steele.
Regards,
Nikki
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Exclusive Extra: Billionaire Heat Book 1
Libby lives in the shadow of her sister, a skier and Olympic contender. Her sister is younger, athletic and attractive, whereas Libby struggles with food issues, is curvy, and uncoordinated where sports are concerned.
On a journey to the slopes, she meets a handsome mysterious stranger, and they share a single wild, crazy, hot night together. The freedom of a one night stand lets her do things she would normally be too timid to do—because she thinks she’ll never see him again.
But all is not as it seems on the slopes. Because the stranger is there to stay...
Chapter 1
If nothing else, I thought with a wry smile, I’ll get some great Instagram photos up here.
I’d been traveling to my sister’s trials and competitions for years, but I had to admit—all of the reviews I’d read about this ski resort were gospel truth. The sky was bluer, the snow was whiter. The air was so crystal clear you could see for miles in every direction. The little cabins that dotted the landscape of the village in which we’d be staying, with other skiers trying out for the Olympic team, added a picturesque touch to the surroundings—like a painting come to life.
Erica climbed from the car, pushing her sunglasses up onto her forehead. “I guess it’s okay,” she said, inspecting the cabin to which we’d been assigned.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s gorgeous, Eri,” I said. “The nicest place so far.”
She shrugged, moving to unload her equipment from the top of the car. She’d been snarky the entire flight, getting her to agree with anything when she was like this was a major challenge. She left the rest of the bags for me.
It had been my choice. Sometimes I had to remind myself of that—when I was tired and cranky and over the attitude. It had been my choice to leave the bakery where I had worked for four years. It had been my choice to become a full-time personal assistant to my athlete sister.
It had been my mother’s suggestion; Erica had a good chance of making the Olympic team, and didn’t have time to worry about scheduling, or laundry, or things like cooking. Mom had done a lot of it previously, but she was getting older now—she wasn’t as energetic as she used to be. So here I was, full-time assistant to a potential Olympic champion.
I took the bags into the cabin. There was a large living room immediately off the front door, with an open kitchen and dining area leading from there. It looked like the bedrooms were upstairs.
At the back of the cabin was a large, comfortable room with a fireplace that was already roaring. Huge double doors opened out onto a deck and then a hot tub, with snow-capped mountains behind.
That hot tub looked inviting. Maybe I’d have a soak later, if I had time.
I struggled against a flash of resentment. As long as it didn’t conflict with the dreams of my sister. ‘Her success is our success,’ Mom always said.
Nothing I did ever measured up to Erica. I was Valedictorian of my high school class. But Erica was State Ski Champion. I was certified as a baker and pastry chef. But Erica made it to Nationals the year I completed Culinary Arts school. Had I not gotten an after-school job as soon as I was old enough to work, I wouldn’t have had the money to do anything! My parents had saved their pennies for more important things, like Erica’s lessons.
I’d read somewhere that this often happened with Olympic potentials—the entire family sacrificing themselves for them. Despite Erica’s faults, we all loved her. I’d do anything to see her succeed.
“Libby, I’m gonna go over to the Lodge,” Erica announced, breaking into my reverie.
I started. “Meeting with the t
rainers early?” Preliminary sessions started tomorrow morning.
“Yeah, never too early to catch Stephen’s eye.”
Her comment made me break into an unexpected chuckle. “Still going on about that?” Erica had read an article on the flight over about Stephen Petersen, the mysterious owner of the resort we were staying at. He was a major benefactor for the winter ski program, a world class skier in his own right, and the only non-institute member of the panel that would judge Olympic hopefuls.
“Just remember you can’t kiss him, okay?” I teased. The mother of an athlete last year had been caught in a broom closet with a minor sponsor. Her daughter had been summarily dismissed on grounds of undue influence.
“I guess there is a danger he’ll find me attractive,” she said, musing. “Perhaps I should bring you with me, as a counterbalance.”
I frowned. Erica sounded serious. Did she ever think before she spoke?
She turned and looked toward the kitchen. “I noticed a sign for a grocery store back down the road. Wanna get us stocked up?”
“When we’re unpacked,” I said with a tight smile. I caught both our reflections in the glass of the window. How could two sisters be so different? She was beautiful, with an athletic build and long, long legs. I on the other hand, did not. I sighed and walked our bags up to our separate bedrooms.
That’s just how things were. I’d gotten used to it a long time ago. Maybe it would be worth it if Erica made it to the Olympics. She probably would. She always won.
Her winning streak wasn’t limited to skiing, either. I thought about that, ruefully, while I unpacked our clothes. I tried not to let it get to me these days; it had happened years before.
Maybe she hadn’t really stolen him, per se. I’d been in love with Brian since the 6th grade, but we’d never been anything more than close friends. I was just one of the guys, as far as he was concerned... at least, I had been until halfway through senior year. Then something shifted between us. He started spending more time at our house, watching movies with me, finding excuses to study together. We even started going out, just the two of us, rather than in a group as we always had.
