Their Secret: An MMF Secret Baby Romance Page 2

  Unfortunately, there are no easy answers. I’ve been wondering myself for two years, and still, nothing makes sense. But that’s the way the cookie crumbles, and it’s better to move on and make the best out of my life. Maybe I don’t belong at Waverly Mansion, but at least no one’s kicked me out yet.

  Because it took a while to warm up. With my mom gone, I wasn’t sure of my place anymore. What would Gray say? Would he ask me to leave? Where would I go? But after a couple weeks of not seeing him, I gave up. The man had to be devastated with his new wife leaving him in the dirt so soon after their nuptials. So I carried on as usual, tiptoeing from room to room, obediently going to school like a good girl.

  And maybe six months after the wedding, my stepdad finally reappeared. One night I came down at 3 a.m. to drink some milk. Shockingly, Gray was in the kitchen, tall and ominous in a perfectly cut black suit.

  “Um hi,” I stammered, flushing like crazy. My nightie was nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, almost see through with age. It was embarrassing, the short hem indecent.

  But I hadn’t expected to see anyone at this time, so the vision of this massive male looming before the refrigerator took me by surprise. Where had he been? What was he going to say? Should I start packing my bags?

  But Gray remained mum. Instead, he shot me an ominous look from under lowered brows before spinning on his heel and disappearing up the stairs. My lungs immediately filled with air, like I’d unwittingly been holding my breath. Oh god. Gray was here. He was back. Mentally, I prepared myself for the worst.

  But that’s the thing. I didn’t see him again for another six months. Waverly Mansion was empty except for me and the help, and when I did see my stepdad, it was fleeting. Just a glimpse here or there, or the sound of footsteps late at night. The CEO was probably working himself to the bone to take his mind off his marital disaster.

  And now, after two years, I finally feel kind of normal at Waverly. Gray is nothing but a ghost most of the time. So I’ve slowly adapted to my new existence, although the lavish lifestyle is definitely over the top. After all, who really needs a butler, a housekeeper, a slew of maids, a chef, a sous-chef, and god knows how many gardeners? I’m here on my own mostly, just one person. The marble sinks, crystal chandeliers, and golden fixtures are wonderful, but totally unnecessary. As a girl with working class roots, any small, humble place to call my own would be fine.

  So yeah, I stared at myself in the mirror with wonder. It’s weird sometimes. A princess should be living here, but I’m just plain old me. Unruly brown curls. Big brown eyes. And curves that go on for days. With my palm pressed against my belly, I take a deep breath in, turning to the side to see my silhouette before exhaling and watching my curves reappear. Yep. I’m a big girl from every angle. Holding my breath does nothing.

  Even worse, I’m a virgin without any prospects. Sure, there are the boys at school who gawk at my body, but they’re disgusting. Fifteen year-old perverts all, looking at stroke mags with sticky, crusted pages. No one like my stepdad, not even close.

  And that’s the worst part. Because nothing turns me on more than thinking of Gray. There, I said it. It’s so wrong – he’s my stepfather after all. Plus, he’s probably still heartbroken over my mom. In the years since she left, he’s never dated, as far as I know. The man probably just works like a machine, minting money 24/7.

  But lately, the alpha’s been around more often. Working in his office. Eating a meal at the dining table when I tiptoe by. His voice in the distance, ordering some lackey to do this or that.

  And speaking of which, that low, sensual growl is tickling my ear right now. He must be at home, talking to someone on the phone. Maybe ordering Consuela to shine his shoes? I have no idea. Butterflies begin fluttering in my stomach as I creep closer to the sound, like a moth drawn to flame.

  It shouldn’t be this way. He’s my stepfather for crying out loud. But recently, I’ve been having sexual urges I can’t explain or control – daydreams that are both embarrassing and inappropriate, making me flush wildly when I open my eyes. And confiding in Lydia, my best friend, just makes it worse. She blows my concerns off, saying that it’s normal. It’s part of growing up, is her breezy reply, the whole adolescent hormonal thing.

  But what Lydia doesn’t know is that my fantasies are about my stepdad.

  Yeah, these dirty fantasies are about Grayson Thorn doing the most disgusting, raunchy things to my body. Images of the billionaire keep me up at night, boobies heaving and little cunt moist. I dream of the alpha, envisioning those penetrating blue eyes and massive build making me his woman.

  What?

  I’m his stepdaughter, not his woman!

  Wait, am I still his stepdaughter if my mom’s not in the picture anymore?

  Suddenly, the reverie ends, a low growl breaking into my trance.

  “Don’t even start,” comes that harsh rasp. “I’ll crush you if you try.”

  Who is Gray speaking with? A competitor? An underling? All I know is that I’d be intimidated to hear that bark on the other end of the line. My heart leaps into my throat listening to Gray’s powerful, angry tone.

  And slowly, I slip around the corner to peek into his office. Oh god, my stepdad is gorgeous. After a long day, he’s stripped down to a fitted white button-down shirt tucked into dark tailored trousers. Of course, the formal clothes can’t hide his perfect musculature, the powerful arms and long legs that seem to go on forever. I press my thighs together tightly, a thrill running through my pussy.

  Stop! Comes the small voice in my brain. Stop thinking about your stepdad like this, it warns. Nothing good will happen.

  But I can’t help it, and continue listening even as my curvy body heats in anticipation. Of course, Gray is completely oblivious to my presence, too caught up in his phone call.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he snarls into the receiver, “Otherwise I’m gonna grind your ass into the dirt, motherfucker.”

  And the words are so commanding and alpha that a soft gasp escapes my throat.

  But then that handsome face jerks around, blue eyes like lasers.

  Oh no!

  He knows I’m here!

  I’ve given myself away.

  But it’s bright in the office, and dark in the hallway.

  Stay still, warns the voice in my mind. Don’t breathe. Stay calm, he can’t see you.

  Trembling like a mouse, I will my limbs to remain motionless. My thighs quiver, the air evaporating from my lungs, but otherwise there’s no movement.

  And it seems to work. Gray continues talking all the while punching at something on his computer. Those bright blue eyes are distracted, staring at something on the screen even as another growl erupts from his throat.

  Good.

  He’s busy.

  I’m safe.

  I should go back to my room now. I should make my escape like a good little girl.

  But something takes hold within.

  Because I’m mesmerized by the man. My stepdad, for better or worse, is everything an alpha should be. Powerful. Dominating. Ruthless. And unbidden, my fingertips gently trail over my bare thighs. Oh god. I’m dressed in a nightie again, the thin slip barely covering my curves.

  What would it be like with a man like Gray?

  Thrilling.

  Sensual.

  Mind-blowingly intense.

  But my conscience speaks then.

  You’re no match for him, it says scornfully. You’re an eighteen year old nobody who’s accomplished zero in the world. Grayson Thorn is a powerful businessman, at the top of his game. You think he’d be interested in you?

  And shamefully, my face flushes. Because yes, that’s what I’ve been fantasizing about. My stepdad. Me. The two of us, our bodies entwined, the man owning my nubile female form.

  But it’s wrong.

  All these thoughts are wrong.

  Can you go to jail for dreaming about the man of the house? But I can’t help it because right there, in the darkness, I
turn and bend over slowly.

  Oh god, oh god! This is so dirty and perverted because I’m not wearing panties tonight. Slowly, the nightshirt slips up my thighs, higher, higher, higher. And soon, it’s at the base of my pussy, lifting slightly, going even higher until the wet pinkness is revealed.

  Because I want Grayson Thorn. Yes, it’s true. I want my stepdad. I want him to see how I’m pulsing for him, my insides gooey already. Slowly, two hands reach back, one on each ass cheek. And then the two moons part, revealing my inner channel.

  Oh god. I’m showing my stepdad the inside of my pussy, that delicate pink steamy and aroused, and it feels so good, naughty and tempting.

  But does he know?

  Probably not.

  Because that deep voice is still growling, hoarse and rough on the phone. Sure, the tones seem even angrier now, but that’s directed at someone else and not me.

  Disappointment swells in my chest. He doesn’t know. He can’t tell.

  But it’s okay. It’s better this way.

  And slowly, my hands drop to my sides once more, torso straightening. Because what was I thinking? Baring my pussy to my stepdad in the darkness of the hallway? I’m Mona the shy mouse, not Mona the super slut.

  And slowly, sanity returns. Quietly, I pad down the hallway in silence, socks slippery on the parquet floor. My reflection stares back at me from a decorative mirror in the hallway.

  See? The voice in my head scoffs. Gray would never be interested in you.

  Because what was I thinking? My brown curls are tangled, a bird’s nest perched on my head. Plus, I’m curvy with a lot to spare. Big Double Ds. An ass that puts Kim Kardashian to shame.

  By contrast, Gray likes women like my mom, slender and tall. He’d probably be disgusted by my poochy belly and thick thighs.

  Oh god, what came over me? Why did I just do that? Shame fills my chest, hot and heavy. Gray is so handsome, and I’m nowhere near good enough for him. It’s probably best he didn’t see me, because he’d be disgusted by my body.

  Shaking my head, I make my way back to the safety of my bedroom. What’s gotten into me? How could I think my stepdad would be interested? They were the fantasies of a misguided teen girl, one who’s never really known a man. Not to mention these thoughts are probably criminal and could land me in jail.

  Could I go to prison?

  Could they put me in the slammer for wanting my stepdad?

  But once under the covers, my cheeks flush hot. Because I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. And it felt unbelievably good, a thrill in the pit of my stomach. My pussy throbs, pulsing under the covers, and a secret smile crosses my face. Grayson, the voice in my head chants. Grayson, Grayson, Grayson …

  And gradually, sleep claims me, images of the handsome billionaire dancing in my mind.

  Chapter 2

  Mona

  I’ve just finished fluffing my hair when my phone buzzes. It’s Lydia, texting that she’ll meet me at school. Lydia’s been my best friend for years – we tell each other everything – but I know I won’t be able to tell her about the wild night I just had.

  With a deep breath, I look over the simple dress I’ve chosen for the day. I try not to wear anything tight fitting or even attention grabbing, because my breasts already command so much attention and the idiot boys at school are gross and annoying when they stare at my boobs. My hips are too big to wear the short shorts my classmates adore. My thighs are too thick, constantly rubbing together, so I prefer dresses to make room for my curvy body.

  But everything goes hot when I realize that I’ve forgotten panties. Just thinking about the word ‘panties’ is enough to make my clit throb with memories of last night. Taking a deep breath, I reach in my underwear drawer and grab the only thing left – a sheer pink thong.

  “Darn it,” I mutter. I hate thongs – they ride up my cheeks and make sitting unbearable. But beggars can’t be choosers, especially not beggars who don’t have any clean laundry. Whirling around, I check my ass in the full-length mirror to make sure the skimpy panties aren’t visible.

  Luckily, nothing is noticeable through the dark fabric, so I grab my backpack and skip downstairs. The sun shines brightly through the large windows lining the stairway, reflecting off marble as everything sparkles. Gray pays a cleaning lady to keep his home spotless, and even has a special chef to make breakfast for me every morning.

  The scent of blueberry muffins reaches my nostrils before I reach the kitchen, and I moan softly, anticipating a delicious meal. But when I enter the kitchen, a gasp escapes my throat. Gray is standing right there, looking gorgeous in a perfectly-tailored suit. His eyes are trained on a newspaper, that profile stern yet handsome at once.

  I’m invisible to him.

  “Um, hi,” I stammer, my heart racing from just being in his presence.

  Dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit, his leg is crossed, resting on his knee, broad shoulders squared off. My eyes wander over his body, wondering what it looks like under his expensive clothes. His eyes flash up and my heart stops as my body heats from the gaze. God, he’s so hot that I can hardly stand it. My thong twists uncomfortably between the cheeks of my ass and I flush hotly.

  “Good morning, Mona. How are you?” his deep voice rumbles, and I take a breath before responding. Need oxygen. Need oxygen.

  But the extra air does nothing.

  “Why are you here?” I blurt out, confused by his presence. In the years since my mom left, I can count on one hand the amount of times we’ve shared a meal. Gray is a workaholic, constantly at the office before I’m awake, returning after I’ve fallen asleep.

  “This is my house,” Gray growls as he answers me without making any eye contact, his gaze never leaving the paper held before him.

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.” I try to brush off the embarrassment, but if anything I’m feeling more self-conscious now than ever.

  “Christina left your muffins on the stove.” Gray motions towards the fresh baked goods, referencing the private chef.

  “Do you have her make those just for me?”

  “I thought you liked them.” Gray finally looks up at me and I see that he’s frowning.

  I don’t know how to respond. I’ve all but forgotten the muffins with the alpha sitting so close, and my heart is pounding like a jackhammer in my chest.

  God, he’s even hotter when he’s upset. I want to make him mad, and I want him to take that anger out on me. Grab me, pull me, bite me. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want him. I need him, everywhere. My body is tingling all over as I stare into his eyes, wishing he saw me the way I see him.

  “Do you want them or not?” he barks this time.

  “No, no, I like them,” is my awkward mumble. “You just never eat them, so I didn’t know if you had her make them just for me,” is my hasty explanation, feeling more awkward with each passing second.

  “Yes, they’re for you.” His attention is already back to his newspaper, but this small interaction has left me wanting more. I don’t even care if we keep talking about muffins – I feel a desperate urge to hear more of his deep voice.

  “It’s not like I need them. I should stop eating so much bread if I want to lose weight,” comes my nervous giggle, with a gesture down at my full figure. But Gray raises his eyebrows.

  “Mona, no,” he growls, but I interrupt him.

  “I don’t need you telling me not to talk badly about myself,” is my exasperated reply, rolling my eyes.

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” I swallow hard, watching the billionaire discreetly. Gray slowly closes the newspaper before setting it on the dining table and taking in a deep breath.

  “I saw you last night, Mona. I saw everything. You can’t do shit like that, wearing nothing and standing outside my office. That’s not kosher and you know it.” His words are stern, but I can sense the tension in his tone. It’s just enough to make my heart flutter – is it possible that somehow, Gra
y wants me just as badly as I want him?

  Plus, he saw me? That’s why he’s here now. Must be. Usually we never interact, and the man wants to talk to me about it.

  Maybe he wants more. A thrill runs through my chest. I don’t care how wrong it is, this is my chance and I’m taking it. Inside, guilt and shame burn in the pit of my stomach. But I can’t deny that a part of me is incredibly turned on, too. This is so wrong! And what’s worse is that I know it, too. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting Gray more than anything.

  “You couldn’t have seen me – it was too dark.” My voice is barely above a whisper as my hand drops to the hem of my dress. I’m focused on Gray’s eyes as he follows my moves, entranced by me. His Adam’s apple rises and falls slowly as he swallows heavily.

  “Besides, I didn’t do anything,” comes my whisper. “Well, not really. It was dark. You didn’t see anything.”

  But Gray’s blue eyes are fierce.

  “I saw everything,” he rasps. “Everything little girl. Every single inch of that sweet, pulsing slit.”

  Oh god. A thrill shoots through my cunt. He saw? Oh no, oh no.

  But a new Mona has taken over. Because if he saw, then why not show him again? There’s nothing to lose.

  And as if moving in a dream, my curvy form swivels, hand raising the hem of my dress. Is this really happening? Am I doing this in broad daylight this time, knowing his eyes are on me?

  My chest heaves as my thong becomes visible. The pink bisects my creamy ass cheeks, just a sliver of nothing. With a slight bend, I lean over the kitchen counter while watching my stepdad. Those blue eyes are staring at my ass, watching hungrily as my fingers reach into my crack, plucking the fabric out and pulling it to the side, exposing my throbbing pussy the process.

  “Is this it?” I moan softly, wiggling a bit. The open folds are gleaming and wet, already puffy from desire. “Is this what you saw last night, big boy?”