Billionaire Boss's Baby

by Roxeanne Rolling

  I whittle away the rest of the day. The hours go by much, much too slowly.

  When the time comes, I deck myself out in a suit. I usually never wear suits. But Sarah’s worth it. She’s more important than any business meeting, that’s for sure.

  I plug her address into my phone, and cringe when I see which neighborhood she’s in. She certainly doesn’t live in Manhattan, that’s for sure. And actually her neighborhood is a place I’d really think twice about if I was walking alone at night. And I’m a pretty big guy and I’m no slouch at hand-to-hand combat either.

  I take one of my sports cars out of the garage at my penthouse and cruised through the Manhattan streets. I’m used to scoping out the women as I drive. A lot of them like to look and see who’s driving such an expensive sports car. Normally I’d be rating them and admiring their bodies. But strangely, none of them hold any interest for me right now. All I can think about is Sarah and seeing her again.

  I double-park the car on Sarah’s street.

  I stand in front of her house and gaze up at the dilapidated row homes. This part of the city looks so dismal, so bleak and grey. That’s what poverty does to an area. There’s hardly anything living or green on the whole block. Down on the corner, there’s a white cross in the ground, probably signifying where some poor young person was gunned down. This isn’t a place I want anyone I care about living, I think to myself. Then again, I remind myself, aren’t I getting ahead of myself? I just met Sarah, basically.

  But, no, there’s something else. There’s something special between us already.

  I can almost feel or sense that she’s near me, even though I can’t see her. She’s probably upstairs putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

  I look up again and this time I see her. It looks like she’s standing in the bathroom window, adjusting her earrings.

  Even though I have a picture of her on my phone, and I have her image basically tattooed in my memory, seeing her in person is enough to make me catch my breath again and make my heart leap in surprise.

  Somehow, she notices that I’m looking at her, and she looks down. We smile at each other.

  I head up the steps and ring the doorbell.

  “Coming,” says a shrill voice that doesn’t sound anything like Sarah.

  “Hello,” I say. “I’m John Clark. Is Sarah here?”

  “One minute,” she says. “Won’t you come in?”

  The situation doesn’t make sense for a moment as I enter the cramped house. There’s stuff piled high in every possible location. I haven’t been into a home this dilapidated or stuffed for a long, long time. Not since before I became very rich. For a moment I wonder if this woman is her roommate?

  Oh, I realize, it’s her mother. She lives with her mother.

  Wow, I mean I knew she was poor. She’s working as a cleaner after all. But who lives with their mother?

  Not that I care. Sarah could be homeless and I’d still date her. She could live on the bottom of the ocean, in a giant seashell, and I’d rent the scuba gear necessary to date her.

  “You look beautiful,” I say, as Sarah appears at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Could be better,” says her mother, giving her a disapproving look. “Where’d you get that dress?”

  “Janet lent it to me,” says Sarah, blushing.

  She looks gorgeous, with her long hair flowing down around her shoulders. Her breasts are pushed up slightly and create a very attractive bulge in the dress. The dress is short and doesn’t even approach her knees, leaving her legs bare and beautiful.

  “Ready?” I say, anxious not to stick around to the mother’s sure-to-be probing questions. It’s been a long time since I’ve faced the interrogations of the mother’s of the daughter’s I’m dating. Maybe that’s because I’ve often gone out with super models who come from other countries. But Sarah’s just a regular American girl with a regular mother, and she’s hotter and sexier and more alluring than all the rest of the models put together.

  I take Sarah by the arm and we leave quickly through the door.

  “I can’t believe we got out of there without her doing anything,” says Sarah, giggling. She pushes her body up against mine from the side and it feels wonderful.

  “It feels so nice to be close to you again,” I say.

  “I hope it feels more than nice,” says Sarah, giving me a big kiss.

  “Watch out you don’t get her pregnant,” calls her mother from inside the screen door.

  I think we both blush.

  By the time we’re in my sports car, my cock is already rock hard. Sarah and I are making out heavily, but I finally have to pull away to drive the car.

  “I’ve got us a table at a decent restaurant,” I say.

  “I hope I’m dressed OK,” says Sarah. “It’s not everyday a cleaner gets to dine with a billionaire.”

  “You’ll look better than anyone else in there,” I say. “Just wait and see.”

  10

  Sarah

  I was surprisingly nervous before the date. After all, I’m going out with my billionaire boss. And I happen to be carrying his baby. And he doesn’t know.

  But we have such a good natural chemistry that soon all these worries fly right out of my head. I settle into the evening and enjoy John’s company. The drive is nice as we cruise through Manhattan. John’s an excellent driver and he downshifts expertly as he passes the slower cars. It’s exhilarating to race through the streets of Manhattan in his luxury sports car. For once, I’m above ground, rather than on the subway. It’s a totally different world up here. I’ve never even owned a car—like many of New York City’s poorer inhabitants.

  Passing cars and speeding doesn’t bother me at all and I’m calm the whole drive.

  But when we pull up to the restaurant, my heart suddenly starts to pound. I knew the restaurant would be fancy but I had no idea it would be this fancy.

  I can tell just from the outside this is the type of place I’d never step foot in normally. Well, maybe it’s the type of place I’d work as a cleaner. But it’s not even the type of place I’ve ever worked as a waitress—it’s far too nice.

  There’s a team of professional-appearing valet parkers that greet John as he pulls up. The engine roars and the clean-shaven valets look appreciatively at the car.

  One valet opens my door, and another takes my hand, helping me out of the car.

  John tips one of the valets two crisp one hundred dollar bills. “That’s for not taking the car joy riding,” says John. “It’s got a computer system in it that tells me where it’s been, so if I were you I wouldn’t even try.”

  The valets are so professional they don’t even crack a smile. They act more like military men than anything else—or those guards in England that don’t move for hours and hours. All John and I get is a series of polite nods.

  John swoops me into the restaurant where a series of waiters and maître d’s are there to bow at us and accommodate our every whim.

  “A bottle of your finest champagne,” says John.

  The waiter pours the bubbling substance for us, and we clink glasses. I’ve got the glass to my lips before I remember that I’m pregnant. So I just keep my lips closed and pretend to take a sip. John takes an inquisitive look at my glass but doesn’t say anything.

  “I hope this isn’t too formal,” says John.

  “This is great,” I say, my eyes growing wide as I glance around the restaurant.

  This isn’t a restaurant for ordinary people. There are celebrities all over the place. I recognize this people not from my daily life but from the tabloid pages of the newspapers and internet. I’ve read about a lot of their lives and feel like I know them.

  I can’t help but noticing that John’s getting a lot of women checking him out, looking him up and down.

  “Looks like you have a lot of female admirers,” I say.

  “I don’t care about them at all,” says John, with a wave of his hand. “I’m only interested in
you.”

  “I couldn’t help doing a little research on you over the last month,” I say, slowly, not sure how to broach the topic.

  “Oh?” says John, smiling at me. “And you found out I’m a womanizing…guy?”

  “Exactly,” I say, winking at him. “You’ve been romantically linked, as they say, with some of the highest paid super models in the country. What do you want with a poor cleaning girl like me?”

  John laughs. “I like how direct you are. Frankly, Sarah, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t know why you’re working as a cleaner now, but I know you’re destined for much greater things. Of course, you can do whatever you want. I couldn’t care less that you’re a cleaner and not a movie star. Plus, you don’t know how these movie stars and supermodels are. They’re not down to earth like you. They think the world is just waiting for an opportunity to serve them and give them what they want.”

  “How do you know I’m not like that?” I say, with a twinkle in my eyes.

  “You didn’t even accept my offer to promote you unfairly,” I say.

  “How do you know it’d be unfair?”

  “I love your sarcasm,” says John without a trace of sarcasm in his own voice.

  Suddenly, John leans forward and kisses me full on the lips, right across the fancy table. He almost knocks over a very expensive looking glass full of water.

  “They’re all looking at us,” I whisper to John.

  “Let them look,” he says.

  As John pulls away, the taste of his lips still on mine, I catch the glares of at least ten elegant women who obviously wonder what a cleaner is doing with the famous billionaire John Clark.

  But they don’t know you’re a cleaner, I tell myself.

  We order from the obsequious waiters. John gets us an appetizer of some small lobster dish I’ve never even heard of. We both have steaks and fancy pasta.

  We laugh and joke all through dinner. Our own table’s atmosphere is in sharp contrast to the somewhat strained and formal atmosphere around us. We’re clearly having a better time than everyone else around us. Unlike us, they’re all more concerned with taking selfies and with the possibility of paparazzi than with actually enjoying their meals.

  “This is like, seriously, the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life,” I say, with my mouth still full.

  John laughs and hands me a napkin. “Wait until you try the desert,” he says.

  The desert arrives and of course it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

  “But this doesn’t compare to the real desert, of course,” I say, winking at John.

  “What real dessert?” says John. “You don’t like the cake?”

  “Oh,” I say. “It’s delicious. Best thing I’ve ever eaten. I just mean I was hoping we could hook up again after the meal. Before I have to return to my mom’s house, I mean.”

  John laughs. “I love your frankness,” he says. “You may not know this, but people are always trying to bullshit me in my line of work. Usually people want a lot of money. But you’re not like that. You’re just different.”

  “So you’re taking me straight home to my house, or you’ve got something else planned?” I say.

  John smiles a coy smile at me. “I was hoping to take you out on the water,” he says.

  “Swimming in the Hudson?” I say. “Is that what you had in mind?”

  “Something a little less tiring,” says John. “I’ve arranged a yacht to take us out. It’ll just be me, you, and the captain.”

  “You can’t steer a yacht yourself? I thought you were the all purpose billionaire who can do anything he wants?”

  “I’ve won some competitions,” says John, modestly. “Yachting, sailing small boats. I even had a phase where I was doing motorboat racing. Now those things are really fast…”

  “And you don’t think taking the yacht out will be as tiring as swimming?” I say.

  “Why would it be tiring?” says John, a look of concern growing across his face. “I just thought it’d be nice. There’s a private cabin and everything.”

  “I was referring to what we’re going to be doing in the cabin,” I say, not quite knowing where I’ve gotten the gall to say this. But I feel comfortable with John.”

  John nearly spits out his champagne. I still haven’t touched mine, but I feel giddy from anticipation about what John and I are going to do tonight. Sober yet completely giddy as if I’ve been drinking champagne all evening. For a moment, I think of the baby growing inside me, and remember that it’s John’s. I look into his eyes and see them shining back at me. I know there’s something important between us… we just haven’t really spoken about it out loud yet. I know he feels it too. I wish I could tell him that I’m pregnant, but…

  “Tell you what,” says John. “Let me up the ante on that one…”

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  “Here,” says John, taking my hand under the table and placing it on his crotch. His massive cock is rock hard, and I can feel the blood pulsating through it through his thin dress pants.

  “You’ve got my attention,” I say.

  “I’ll meet you in the women’s bathroom,” says John.

  “At this restaurant? Won’t the waiters be upset if they catch us?”

  “For the money I’m paying for this meal, I don’t think so,” says John. “That’s the thing about money. It kind of gets you what you want.”

  “But I heard of some celebrities being arrested for something after…you know…doing it in the bathroom.”

  John grins at me. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he says. “After all, I can always have someone bail us out of jail if we wind up there. I’ve got the money for it.”

  My mind flashes to how my mother would react if she heard the news I’d been messing around in a restraint bathroom with a billionaire. At first I’m horrified at the potential embarrassment of that scenario, but then I start chuckling and realize I’d actually relish it. Does that make me a bad girl? Hey, I’m in my twenties though, right? It’s not like I have to do what makes other people happy and not work towards my own happiness.

  Without saying another word, I get up from the table as suavely as I can and walk towards the ladies’ room, which is in the back of the restaurant.

  Before entering the bathroom, I turn and flash John a wicked smile from across the restaurant.

  Inside, the bathroom, I take a deep breath. I’ve never done anything like this before. And this bathroom is just as fancy as the rest of the restaurant, which means it’s fancier than my entire mother’s apartment by a long shot.

  Upscale sex in an upscale bathroom I think to myself.

  A moment later, the door swings open and John rushes in. He’s holding a napkin in front of his crotch, which he removes to reveal the tremendous bulge in his slacks.

  “You walked through the restaurant like that?” I say. “It’s it a bit obvious? Couldn’t you think of baseball or something?”

  “I don’t care what they think,” says John, throwing the latch on the door behind him.

  “You know this is the only bathroom,” I say. “There are multiple stalls…”

  “They’ll just have to wait,” says John, an aggressiveness coming into his voice. He almost seems to possess a savage desire for me that turns me on. I can feel my body reacting to his desire, to his crotch, to the lust that I feel from him towards me.

  He approaches me and he’s never looked so big and powerful. His eyes are gleaming with something I haven’t seen before.

  I feel myself trembling a little in anticipation.

  John kisses me deeply and with both hands grabs my waist. He picks me up as if I were nothing at all and places me on the sink.

  My back rests against the mirror.

  Before I know what’s happening, John’s lifting up my dress so that it’s around my hips.

  “Oh my God!” I say, as John’s tongue contacts my thigh. He works his way around each
thigh before grazing my outer lips.

  I moan as he starts licking me. I’d forgotten how incredible it was that first night we were together.

  He has technique but he also has passion.

  His finger is inside me, deep inside me, moving in a way that drives me crazy.

  “I love the way you taste,” says John. It’s probably the dirtiest thing anyone’s ever said to me and I might be grossed out if I wasn’t so turned on.

  His hands are pushing my thighs apart…his strong and powerful hands. Now they’re massaging my breasts underneath my dress.

  “Oh my God” I say. “I’m going to…”

  But before I can even pronounce the word “come,” I do come. And hard.

  Massive shivers running through me like sparks, from my groin up to my head, all the way through me. My body feels light and I feel like I’m going to faint, but in a wonderful way.

  I’m trying to stop from shrieking but I can’t stop moaning and John doesn’t make any effort to keep me quite. He just keeps going, doubling his intensity. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  “I need to taste your cock,” I say, towards the end of my orgasm. “Give it to me now.”

  I’ve never been this forward with any man before.

  Before I know it, I’m on my knees in front of John, unbuckling his belt buckle. His massive throbbing cock springs out to greet me, and I take it in my mouth.

  “I’ve waited so long for this,” says John, grunting as I slurp on his cock, bobbing my head up and down.

  John’s cock is so long he can easily take the base of it in his fist, even with the rest being in my mouth. He starts working away, and the idea of him jerking himself off into my mouth is so hot in the moment that it almost sends me over the edge to another orgasm. Almost, but not quite. But I feel like I’m teetering between two intense orgasms—the one I just had and the one I know is approaching. It’s only a matter of time.

  But honestly, just sucking his cock is enough for me.

  Now John’s removed his fist and he’s pumping lightly into my mouth, moving his hips almost as if he were fucking me.