Unprotected: A Secret Baby

She blushed and dropped her eyes to her plate.

“I’d love to,” was her murmur. But then her eyes flew up to mine, sparkling with mirth. “But I’m all about comfort food. Casseroles, mac n’ cheese, sloppy joes. Do you like that kind of stuff?”

Please, I’ve got an appetite like a monster. That was exactly up my alley. You can eat at five-star restaurants sometimes, but not all the time. The butter and oil will kill you, cholesterol clogging your veins.

So I grinned.

“Sloppy joes are my fave,” was my low growl. “It’s been a while, but I used to always order them at school.”

The brunette giggled then.

“I can’t even imagine it,” she said. “Evan Lincoln, his chin covered with sauce? Seems impossible.”

Oh it was possible. And I wanted more than meat sauce covering my chin. I wanted her hot pussy honey, the nectar that flowed between her legs. My dick jerked under the table, making itself known once more.

But these thoughts were wrong. It was too early. Maggie deserved a good meal before the scene got raunchy. So I plastered a smile on my face, even with my dick stiff as a rod beneath the tabletop.

“Please, eat.”

I poured some rum punch for both of us. And only once she picked up the fork, did I start on my own food.

“So, tell me about yourself,” was my invitation. Perfect. The girl would never suspect that I was dying to pound her right now, to split open that creamy snatch and make it mine.

“Me?” she murmured surprised. “Well, there’s not much to tell,” she blushed. “I’m at community college to get my degree so I can one day be a vet.”

She had ambitions beyond the pet store. Nice. My dad would like that.

“In the meantime,” she continued, “I’m working at DoggyMart part-time. I know, I know,” she laughed, holding two hands up. “The store name is so ridiculous.”

Hey, DoggyMart was no worse than K-Mart. Customers knew exactly what they were getting.

“Do you like it?” I asked curiously. Most women hate their jobs, hoping and praying for a prince to sweep them off their feet so they can quit. Strike that. They’re waiting for a sugar daddy to set them up so they can quit.

But Maggie was different.

“I love it,” she admitted shyly. “The animals are so innocent, it’s impossible not to love them. They just want to be taken care of by a nice family. And it’s terrible that more people don’t feel the same way. We get a lot of strays because DoggyMart is also an adoption clinic,” she explained, “and not just a pet store.”

The girl opened her heart, talking about her dreams in life. She was caring, sincere and genuine, wanting to make a difference in the world by taking care of ailing animals.

And fuck, I loved it. Because maybe she didn’t have money, but she had a lot of what counts.

Good values.

Good priorities.

An open heart.

So I leaned back, idly tapping my wine glass.

“It’s great your so into dogs. Bowzer loves you already, that’s clear.”

She blushed and looked down, smiling. Those long lashes rested pretty and dark on those ivory cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “By the way, where is Bowzer?” she asked, craning her head around. “I haven’t seen him yet tonight. Did you lock him up?”

I let out a short bark of laughter.

“Hardly. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep that dog chained up. He’s sleeping in the guest room,” I explained. “Out like a light after a meaty dinner and long walk.”

The girl’s laugh tinkled, making my balls hum.

“See? I told you,” she teased. “He’s a good dog at heart, nothing like the big monster you make him out to be.”

But then her tone went serious.

“So what about you, Mr. Lincoln? Why are you doing all this? You were kind of vague back at the pet store with this- this fake fiancée stuff,” she stammered.

What a question. But it was only fair, right? I dragged her into this. My life should be an open book. Or at least somewhat of an open book because I wasn’t going to scare her with the raunchy parts quite yet.

But how to describe my life without seeming like a douche? Because I’m the guy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. From birth, it’s been privilege non-stop. Private schools, yachts, college, the obligatory European tour, and then a job at my family’s company. From the outside, it looks like I was handed everything. But nothing is ever that simple, and I work hard for this shit.

Because Henry Lincoln is a hardass. When I described him as a human form of Bowzer, that was an understatement. He’s Bowzer times five. Or times ten. He’s a ruthless businessman who doesn’t know how to turn it off when he steps away from the boardroom. Thus my current predicament. Marriage for control of the Lincoln Corp.? What the hell? The two had nothing to do with one another, but Henry doesn’t see it that way.