His Unexpected Baby by Jamie Knight

Chapter Seventeen - Skye

I was overwhelmed by a flood of feelings, all of them good. Everything was fine between me and Simon, great even. I was back in his luxurious car, the soft leather creaking under me.

Despite being a rich guy with a fancy car, he didn’t seem to think it put him above the law, or at least not that I could tell. He drove defensively, taking the safest option in every situation.

I had to wonder if that was at least partly because I was his passenger. Not that I thought he would be a speed demon normally. But I just like the thought of me being his precious cargo.

Feeling spontaneous and full of cheer as we whizzed past stores decorated for Christmas, I kissed him on the cheek. He didn’t look, but he smiled as I settled back into my seat.

When we got to his place, I saw that it was a fucking mansion. I had no idea there was enough space left on the island to have a house that size, but apparently, there it was.

Technically it was a townhouse, but it was the biggest townhouse I’d ever seen, constituting three entire floors of wow. As we scaled the stone steps to the fancy front door, I felt Simon put his hand on my lower back, possessively.

I smiled as a little thrill went through me. I thought of myself as being his, but was glad that he seemed to see it that way, too. Frankly, I would have let him carry me in if he’d felt so inclined.

The place even smelled good. Like cinnamon and after shave. Manly, but still welcoming, in no way offensive to my nose. If anything, it made me want to stick around. Not that I would have wanted to leave otherwise, of course.

Helping me with my coat, Simon hung it on the honest to goodness coat rack hanging next to the door. It looked like something out of a black and white movie. Our coats taken care of, he assessed the rest of my outfit.

“Cute,” he said.

Taking off my boots, as well as his shoes, he took my hand, leading me into the dining room and sat me down at the table, actually pulling the chair out for me, and pushing it back in. I was already so wet that it was a struggle not to squirm.

It was arousing enough just to be around him, never mind him being so damn gentlemanly and casually touching me. I loved it and would honestly take any touching he saw fit to give me.

“I’ll be back soon,” he suddenly said, causing me to feel disappointment.

I couldn’t imagine where he was going.

To call a takeout place, maybe?

He had invited me for dinner, so I assumed there would be food at some point.

The sounds were strange at first. Rhythmic tapping, as though metal on wood. Of course. He was chopping veggies.

Simon had invited me to his house for a dinner he was going to make himself. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was still awake. The pain mixed with my elation as the distinctive sound of an oven door opening echoed through the house.

“What are you making?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

“Pizza,” he said, popping a bottle of wine from the nearby rack.

“You can make pizza at home?”

“Ate lots of take out as kid?” he asked, not unkindly, setting a glass of wine in front of me.

“No, but when we did it was pizza. I’m not really old enough to have wine, by the way. The bottle at my place had been there when I moved in. I was trying to impress you.”

“Ah, gotcha,” he said, dumping my half glass into his and making a full one. “To answer your question, yes, though to be fair, it can be difficult to do well in a domestic oven. Most pizza ovens, which are a very specific design, have what’s called a heating stone. You can get those for regular ovens now though. Otherwise, it’s important to set the heat high enough. I mean really high, like 450, or around there.”

“Interesting. Where did you learn how to cook?” I asked, curious.

“At my grandma’s side. She’d tell me how to set the oven for different dishes before I was tall enough to reach the knobs. I never forgot. She wanted me to be self-sufficient in the essentials of life, so I learned how to cook all my favorite foods, as well as how to wash and fix clothes. I didn’t think she was suspicious about my ability to get married but she wanted me to be independent just in case.”

“That’s sweet,” I said.

“I also wouldn’t want to put all of that on my partner anyway,” Simon continued. “I think she knew that. I have a thing about being the driver of my own bus. Not liking to have to rely on anyone else.”

I wanted to say something, but nothing came readily to mind. Besides which, the smell of the pizza had started to capture most of my attention. The scent was wonderful. Real gourmet stuff. My tummy started to rumble just from catching a whiff of it.

“Patience, darling,” he said, playfully patting my tummy through my sweater.

I couldn’t help but giggle, sparks crackling between us as our eyes met. An unspoken connection had been made.

Before long, the pizza was done, just as Simon had promised. Another point in his favor, in terms of trust. Ordinarily I would have been scared about going to a guy’s house, no matter how well long I had known him, which wasn’t even all that long in Simon’s case.

It didn’t matter, though. I felt a strong connection to him and wanted to be around him as much as possible.

“Wow,” I marveled, as he set a truly lovely slice of pizza in front of me on an ironstone plate. “That looks delicious.”

“Thanks,” he said, beaming.

Once I took a bite, it was like an orgasm in my mouth. The pleasure center points in my little brain lit up like the 4th of July sky. I felt like a princess sitting in this fancy kitchen of this awesome house, eating the best pizza ever.

Before long, the pizza was gone. I’d eaten my share and then some. I always loved food of pretty much any kind, but that was simply amazing.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “I really scarfed that down. I hope I left enough for you!”

“No, no, it’s fine. I made it to be eaten.”

As he said this, he lay a hand on my thigh.

“Well, thank you,” I said. “It was so great.”

I could feel the warmth of his hand through my yoga pants and I was getting super excited. I wanted him to touch me more but I didn’t dare ask.

“Would you like dessert?” he asked, backing off.

“Yes, please,” I said, my voice still barely a whisper.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

After what felt like an eternity, the sweet smell of fresh blueberry pie came into the dining room from the kitchen, followed closely by Simon.

“My favorite,” I said, as he put the pie down in front of me, a blob of whipped cream on top.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, giving me a tender kiss.

I fought the urge to blush. I reminded myself that there was nothing wrong with the kiss and I refused to allow myself to be embarrassed. I loved what was happening and was determined to enjoy it.

We ate in silence for a while, Simon’s eyes on me the entire time. After several moments, he took hold of my wrist, stopping me lifting more bites to my mouth. Placing his other hand on my cheek, he turned my face toward him and licked away the pie filling I hadn’t noticed that I had gotten on there.

I thought maybe he was going to put his tongue in my mouth. My excitement mixed with anxiety. I wasn’t the best at making out because I hadn’t had much practice— just a couple geeky guys I’d tried to date in high school— but I was willing to try, just hoping he would be patient with me.

Rather than going for a kiss, though, he went back to his pie. He finished most of it. Even with my appetite and love of blueberry pie, my progress was slower because I was still full from the pizza.

“You can open your gift now,” he said, taking his plate into the kitchen.

Like a shot, I was up and out to the front hall, getting the gift from the pocket of my coat. Then I was back at the table, meticulously deconstructing Simon’s careful wrapping job as he returned from washing the dishes.

Inside the wrapping, I found a box that looked like it would hold a necklace. It wasn’t a Tiffany’s box, but was still fancy, nonetheless. The lid opened with a characteristic creak, slowly revealing what was inside.

The problem was that I didn’t recognize it at all.

“What is it?” I asked, trying not to be rude.

“They’re nipple clamps,” he said placidly.

I’d never even heard of such a thing, but I could guess what they were for, based on the rather specific name alone.

“Would you like me to show you?” he asked, touching my thigh again, this time under my skirt.

“Yes, please, sir,” I managed to get out, slightly surprised he was able to hear me.

Withdrawing his hand from under my skirt, he pulled my sweater up over my head. I lifted my arms to help him out. Caressing his way down my neck and over my shoulders, both his hands dipped down behind my back. He had my bra unfastened and off in one, smooth motion.

“Wow,” I whispered, despite myself, still having trouble doing it on my own.

His hands moving down to my sides, Simon stood me up from the chair, and took down first my skirt and then my yoga pants, folding them up and putting them on the chair next to him the other way, where my sweater and bra already sat.

In lieu of taking down my non-existent panties, Simon traced his skilled finger down the front of my pussy, making me hum.

Leaving it there, for the moment, Simon sat me back down onto the chair. Starting out with gentle, closed-mouth kisses, Simon soon worked his way down a familiar path. Lips to neck, neck to upper chest, upper chest to breasts.

Taking his truly sweet, wonderful time, he applied tender loving care to one nipple and then the other, alternating with a bevy of different sucking, licking and nibbling styles, all of them great and coaxing my nipples to full attention. Keeping up the stimulation with one hand, nearly making me cum again, Simon reached over with the other, bringing the nipple clamps tinkling into view.

“They’re a beginner model,” he said, opening the first of them, “so they don’t go on nearly as hard and are lightly padded so that it isn’t metal on flesh.”

I smiled so he knew I’d heard him, and that I was honestly ready for anything he wanted to do to me, trusting him not to harm me. I probably should have said something, but I could no longer find my words.

I gasped at the touch of the first clamp. It hurt while it went on, but I soon got used to it. It felt like the constant, if gentle, pinch of a hand. Caressing my back the entire time, Simon put on the other clamp, the two joined by a glinting, silver chain.

“How’s that, darling?” he asked.

“Okay,” I confirmed. “It hurts a little, but I like it.”

He kissed me on the cheek in approval, filling me with pride. I felt like I’d passed the test, despite not being sure that giving me a test had been his intention. It was more like a test I was giving myself. It was important to me to be a good girl for him, and I was thrilled to be able to do that for him.

As the clamps put pressure on my nipples, Simon kissed my neck like he knew I loved, and reached a hand down between my thighs. I opened my legs to assist his progress, and he rewarded me by putting a finger up my aching pussy. I moaned loudly in both pleasure and relief.

It felt so good, particularly after the discomfort I’d been feeling for so long, the ache of wanting to feel him touch me and not being able to have it happen. Without thinking, I took hold of his arm, urging him on.

Technically, he could have slapped me, or worse. I’d touched him without permission, and I had a feeling that wasn’t allowed in this type of game we were playing. But Simon was a gentle master and let my infraction slide.

I wanted to hold on longer, to make it last, but I was no match for his talented fingers working my clit and pussy lips and before I wanted to, I was shaking violently, cumming all over his hand, Simon definitely hitting my g-spot as well as my clit while he was in there.

He held me close as I trembled against him, his strong arm around me holding me upright, his hand still stroking my tingling pussy as I came down. It seemed odd but from what I could tell, while the stimulation in my pussy helped take off the edge of the pain from the nipple clamps, the sensation from the cramps helped to intensify the feeling in my pussy and therefore also my orgasm.

He clearly knew a lot more about the female anatomy than I did, I thought, a bit embarrassed.

“Are you still okay?” he asked.

“Yes, master,” I whispered, wanting him to keep going.

“Good,” he said with a warm smile, “because I would like more dessert.”

Before I could ask what he meant, Simon had me sitting down, clamped nipples and all, on the edge of the fine table, near the plate holding the rest of my piece of pie.

Under his gentle guidance, he lay me back across the table, my heels pressing down on the edge. Taking up the seat I’d been in, he eased my legs apart.

Stroking my inner thigh, Simon reached over with his other hand, taking up a handful of still warm pie and smearing it on my pussy. I hummed at the lovely feeling, not thinking at all about what the sugar might do to my pussy.

Cleaning off his hand, so he could hold both my thighs at once, Simon dug in, so to speak, licking every last smear of sweet blue goodness from my pussy. It was both the funniest and most exciting thing I’d done in my life up to that point. My body was trembling with pleasure.

Before I really knew what was happening, Simon had me off the table and was cradling me on his lap, gently removing the nipple clips and putting them back in the box. Leaving the box on the table, along with everything else, Simon scooped me up into his arms and carried me up to his bedroom.

My heart was pounding with each step up to the second level.

Was it actually going to happen?

Was this gentle, sexy man going to take my virginity?

I gulped audibly when I saw the bed, all of it suddenly becoming very real.

To my surprise, he put me down on my side. I wondered if he might try fucking me in the ass. It was something I was up for if he wanted to do it, but it wasn’t how I quite imagined it going for my very first time.

I heard a drawer open and could tell that he was taking something out of it.

A condom?

A vibrator?

A butt plug?

Nope.

I wouldn’t know what it was for a while but what I did know was that my man had a plan.

The first strike was wonderfully gentle. An upward stroke with his hand slightly cupped, feeling more like a quick grope. He focused his attentions on my left ass cheek, it being all he had access to.

I had the feeling he would have put me on my belly but didn’t want to aggravate my already throbbing nipples, again knowing what was good for me better than I did.

The strikes got harsher from there, alternating between brutal to slightly less so, my master pausing every so often to stretch out my asshole, which made me moan with pleasure because it felt so damn good.

Eventually, he eased me onto my front, giving the same treatment to my other cheek, causing similar moans of pleasure and pain to arise from me, to the point that it was hard to tell the difference.

“Did you like it?” he asked, stroking my reddened ass.

“Yes, master.”

“Good. I’m sorry I didn’t ask. I needed to be sure.”

“Sure of what, Master?” I asked.

“That you could take real pain. The clamps and hard spanking. This is still pretty light but I’m glad you could handle it. I want you to be my pet, but I had to make sure you were okay with it first.”

“I can take it, Master,” I assured him. “Anything you want, I’m yours.”

“Good to know,” he said, giving my ass a gentle squeeze, making me moan as opposed to blush.

I though it would likely still be a while before I completely got over my hang-up about my ass, but Simon was certainly helping me along the way.

He’d gotten lotion from the drawer. A really nice, cool formulation that felt like heaven as he smoothed it onto my spanked ass. I could feel my whole body relax, as he stroked it on, making me hum with contentment.

My eyelids starting to feel very heavy indeed and I was happy with what he had just done to me.

In fact, I wanted even more.