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  Daddy’s Baby

  A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

  B. B. Hamel

  Copyright © 2017 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Prologue: Teagan

  1. Declan

  2. Teagan

  3. Declan

  4. Teagan

  5. Declan

  6. Teagan

  7. Declan

  8. Teagan

  9. Declan

  10. Teagan

  11. Declan

  12. Teagan

  13. Declan

  14. Teagan

  15. Declan

  16. Teagan

  17. Declan

  18. Teagan

  19. Declan

  20. Teagan

  21. Declan

  22. Teagan

  23. Teagan

  24. Declan

  25. Declan

  26. Teagan

  27. Teagan

  Possessive Daddy: A Dark Romance

  Virgin’s Daddy: A Billionaire Romance

  Small Town Daddy: A Dark Romance

  Thank You

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  Prologue: Teagan

  It’s the sort of party I thought only existed in the movies.

  We had to drive for almost an hour before we finally found the place. Nestled on the top of a hill outside of the city, surrounded by rolling green grass, is a big house with white columns and so many windows I can barely count them.

  I look over at Morgan and she grins at me. “Told you they’re rich.”

  We slowly roll up the driveway in my beat-up silver Nissan Altima. It’s ten years old and practically falling apart, and I feel so totally out of place that it almost hurts. Parked along the grass are expensive sports cars, beautiful sedans, and SUVs that cost more than a house.

  A man in a tuxedo jacket waves us into a spot. We park and climb out, and everything about this place makes me feel incredibly shabby as we head toward the front door, the gravel of the driveway crunching under my heels.

  “You’re gonna love it,” Morgan says, taking my arm. I try and force myself to smile. Sara gives me a look and shrugs a little bit.

  We walk inside the front door and into the party. It’s packed with people in expensive clothing, and I can’t help but notice how most people are much older than we are. Sara and I are in law school, getting close to our last year and the bar exam. Morgan is a few years older than us, but I have no clue what she does for a living. I know it involves a lot of travel and a lot of Instagram posts, but other than that, she’s totally vague about it.

  But she’s the reason we’re here. Morgan’s my cousin, and I’m pretty sure she only invited me because I have a car and could drive us out here. As soon as we step in the door, she recognizes someone and darts away from us.

  “That lasted longer than I expected,” Sara says.

  “I thought she’d jump and roll out of the car to avoid being seen in it.”

  Sara laughs and grabs two glasses of champagne from a nearby tray. “To being poor law school idiots.”

  “To being out of our element.”

  Sara laughs. “Cheers.”

  We clink glasses and drink. I catch sight of Morgan drifting off with this gorgeous guy, thick hair, muscular chest, white teeth. She’s beautiful in her dark, form-fitting dress, and I realize that she totally blends into the crowd.

  Meanwhile, Sara and I stand out. We’re dressed up, of course, but I still feel totally wrong. Admittedly, I’ve been spending the last four years finishing up law school instead of buying expensive clothing, but still. I can’t help but feel like a stranger, made worse by the fact that we don’t know a single person here. When I asked Morgan about who’s throwing this party, she just gave me her usual vague hand-waving answer, something about a guy in the oil business.

  “Let’s mingle,” Sara says, looking around.

  “Or we can find the bar and get hammered.”

  She grins at me. “You’re driving, you know.”

  “No way,” I shoot back. “I drove all the way here.”

  “Flip a coin for it?”

  “Fine,” I grumble, digging a quarter out of my purse. “Heads.” I flip it into the air and catch it in my hand. I slowly turn it over and groan: it’s tails.

  “Ha!” Sara throws her drink back. “Lucky me.”

  We drift through the party. I’m feeling a little sour now, since I’ll be going through this sober, and I know Sara’s going to get wrecked. That’s not the worst thing in the world, though.

  The house itself is beautiful, modern and sleek. It’s like the house from Eyes Wide Shut, except there’s no orgy going on, although part me of wishes there were. That might be more fun, at least to watch.

  Men and women stand in groups, sipping their glasses and talking. I can’t help but imagine they’re all chatting about industry and economics, the men going on about their stock prices, the women talking about the latest designer pant suit they bought from Barney’s. It’s not my scene at all, but there’s a kind of scientific curiosity I can lose myself in. I feel like Jane Goodall studying the apes.

  “Here we go,” Sara says, grabbing my hand. She tugs me through another large room, this one library-themed. Old books line the shelves, although I’m not sure if they’re real or not. She heads over to a bar in the back corner, staffed by two blandly handsome young men in white shirts. Sara asks for a gin and tonic and I keep sipping my glass of champagne.

  “What do you think the net worth of this house is right now?” Sara asks me, drinking her gin.

  “Probably more than most small countries.” I catch sight of a couple wearing matching fur coats, the man with a monocle in his eye, which seems like the most insane thing in the world.

  “Higher than some big countries too, I bet,” she says.

  We stand up near a lamp with a frilly yellow shade and a long gold stem that billows out into a round patterned body. Sara drinks her drink and I watch the people pass by as we chat about school, basically keeping to ourselves, a little party of two amidst all these strangers.

  Part of me wonders if people even notice us. I’m guessing they don’t. We’re just two anonymous girls in a party filled to the brim with fashionable rich people. Nobody would even notice two poor law school students.

  A couple hours slip past that way. Sara has one drink after the next and soon enough, she’s pretty drunk. Not hammered or blacked out, but drunk enough to be overly friendly, chatting with anyone that gets near.

  I glance at my watch as Sara approaches a group of older women, each of them wearing necklaces studded in diamonds like old world socialites. I sigh and turn toward the bar, planning on having another glass of champagne, or maybe just a half. I’m tired and ready to leave but I know dragging Sara out of here is going to be impossible.

  I accept my drink from the bartender and go to leave. As I turn around, I nearly collide right into someone. He reaches out and grabs my arm, steadying me, managing to make sure that my drink doesn’t spill.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh god, I’m sorry,” I answer, getting a good look at him.

  I’m a little taken aback. He’s smiling at me, this cocky smirk,
with his hand on my arm, sending tingles down my spine. He’s probably the most handsome man in this place, maybe the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. Mid to late thirties, close-cropped hair, straight white teeth, stubble on his jaw. His clothes fit him perfectly, though they’re understated; a dark suit, a white shirt, no tie. He’s muscular, but athletic. He looks like he belongs and he doesn’t belong at all, which is impossible for me to really understand.

  “Are you okay?” he asks again.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Really.”

  “Let me get you another drink.”

  I glance at my glass. I didn’t spill a drop. “Okay,” I say stupidly.

  He smiles and takes away my drink, switching it out for a new one. He turns toward me, a glass of whisky on his hand.

  “How do you know Miguel?” he asks me.

  “Miguel?” I stare at him blankly.

  His smile gets bigger. “Crashing, huh?”

  I shake my head. “No, god no, my cousin was invited. She’s around here somewhere. I just don’t know anyone.”

  “Damn,” he says, still grinning. “I was hoping you were crashing. That’s always so much more fun.”

  “Why?”

  “Then I’d get to punish you.” A little wicked gleam in his eye and I feel a spike run through me.

  “Ah, okay,” I say, glance away from his piercing blue eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Teagan.”

  “Pretty name.” He sips his whisky. “I’m Declan.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  He’s over six feet tall, and I’m around five foot five, so he looks down at me, making me feel small. I actually like it, how big and powerful he seems.

  “These parties are always a little boring,” he says to me, steering me away from the bar. I glance over and spot Sara still talking to those old ladies. “Miguel is a good guy but these people…” Declan shakes his head.

  “These people?” I ask him.

  He laughs softly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  “Noticed what?”

  He leans in to me, making my heart start beating hard. “It’s a bunch of rich assholes.”

  I stare at him for a second before we both starting laughing. He’s clearly wealthy, or at least he’s dressed like he is, but he’s not talking like anyone else in here.

  “I won’t lie, I thought you were just like them,” I say to him. “And why would you assume that I’m not rich?”

  He shrugs a little bit. “You apologized when we bumped into each other. Usually these people are too busy thinking about their bottom line to be polite.”

  That gets me laughing again. “How else?” I ask.

  “You don’t look like you were recently oppressing the impoverished,” he says.

  “Is that a specific look?”

  “Sure,” he answers. “No blood on your boots. And your monocle doesn’t have a bit of mud on it.”

  I laugh as he grins at me, clearly enjoying himself. We fall into small talk, mostly chatting about the people we see around us. I finish my drink and have another, and soon I find myself in a little corner with Declan, listening to him tell me about the people walking past us.

  “Oh, and that’s old Belinda,” he says as a tiny white-haired woman in mink and pearls ambles past. “She owns half the west coast. Rumor is she killed her husband for his oil money.”

  “Did she really?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head. “No. High cholesterol and a sedentary lifestyle did him in.”

  I lean in closer as he talks. I suddenly forget all about my discomfort, all about Sara and Morgan, which isn’t exactly very nice of me. Though in my defense, they both ditched me first. I haven’t seen any sign of Morgan for hours actually, and I realize that I don’t know how she’s going to get home.

  For that matter, I don’t know how I’ll get home. Ever since talking with Declan, I let myself have a few more drinks, and I’m actually pretty tipsy. I don’t think I’ll be able to drive anytime soon.

  “Oh, shit,” I say to him as he offers me another drink. “I can’t. I’ve already had too many.”

  He cocks his head at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I drove here. I mean, I have to drive home…”

  “Ah,” he says, understanding. “Come with me.” He takes my hand, sending a jolt through my body, and he leads me through the party.

  We split the crowd and end up moving out a large glass door and into the back yard. A lovely stone patio curls around a perfectly manicured pool. There are only a few people out here illuminated by tiki torches.

  We stop and he turns toward me. I cock my head at him. “Why are we out here?” I ask him.

  “Fresh air,” he says. “Sober you up a bit.”

  “I don’t think that’ll work,” I say, laughing.

  “I know.” He smirks but I don’t think he’s trying to be funny. “Truth is, I just wanted you all to myself.”

  I don’t know what I’m thinking, but when he pulls me against him and kisses me, I kiss him back.

  This isn’t like me. I don’t go to strange parties and kiss strange men. I don’t drink too much when I have to drive home and I definitely don’t ditch my friends.

  But as soon as my lips touch his, a hunger deep inside of me sparks awake and dives through my skin, tingling down my fingertips, flowing out along my body. I can’t believe this feeling as I pull myself tighter against his muscular body, kissing him full and deep.

  Finally, we pull apart, a gleam in his eye. “Let me take you home.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t think so.”

  “Not to your house,” he says softly, his hand slowly moving up my back and along my neck. He stops, palm in my hair, gently pulling it back. “Back to mine.” He kisses my neck softly.

  I let out a soft moan, surprising myself. I can’t believe I just let him touch me like that, let him make me moan right here. There’s a couple ten feet away smoking cigarettes and I know they heard me.

  I just can’t help myself, though. “What about my friends?” I ask. “Sara and my cousin. I’m their ride.”

  “My driver will bring them home,” he says. “Give me your keys. I’ll have him drop them off and your car.”

  “I can’t,” I say. “That’s insane.”

  “It’s either that or they walk.” He pulls my hair back further. “And you go home alone.”

  I bite my lip. “How can I trust you?”

  He smirks again. “You can’t. But isn’t that part of the fun?”

  He kisses me again, his lips rough against mine, and I know I’m going to say yes. I can see it already: he drives me away from this place, back into the city. He brings me up into his apartment, takes my clothes off slowly, and touches my skin in ways I’ve never felt before. And when he ties my hands behind my back and fucks me deep from behind, filling me up with his hard cock and coming deep inside, it feels natural, it feels so fucking good I can barely breathe.

  “Yes,” I whisper in his ear. I know what’s going to happen, I’ve always known. I can see it right now, in my mind. “I’ll do it.”

  “I know you will.” He kisses me again, and pulls me into his world.

  1

  Declan

  Three Years Later

  I step out of my black town car and glance up at the office building in front of me. The wind slides down the block and ruffles my suit as I adjust my briefcase and take a deep breath.

  Another meeting with lawyers, another wasted afternoon. I hate getting bogged down in legal stuff, especially when a project wasn’t even my idea. If I had my say, we’d move on from this fiasco and find something else, but Reid was insistent. He thinks this is going to be the next big thing.

  “Don’t look so angry,” he says, coming around the car.

  I glance at him and sigh. Reid’s a few years older than me with salt and pepper hair, expensive sunglasses, a strong jaw, and a nice navy suit. I’ve known him for y
ears, ever since we partnered up to start our development firm, and he’s my closest friend in the world.

  And he still annoys the hell out of me sometimes.

  “You’re too chipper,” I say to him as we walk toward the meeting. Our lawyers should already be there, doing whatever it is we pay them to do. And they better be doing it really well, considering how much they cost per hour.

  “I just love this stuff,” Reid says, grinning. “I mean, we have every legal right to develop our property as we see fit, but these environmental wackos wants to stop us anyway.”

  I glance down at the ground. I wouldn’t call these people wackos, not at all. “Still seems like a lot of work for such a small project.”

  “Nonsense,” he says, clapping my shoulder. “This is going to make us millions.”

  I seriously doubt it, but I don’t say that. We’ve been doing so well lately that I can let Reid get away with one, even if I think it’s a waste of time and resources. He seems really invested in it, and I’m not going to stop it, although I wish I weren’t involved at all.

  Not much I can do about it, though. We’re in this together, always have been, and I’ll back him up like I always have.

  We walk into the office building and ride the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. A nice looking secretary with long dark hair leads us into the conference rooms where our lawyers are already in talks with the opposition lawyers.

  I glance at Reid and he tosses me a wink. We sit down at the table and the lawyers barely even acknowledge our presence, which is fine by me. We’re required to be here by law, or at least to make an appearance, but we’re not really doing or saying anything at this meeting. It’s just preliminary, a way for each side to get a feel for the other.