The Billionaire's Secret Babies

I lose track of time, legs still wrapped around his waist as we both wait for our breathing to slow and our hearts to stop racing. He leans up to brush my hair back from my forehead, gazing down at me with an expression I can’t quite explain. Something like wonder, mingled with fear. I can’t place it.

I also can’t figure out exactly what just happened. What he admitted to me, what it means, and why he said what he did—about wanting to make more babies…

But I’m so tired from the multiple orgasms and from the way he just fucked me, I can’t raise the energy just now to wonder. I rest my head against his shoulder, sighing in pleasure as he strokes my hair, holding me against him.

Eventually, he slides out of me. I feel our combined juices trickle down my inner thighs, and sigh again in protest. It felt so right having him in me, so wrong now that we’re apart again.

But soon he’s standing, scooping me up in his arms, and I lean my head on his chest as he carries me into the bedroom. He keeps his arms wrapped around me as we fall asleep, a sweaty mess on top of his nice clean sheets, but I don’t care. I love feeling his cum inside me still, his body hot and tight against mine.

I never knew it could feel like this, I think, just as I drift off to sleep.

8

The next couple weeks are a blur of perfect pleasure. Every day, I climb out of Cassius’s enormous, ridiculously comfortable four-poster king-sized bed, take care of the twins, then pad down the hall to the office with Luca and Lucie in tow, making sure they have something to occupy them while I get the filing done.

I spend the day organizing, booking meetings, setting up future travel—and, not gonna lie, slightly dreading the times that I have to book trips for him. Granted, the next time he plans to travel for work isn’t for another couple of months, but a part of me still stares sadly at the week on the calendar when he’ll be in London, already anticipating how much I’ll miss him.

Every evening, Cassius returns to the apartment—usually with flowers or a present for Luca and Lucie, new clothes he saw that he just couldn’t pass up, or a cute toy.

“You’re going to spoil them rotten,” I scolded him one evening when he showed up with a full playpen, complete with a mobile in the shape of the galaxy.

“I can only hope to be lucky enough to do so,” he responded as he swooped in to kiss my cheek. And then nibble his way down my neck… And then drag me into the bedroom, where he threw me onto the bed, flipped my legs over his shoulders, and fucked me until we were both screaming.

But a part of my mind can’t quite accept that this is really my life. That I’ve been living in this gorgeous penthouse, with this gorgeous man, who pampers both me and my babies every single day. Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the catch—because there’s always a catch.

I feel it in a knot in my stomach, even as Cassius and I strolled through a park near his penthouse at sunset, him pushing the stroller, my hand resting over his. The sunset that night was beautiful, stunning, and we sat in the park watching it for half an hour, smiling and laughing and talking about his day at work, my day with the babies. Even then, even in the middle of that perfect moment, I couldn’t quite accept it.

He felt too good to be true.

It’s been three weeks since we first met, when I come home from shopping with the twins to find a strange woman standing in the apartment. At first, I freeze, tensing, that knot in my gut unfurling.

Then she smiles and waves at the babies in the stroller. “You must be Luca and Lucie,” she coos.

“And you are…?” I ask, still nervous, on-edge. Why can’t I just relax and trust that for once, things are going my way in life?

“Lisa.” She straightens to offer me a hand. “Mr. Anderson hired me to help out with the babies for the night.”

I frown, my eyebrows contracting. “To help out? But, we didn’t…”

Just then, Cassius steps out of the bedroom, and knocks the breath out of me. Well, to be fair, he does that most of the time, whenever I see him. He’s always resplendent. But today he’s extra decked out, in a formal tux rather than his usual suit.

“Manila,” he purrs in greeting, and my heart does a funny little flip-flop at the sound of him saying my name. “Glad you’re here. I’ve hired Lisa to watch the kids overnight.”