Page 7 of Baby Proposal
“You have to meet my grandma,” she adds. “She’s going a bit insane.”
“Sure.” How bad can one little old lady be?
Adi takes a deep breath. Then another.
“This is unhinged,” she murmurs to herself. But she pins me with those light green eyes as she squares her shoulders and stands up straight. “Okay.”
My blood surges. Six months I’ve been denying myself, and now Adrianne Blake will be mine.
“I’ll be your fake wife, and you’ll help me with the whole baby thing.”
She means, me impregnating her. Us making love so she’ll grow round withmychild.
“I’ll breed you.” She is prime breeding material.
There’s a moment of shock and I recognise I possibly should have been more tactful and less crude about how I expressed that.
“Yes.” And that’s when I see her knees press together underneath her black office dress, and hear her breath catch.
Oh… That turns her on as well, does it? Because it makes my cock throb with the need to fill her with my seed and… Yeah. I’m a monster. I want to cover her with it. I need to mark her asmine. A baby. Rings. Tattoos. Love bites and clothes I bought her. I want everyone to know that she belongs to me.
“When?” I demand.
“To have the best chance of success, I have to be…” She fidgets. “I’m ovulating now.”
“Cancel my five o’clock.” I can’t remember what it is about. Who cares? Nothing could be even half a per cent as important as getting my girl—my fiancée—pregnant. “And any others.”
“But—”
“Now.” I’m going to be balls deep in her by the end of the day. I’m lightheaded with triumph, but my cock is hard enough to use as a truncheon.
“Are you sure?” The disbelief is all over her face and in those pale jade eyes.
“You said you’re ovulating,” I insist. “Cancel the meeting. All my meetings for the rest of the day. We’ll go now.” I suppose there might be more urgent tasks in the world than making a baby with my beautiful young assistant and future wife, but I’m more likely to be able to sit down and calculate quantum mechanics than I am remember what they are. Heart surgery? Whatever. Solving climate change? Fuck that. Let the oceans boil if the alternative is I don’t have Adi in my bed.
She visibly gathers herself together, closes her jaw that has been hanging open like a door smashed in by one of my overenthusiastic goons, straightens her shoulders, and nods.
“No problem,” she says brightly… “ThestuffI ordered should arrive here by five o’clock.”
I raise one eyebrow and she colours.
The spunk application tube. Hell no.
If I’d known she looked so pretty blushing, I’d have… Probably not started an inappropriate conversation with my assistant who is almost half my age. It’s bad enough I’m in love and have been neglecting all mafia boss duties to play “normal billionaire CEO” with her.
“If I’m having a baby with you,” I say softly, “there will be no turkey basters involved.” Let’s make that abso-fucking-lutely clear. “It will be the old-fashioned way.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh!”
Yes.Oh. Many o’s for both of us, her in particular. I can hardly wait to have her coming on my cock. I want to see her face and hear her cries as she climaxes.
Then a little smile curves at her pink-bow lips. “Okay. No turkey basters.”
3
RHYS
The wariness is back as I open the door to my penthouse apartment in the centre of London for her. It’s right in the middle of my mafia territory of Canary Wharf, and is an old warehouse. There’s exposed brick and industrial metal fittings. I used to enjoy the cavernous space during my brief visits to the company Adi works for, but it’s long since felt too empty. That’s worse today. The high, bare walls make Adi look small and slight. Delicate and soft.
