My Accidental Sugar Daddy Page 9

  I nod. “You’re right,” I agree amiably. “This was definitely my doing.”

  “Okay, Laurie,” Rachel says, positioning her arms in the water between Laurelin’s legs. “It’s about time. You’re going to have to push now. You ready?”

  “No!” Laurelin yells, but she begins to push anyways.

  I’ll never forget the sight of my beautiful girlfriend delivering our child, her face twisted in pain and concentration, her hair sticking sweatily to her forehead while soothing harp music plays in the background. Rachel is in a deep squat, her hands between Laurelin’s legs as she murmurs encouragement. Meanwhile, I’m kneeling behind the inflatable pool, my hands on Laurelin’s shoulders, massaging them gently as I watch the water begin to turn red with blood. This could easily be a scene in a horror movie.

  I’ve never been a religious man, but I find myself praying fervently. Please let this go well, I think. Please let this go quickly. Please let Laurelin be okay. Please let our baby be healthy. Please…

  After what seems like an eternity, a piercing infant wail splits the air, and Rachel beams at Laurelin and I. “It’s a boy!” she cries.

  Laurelin bursts into tears, and helplessly, so do I.

  Rachel places the baby into Laurelin’s arms, and the gorgeous woman cradles him close to her breast, her tears splashing down onto his perfect little face. He screws up his eyes, coughs a little, and then stares up at us both. My eyes seem to be at risk of permanently leaking, and I wipe my hand across them to little effect. I’m potentially happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and happier than I could have ever hoped to be.

  There’s just one piece of this perfect puzzle that’s missing, but I bide my time. Right now, we’re focused on the newest member of our family, and Laurie and I coo over the beautiful creation we made together.

  “He’s gorgeous,” she breathes.

  I press a tender kiss to her lips. “And he looks just like his mommy.”

  Later, when Rachel and Channing are chatting in the kitchen, I hold Laurelin close to me. Our son, wrapped in a little yellow blanket, blinks sleepily up at us, and then with no preamble, sneezes mightily. Caught off guard, Laurelin and I start, and then we’re laughing until we’re crying for what must be the eighth time tonight.

  “I’m sorry I said I hated you,” Laurelin says with a sniffle. “It just came out, but I didn’t mean it.”

  “That’s okay,” I assure her, kissing her on the cheek. “It was my fault, after all.”

  She smiles. “But look what came of it.” We stare down again at our beautiful son, who’s drifted off to sleep in his mother’s arms. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  This is the moment. I can feel it, and I swallow hard past the lump in my throat.

  “Laurelin,” I begin, trying to figure out how to word something so important. “You know I want to be with you forever, right?”

  She glances sideways at me, her smile gentle. “I suppose I had a feeling.”

  We chuckle. “Then promise,” I say, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “Promise you’ll be mine forever. Promise me that you’ll be my wife, sweetheart. Will you do that for me?”

  Her grin widens. “We’re not going to get married while I’m in this state, are we? We’ll have a real ceremony, right?”

  I shout with laughter again.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She smiles then, her eyes full of love.

  “Yes, Tate Connor. I’d love to become Mrs. Tate Connor, forever and ever and always.”

  I lean forward and kiss her full on the mouth.

  “Good, because I wasn’t going to let you say no, anyways. I love you, Laurelin Saint Connor. This just makes things official.”

  The beautiful blonde giggles and smiles at me, and I claim her mouth once more. After all, Laurie just gave me the best gift of all, even if I accidentally started out as her sugar daddy. But things change, and life changes. Now, I have the woman I adore in my arms, and with our baby, life is fresh and beautiful once more.

  * * *

  THE END

  * * *

  Stay tuned for Rachel’s story next! The sassy brunette never thought she’d meet the man of her dreams until a handsome billionaire arrives on her doorstep.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this tale, then pick up Fake Daddy To Be to read about Laurelin’s gorgeous older brother, Channing Saint. The book is available here.

  * * *

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  Sneak Peek: Hot Single Daddy

  Marcus

  Marcus discovers his daughter’s best friend being naughty in his guest bedroom.

  * * *

  As I ascend the stairs, my shoulders stoop. God, my entire body can’t wait to collapse on the mattress. Making my way down the long hallway, my steps pause just outside the guest bedroom. All is dark, and the door is shut tight. Again, Bella’s probably inside, clutching a stuffed teddy while dreaming of Tiger Beat celebrities. She’s the same age as my daughter, but eighteen can be a weird transition phase. On the one hand, the girls are legally adults with the bodies of grown women, but on the other, they still inhabit a strange Neverland where childhood has only begun to recede. Hollywood hunks, I remind myself. That’s what she’s fantasizing about.

  I make a left and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Dental hygiene is important, and I never fall asleep without brushing, no matter where I am in the world. I stare at myself in the mirror. Yep, it’s the same old me with blue eyes and dark as night hair, although there are a few silver strands creeping in at the temples. I have a square jaw and a strong nose, which fortunately, my daughter did not inherit.

  But then, a sound tickles my ears and I squint at myself in the mirror.

  “What the hell is that?” I say aloud with a mouthful of toothpaste. I shut off the water to see if it comes again. Sure enough, it does. It’s a weird skittering noise, like little feet on hardwood.

  I groan under my breath. Shit. It’s probably mice. I bought this house right after Faith’s mom left, and it was a fixer upper. I poured a fortune into rehabbing it, but short of razing the thing and building it up from scratch, there will always be rodents. The contractors said something about the foundation, but I ignored it at the time because they assured me it was structurally safe. Unfortunately, it means that sometimes we have nocturnal visitors.

  Squaring my shoulders, I leave the bathroom to investigate. I’ll need to set traps because rodents are my daughter’s nemeses. If Faith saw one, dead or alive, she’d scream loud enough to wake the neighborhood. Hopefully, she doesn’t wake now and see a mouse skittering across her path in the hallway.

  I stalk further down the hall. “Where are you motherfuckers?” I growl in a whisper. “Show yourselves.”

  Of course, there’s no reply, but I keep making my way down the hall. Soon, the noise leads me to the guest bedroom and I can definitely hear strange scratching sounds coming from inside. What the hell? The mice are in Bella’s room? Two years ago, they were in the walls of the kitchen, which makes sense because the kitchen is where we keep food. But now that I’m closer, I realize that I’m not hearing the sound of skittering feet. I’m hearing the sound of an electric toothbrush. Strange. Why isn’t Bella brushing her teeth in the bathroom? Why did she wake up in the middle of the night to brush her teeth anyways?

  But the door is slightly ajar, and I push it open, intending to offer her a glass of water. That’s when the blood drains from my body. Or rather, it runs all the way to my pelvic region and stays there because Bella’s not brushing her teeth! No, the curvy girl is doing something much more fun.

  She’s on her hands and knees on the bed, her bottom facing towards the door. Her booty shorts are pulled down to her knees,
and her top is off so that those big breasts dangle and sway and she strokes herself between her legs.

  “Mmm,” she moans into the pillow as a black vibrator stimulates her clit. “Oh yes!”

  I watch, my mouth open. Holy shit, is this really happening in my guest bedroom? Clearly, I was wrong about the teddy bears and rainbows because this is no child; this is a grown woman whose pink slit is currently pulsing and gleaming in the light from the moon.

  “Ohhhhh,” she moans again, her voice muffled by the pillow. Now, Bella’s squeezing one of her breasts with one hand, trailing her fingers over the sensitive tip. “Mmm!”

  I should walk away. I should give the girl her privacy and return to my own bedroom before locking the door and stepping into the shower for an ice-cold dousing. But I can’t. I’m utterly mesmerized watching the curvy girl as she enjoys herself, and even worse, my hands undo my pants of their own accord and take a firm grip on my cock. Fuck, that feels good.

  Meanwhile, before me the tableaux continues. Now, Bella’s angled the vibrator so that the tip points at her creamy hole, and as I watch, she slowly eases the thick black length in. Her pussy pulses and almost glows in the moonlight, streaming with female essence. But it accepts that hard rod, swallowing the plastic as if hungry for the penetration.

  “Mmm,” she moans again, her hand working her breast as her twat takes the toy deep. “Yessss.”

  “Oh fuck,” I mutter. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Thankfully, the girl doesn’t hear me because she’s so far gone in her own delirium. She merely twists and suddenly, her back arches as her thighs tense.

  “Oh god!” she screams, throwing her head up and letting out a wail. “Marcus! Mmm, Mr. Randall!”

  Holy fuck, did she just call my name while coming? But it’s true because she lets out another full-throated scream, and I watch with wonder as her pussy pulses around the vibrator, almost pushing it out in its ecstasy. That’s right, Bella, I think. Make yourself feel good. You’re doing a great job, baby girl. You look so beautiful when you touch yourself.

  Meanwhile, I lose control too. Gripping the door frame with one hand while my other strokes my cock, I erupt heavily, hot fluids pulsing into my palm before running over my wrist and dripping onto the floor. Oh shit. I bend over, trying to catch my breath as Bella continues to pound herself before me, her pussy swallowing up the makeshift dick.

  Slowly though, we emerge from our orgasms. My houseguest flips over onto her back and stares at the ceiling before smiling dreamily to herself. Then, she pops the toy out of her pussy, looks at it for a minute, before bringing it to her mouth and licking off those gooey fluids.

  Oh shit, oh shit. When did Bella get so naughty? Clearly, I was way off when I pictured her as a child because this isn’t rainbows, teddy bears, and hearts. This is sheer female carnality, and as I watch, she gently teases the tip of the vibrator with her tongue while smiling to herself, as if teasing a real man.

  But I have to go because she’s no longer in the throes of orgasm and could see me at any time. Slowly, I back away from the door, my palm still wet with warm seed. I pull my pants up and creep down the hallway to return to my bedroom before shutting the door and locking it.

  Then I sit on my mattress, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. Did I just see my daughter’s beautiful best friend pleasure herself while shrieking my name? Did Bella really just push a toy deep into her secret space before pulling it out and licking it clean, smiling naughtily the entire time?

  I flop back on the mattress, thick spunk still coating my thighs and lower abs. Holy shit, that really did happen … and tomorrow will be the perfect time to confront the curvy girl about it.

  * * *

  To be continued …

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  Sneak Peek: Buck Me Cowboy

  Maisie

  Maisie discovers a handsome cowboy in the barn while milking the cows.

  * * *

  On a farm, life goes on no matter what. It doesn’t matter if you’re losing the shirt off your back, the cows still need to be milked and the chickens fed. So bright and early the next day, Betsy’s lows hit my ears.

  “Mooo!” came her bellow. “Mooo, moooo!”

  I scrambled out of bed, hastily throwing on a loose plaid shirt and some old jeans, sighing. If only Betsy knew what trouble I was in, maybe she’d be a little more sympathetic. But no, my favorite cow was mooing up a storm, swinging her head back and forth with anxiety.

  “Shhh,” I said, sitting down. “Shhh, everything’s gonna be okay. Momma’s here now.”

  Because what could the animals do? My problems weren’t their fault. So I started milking, fingers squeezing rhythmically at the heifer’s udders.

  “Well, even if I lose the farm, we’ll still have each other, won’t we, Bets?” I mumbled to myself, still blinking sleepily, fingers moving in smooth, swift motions.

  Bets lowed in reply, before turning back to her feed, munching noisily.

  I sighed.

  “Gotcha. Well, at least we’ll have real good milk this morning,” I said, staring at the bucket. “There’s definitely a lot.”

  Betsy lowed again, lifting her head and belting out another musical moo, loud as a siren. Seriously, if we were attacked for some reason, I wouldn’t need an alarm. I have my cow, and she’s just as good.

  Suddenly, a low, throaty “unnnnnnh” prickled my ears.

  What in the world? As a farm girl, I can recognize every animal noise, from the silent pad of deer, to a woodpecker’s mating call. And the “unnnnh” was definitely not in any of those categories. Was it Betsy? I paused for a moment, waiting.

  But then it came again. Another throaty “unnnnh,” this time even louder. Holy cow, was Betsy alerting me to an intruder the whole time? Had I been ignoring her signals?

  But the cow turned to look at me, blinking slowly, completely unconcerned. I, by contrast, was on full alert now.

  Because what in the world was going on? Awareness tingled in my frame, the hairs on my arms standing up. Swallowing heavily, I stood. This was my farm now, and it was my duty to take charge. If there were vandals on the property, I had to chase them off.

  So silently, my hand found a nearby shovel. It’d make a good weapon, with its heavy metal spade and long handle. I could definitely smash someone’s head in, if it came to that.

  Betsy turned around to gaze at me, still calmly chewing her cud, and I lifted a finger to my mouth in a “shhhh!” motion, feeling a little like James Bond. Fortunately, my heifer blinked back slowly and didn’t make a sound in return.

  With silent steps, I let myself out of her stall and towards the source of the noise. It was dark in the barn, still the early gray gleam of dawn, and I padded like a thief towards the back.

  “Unnnnnh!” came the noise again, more of a grunt this time. “Unnh unnnh!”

  What in the world? That definitely wasn’t a farm-like sound, and hesitantly, I poked my head into the last stall on the left.

  And I saw him then. A huge man with broad shoulders and long legs, collapsed against the back wall. He was partially in shadow, so I couldn’t see what he looked like, but it didn’t matter. Because a shaft of sunlight penetrated through the wood slats, and it was clear that one leg was at a weird angle, painful and twisted. This was clearly no criminal, he was a wounded man. Slowly, I crept in.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

  The man didn’t move, his forbidding bulk slumped against the wall. So I tried again.

  “Hey,” I whispered, more loudly this time. “Are you okay?”

  And it was then that the dark form stirred, grunting with pain.

  “Unnnh,” came a low moan, deep from the man’s chest. “Unnnh.”

  And as his leg jerked reflexively, suddenly I saw. The denim he was wearing soaked in blood. Literally there was a reddish black stain on his right thigh, sopping wet and growing bigger by the moment, like an ink blob expanding in size.<
br />
  Immediately, I flew into action, rushing to kneel by him, applying pressure to the wound.

  “We have to get this bleeding to stop,” I panted, even though he probably couldn’t hear. “I’m gonna apply pressure, it’ll hurt but just bear with me,” I said, lowering all my weight onto two hands, hopefully stanching the blood flow.

  And suddenly the man jerked beneath my hands, a buck so powerful that I was thrown onto my ass, bouncing messily into the straw.

  “Fuck!” the man roared. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  But I’m quick on my feet, and besides, I’ve been around animals my whole life. First aid comes natural to me, whether helping a cow give birth or tending to a litter of new kittens. So immediately, I was by his side again, pressing both hands onto his wound.

  “I know it hurts,” I said urgently, “but just bear with me. Please mister, just let me do my job.”

  And this time, the man didn’t move much, although there was some more muffled cursing. I pressed mightily against the wound, feeling warm liquid oozing about. But fortunately, the pressure did the trick, and the bleeding seemed to stop somewhat. So after a couple minutes, I let up, sitting back, still on high-alert mode.

  “Mister,” I said, making a split second decision. “I’ve gotta get these pants off you. I have to see your wound so that I can treat it right.”

  “Fuuuuck,” was the stranger’s only growl, his face still half-hidden by shadow. But slowly, he leaned to the right, enough so that I could see the outline of his features, and the breath caught in my throat. Because the injured stranger was sexy as hell. Bright blue eyes looked at me hazily, with a square, strong jaw, his nose straight and proud. My heart leapt into my throat, pulse beating erratically, body going soft and hot at once.