BABY DADDY (28 page)

I was up early this morning with a calendar full of meetings from the creative to the corporate. I was wiped out by 6 PM.

I gave Raiden the keys to my apartment and left for work. I felt guilty that I couldn’t bring him along, at least to the studio, and I was thankful he didn’t insist on coming. But I missed him. He’s been sending me messages all day.

“Went to get some of my stuff from The Mark.

Baby, can I come over where you are for a quickie? I promise I’ll finish us both in 15 minutes.”

“Do you know that just thinking of your smile makes me hard? You can name your next perfume Smile, for my Ella-induced erections.”

“Babe, I didn’t realize New York air is such an aphrodisiac. Probably better than Viagra, not that I’d have a need for that in a hundred years yet. But I’ve been hard since this morning.”

“I’m at the grocery store and I can’t stop thinking of your sexy ass. I blame them juicy watermelons I saw.”

“I made myself some soup for lunch. It’s kind of creamy. I wish it’s you I’m eating though.”

“I miss you. Dinner time. Come home.”

It was very hard to maintain my stoic, no-nonsense expression in front of the team of lawyers, accountants and agents managing my finances and investments. I was actually counting the hours and minutes until I can go home.

I clear my throat.

He turns around, apron wrapped around his naked torso and smiles widely. “Hey, you’re home!”

He leaves the kitchen island and walks over to me, enveloping me in a warm hug.

I close my eyes, inhaling him. I fight the urge to lick his skin. He smells better than what he’s cooking.

He tilts my head and kisses me tenderly on the lips.

“I missed you.”

I smile. “You’re cooking dinner.”

“Yup. You’ve never tasted this before.” He pulls me toward the kitchen island and helps me up a high chair. “This won’t take long. Five minutes tops.”

“Okay.”

He goes to the fridge and comes back with a glass of orange juice for me.

“Thanks.”

He then crouches before me and removes my high heels. He squeezes my feet several times and smiles up at me when I moan softly in relief. “Tired?”

I nod.

“I’ll massage them later. I’ll feed you first.” He kisses my knee and stands up again. He goes to check the oven, whistling.

I feel a lump forming in my throat. When did I ever dream of this scenario? Never.

This is for those romance books. Never gonna happen. But it’s happening, right before my jaded eyes. I watch him silently, mesmerized by both his outer beauty and the gentleness of his soul.

Minutes later, we’re at the balcony of my apartment where he has set up a table with candles and flowers. A bottle of wine is chilling. He sits me on a chair like a queen and serves me like a butler. He calls me “my lady”. I’m trying to keep a straight face and not burst into laughter. He’s quite serious with his act. He can be a comedian and make money, what with his looks and charm.

“Hmmm,” I moan as I devour his baked salmon, probably the most delicious I’ve tasted this side of the hemisphere.

Great looks, great fuck, great cook.

“This is unbelievably good! Hmmmm!”

“That’s Mother’s recipe.”

“What did you put in the marinade? It’s extra tasty.”

He grins mischievously. “You don’t wanna know.”

“C’mon, tell me.”

“Nope.”

“Raiden!”

“I added my pee in the marinade.”

I stop chewing and glare at him.

He bursts into laughter. “Look at you. So serious.”

I shrug. “I survived your exotic dishes. This is nothing.”

He told me about the exotic food we ate at the yacht in the island and I couldn’t believe my ears. Crocs, lizards, frogs, boas! But heck, they all tasted good!

He pours me some wine.

“So, what did you do all day?” he asks me casually when he’s seated and digging into his own plate, too.

“Meetings, meetings and freakin’ meetings.”

He nods. “Hmm.”

“And what did you do all day?” I retort, smiling knowingly, remembering his text messages.

“I was very bored and horny, but I didn’t jack off. I’ve saved it all for you.”

I nearly spew the contents of my mouth in his face. I wash it down with wine. He’s looking at me with that gleam in his eyes that only spells hot sex and I feel my body respond.

I clear my throat and continue eating.

“So…what are your plans here in New York?” I ask.

He must have something else in mind for coming here. Maybe business? Once we finish eating, talk will be forgotten. Might as well get this out of the way now. He can’t stay here with me all the time and do nothing else but THAT.

“I’ve no other plans right now but to make you pregnant. That’s my priority. That’s what I came here for. We need more than two weeks of baby-making. Let’s make it a daily habit for months.”

I’m speechless.

Okay…me too. How’s that for a business plan, hmm?

I recover my wits. “I’m only fertile for a few days in a month.”

“Right, but even before your fertile period arrives, I have to fill your uterus with sperm. They can survive in you for days and are ready to fertilize an egg the moment it comes tumbling out of your fallopian tube. If that doesn’t work, I’m gonna bombard you with more, you know, like a blitzkrieg, so your lucky egg can’t escape unfertilized. You’d be pregnant sooner than you think.”

I blink at him, stupefied. “What…where…?”

“Google.” He grins. “And some YouTube. The videos are fun. Did you know that men fire at least 300 million sperms in one go and only one survives during a fertilization? My poor wrigglers, massacred by your cervical mucus every time.”

My jaw drops.

“Close your mouth, baby. My cock’s getting envious of the salmon.”

I burst out laughing.

Oh my lowd! This man!

Shoot me but he really knows
how to massage! He’s straddling me in his boxers while I’m lying naked on my stomach on the bed. By this time, I no longer feel any inhibition. All my physical insecurities fade the moment he touches me. His hands tell me how much he wants me. Right now, they’re showing me again as they glide smoothly all over me, slick with lavender oil.

His magical hands cover my entire back, pushing out the tiredness from my muscles. He presses on the upper part of my buttocks with his fingers and I moan in pleasure. Tension leaves my body like evaporating water, replaced by new energy coming from his fingertips.

He kneads my bottom cheeks for minutes and it’s the most wonderful feeling, well, next to his tongue stroking my clit and his cock buried inside me.

His fingers start dipping between my bottom cheeks, his fingers skimming, rubbing just the perimeter of my pussy. He does this for minutes until I’m moaning and starting to get frustrated. I want him to touch me there!

Then he turns me over to lie on my back.

He straddles me again.

The view is simply breathtaking. A gorgeous man is giving me massage. I never attempted the stuff that my friends did with their masseurs in those members-only spas. I was not confident to show my naked body to any man.

Except this one.

He rubs his hands together and then cups my breasts. The warmth of his palms gives me immense relief as he rubs the sides and undersides, the parts that my bra punish everyday.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“Here. Just now.”

“Nobody taught you?”

“You want to know if I practiced on anybody?” he teases me.

“Actually, none of my fucking business.”

He chuckles. “No, baby. I actually don’t know what I’m doing. But I kind of learned from those who’ve massaged me.”

“Hmm. You’re doing great.”

“Yeah? Good. I aim to please only you.”

Only me? Hah!

But he always backs his words with actions and vice versa. I’m in heaven and I know the moment his hands turn from clinical to sexual. I’m primed to go by the time he stands above me to remove his boxers.

That body, that cock, his lust…maybe his love…all mine.

Mine!

I reach out to touch him but he looks at me sternly. “Keep your hands to yourself. Just watch. And feel.”

I obey him. I watch and feel as he pours oil onto his cock and spreads it all over his entire length and on his balls. His shaft glistens, thick, long and strong. He strokes himself, his hand pumping up and down, putting on a show for me.

“Raiden…”

“Look how hard you’ve made me. I can’t wait to put this inside your tight pussy. You want this, baby?”

I moan. “You know I do.”

He grins wickedly and straddles me again.

He starts massaging me with his cock.

Lowd, I think I’m gonna come just watching him. I feel him everywhere. Even my toes get to kiss it!

His cock finally rubs against my super-wet, aching pussy. My swollen clit takes a thorough massage, hitting it with a steady, relentless rhythm until I’m mewing incoherently, begging him to end this hedonistic torture.

I’m seconds from coming when he surges into me, stretching and filling me to the hilt, merging our hunger for the ultimate satisfaction in a series of frenzied thrusts that makes us hit the summit almost simultaneously.

In that mindless flight to ecstasy I just know…forget the sperm bank. I want no other man to father my child but him.

Funny how his presence has turned things around.

My mojo is back. In full force.

My prototypes were all finished on time. I even enhanced the designs. Raiden has such a good eye for asymmetrical balance. It’s his training with sculpture. He looked at my sketches and identified which details would look good or superfluous in the prototype. I was totally impressed, to say the least. But then again, hasn’t he done so repeatedly in the island? He’s a renaissance man.

I’m so glad now he came just in time before I succumbed to a melt down so close to the biggest fashion event in New York. That would have been an epic show for my competitors to enjoy.

I’m loving my designs now. Why I thought they were horrible, I don’t know. Indeed, my new collection is going to shock people, but I don’t care.

This year is a season of evolution for StellaR. At this point in my career, there’s nowhere else to go but there.

Seriously, he’s unreal.
He’ll poof out any time soon and I’d realize I just dreamt him up. I still can’t comprehend what he’s doing with me, of all people.

Having sex like rabbits?

Well, aside from that.

I don’t wanna engage you in another loser discussion today. You’re on Chapter 18 and still the same ol’ boo-ho-ho pity-party crapola. Gimme a break, will you? (yawn)

He doesn’t get mad, doesn’t get upset when I’m being a pain and he looks yummy anytime, anywhere it’s so fucking unfair.

It’s like having a Stepford lover who has a brain and can actually discuss Bloomberg matters with me. He even advised me not to buy some hot commodities floating around the market and told me why and Ryder, my chief financial adviser agreed!

“I may be a recluse most of the time but I’m connected to the world market. I’ve a program installed where I can track all my investments,” he enlightens me over breakfast he has prepared and brought to my bed. He’s been cooking everyday since he came to stay with me and boy, is he good at it. I don’t want to check my weight. I’m so gonna kill him if he’s made me gain more than what I was already packing.

“I thought the island prohibits the use of internet. Guess that rule doesn’t extend to the owners.”

He grins. “Our company is headquartered in Singapore. The island is an extension.”

I guess my kid is going to be doubly rich. IF I’d ever have one with this hottie. Speaking of that…I don’t want to think about that. This baby-making thing is a fucking torture. I’d rather play Russian Roulette. It’s probably more fun than waiting for this baby to start growing in my belly.

“You left your parents there to handle your company only to come here and play cook,” I tell him.

“And Baby Dada,” he’d grins. “It’s a tougher job than I first thought.”

You can fucking say that again. “Only with me. Sorry about that.”

He’s immediately contrite. “Babe, I didn’t mean it that way.”

I sigh. In truth, I’m dreading my next pregnancy test. I should have gone to the clinic for a blood test but I chickened out. I’m just going to wait for my period to miss. “I know.”

“Besides, everything’s within reach here.” He taps his laptop and cellphone lying on the bed. “No worries.”

I should arrange a meeting between him and Ry. My friend, Ryder Miller,
consigliere
to young billionaires, who brought SRI to Walls Street might just hit another goldmine of unheard of proportions.