Bastian: A Secret Baby Romance (3 page)

"Go ahead," Sebastian said, reading my mind it seemed. "I think you'd look sexy rubbing yourself."

The permission added a thrill to my touches, and my fingers were soon soaking wet, spreading open my labia to dip my middle finger into my aching tunnel. The whole time, Sebastian thrust his cock in and out of my lips, claiming me as his. I could feel him trembling, and a greedy thrill rushed through me, confident that I had him on the edge, when he suddenly pulled back, a long string of drool arcing silver in the light between my lips and the head of his cock.

"Why?" I asked, confused. "Wasn't it good?"

"It was," Sebastian said, his mask of self-control dropping over his face again. "But it's not going to be that easy."

Barely bending down, he picked me up off the floor, his powerful arms carrying me like I was a child to turn me over and deposit me on the edge of the bed. My knees couldn't touch the floor, but I could at least put my feet down somewhat. I heard him open the drawer to his nightstand and rip open a package, and I knew what was coming.

I didn’t have much time to prepare myself, as he split me open from behind, his thick cock easing into me. I almost screamed, but between the arousal I’d been feeling all day helped, and he slipped in before the pain became too much. Even better, he paused about halfway in, pulling back and thrusting in short little jabs until I was mewling in pleasure.

Sebastian's thrusts became longer, each one going a bit deeper until I felt his hips push against my ass. He huffed behind me. I could barely turn my head, he was pushing into me so firmly into the bed, but I could see his eyes close, and the mask drop off of his face again, showing how much pleasure he was getting from me.

"The reason all your other lovers never satisfied you is because none of them were strong enough to handle you. For all of your confidence, all the work you do in school, all the pack leading you do with your friends, you want someone stronger that you can trust and give yourself to."

I nodded, as best I could. "Like you."

Sebastian opened his eyes, and smiled down at me. "Like me. You know I'm going to ruin you for other men from now on, don't you?"

"I won't need other men," I replied. Sebastian rewarded me with a long, slow thrust of his cock, the ripples coursing through my body. The slow-motion dragged my nipples across the bedspread, adding to the fire in my body. "Let me give myself to you."

Sebastian's thrusts became steady, his hands holding my hips as he filled me over and over. I wanted to let myself be taken away in the intense pleasure he was giving me, to just wail like all of his other lovers, chasing my own orgasm, but I knew if I was to have what I really wanted, I had to keep just a bit of my self-control. Instead, I turned all of my mind that I could to pleasuring Sebastian, my stepbrother.

Squeezing myself tight around his cock, I started pushing back, meeting each of his thrusts with my own, adding to his pleasure. My ass ached with each slap of his hips against me, but I didn't care, the soft grunts from him more than wiping away the light pain.

"Fuck me, fuck me, Sebastian," I grunted, surprised the words slipped out of my mouth. He’d been right. Maybe I could bend other men to my will, but to Sebastian, I was
his
, to be slut or princess at his discretion.

My body was tired, my insides burning with the ache of his massive cock filling me over and over, and I could feel my orgasm rushing quickly upon me. I couldn't hold it back anymore, regardless of how much I tried. With a scream, I clamped down as hard as I could, the orgasm tearing through me harder than I had ever came before. No man had ever made me come so hard, even toys or my own hand paled in comparison.

Suddenly, I felt the reward I had been yearning for. Sebastian's breathing became frantic grunts, and with a final spastic thrust, he slammed into me, my hip-bones groaning in protest as they were pushed into the edge of the bed again. He cried out, a sound I had never heard him utter before in all the years I had heard him fucking in his room. The feeling and the knowledge caused my dwindling orgasm to flare again, my tired throat crying out softly from the knowledge that I’d made him explode.

He sagged back, his butt hitting a dressing table on the far side away from the bed, leaving me lying there on the edge, my fingers giving me at least a little bit of grip to avoid tumbling to the floor. I felt the bedspread start to let go of its tuck, but before I could fall, Sebastian picked me up, helping me fully onto the bed before ripping the condom off and throwing it in the wastebasket.

"You definitely get a second time," he breathed, causing me to smile. “Maybe a third. Hell, if you can keep that up, we might just make this an exclusive partnering."

* * *

A
fter that first time
, Sebastian and I fucked almost every night for the past five weeks. Sometimes it was hard and nasty — true fucking — and sometimes it was tender and sweet, making love even. Getting through his mask, I’d found a remarkable depth to Sebastian's personality that I'd never seen before.

We used protection most of the time, but a few times we didn’t. It just felt so much better. He’d always pull out — it was stupid, I know — but it felt so much better that way, and I’d been lost in lust a couple times. When my first period passed without anything happening, I chalked it up to stress and hormones. I wasn’t always consistent with my cycles, and I was getting a hormonal charge that I hadn't had since the beginnings of puberty. But when I missed my second period, I knew. Going down to the pharmacy, I bought two kits, just to be sure. I mean, I couldn’t exactly go to Mom or Donald or the doctor about it without being pretty sure.

And what would Sebastian say? Would he be happy? I just couldn’t imagine him wanting the responsibility of a child.

I was so scared, I couldn't even work up the pee the first time. So I downed a liter of water, and I began to feel the urge in my bladder, and I anxiously twirled the kit around in my hands. The back says if it turns blue, I'm pregnant.

And even though I knew it’d cause a shit storm, I was hoping for blue.

T
he buzzing
of the alarm under my pillow woke me up just like it had every other morning for the past few weeks, right at five-thirty in the morning. The morning staff comes in at six, and I didn't want to take any chances that Sebastian and I would be discovered. Slipping out of his arms, I picked up the pajamas that I had laid on the nightstand next to his bed before we had made love last night. It truly had been making love, with Sebastian taking his time. Even more thrilling to me was afterward, as sleep overcame us both, and he whispered "I love you," in my hair. I didn’t know if he realized what he was saying as he was half asleep, but one could hope.

"Mmmmm, what are you doing Little One?" Sebastian mumbled, his face sexy even if he was half asleep. "I enjoy you in my arms."

"I know, but I don't think we want your father or my mother discovering us because the morning staff let their tongues wag," I replied. "It's already five thirty."

"That means I still have thirty minutes to enjoy you," Sebastian replied, pulling me back into bed with him. For the next ten minutes we kissed, just slow explorations of each other's lips, not even trying to escalate to something more erotic. Finally, I had to push back, or else I would have stayed in bed with him all day.

"I need to go, Sebastian," I whispered, "please."

He nodded and smiled, a hint of the cockiness that he showed the rest of the world on his lips. He knew he had me, and he knew that I was perfectly happy with that situation. "Tonight then?"

"Well, I will see you at breakfast," I replied with a small chuckle, knowing what he meant. From breakfast until the last servant left the Witherspoon mansion, we were Cassie and Sebastian, step-siblings who still lived at home while attending college. We snapped at each other, laughed, taunted, and basically acted like most other siblings, although with a bit of an edge to it that everyone chalked up to an inherent rivalry.

At night, though, we were Master and Little One, lovers who found in each other a fulfillment that we had never experienced before. To the rest of the world, we were the epitome of Alpha, commanding the respect and admiration of our social spheres. To Sebastian, I was his Little One, protected and treasured while I gave myself fully to him. I held nothing back from him, except for the secret I had learned only two days prior. It wasn't that I didn't think he deserved to know, but I just didn't know how to bring it up. After all, just how do you bring up the fact that in less than six weeks of subservient bliss, I had somehow become pregnant?

Making my way through our shared bathroom and into my bedroom, I pondered the idea. I mean, Sebastian and I hadn't even brought up the idea of how exclusive our relationship would be. After all, he was Sebastian Witherspoon, scion of Donald Witherspoon, one of the richest men in America. His reputation as one of the great ladies men of our generation was well-deserved. My reputation was more wholesome, and the gossip rags didn't pay nearly as much attention to me. After all, I was just the stepdaughter. Unless I was being treated like Cinderella and cleaning the kitchen, nobody really cared what the hell I did.

Sliding quickly into the shower stall, I took my time getting ready for the day. Since Sebastian and I started sleeping together, he had started letting me use the shower first in the mornings — it was one of those little changes that had taken place in our relationship. The water felt good running over my back and shoulders, and I took the time to wash and fully detangle my long black hair. Sebastian liked to run his hands through it, and while it felt amazing, if I don't take care of my hair, I end up with atrocious knots and snarls. Thankfully Donald had no problem with me buying any hair care products I wanted, and the feeling of the organic coconut-based conditioner felt heavenly.

After my shower, I got dressed like I normally did when I have class. I mean, college is nothing at all like high school, and the fashion police are a lot less strict. In fact, overdressing seemed to be a lot less strict than underdressing. So while my jeans were still designer, my t-shirt was straight from the student union, and my shoes were regular Nikes, although I tend to like the throwback designs over the flats or other shoes that are popular nowadays. The only nod to my family's wealth was in my laptop, which was just a decked out MacBook Pro. It was expensive, but not exactly something you needed to be a one-percenter to have. Still, I used a plain blue backpack, in fact the same one I had in high school to carry it around.

Carrying my stuff downstairs, I heard Sebastian showering as I stepped out of my door. Heading downstairs, I dragged my mind away from the mental image of my sexy stepbrother and into the schedule I had for the rest of my day. After breakfast, my first class was at ten, a mandatory English class that really was a lot of fun. It was focused on speech making and composition, and since I plan on going into public relations, I kind of felt like it was right up my alley. After lunch, I had two more classes, neither of which were all that much fun but at least knocked out some of my undergraduate requirements. Trust me, I was so looking forward to next semester when I could really start taking classes that only focused on what I wanted to study.

I found Mom and Donald already sitting down at the dining room table when I came in. Donald was really one of those down-to-earth types in a lot of ways. I mean, the man has more money than I can even count. He still gets up every day to go down to his office, wearing a regular suit just like the rest of the managers and puts in an honest eight-hour day. I even got to watch him at work one time, a high school project connected with "Bring Our Daughters To Work Day." In my opinion, race car drivers probably have a more exciting job, but he definitely didn't sit around in his office shuffling papers and screwing off — the man worked.

"Morning guys," I said, sitting down in the chair next to Mom. The dining room table could handle a dozen people easily, so we only sat at one end except when Donald threw dinners for those he wanted to invite over. "What's for breakfast?"

"Chef made eggs, some lamb sausage, and fresh vegetable medley," Mom said with a grin. She had recently gotten on the Paleo Diet kick, and while our chef does do some wonders with spinach, meat, and eggs, I have to admit I sometimes snuck some bread or a peanut butter sandwich while I was at school. "Is Sebastian coming down?"

"Of course I am," Sebastian said behind me, coming down in just some basketball shorts and a tank top. "Forgive the casual clothes, but I don't have any classes until the afternoon. I think I'm going to have a workout after breakfast, then get ready to go."

"Have you heard from Harvard Law yet, son?" Donald asked, as he picked at his food. Donald had been going through a lot of stress lately, and it showed in his eating habits. He'd lost close to twenty pounds recently, and despite what the Hollywood types say, you
can
be too thin, but I'm not sure about too rich. "Old Man Carruthers was asking me the other day, and I honestly didn't know for sure."

"That's okay Dad," Sebastian replied. "To answer your question, though, no I haven't. But I was kind of thinking of staying closer to home. I mean, we've got a top flight law school right here in town, you know."

At Sebastian's words, my ears perked up. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? "Perhaps, but you know the family tradition is Harvard," Donald said wistfully. "The connections you make there could become very important."

"Dad, I know. Skull and Bones, the boy's club, all that jazz. But I'm not sure if I'm ready for the whole Harvard thing anyway. I mean, those connections were important back in your day, but in the Internet age, the new generation of movers and shakers are coming from a totally different background. I've got just as good a chance at making those connections here as I am at any of the Ivy League schools. And I'll be closer to home, which means I can start to learn the ropes. Besides, I think I fit in better here than I would living in Boston."

I wasn't sure how to take Sebastian's words, but when he looked across the table and smiled at me, I felt something stir inside me, more than just the normal lust I felt whenever he was around. Blushing, I put my head down and rushed through the rest of my breakfast. Sebastian was even faster, though, and I still had three bites of egg and sausage when his fork clattered into his bowl.

"Amanda, please pass on my compliments to the chef. He's done a great job as usual. If you'll excuse me, Dad, Amanda . . . Little One."

My blush deepened as Sebastian came around the table, giving my mother and myself a kiss on the forehead before heading back to the house gym. I wolfed down the last bite of my food and grabbed my bag. "Me too," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Thanks, guys."

"It's nice to see that you and Sebastian are getting along better," my mom said, a smile on her face. I knew she’d felt bad at the acrimonious nature of our relationship, perhaps the only regret of her pursuit and marrying of Donald Witherspoon. While she didn't know what the nature of the change between us was, I could see she at least was happy there was something better than fighting between us.

As I sat through my classes, I kept going back to the debate raging in my head. Was I going to tell Sebastian about my pregnancy? I mean, it wasn't like I could disguise it forever. I'd seen pictures of what my mom looked like when she was pregnant with me, women in my family did not have small pregnancy bellies. Even if I did, Sebastian saw me naked almost every night — he'd eventually notice. Thank God I didn't have morning sickness at least.

That led me to the other thought in my mind, what about the baby and me, and the rest of my family. I knew I wanted to keep the baby, that was for sure. I just don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I were to terminate it. While there were no religious problems with that, it just wasn't for me. But what was I going to tell my mom and Donald? The question swirled around and around in my head until thankfully my last class was over. The late afternoon sun felt nice on my face walking out of the math building, lifting my spirits. I wasn't sure how it would all work out, but somehow I knew that it would.