#Babymachine (Baby Crazy 1)

And Mr. Carlton knew. He could tell. That devilish smile was wicked and self-assured as he spoke once more.

“What would make you change your mind?”

But before I could tell him “nothing,” the billionaire pulled out his wallet like this was an everyday transaction. “How about a thousand dollars?” With his voice confident and cocksure, the man fanned ten crisp hundred dollar bills across the table. “Is that enough?”

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Do billionaires keep that much cash in their pockets? Evidently so from the green paper staring me in the face.

I shook my head, dumbstruck.

“I can’t,” I whispered again, voice scraping at the back of my throat. “I can’t.”

But my eyes stared desperately at the cash. What a huge difference it would make. That could be my rent. My phone bill, or the electricity they kept threatening to cut off. All that money could literally save my life if I had a medical emergency, given that I had nothing in the bank. Even with just a little extra, those envelopes stamped “LAST NOTICE” in red on the front could be laid to rest.

And Mr. Carlton was so casual about it. Like the Benjamins were nothing, dropping bill after bill on the table, each one fluttering down to rest gracefully on the glass table top. I curled my fingernails into my thighs to stop myself from grabbing the cash. I couldn’t do it. I shouldn’t. It was wrong and I wasn’t that girl.

But Mr. Carlton played me like a master puppeteer. He reached into his wallet again.

“Make it two thousand,” he drawled smoothly. “What do you think about that?”

I shook my head so hard this time that hair flew into my face, audibly smacking against my neck. But when the big man stood up, unfolding that giant frame, a sense of disappointment washed through me. Mr. Carlton wasn’t going to go through with this. It was just a dream—

My reverie was cut off.

“I’ll give you three thousand dollars,” he rasped this time, reaching for something in his desk drawer. A fancy, leather-covered checkbook appeared, embossed with the letters MCC.

My eyes flew to his face. Was he serious? I couldn’t…

But as if in a dream, my voice spoke then.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

The whisper fell from my lips without my permission, I swear. It was me, but it wasn’t. After all, what choice did I have? None, that’s what. I had my pride. But that pride wasn’t going to put food in my fridge or pay my rent on time. The thick lump in my throat just wouldn’t disappear.

And the sound of Mr. Carlton tearing out the check ripped through the room, making my eardrums tremble. With a knowing smile, he put it in front of me. Three thousand dollars made out to Elizabeth White. Oh god, oh god.

“Alright, Beth. Your turn to deliver.”

My turn?

So soon?

But the name “Elizabeth White” and “Three thousand dollars” stared me in the face.

This was real.

All too real.

Okay. I could do this.

I had to do this.

With a deep breath, I stood up then, face on fire like never before, and started to unbutton my skirt. My fingers were damp with nervous sweat and slid over the buttons before finishing the job. I stopped and pressed cold hand to my hot cheeks.

Oh god, this was so embarrassing.

But there was no stopping.

It was go time.

So I wiggled out of the skirt, avoiding Mr. Carlton’s eyes while taking off the garment and draping it over a nearby chair.

But his voice jolted me from my trance.

“Gorgeous,” came that deep rasp. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Another involuntarily flash of heat seared my abdomen, making my pussy tingle. Because he meant me, for sure. Those blue eyes were fixed on the tiny lace panties slung over my hips, sweet yet coy at once. Lingerie’s a secret pleasure of mine, the one thing I spend money on when there was even a little to spare. The thong was tiny and pale pink, showing off my ass cheeks in the back and just big enough to cover the landing strip in front. My pussy lips pressed against the fabric, swollen and obvious.

And the billionaire growled approvingly, blue eyes searing my thighs.

“I love how you’re demure on the outside, but inside, you’re all woman,” he rasped, shifting in his seat. “One hundred percent woman.”

And oh god, oh god, but was that his cock in those trousers? As he shifted once more, my eyes flew to his pants, body almost exploding at the sight. Because he was so enormous, so rigid and hard, that a giant length wrapped around his waist like a python, ready to do damage.

Oh god! Was I doing that to him?

Was it the sight of my lacy panties?

My swollen pussy underneath, the lips visible?

Oh god, oh god.

My face was on fire, body too. Under my blouse and bra, nipples stood alert like rock candy, visible even under the two layers of cloth. And Mr. Carlton could tell. He licked his lips, taking in all of me, but his eyes lingered the most on my panties and the print of my fleshy pussy lips underneath. I blushed even harder.