Being Their Baby (3 page)

She felt the wide mushroom-head of his cock rub up and down her damp entrance. “Mmm, yeah. Nice and ready. You like this,” he rumbled heatedly. Charlie was the nicest person on the planet, but he did have a rougher side, and he
loved
dirty talk.

“Fuck me already,” she gritted.

“I want you begging a little better than that. It’s sounding to my ears like you’re giving me
orders
. That’s not how we roll, is it? Now, tell me how much you want my cock in your pussy.” He tightened his grip on her wrists and pushed her body more into the rug with his elbow.

“Fuck my pussy, Charlie. Hard…
Please
,” she added at the end, knowing he would tease her for a century until she finally said ‘please.’

With a firm push, he slid his entire length roughly into her, making her both moan and gasp at the same time. He moved his hands to her hips and slammed her bottom against his groin again and again. He was swearing at her; calling her a whore, a slut, a “cum dumpster,” and she was loving it. She was always surprised that she did, but she did. Especially when she was feeling a little out of control within her life, she liked to be degraded a bit in bed. It was sexy and taboo for her; it was different from the nearly comical levels of praise she received everywhere else.

He put his hands back up to her nipples and pulled at them. She moaned loudly, chirping with pain and delight at the same time. “Don’t you dare cum,” he said. She never knew what a man felt during sex, but he must have felt something like she did; he must have felt her building close to her release. “I want to fuck this pussy until you cry. Don’t cum.”

Defiantly, she came anyway.

“Fuck!” he growled as her muscles milked him over and over until he began to expand and contract. He wasn’t humping her now; he had stopped in a last-ditch effort. There was no stopping once he started, though. Defeated, he began to pull her hips back again, cumming deep into her, filling her with his liquid warmth.

He nipped at her shoulder, falling slightly on top of her, yet keeping his weight off of her body with his arms on each on each side. “You’re such a brat, you know that?” he chuckled behind her. “I was ready for a marathon!”

“Hey, it wasn’t
me
tugging on the nips,” she replied casually, less than sorry.

He rolled over to her side and put an arm under her, and she let her body meld against his naked body and chest.

She combed her fingers through his light layer of chest hair. “Should we move it to bed?”

“No. It’s only midnight on a Thursday,” he protested. “We’re thirty-two, not eighty.”

She giggled. “Should we move it to the sofa, then?”

He raised his head off the ground, looked over at the sofa, appraised it, and then groaned. “Nah,” he said, dropping his head back against the fuzzy faux-fur rug. “Too far.”

“It’s two feet away,” she reminded.

“Exactly. Two feet too far.” He took a deep breath. “Liz? Marry me.” He wasn’t asking—he was just stating it like it’d be a fun thing to do together, like going to get ice cream.

“We
are
married, honey,” Liz reminded. “Just informally.”

“Well, let’s make it
formal
,” he retorted, surely knowing she’d say no, and she did. She’d been saying ‘no’ since he first suggested they get married when they were eighteen. Then at nineteen. Then after he won his first national title when he was twenty, then again after he graduated college, again when she graduated law school, and then pretty much whenever he felt like it after that. “I’d keep it open,” he assured with a snort of frustration. “You could date other people.
I
just wouldn’t. I’m never going to do the daddy thing again—with anyone.”

“That’s what you always say,” she said, and it was. Lacey wasn’t the first girlfriend he played a “daddy” to, and after every breakup he always announced that he was done with the age-play lifestyle. “The answer is still no, though. Besides, you know I get off on the ‘mommy’ thing… Unless
you’d
like a mommy?” she hinted with a mischievous spark in her eye.

“No,” he told her sternly. “Honey, I don’t even like you
on top.
” Charlie was a dominant man in every sense of the word; this she’d always known about him.

“Your loss,” she assured with a shrug. “Your brother never complained.”

“Yeah, well, Josh likes it any way he can get it,” he reminded her with a laugh. “But yes, I know that you’re the best at everything you do, including sex. It’s what you’re known for.” He sighed and let the room fill with silence for nearly a minute before he resumed talking. “I’m serious, though. No more ‘little girls.’ I’m through.”

She kissed his chest, knowing that he felt his heart had been stomped on by Lacey, who was twenty-seven, but had played the part of a seven-year-old who loved sitting on her daddy’s lap or being bent tail-up over it for being a naughty little girl. Charlie had taken care of her, cuddled her, and even dressed her up like she was a doll. He had a serious fetish for age-play, and one of the upstairs bedrooms was packed with toys and little-girl clothes and furniture in extra-large sizes. Charlie also liked that lifestyle to be twenty-four/seven. He didn’t like the girl ever
not
calling him “Daddy”; once he had a role with someone, he kept it.

“Well, I don’t know if
I’m
through,” she said stubbornly. “We’re not all going vanilla just because of
you
.”

He rolled his eyes toward her with annoyance. “Fine, you can bring home whoever you want. But I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Fine,” she said, and got off the floor to walk to the bathroom.

He sat up on his elbow and watched her walk. “You know how sexy you look with my cum dripping down your thighs?” he asked.

She gave a snort and threw him a chiding look over her shoulder. “You’re a romantic, Charlie,” she said sardonically.

Charlie gave a laugh and eventually got up as well. The two watched some TV and drank wine together. Eventually, they watched through the window as Charlie’s brother carried a woman on his shoulder, caveman-style, into his guest house, pausing to give them a thumbs up.

After that, Charlie carried Liz into his bedroom, just to prove to her that he could still easily do it (despite having five shoulder surgeries). They fell asleep, only awakening when Liz’s cellphone, which she had placed on Charlie’s nightstand, started to vibrate.

Charlie glared at the clock. “What kind of asshole calls at four o’clock on a holiday?” he demanded.

“Might be a client,” she sighed, and picked up the call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Um… Hi, Miss Button.” Sophie’s voice was childlike enough that Liz knew it immediately.

Liz sat up in bed, already alarmed.

“I’m really, really sorry I’m waking you up this morning, but I didn’t know what time you were getting up, and I pegged you for one of those really early risers so I was sort of hoping I’d catch you sort of not-asleep…” she immediately rambled, sounding more squeaky and nervous with every word.

“Sophia, what’s wrong?”

Sophie’s groan sounded pain-filled. “Everything,” she moaned.

Liz took a deep breath. “What’s
everything
?”

Chapter Two

“Thanks so much for paying my bail, Miss Button,” Sophie said timidly as she followed Elizabeth out toward the parking lot. “I promise that I’ll pay you back just as soon as I can.”

Sophie couldn’t stop apologizing. Every time she tried, the air around her would feel like it was strangling her. Elizabeth kept silent. The woman was obviously very upset, and Sophie couldn’t blame her. It was five-thirty in the morning on a holiday weekend, after all. Sophie had been too ashamed and miserable to call Elizabeth for two days, until she began to fear her cell-mates: two tougher-than-nails prostitutes who promised to teach her “a thing or two.” Desperate not to learn even the first thing they had in mind, let alone the second, Sophie had finally begged for her phone call.

Sophie stopped, intending to let Elizabeth walk to her car alone; after all, Elizabeth had barely looked at her all morning. Unexpectedly, however, Elizabeth stopped walking when she did. “What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked, her voice extremely firm and curt.

“Nothing, I was just gonna walk home,” she said.

“Where’s home? You’re still listing your parents’ apartment as your address. I saw your form,” she demanded, her voice filled with accusation.

“It’s just up the street,” Sophie said, pointing. Way,
way
up the street… Probably about eight miles. It was worth the walk; Elizabeth was looking pretty tense.

“Get in the car,” Elizabeth ordered, unlocking the passenger side. “I’m driving you and walking you in.”

Sophie’s eyes rounded. That was not going to do at all! She felt panic rise into her throat. “No, no!” Sophie said, waving her hands back and forth. “That’s okay, I’ll just take a bus. You’ve done too much already, really, I—”

“Sophia Lynn, I told you to get your little fanny into this car right now!” Elizabeth snapped so loudly that a couple of cops coming out of their squad cars paused, turned, and looked over to see what the fuss was about.

Sophie jumped, took a shaky breath, and then scurried into the front passenger seat of Elizabeth’s bright-red Lexus. She watched with uneasy, seat-gripping tension as Elizabeth got into her side and turned on the car. “Buckle up and tell me where you live,” Elizabeth gritted.

With one last stab at dignity, Sophie shuddered, “U-Uh-Um… I… Um… I really—”

“Sophia—
where have you been sleeping
?”

Sophie slid down in her seat, murmuring, “One-eleven northeast Hutchens Avenue,” as she slowly reached for her safety belt and snapped it on.

Liz turned to her and blinked. Her lips were pressed firmly together as she was visibly gathering her patience. “That’s the address of the firm.”

Sophie swallowed loudly. “I know. I’m sorry… It’s only temporary until I save up a little bit…”

It wasn’t until that moment that Elizabeth’s demeanor changed, as she realized that Sophie wasn’t trying to pull one over on her. “
You’ve been sleeping at the office
? Do you even have an office to do that?”

“I sleep in the attic, actually. But—I—I’m sorry, I know—”

“Do you have things there?”

“Yeah, like some clothes and stuff…” Sophie chewed her bottom lip as she watched Elizabeth drive them out of the police station’s lot. “I’m sorry, Miss Button,” she gushed after trying to hold in her apologies again. “I don’t want to get you involved. I only called you because I couldn’t think of anyone else, and I had your business card in my pocket…”

“Sophie, stop it. Just stop,” Elizabeth demanded, swiping her hand through the air. Sophie silenced immediately, and Elizabeth continued, “If you say that you’re sorry to me
one more time
, I’m going to stop this car and spank the daylights out of your stubborn little butt. You’re apologizing for the wrong thing.”

Sophie was suddenly fighting back tears of humiliation as they drove toward the office. Did Elizabeth just threaten to spank her? Sophie sat as still as she possibly could, her throat feeling tight and far too nervous to continue apologizing. Even breathing seemed difficult.

When Elizabeth pulled up in front of the office and got out of the car, Sophie was beginning to fear that she really was in a violent mood, especially when Elizabeth walked over to Sophie’s side and pulled her out of the car by her upper arm. “Show me where you’ve been sleeping,” Liz demanded. “Right now.
I need to see
.”

Elizabeth marched Sophie into the building, up the elevator, and had Sophie lead her over to a door that Elizabeth seemed surprised by, as if she’d never noticed it there before. Sophie felt it imperative that no conversation get struck up whatsoever; the loud tap-tap-tap of Elizabeth’s blood-red stilettos was really all that Sophie could handle right now.

Sophie was embarrassed when they finally made it to the attic and she exposed her small living space, which was in the middle of a bunch of spare, dusty boxes of paper and pens. She hadn’t ever meant anyone, especially not Elizabeth Button, to see her grungy sleeping bag she had pulled out over old newspapers she had been using as a mattress, the clothes scattered everywhere, or the dirty old teddy bear she had brought from home that was sitting on top of Sophie’s yellowing pillow.

For a second, Sophie was distracted by the quiet buzz of her little cheap TV. The electronic was ancient; the picture was all in fuzzy black and white, and the small-but-bulky box had two three-foot-long antennas sticking out of it. Jerry Springer was currently trying to break up a fight on its screen. Sophie had left the television on, since she had found already that she couldn’t sleep, or even function, in complete silence and darkness. She walked over and clicked the little television off, then turned around to look sheepishly at Elizabeth.

Sophie could take a flying guess as to what Elizabeth was thinking to herself right now: that Sophie couldn’t survive on her own. Unfortunately, if that’s what Elizabeth was thinking, then she was right.

Sophie’s train of thought suddenly fell off its rails with the sound of a sniffle. For a moment, Sophie thought it might have been her own sniffling; she was, after all, pretty miserable at the moment. But when she looked over at Elizabeth, she noticed tear streaks on her cheeks.

“Sophie… why didn’t you tell me?” Elizabeth choked out.

Sophie frowned. She hadn’t expected her life to be so bad that it would bring anyone to tears. Not even Sophie had cried about it yet! “Miss Button, it’s really not that bad… I mean, it’s warmer than in the actual offices up here. And it’s only temporary. It’s okay, honest.”

“Sophia, I don’t know what you think
okay
is, but this is not it. This is
far
from okay!” Suddenly she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as if she felt a strong headache coming on. With a much more collected voice, she finally directed, “Sophia, I want you to get all your things together and meet me in my office.”