Knocked Up and Punished: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “No shoot today. Jason quit. We’re going to recast as quickly as we can, but it could be weeks.” He reacts to his own words, as if the full reality is just now setting in on him too. “All our promotions and advertisements will have to be reshot.” Camillo’s voice trails off as he walks toward the exit, one hand on his hip and the other spearing his hair. “Fuck!” he yells, kicking a chair over and stepping outside.

  There’s a tense silence that follows until Makayla looks at me with something in her eyes I don’t like, at all. She jogs over to me and draws my eyes to her deliciously bouncing tits. If shooting is canceled for today, that means I can get her back to my place even sooner and relieve the unbearable ache in my cock. I haven’t stopped thinking about the way she wanted me to cum inside her. Fuck. Just thinking about it gives me an instant hard-on. I knew it was beyond crazy to do, but I’ve never been a man of hesitation. I don’t have any doubts about Makayla. I never have. The only thing standing between us has only ever been what’s best for her, and I’ve made the mistake of thinking distance from me would be best too many times. It’s not a mistake I’ll ever make again.

  “Jesse,” she says when she comes to a stop in front of me. She’s biting her lip, which is a bad sign. “You could play the part. Just come run through the lines. I know if Camillo sees you act he will be over the moon.”

  “No fucking way,” I grunt. I don’t want to admit it, but I actually kind of enjoyed reading through the lines that night Kennedy and Makayla were practicing a few weeks back. I don’t know if I was good at it, but there was something satisfying about it I couldn’t quite put my finger on. If not for the embarrassment, I would have asked to try again. But I don’t plan to let her know that. I’d never live it down. I might as well throw on a tutu and some make-up. Even if I do need something to occupy myself now that my involvement with Makayla is going to put an end to my personal protection career. The agency will find out sooner or later and cut me loose.

  “Please?” she asks.

  One word and my resolve threatens to shatter. Fuck. Oh shit, she’s doing the pouty thing with her lip, too. None of that bullshit ever worked from other women, but at times I feel like Makayla can control me with the smallest twitch of a muscle.

  “It’s not happening. No way.”

  Ten minutes later I’m wearing a leather jacket from props and shoes that are a size too small and jeans that are a little too tight. Jason wasn’t as big as me, and none of this shit really fits me right. A man with eyebrows that are far too perfect to be natural approaches me, arms bent at the elbow and hands dangling uselessly like a T-rex. He reaches to a nearby table and grabs a make-up kit.

  I jab a finger at him. “You touch me with that make-up, and you fucking die.”

  He claws his fingers at me. “Rawr.” He calls over his shoulder to Makayla. “He’s feisty, you sure he’s straight?”

  “Hands off, Andy.”

  Andy tsks, walking away and throwing me a look over his shoulder.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I walk toward the set and notice most of the women on the crew and cast are looking at me strangely. “What are they looking at?” I ask Makayla, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

  She grins, touching my chest affectionately. “Even people in show business aren’t used to seeing guys as gorgeous as you. They have probably all been wondering how long it would take for someone to throw you in front of a camera.”

  “Great,” I growl.

  “That’s good,” she says, still grinning. “Channel your inner Jack Carpenter. Gritty. Angry. Deadly.”

  I roll my eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

  She hands me the script and I glance through the lines. There aren’t many of them, so I quickly commit them to memory and set the script aside.

  “You’re going to need that,” she says, pointing to the script.

  “I’m good,” I say.

  There is a slight commotion as the crew gets cameras and lights ready. Camillo reenters the studio, staring angrily when he sees everyone is still setting up cameras even though he called it a day. “What the fuck?” he asks.

  Makayla steps forward. “Camillo. I think we found the perfect actor for Jack Carpenter. Meet Jesse Slade,” she says, gesturing to me grandly.

  Camillo takes me in. “Your bodyguard?”

  Makayla nods. “My personal protection who is also an amazing actor.”

  Camillo frowns. “Fine. He gets one take. He definitely looks the part, at least. Probably can’t act for shit though.”

  They call for everyone to take their places. The script didn’t say anything about where to stand, so I have to let Makayla direct me to a spot just a few inches away from her. Not going to complain about that.

  I focus on Makayla, letting the lines become reality as I recite the character’s feelings for Makayla’s character. I talk about how I’ve loved her even though I haven’t always made the right choices or shown it in the right ways. I listen when she tells me how scared the thought of loving me makes her, how wrong it seems, but how she still wants it more than anything. And then we kiss.

  The scene goes by in a blur, and when the director calls cut in a hushed voice I feel my heart beating fast. I never thought I would enjoy acting. Hell, I never thought I would enjoy much of anything after the war. But there’s a thrill to working through the scene, and if it gives me one more excuse to kiss Makayla, it can’t be that bad.

  There’s a delayed round of applause from the crew. I look to Makayla in confusion. They don’t normally clap after a scene. She squeals with excitement and cups my cheeks, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me. “You were amazing!”

  Camillo approaches, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It doesn’t normally work this way. There’s paperwork, auditions, blah blah blah. But I want you for this part. The contract is yours if you want it.”

  72

  Makayla

  I lean into Jesse’s shoulder, watching the TV with rapt attention as a serious blonde woman speaks into the microphone. “I’m outside East Valley Courthouse today where the notorious real estate tycoon, Hubert Walsh, is being taken into custody. Our sources at WJXT News indicate the charges involve allegations of violence against Mr. Walsh’s step-daughter, Makayla Pierson, best known for her leading role in the popular TV show, Stalked. Early indications are that Mr. Walsh could be facing some serious jail time.”

  I look to Jesse. “He turned himself in?”

  Jesse smirks. “You did it.” He leans in to give me a quick kiss.

  I feel something blossom in my chest that’s not entirely sweet. As much as I know Hubert needed to find justice, I don’t think there was any way to find it without at least a tinge of regret. I don’t regret that he’s going to pay for what he did, but I regret that it came to this. As horrible as it was to know there were people wanting to hurt me, knowing one of the few people I trusted was behind it all made a mark on me I don’t think will ever completely go away. But the positive to come out of all this is how Hubert’s betrayal has made me appreciate the remaining people I can trust, like Kennedy and Jesse. Even though I thought Jesse had betrayed my trust at times, I know now that all he ever did was try to protect me, and I love him so much for that.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “I will be,” I say, closing my eyes and pressing my face into his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat calm me.

  73

  Epilogue

  Two Months Later

  “You sure you don’t want to tell me what we’re doing?” I ask Jesse as we climb what seems like the fortieth flight of stairs. “I mean, if you thought I needed a workout you could just come out and say it.”

  He smirks, grabbing my hand and picking me up, holding me in front of his chest and climbing the remaining dozen flights of stairs with a spring in his step. I love how it feels to be carried by him, like I weigh nothing at all. He sets me down when we reach the roof and I gasp, taking in the view of the city stre
tched out beneath us. I feel a little rush of vertigo and swoon, but Jesse is right beside me to steady me on my feet.

  “This is beautiful,” I say, a little breathlessly.

  He pulls me close to his side protectively. “Yeah. See that?” he asks, pointing to a helicopter banking in the distance and heading our way.

  “Yes…” I say. “Why?”

  He says nothing, just watching and looking obnoxiously pleased with himself.

  What are you up to, Jesse Slade? I press a hand to my stomach, feeling a wave of fear and excitement pass through me. I want to tell him, but I’m terrified at the same time. I think I know how he’ll react, but I could be wrong. Maybe I’ll just say it. Just blurt the words out. I’m pregnant.

  I clutch Jesse a little tighter when it looks like the helicopter is about to crash right into the building. The nose pulls up at the last second, blasting us with strong wind while the helicopter maneuvers into position and lands on a slightly raised portion of the roof. Jesse gestures grandly for me to follow him. I take his hand, not quite understanding what’s going on, but excited nonetheless.

  “I’ve never been in a helicopter!” I yell, shouting to be heard over the rotating blades.

  He helps me up into the passenger area, where I sit in one of two seats and watch Jesse hop inside, looking spectacular in his black suit and gray dress shirt. I’m wearing a somewhat revealing green dress because he told me to wear something nice and because I love the way he looks at me when I wear this dress in particular. Jesse’s eyes always have a way of drinking me in like he’s the thirstiest man alive and I’m a tall, cold glass of water, but when I wear this it’s just a little more pronounced, and what can I say, I can’t get enough of being wanted by him. It’s like a drug to me.

  He reaches over and helps me with the straps of my seat belt, buckling me in and grabbing a headset hanging on the side of the chair and carefully placing it over my ears and moves the microphone into place. He gets himself strapped in and puts on his headset next.

  “Can you hear me?” he asks.

  I see his lips move but can’t hear anything except the sound of his voice through the headset, slightly robotic, but perfectly clear.

  “Yeah!” I shout, giving him a thumbs up.

  He grins. “You don’t have to yell. The microphone will pick it up.”

  I blush. “This is amazing,” I say, making a point of using a more normal voice.

  He leans forward, slapping the pilot on his shoulder. The helicopter jolts beneath me as we lift into the air. There are no doors, which admittedly unsettles me, but Jesse is close enough that I can reach out and hold his hand--which I do--and the harnesses of the seat feel secure. Before long, I’m lost in the view, watching the city crawl by beneath us, marveling at how this perspective makes it all seem so much different, so small and insignificant, but also at how a little distance makes it seem so clean and beautiful.

  Jesse places a small black box in my lap. My fingers brush over the velvety material coating the box and my chest constricts. My eyes dart to his, questioning.

  “Open it,” he says, face serious.

  I crack the box open and my breath hitches. The most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen sparkles up at me from the box, catching every single hint of light and spraying it into every color imaginable. It’s a delicate, classic, and exactly the type of ring I always dreamed of wearing. “This is…” I say, confusion and surprise in my voice.

  “Will you?” he asks.

  Yes. The word erupts in my mind. It explodes. Yes. Absolutely yes. A thousand times, yes. Tears well in my eyes. “Of course,” I say, voice thick.

  He bites his lip and leans over, gently pulling my face toward his to kiss me.

  “Was this whole helicopter thing just so you would have an excuse not to get on your knees in front of me?”

  His smirk is sinful when he pulls back from the kiss. “I’m planning to get on my knees in front of you--tonight.”

  It feels like all the blood in my body rushes to my cheeks when I think about his head between my legs. It feels like I’m floating, and it has nothing to do with the fact that in a way I technically am. It’s too perfect. Everything is so perfect I’m afraid it will slip away if I stop to think about it for too long. Jesse has been an instant hit on the show, and we’ve even been getting offers from some big names in the movie business now. Hubert lost his case and is going to be spending twenty-five years behind bars, largely in part because of his confession and Liam’s phone, which mysteriously found its way to the police. Kennedy broke up with that idiot she was dating and has started seeing someone I like for her, for once.

  I can’t fix my past. That will never be clear or perfect. I’ll always be scarred and the memories of pain will never quite leave me. But I’m moving into the future with Jesse now, and I feel in my heart that he’ll always be by my side, always holding my hand and protecting me, keeping my past from catching up with me and making sure my future shapes up to be something out of my childhood fantasies. Well, I was too innocent to even daydream about some of the things Jesse does to me behind closed doors, but still.

  I suck in a deep breath and look over to him. “I’m pregnant.”

  Jesse looks into my eyes, his brows closing together and his eyes widening. “You’re not just fucking with me?”

  “Not fucking with you,” I say a little nervously.

  “Holy shit,” he says, sliding the ring on my finger when he realizes he still hasn’t. He swallows hard. “You have no idea how fucking happy that makes me.”

  I grin. “You just stole my line.”

  Extended Epilogue

  Four Years Later

  Jesse

  I watch Makayla and our two girls, Paisley and Amelia enjoying the Montana countryside outside our lakehouse. Paisley is coming up on her third birthday now in a few months, which I’m sure is going to be just as meticulously planned by Makayla as the last two were, and Amelia just had her first birthday a few weeks ago. My girls. The thought brings a smile to my face as I admire the way the setting sun casts a blazing outline around the three of them.

  Makayla tucks a strand of golden hair behind her ear, long eyelashes on display as she looks down at the bright purple flower she’s showing to Amelia, who she holds at her side. Paisley stands at her other side looking girly as hell with two huge bows holding up her hair, which is exactly the same color as her mother’s.

  It’s a perfect evening--one of many I never thought I’d have--and I’m enjoying every fucking second of it.

  We’re in our vacation home out in Montana because the countryside is beyond perfect this time of year. Big sky, big mountains, and bigger views. It’s a place to make me forget about everything except what matters: my wife, my kids, and spending time together as a family. We spend our mornings cooking over an open fire outside our sprawling lakehouse. Sure, we have all the facilities of a small hotel inside the mansion, but we still come outside every morning and start the fire. Makayla and the girls come outside wrapped in blankets and looking to snuggle through the morning chill.

  We eat charred bacon and smooth eggs while the rising sun bounces off the ice-capped mountains in the distance and across the lake. We waste the daylight away in the lake, laughing and playing games or just relaxing and listening to the sounds of the breeze rustling through the grass and trees. At night we huddle together, whether it’s inside with a movie and a big blanket or outside around the fire, just talking and telling stories.

  Out here I can almost forget what kind of life we’ve made for ourselves back in the real world. I can forget that Makayla and I draw more attention from the paparazzi than any other celebrity couple, and if we’re not careful, we end up surrounded by a swarm of flashbulbs and clicking lenses.

  But I wouldn’t trade it away. Not a single part. I’ve made a life with Makayla I don’t deserve. I know that deep in my chest. I’d be lying if I said the war doesn’t still come back to me, or even some of the things I had t
o do to keep Makayla safe. When I find myself far from family and in quiet moments, the images do come back, but it’s getting better.

  Makayla sits down beside me in the grass, propping Amelia up in my lap.

  “She was asking for you,” says Makayla with a grin.

  I smile down at Amelia, who is always ready to flash her three teeth at a moment’s notice.

  “Hey there, you pretty little thing,” I say, tickling her chest and loving the giggles it produces.

  Paisley tackle-hugs me from the side. “Am I a pretty lil’ thing, Daddy?”

  “You’re a pretty little-bit-bigger little thing,” I say.

  Paisley laughs. “Lil’ bit bigger--lil’...” she trails off and laughs more when she can’t manage to get the words out.

  “Run to the cooler and grab some graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows, okay?” says Makayla.

  Paisley nods, running off in a more-or-less straight line, only stopping a few times to swat at the lightning bugs that are just starting to come out.

  Makayla leans her head into my shoulder and I pull her in closer, trying to keep Amelia from breaking free with my other hand.

  “I love you,” Makayla says. “I love this.”

  “I love you too,” I say. I plant a kiss on the top of her head and breathe in the smell of her shampoo. It smells like comfort to me now, like home and happiness all rolled into one, and I can’t get enough of it. “I think you had the rough end of the bargain when it came to the whole bringing kids into the world thing, but I wouldn’t change a thing if I went back.”