Carrying the Billionaire's Baby (Breeding Erotic Romance) Page 2

  “Right,” he went on. “I have spent the last five years of my life looking for something. And I haven’t found it. And so you’re here today. Let me be blunt, Ms. O’Connor. I want to be a father. But I don’t want to indulge in test tubes or plastic cups. I have always been old fashioned that way.”

  Thoughts ran through my mind. No plastic cups, no test tubes, but then that’d mean…

  “I said I’d be blunt, Ms. O’Connor. So here it is: this is not a normal surrogacy arrangement. I want to put my child inside of you. I want to make love to you and impregnate you.”

  My jaw must have dropped through the floor. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. This man — this fabulously wealthy man who could have anything or anyone he ever wanted — was telling me he wanted to make love to me? Impregnate me?

  “I know this is a surprise. I suspect it might be overwhelming. So here’s the offer. There’s a contract in front of you.” He flipped over a file folder on the desk between us. “Read it. It’s a simple arrangement. You agree and you walk out of this office with a cheque for $25,000. We make love for the first time, here, now, and then again every day until you are with child. I will cover all your expenses during the pregnancy, including rent and proper food. I will provide you with all necessary medical care and monitoring. Only the finest available, of course. I have reviewed your tests and know your fertility is good.”

  I interjected, despite myself. “You have? Um, how? I’ve never been tested…”

  He gave me that half-smile again. When he smiled, it was easier to see the scar on his face. “I think you’ll find I’m a very well-connected man, Ms. O’Connor.”

  Right, I thought. There’s probably nothing he can’t get access to.

  “Upon successful delivery of the child, then,” he continued, “you’ll be given another cheque for $25,000. And then our arrangement will be discontinued.”

  He pushed the file folder closer to my side of the desk, and lay a silver pen on top of it.

  “Take all the time you need to review the agreement,” he said, standing up from the chair and walking toward the door. “Oh, but one more thing, Ms. O’Connor — you are to agree to complete and total confidentiality. No one, not even close friends and family, can know about our arrangement. If you require cover, we can provide documents and photos indicating that you are acting as surrogate for Harold and Judith Greenfield. He’s a marketing executive. She’s a schoolteacher. They’re lovely, I’m told.”

  “You’re told?” I asked quietly, not able to hold my tongue.

  He half-smiled at me again from the doorway to the office. “You ask a lot of questions, Ms. O’Connor. I like that.”

  He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him. “Again,” he said, as he disappeared. “Take all the time you need.”

  Thoughts bounced back and forth in my head as I tried to take stock of the situation. But it was all too crazy to process. The richest man in town had just… propositioned me. But this wasn’t about sex, was it? He seemed sincere about wanting a child more than anything else. But if the child was what was important to him, why insist on… impregnating me?

  And more than that, why me? Why all this process with Ms. Brook and the other girls? He’s Alexander Atherstone — he could go out and find a girl who would jump at the chance to marry him and his billions of dollars in a heartbeat.

  I just couldn’t find a way to have it make any sense. It was all just too much to take.

  I let my eyes pass over the contract he had left on the desk, but the dense legalese was too much for me. I wondered if I should call my lawyer, but then realized that: a) that would be a super awkward thing to talk to a lawyer about, and b) I don’t have a lawyer.

  I hung my head and let my long hair fall over my face, smiling despite myself. How do you always end up in these kinds of situations, April? I wondered.

  There was a knock at the door. I jumped and sat up straight instinctively. I hadn’t expected Mr. Atherstone back so soon.

  “Um, come in,” I said softly, and the door creaked open.

  It wasn’t him, though. It was her.

  Ms. Brook had this incredibly proper way about her. She stepped so softly on her incredibly long legs that it was almost as if she floated into the room. She carried her arms crossed across her chest. Her severe tied-back hair and impeccable make-up gave the impression that she cared very much about her appearance but thought little of it. For her — for this woman who must have been sixty but still looked radiant — carrying yourself like a proper lady was the natural thing to do. The obvious thing.

  “Ms. O’Connor,” she said as she approached. “Have you signed the document?”

  “No,” I admitted, casting my eyes to the contract on the desk. “Mr. Atherstone said I could have some time to think about it.”

  Ms. Brook coughed politely. “And so you shall have it. But if I might give you some advice, dear, I’d say this: sign it. Don’t do it for yourself. Don’t do it for the money. Do it for him.”

  “For him?” I asked. “But he’s a man who has everything.”

  She stepped closer to me, putting a soft hand on my shoulder.

  “Almost everything,” she corrected. “And as someone who has known Alexander — Mr. Atherstone — since he was a young man, I can tell you with confidence that he is a man that deserves everything. And you, my girl, are tonight in a position to give him that.”

  I thought back to the conversation I had with Mr. Atherstone. I thought about the way he had expressed his desire. I thought about his sad eyes when he said the words “I very badly want to be a father.” To be a father.

  And I’d be, what, a mother? No. That’s not what this is about. I’d just leave. With enough rent money for the rest of the year. Enough to move on.

  I should have said no, by all rights. There was a million reasons to say no. But then I looked up at Ms. Brook, hand still on my shoulder, and the urgency in her eyes. And I thought of Mr. Atherstone and the words he had used. I very badly want to be a father. And I thought about my life, and how purposeless I had felt. And I thought about how maybe this — weird as it seemed — might be a chance to finally do something that matters. This was my chance to do something important.

  And so I picked up the silver pen and slowly wrote my name on the bottom of the contract.

  When I finished, I turned back to Ms. Brook.

  “Splendid,” she said, with a tight smile.

  Things moved quickly from that point. With a hand on my arm, Ms. Brook collected me from the chair in the office and ushered me back into the hallway and then into another room. This one was an ornate bedroom, again with striking views of the city through giant windows running across one side. In the distance, I could see planes taking off from the city airport, their lights twinkling like shooting stars.

  “All right, Ms. O’Connor,” started Ms. Brook, directing me toward the big four-posted bed in the centre of the room. “As Mr. Atherstone was to tell you, tonight will be your first session. There really is no reason to delay.”

  She pulled at the sash of the robe around my wait, and then tugged the soft fleece away from my shoulders. I stood naked in front of her again. She just kept talking.

  “There is a bathroom located over there, stocked with everything you might need. Feel free to take a shower or freshen up in any way you would like. I’ve had the room stocked with fresh towels.”

  She turned and stepped toward an oak wardrobe standing against one of the walls of the bedroom. She threw open the doors and looked inside with a satisfied smile.

  “There are a variety of clothing options available for you here. Take what you’d like. There are more conservative options and, of course, some items designed to arouse. Wear what makes you comfortable. Wear what will make you ready. Everything has been ordered to fit you specifically.”

  “But how did you know I’d be the one…” I wondered out loud, again unable to stop myself. “All those girls out ther
e were different sizes.”

  Ms. Brook stared back at me like I had just asked the stupidest question on earth. A chill washed over my naked body. Finally the withering stare gave way to her tight smile.

  “Again, my dear, Mr. Atherstone is a man of considerable means. And so some women’s shelters across town will be receiving some very generous donation packages tomorrow morning.”

  She turned back to the wardrobe. “You’ll also find in here a collection of…” She paused, searching for the right words. “A collection of implements, designed to get young ladies in the right mood for this sort of thing. Again, use what you like.”

  She closed the wardrobe doors and looked back at me, sizing up my heaving breasts. I was breathing deeply. Nervous. I couldn’t help myself.

  “And don’t worry, love,” she said, her eyes locking with mine. “Just relax and have fun.”

  She walked toward the door. “Take the time you need,” she said. “When you’re ready, just open this door. And I’ll take it from there.”

  Alone.

  I stood naked in the billionaire’s bedroom, my eyes focused on the twinkling lights of the city outside. The windows must have been thick, secure — maybe bulletproof — because the room was dead silent. Though I could see tiny cars moving about in the night below me, I couldn’t hear a thing.

  The cold air in the room made me shiver. Well, April, I thought, you signed a contract. There’s no going back now.

  I moved to the washroom — ornate, like all the rest — and washed my face, then went to explore the wardrobe and investigate its contents. Inside, the antique piece of furniture was divided into several compartments. A couple of drawers were filled with bras and panties of an assortment of colours and styles, while at least a dozen dresses hung from hangers. I let my hand drift over them, feeling the soft material. These weren’t cheap.

  The wardrobe also held a wooden box with a hinged lid. Opening it, I was shocked to discover what Ms. Brook had meant when she said “implements” — the box was filled with sex toys. Vibrators of varying sizes and design, and dildos and handcuffs and some things I had never seen before.

  My sex life was never that adventurous, to be honest. Missionary, mostly. Quick, fast. I don’t know. It wasn’t that I disliked sex, but more than it was never a major focus for me — never something that defined me.

  Still, the box of sex toys was curious. I reached in and picked up a medium-sized pink vibrator. Touching it carefully, as if it might explode in my hands. Running my hands over its length, I found the switch at the bottom. It came to life with a soft hum, buzzing in my hands with such force that I gasped and stepped backwards, nearly dropping it.

  I sat down on the bedspread, still nude, and held the vibrator up to my face.

  Taking stock of the situation again, I realized a few things. First, that I really couldn’t back out of this now. I had no idea if that contract I had signed was actually legally enforceable but I knew that I definitely didn’t want to cross a billionaire, much less a billionaire’s team of lawyers. And besides, I didn’t regret signing it — I did want to help. I very badly want to be a father, he had said. I liked that.

  But helping meant sex. It meant having sex with this man, right here, right now, in this room. And I honestly didn’t know if I could do that.

  I lay back on the bed, spreading my body out. Even with my arms and legs outstretched, I barely took up a quarter of the space. I tried to push my stream of analytical thoughts and questions out of my mind. Tried to stop worrying. I knew that, if I was going to do this, I needed to just embrace it. To enjoy it. To let myself go.

  The vibrator was still buzzing in my hand. With a deep breath, I let it caress my body, dragging it across my breasts and my nipples, erect from the cold. The feeling of the plastic on my skin drew familiar feelings from deep within me.

  And so I kept going, letting the vibrator drift down my stomach, going slow — taking my time. I pushed negative thoughts of my head. Instead, I thought only of Mr. Atherstone. I thought of his striking eyes. His strong body. The way he sort of half-smiled when he spoke. The rugged mystery that so fascinated me. And I thought of the way he wanted me.

  The vibrator ran across my soft folds, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I was wet — wetter than I expected, as if my body had prepared for this long before my mind had. I ran the vibrator over my clitoris, barely letting it come into contact, and felt an incredible wave of pleasure — so strong and so overpowering that I audibly moaned into the empty bedroom. I held the vibrator there with one hand, letting the other come up and touch my breast and tweak my nipple. I moaned again.

  I very badly want to be a father.

  I thought of him, as the vibrator pulsed against my wetness. I imagined him, his body pressed against mine, his hands on me, his essence inside me. And I thought about giving him the one thing he wanted but couldn’t have.

  The vibrator parted the lips of my pussy and I pushed it inside, just a little. I moaned again.

  “Yes, yes, Mr. Atherstone,” I whispered with my eyes shut tight.

  I was ready. I knew it then. I wanted to make love to this man. Even if “love” felt like the wrong word to use in this context.

  But I wasn’t going to pretend. If Mr. Atherstone wanted me, April O’Connor, then he was going to get me as I am. Maybe it was the arousal, but I decided right then and there that I wouldn’t spend an hour primping or dolling myself up in an expensive dress and a pair of high heel shoes I probably could never realistically walk in. I was not going to pretend to be someone I’m not.

  I pulled myself up from the bed, padding over to the wardrobe and returning the vibrator to its box. Then, still naked and still very much wet, I walked to the door and opened it a crack, just as Ms. Brook had instructed. Without a thought, I flipped the light switch on the wall to the off position, and darkness filled the room. Only the lights of the city outside brought any illumination.

  I lay back down on the bed, spreading my legs and letting a finger drift again over my wetness. Ready, I thought.

  And then, from the hallway, footsteps.

  My body tensed as I lay naked on the bed. I shut my eyes, darkening things further. His footsteps drew closer on the tile floors of the penthouse. I knew he was close.

  I drew a deep breath in as I heard him approach. I was nervous. Nervous but excited. Scared, yes, but somehow I knew this would all end up okay.

  “Turn over,” he said. His voice was soft but firm.

  I complied. I didn’t think twice. After all, this was more than just sex — this was a job.

  Rolling over, my face buried in a pillow, flat on my stomach, I waited. I ran my hands up and touched the headboard above me. His belt buckle jingled as he slipped it off his waist. I could hear the soft rustle of his clothing being placed aside. I tried not to peek, but couldn’t help myself — with hair over my face, I glanced behind me, and saw him.

  I saw all of him.

  Mr. Atherstone was in perfect shape for a man his age, with a smooth stomach and toned arms. But it was his manhood that really stood out. His cock was hard, sticking straight out, long and thick. I felt my own arousal building again as he watched him move toward me.

  His eye caught mine — I was never very good at furtive glances — and he gave me that same half-smile. Then he reached down and ran a hand up and down the shaft of his cock, keeping his eyes locked with mine.

  He stepped toward me quickly. “Put your hips up,” he said again. I obeyed without thinking. I had never had a lover who had been so direct — so certain about what they desired of me. I liked that he didn’t mince words.

  I raised my naked rear-end up, supporting myself on my knees. And then I felt him step onto the bed. He lowered his body over mine, enveloping me with warmth and the sweet subtle scent of his cologne. I could feel the bulge of his manhood against my back, throbbing again and again.

  He drew a hand over my arm, lightly — barely touching my skin. But his touch was e
lectric. I had to fight not to squirm beneath him.

  “I’m so glad you said yes, Ms. O’Connor,” he whispered, his lips so close to my neck that I could feel the words brush up against me.

  “Spread your legs,” he demanded. An I did, quickly, knowing what was coming as he repositioned his body over mine. He pushed his hard cock against my wet lips, moving so slowly it was almost agonizing. I was surprised by my own desire — how much I wanted this man I had previously only seen in magazines or on TV. The man who had surprised me so much by wanting me to bear him a child.

  A child, I thought, remembering what all this was for. His manhood was uncovered, already wet with his own precum. I wondered if he had prepared like I had done, getting himself aroused in the other room. But all these thoughts vanished as the first hard inch of his cock penetrated inside of me, stretching me with a kind of pleasurable pain.

  I moaned involuntarily as he sunk himself in deeper, pushing so far in that I could feel the base of his shaft against my ass. He filled me up with an incredible warmth and I was so glad he paused for a moment with his cock deep inside so that I could savour the intensity of the feeling — and brace myself for what was to come.

  He started to fuck me, slowly at first, but building — faster and faster. His hands were planted on the bed, close to mine, and unconsciously I moved so that our fingers were touching as he thrust into me. My pussy ached with lust. His breath was warm on my shoulders. He broke his silence with a moan as he started to fuck me faster, the springs of the bed propelling us, driving him deeper and deeper.

  I could feel his body trembling against mine in the dark room, his hands starting to shiver and quake — I grabbed them and held them tightly, pushing my wetness back against the driving force of his cock, which at that moment I knew was actually motivated by a driving desire to shoot his seed inside me and impregnate me with his child.

  “Give it to me,” I whispered, hair falling across my face. He moaned again, rearing up and putting a hand through my hair, grabbing it and pulling it in a way that caused whole new levels of incredible pleasure. He pulled his cock out until just the head was left inside, then pushed back in quickly — with everything he had.