Bearing My Boss's Baby (An MPreg Romance) Page 2

  Kevin growled, and then they were moving faster than Claude thought they had any right to move with Kevin carrying his full weight. The sliding door crashed open and they burst into the soft light of the main room of the suite, not stopping for an instant as Kevin propelled both of them toward the hallway where Claude knew his bedroom must lie.

  With his face pressed into the side of Kevin's neck, he could hardly see any of this, just the changing light and the noise as Kevin thrust open another door. Someone's heart was going a mile a minute and Claude couldn't tell whose. He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling Kevin's cologne, and then found himself falling for a heartstopping moment until he landed with a bounce on Kevin's enormous bed.

  Looming over him, Kevin looked hungry, his brows shadowing eyes that looked almost black in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Claude shivered, suppressing a moan. Kevin looked like he could eat him up, and Claude wanted nothing more in this moment. Already sprawled out on the bed, his legs fell further apart almost of their own accord as he stared up into Kevin's face, feeling nothing but the want that was overtaking him.

  Kevin bent to kiss him, devouring his mouth, his teeth sharp against Claude's lip as they worried it to swollen redness. His hands scrabbled at the buttons on Claude's shirt, the thin cloth tearing once, and then again as he groaned into Claude's mouth and ripped the shirt right off his body, tossing the wreck to the floor.

  Claude's pants followed the same way, his keys clattering to the floor as his dress pants split and were thrown aside in their turn. Kevin's expression turned darkly smug, his gaze raking over Claude's nakedness with unabashed pleasure. Claude felt himself flush again, the rush of blood down his chest now visible to both of them, his dick—redder still—twitching and jerking into the cool air of the room.

  His eyes glued to Kevin, Claude watched the other man undress with the same demanding haste, his shirt jerked out of his waistband and tossed across the room, his trousers already stretched by the prominence of his erection and almost ripping outwards as Kevin freed his cock to stand hard and thick against his belly, a kind of promise in the weight of it as it bobbed with every move of his lithe body.

  There was hardly a moment for Claude to admire it, however, as Kevin climbed onto the bed, kneeling between Claude's spread thighs. He slid one hand down Claude's chest, tracing the spread of his blush down to his nipple and running his fingers over the sensitive bud, his nails scraping across it and making Claude gasp with pleasure. His other hand caressed Claude's face, cupping his cheek in one large palm and drawing him up on his elbows to meet Kevin's mouth for another searing kiss.

  Claude felt weak and overwhelmed, desperate with lust. He pushed up into the kiss, ignoring his trembling limbs as he slipped on the smooth cotton of the sheets, his toes digging into the mattress as they curled with pleasure. He could feel Kevin's dick now, the curve of it lying against his inner thigh, now pressed against his hip as Kevin shifted his weight to pull Claude's head back and bite at his throat.

  Even in little touches, moved away by Kevin's shifting body, it seemed thick and heavy, a weight that might actually fill up the ache that seemed to throb inside Claude with every new connection of their bodies. He groaned aloud at the thought, arching his neck up towards Kevin's mouth, his thighs squeezing around the solid weight of Kevin's hips. He thrust up once, feeling the head of his dick rub across Kevin's abs and leave a trail of wetness there, a line of cold when he thrust again.

  Kevin's hand slid along Claude's thigh, his thumb scraping across the tenderest skin as he pushed Claude's thighs apart and pulled back from the mark he'd been leaving on Claude's neck. Claude used the moment of calm to suck in a gasping breath, and then Kevin's hands were back, his fingers slick as they circled the rim of his hole. When had he had a moment to grab lube? Was Claude really that dazed with lust? It was hard to think with thick fingers stretching him open, curling inside until he was shaking around the intrusion, his breath coming in short, hard pants.

  He wanted Kevin inside him, and he felt his legs spread wider as though he was urging him to get on with it, to really fuck him. He squirmed around the thick weight of Kevin's fingers, slick and open and ready, and he almost screamed when Kevin slid his free hand along the line of his thigh and bent him nearly in half before pulling his fingers out with a sound that was filthy in its wetness.

  Was Kevin's dick even thicker than he'd thought? He was already so wet, so open, but the head of Kevin's cock was nearly splitting him, pushing bluntly inside and pinning him to the bed. Claude moaned again, the sound vibrating through him as he felt Kevin enter him, sliding in smoothly, one wet hand on his ass to hold him open.

  When he could open his eyes again, Kevin was still leaning over him, his normally calm face flushed with the effort of keeping his hips mostly still, only the tiniest thrusts shaking Claude's ass. He looked amazing like this, or was it that he felt amazing, his hips starting to rock more firmly now, in and out with hardly a pause.

  Claude clutched at the sheet and tried to hang on. Every thrust seemed to shake the bed, to send the breath screaming out of his lungs, and still Kevin kept going, pounding into him as he stared down at Claude's face with the same hungry expression he'd had at the start. They were pressed close together now, belly to belly with Claude's hard cock trapped between them, smearing wetness across both of their bodies as it jerked against the friction of their fucking.

  He was so close now, feeling his muscles tense from inside, a groan from Kevin letting him know that Kevin was feeling it too. He would have moved more, have thrashed on the bed as he spasmed to orgasm, but Kevin was on top of him, his weight pinning Claude to the mattress, his hips pumping as they came together with a cry that carried the full force of their hoarse throats.

  After that, the clean-up was more of a blur, everything fading away in a post-orgasmic haze of bright lights and electricity in his veins. Claude felt amazing, replete and sated, his limbs heavy with tiredness and the languor of having been extremely well fucked. And that was about all he was aware of until the next morning, waking to the blaring of an unfamiliar alarm, wrapped in all too familiar arms, full of the knowledge of all of his bad decisions.

  Chapter 4

  Kevin

  Kevin awoke in the morning to the odd sight of Claude fleeing the room, wrapped in the complimentary hotel bathrobe. He rolled over, pulling himself up into a vaguely sitting position, his knees slipping into the hollow of warm blankets left after Claude's abrupt departure.

  He slumped over, elbows on his knees, and spotted the tattered remains of Claude's suit on the floor. That at least explained the bathrobe part of the mystery, though not why Claude was fleeing. Had he really done that? Not the sex, of course. The sex he was frankly kind of proud of and would be happy to repeat anywhere anytime. But actually tearing the clothes off his partner was the kind of Alpha stereotype he normally didn't indulge himself in.

  But his mild embarrassment was heavily tempered by the bone-deep sense of satisfaction he felt as he thought over last night's exploits. He'd known there was something sparking between him and Claude since he'd hired the other man as his assistant. Last night had proven his point and then some. There wasn't just a spark: there was a whole forest fire.

  Kevin let himself fall backwards onto the bed, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Plenty of time to revel in his memories. As much as he would have loved parading Claude past their coworkers this morning like some kind of well-fucked trophy, perhaps it was for the best that Claude had given them a chance to play subtle. The business deal they'd completed yesterday was enough drama for the moment. This thing between him and Claude wasn't going to go anywhere. Kevin would have plenty of time to confirm the claim he'd staked last night.

  In the meantime, he amused himself by making up for his barbarism of the night before. He definitely owed Claude a new suit. The question was: what sort of suiting would flatter Claude best. He reached out to grab his tablet off the nightstand and settled back agains
t the rich swathe of pillows to consider the options at his favorite tailor.

  Something slim-fitting, certainly. There was no reason to hide Claude's lovely body, and the tailors would temper any of Kevin's tendencies towards excess in that department. Something modern, because Kevin liked it and while there wasn't a good reason that he should look good next to Kevin's own wardrobe, there also wasn't a good reason why he shouldn't.

  He wasted some time trying to recall the exact shade of green that Claude's eyes turned when he was drunk with sex and staring lustfully into Kevin's gaze, but finally decided that this shade of gray would cover most possibilities, and the subtle texture would be flattering. Measurements were another puzzling piece, but Kevin made some good guesses—he'd had his hands all over Claude's body after all—and appended a few pictures to the order. The tailors would figure it out, and if they failed, Claude could always have the suit refitted. Kevin would be happy to help with that. He'd be happy to help with a lot of things.

  Finishing out the order with a few extra details, Kevin confirmed and leaned back on his pillows, pushing the tablet away with satisfaction. The pillows smelled of Claude. Kevin inhaled deeply, allowing his mind to wander just a touch. Last night had surpassed his wildest dreams, and he deserved a moment to revel in his future happiness. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Still fairly early, but his phone, lying next to it, was practically a fireworks display of notifications.

  Shit. This was probably why Claude had left so abruptly. There were business fires to put out. Kevin rolled over with a sigh and grabbed his phone, scrolling through notifications without raising his head. He hardly ever had a morning without a dozen emails to respond to, but this seemed like more than usual, half of them flashing URGENT, though he doubted they really merited the tag. He started reading, sliding out of the bed to pull his pants on one-handed, his whole attention focused on the phone in his hand.

  Half these problems were entirely related to people forgetting that he was currently in a different time zone and could be dismissed, the other half seemed to have all forgotten that he'd written up plans to be followed in the event of success in Seattle, and they were expected to carry them out even if the negotiations ended late and main office didn't find out until Kevin was already out of commission, sleeping the sleep of the successful and extremely sexually satisfied.

  He sighed, much less relaxed than he had been earlier, and started sending off terse and unimpressed replies, continuing all the way through his shaving routine, and his breakfast, right up until he stepped into the limo on the way to the airport.

  "Did I bring the only four competent people on this trip?" he snapped to his employees as the car door shut behind him. "Have you seen the nonsense coming out of head office this morning?"

  "I think they're just excited," Carmen said soothingly. "We had yesterday evening to celebrate, after all. They'll calm down once we're back."

  "They'd better," Kevin grumbled.

  "I have the digest of this morning's reports," Claude piped in.

  Kevin turned to look at him, hoping to indicate somehow that he wasn't including Claude in his annoyance at the rest of their coworkers, but Claude was bent over his tablet, fingers flying as he typed, and he didn't look up to see Kevin's smile. "Send them over then," Kevin said, faintly disappointed.

  "Sent." Claude didn't look up. In an instant the reports were appearing on Kevin's phone, and then he couldn't really avoid looking at them, not with everyone else cheek by jowl in the back of the limo. Besides, one glance at the reports told him that there were more fires to put out. No time to waste.

  The ride to the airport went by quickly, with everyone cocooned in their own little bubbles, bent over their phones typing on tiny keypads. Kevin had almost finished his backlog by the time the limo pulled up, and was looking forward to a peaceful coffee in the business lounge, half-hoping for a chance to get a word in alone with Claude. But delays were announced almost as soon as they reached the check-in desk and the next three hours were a harried rush of trying to reschedule meetings and staking a claim to the conference room in the lounge in an attempt to have at least one of them, even if it had to be over terrible airport WiFi and a conference call line.

  His team, Kevin was proud to say, held up their own end to perfection. But no one's professionalism can last forever, and by the time that their plane dawdled its way home, it was nearly three and Kevin was done with the incompetents in his office for the day. There was little harm they could get into for the moment, and perhaps the fires were less thoroughly alight than they had seemed when he was on the other side of the country.

  "Three day weekend," he said firmly as his negotiating team clustered at the baggage pick-up, staring exhaustedly at the still conveyor belt. "For all of you. You've earned it. I'll see all of you on Monday."

  That cheered the group up quite a bit, something that became necessary when the luggage took even longer to arrive than usual. Kevin had meant to have a private word with Claude somewhere in there, but his bag arrived looking like someone had taken a mallet to it, and by the time he'd returned from remonstrating with the clerk at the desk, Claude had grabbed his own bag and vanished. Kevin would have to find some other way.

  Chapter 5

  Claude

  Claude hadn't expected Kevin to acknowledge anything when they were all stuffed in a limo on their way to the airport the next morning, or even when they were all sitting in first class. There wasn't anything about last night that Claude wanted to have to explain to the rest of the team, and they were never out of one another's sight for more than an instant.

  He'd considered, for a moment, waiting to leave with Kevin, but his nerve had failed him at the last minute and he'd slunk off, bag in hand, while Kevin was distracted by some airport staff. It wasn't as though he'd had some big plan, some declaration to make. He was ashamed now of his own cowardice at fleeing the morning after, but he'd been overwhelmed waking up in Kevin's bed, the magnitude of their actions slamming into him as if with a physical blow.

  Or was he overreacting? It was hardly as if Kevin had tried to stop him from leaving, or even said a word to slow his heedless flight. Was what had passed between him and Kevin hardly a blip of an event, as little worthy of comment as a hug between coworkers that lasted a moment too long? There had been plenty of time for Kevin to contact him after all. They'd both been on their phones for the whole long journey home, delays included. Had there really been no moment for Kevin to send a text?

  Was this three day weekend some kind of hint? Was Kevin avoiding him? Claude threw his head back against his own couch, narrowly avoiding the corner of the side table that had done him so many minor injuries in the past, and groaned aloud into the quiet of his apartment.

  To make matters worse, it wasn't as if Kevin was entirely avoiding him. Claude had just as many messages from his boss as he ever had. Still, it stung that none of them contained even a hint of what had felt like an intense connection between the two of them, just the same old terse comments and brief thanks for the work that Claude was doing.

  It was a hint, wasn't it? Claude's foolish heart aside, it would be rampant idiocy to continue to lie to himself. This job was the best he'd ever had. He'd pushed away his feelings, his attraction, for months in order to keep it. Now that he had the chance to continue as usual after making what could have been the biggest mistake of his career, would he not be an idiot to ignore Kevin's warnings and continue to push after he'd been warned away?

  At least now he had the memories to hold close to his heart, the knowledge that he hadn't imagined how sizzling their chemistry could be when they both wanted it.

  The question, however, continued to haunt Claude. Whenever he thought he'd made up his mind, he'd find himself pulled in the opposite direction, recalling both the heat in Kevin's gaze and the complete lack of personal interest in the messages with which he continued to pepper Claude's inbox, three-day weekend or not. Claude found himself pacing his apar
tment, unable to relax into the unexpected break with the question hammering away at his mind.

  He'd spent two days in this unprofitable wrangling when he was surprised by a knock at his apartment door. No one had even pressed his buzzer, and he wasn't expecting anyone or anything. Especially not this harried courier who handed him a large flat box, pressed the stylus into his hand to sign for it, and took off without any further explanation.

  The box wasn't terribly heavy, and it was neatly packaged with a small, tasteful label beside the address information, though the company was unfamiliar to Claude. He checked the address twice. That was him all right. Street name, apartment number, down to the correct spelling of his last name, which didn't always happen. It wasn't someone else's delivery. But that didn't make it any clearer what it actually was.

  He set the box down on his table, slitting the tape carefully to reveal layers of precisely folded tissue paper. A card flicked out and fell to the ground as Claude lifted those away, and he reached down for it before delving further into the box.

  The plain white card held a familiar scrawl. It said: An apology for Friday's destruction. -Kevin and nothing else.

  Destruction wasn't quite the word that Claude would have used for what had happened on Friday, until he turned back to the box, lifting out a perfectly folded white shirt and he remembered the absolute wreck Kevin had made of his suit right before they'd really gotten down to business.

  Under the shirt, an equally perfect suit was folded, perfectly square and neat. Claude shook it out, feeling the nap of the fabric in his hands, almost afraid of how much nicer it felt than anything else he owned. It was definitely a million times better than the suit that Kevin had torn. Beneath the suit, another card rested at the bottom of the box, this one stamped with the restrained type of Kevin's tailors, a name that suddenly came back to Claude from the two or three times he'd handled the paperwork. This was a hell of an apology. Could he even accept it?