My Father's Rich Friend's Secret Baby Read online

  My Father’s Rich Friend’s Secret Baby

  Copyright © 2019 Jamie Knight Romance.

  This is Book 5 in the His Secret Baby series,

  which are based on theme and can be read alone

  but are best when binge-read altogether!

  1. My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby

  My Dad’s Rival’s Secret Baby

  My Professor’s Secret Baby

  Single Mom’s Secret Baby

  My Father’s Rich Friend’s Secret Baby

  Click here to see all the books in this series!

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

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  Dedication

  To lovers of superhero movies – on the thirtieth anniversary of Michael Keaton as Batman.

  (Although this book was lightly inspired by superhero movies, if they’re not your thing, I think you’ll still like it, as long as you like taboo sex between an older, experienced man and a younger virgin… and secret baby stories too, of course.)

  Content Warnings

  This book has a few dark portions that include abuse, attempted rape and dominant sex with light BDSM. Please do not read it if these things trigger you or aren’t your thing to read about. I have plenty of other secret baby books that do not have these themes.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Content Warnings

  Prologue

  Valeria

  Chapter One

  Alexander

  Chapter Two

  Alexander

  Chapter Three

  Alexander

  Chapter Four

  Alexander

  Chapter Five

  Alexander

  Chapter Six

  Alexander

  Chapter Seven

  Valeria

  Chapter Eight

  Valeria

  Chapter Nine

  Alexander

  Chapter Ten

  Valeria

  Chapter Eleven

  Alexander

  Chapter Twelve

  Valeria

  Chapter Thirteen

  Valeria

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alexander

  Chapter Fifteen

  Valeria

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alexander

  Chapter Seventeen

  Valeria

  Chapter Eighteen

  Valeria

  Chapter Nineteen

  Alexander

  Chapter Twenty

  Valeria

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Valeria

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Valeria

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alexander

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alexander

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Valeria

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alexander

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alexander

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Valeria

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alexander

  Chapter Thirty

  Valeria

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Alexander

  Epilogue

  Valeria

  Sneak Peek of My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby

  Prologue

  Valeria

  It was hot and sticky in the humid summer air, and I was supposed to be sleeping. My strict parents would not approve of me being up this late, but neither would they approve of the thoughts I was having, so at this point, I didn’t think that one sin was any worse than the other. I might as well indulge in them all.

  I couldn’t stop fantasizing about Alexander Foster, the man who I had met at church a few months ago. He was a tech billionaire who seemed to live a lifestyle that I had only seen in superhero movies, with gadgets and servants constantly at his disposal. He was a generous donor to the church, and he was also exceeding handsome.

  But he was also as old as my father was. In fact, he had been my father’s good friend from the past, before I was born, and when my parents had had an altogether different life than they live now.

  My father and Alexander had recently reunited, at church. Alexander had known my father and mother when they were dating, back when both of them had had sordid pasts.

  My mother didn’t like to talk about it these days, but she had been an exotic dancer. It was from her I had inherited what men liked to say were my unique good looks: dark brown hair and eyes and a curvy, sultry body. She and my father had found God and had gotten married, never looking back on the type of life that they had had in the past.

  I supposed this had been a good thing for me, but in a way, I felt too innocent, too sheltered. Now, I was seventeen years old and I hadn’t experienced much of the world. I was still a virgin, and if my father had his say, I would stay that way for life.

  But if he only knew how his friend, Alexander, looked at me, I had a feeling that they would not stay reunited friends for long. I knew Alexander wanted to rip my clothes off and bend me over and take my virginity. And I wanted to let him.

  But he held back, restrained himself, because I was not of age. Soon, though, I would turn eighteen. And I had a feeling deep in my heart – and in my body – that he was going to claim me and make me his.

  I had no idea what that would mean for my life with my strict, over-protective parents. But I also didn’t care. I was ready for experience and adventure, and I wanted it to come from Alexander.

  Nevertheless, I hoped they wouldn’t find out, as I only wanted one night of passion with this older, experienced man. I didn’t fool myself into thinking we could have a lasting love. Alexander was known to have been a player before I met him, although the rumors had died down since then.

  Maybe he, like my parents, had found religion and shaped up. Or maybe a naïve part of me was hoping that meeting me had caused him to settle down.

  Whatever the case, I wanted him to take my virginity as soon as I was of age. Nights like this, my hands traveled down underneath my underwear and I let myself touch my wet pussy that seemed to be throbbing and aching for him.

  I wanted him, bad, and it was evident with how quickly I could bring myself to cum, just by playing with myself and wishing that it was his hands, his cock, down there, instead of just my own fingers.

  I imagined him opening me up with his fingers and then his cock. Pushing himself inside of me and making me cum like this, but even better.

  “Oh, Alexander,” I whispered now, as an orgasm overtook my body and mind. “Please, fuck me soon. I’m about to turn eighteen. Please fuck me hard and good and give me some release from this pressure I’ve been feeling, to be known and loved by you.”

  The midnight prayers of my youth had now been replaced by pleas to Alexander that he would rid me of this yearning for him and provide me with pleasure beyond my wildest dreams.

  Perhaps he would answer my request.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t.

  But at least it made Sunday mornings at church a lot more exciting, now that I could look at him, and see him looking back at me with lust and desire in his eyes.

  I couldn’t help but wonder when he was going to fuck my brains out, even though he was twice my age, and my father’s friend. I knew it was going to happen, and I somehow just had to be patient and wait for him to bring me what I so desperately desired: his cock, for my very first time.

  Chapter One

  Alexander

  It was too bright ev
en before I opened my eyes. Light footsteps brushed the carpeted floor of my bedroom, and I knew instantly who they belonged to, after a light cough escaped through the musky air.

  “Good morning, Master Alex,” drawled Jonathan, my steward, butler, driver, and the highest trustee of my estate.

  Not to mention my friend and father figure for a very long time now.

  He drew the blinds and opened a window, letting the cool fresh air sweep in. “I believe it is time for your weekly attendance at church.”

  Damn.

  It was Sunday.

  Where had the weekend gone?

  It was that time of the week to be humble and head off to the weekly party of forgiveness. Don’t get me wrong — I am a man of faith with all levels of respect to the Big Man up high, but growing up around thieves and liars who stole cars and broke into houses while at the same time being a part of the church choir did not bode well with me.

  I did not like hypocrisy, even in myself, and some members of my current church pushed my limits of respect. Nevertheless, I tried to attend regularly.

  “It’s too early, Jon; come on, just a few more minutes,” I pleaded, while tugging at my duvet.

  The cool air was getting quite chilly.

  “Six a.m. as always, Master Alex. Today is no exception,” he insisted, placing the tray of my breakfast on the mahogany table next to the old wall.

  Jon had a way of making me look up to him as a mentor, and sometimes, the type of father I never had.

  “Hurry, Master Alex,” he breathed, as he walked away to give me privacy in which to change my clothes.

  Jon knew I was a sinner in need of redemption just like everyone else in church was. He particularly knew my bad boy, womanizing ways. He’d seen the worst in me, yet was always there for me, anyway.

  Recently he had thought it a good idea for me to attend a local church I had long donated to. He said it was for publicity purposes, for my business, but I also was able to see that he wanted me to stop my playboy ways and find some meaning in my life.

  He also had happened to find out through town gossip that a certain someone had started attending that church. It turned out that there was someone even better there, who I loved seeing and who was the secret reason that I continued to go every Sunday, when otherwise, I would find it boring and old-fashioned.

  But more of that later. For now, I was focused on my relationship with Jonathan, and feeling grateful for all he had done for me, including putting me in touch with a good friend from my past and unknowingly putting me in touch with that same friend’s beautiful, yet forbidden, young daughter.

  Most folks would tell you it was the strangest thing to fathom, our relationship. Some whispered behind my back that Jon was my estranged father, but that simply wasn’t true.

  Let me put it plainly. I have no intention of answering to any false accusations. I had my dignity and so did he.

  For close to twenty-five years this man, Jon, had stood by me through all adversity and had channeled his energy through me in times of need. Only the two of us know of how we met, and it is a story to behold. It won’t hurt letting it off my chest this once, anyway.

  It was summer break, and I was what some would call a street rat. I suppose that title befitted me at that time in my life. Feeding off of trash cans and garbage dumps in the city of Detroit, I became accustomed to being a fifteen-year-old ghost in almost everyone else’s eyes.

  I was never homeless before then, oh no. I grew up in a family of five. I had a mother who had shifts at the community center working as a life coach, a father who was a doorman at a reputable building, and one older brother and sister.

  It was a quiet life growing up; up until my dad discovered the bottle.

  No one could tell me why he became so abusive all of a sudden. He would come home late most nights and sit down on the front porch for hours on end, disregarding the cold or the unforgiving stares of the neighborhood gossipers.

  In the middle of the night, I would know of his arrival in the house by the chaos that entailed the rest of it. I would cringe under my covers as my brother Sean would hunch over Celeste and me, begging us not to make a sound, as Dad whopped my mom with his belt; and that was when he was lenient.

  He had anger issues that not even church could resolve. I suppose it was one reason I came to dislike the hypocrisy of churchgoers – the fact that my father could be abuser on Saturday night and saintly-seeming parishioner on Sunday morning, and no one seemed to know or care.

  On many Sundays, though, he used the church pews to go and nod off; to the disapproval of everyone else of course. I remember being so embarrassed of calling him my father, for I was the target of bullies at school.

  I mostly wondered why my mother had always stuck by his side. I knew it was foolish of her to keep pretending “it’s for the children”, when even we were suffering.

  My siblings and I would stick together no matter what, though. Celeste was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood and at school. She got my mother’s eyes and my father’s robust attitude, making her the girl who every boy wanted.

  She was the one who got me through those turbulent times, when father beat the crap out of Sean for being born. He always blamed my brother for the state of poverty he thought we were in, and Sean took it bravely.

  Years passed, and the toll finally achieved a breaking point.

  Chapter Two

  Alexander

  It was a cool day all those years ago in my past, but one that I still remember vividly today, and I was walking back from school. Celeste and Sean had walked ahead to dissuade the bullies and to make sure there was no violence at home; but I had a feeling they had something planned for me.

  It was my fifteenth birthday. My mother and siblings had always thrown in a few coins to save up for my special day. Father was always bitter about it and he never showed any interest in his children.

  The bright slashes of sunlight on the square path lit up my evening as I walked past the few unused cars that had had their wheels stolen and sold off by the gangs around the neighborhood, and they stood defiantly amidst the silence of the wind.

  It was a bit awkward when I went around the corner towards my house, hunched up with a heavy bookbag on my back. The door seemed ajar. I stepped gingerly onto the porch and walked past the tattered couch that my father found comfort in, and pushed the door open with my thumb.

  “Celeste? Sean? Mom?” I remember calling out, to no response.

  I stopped in my tracks as I recalled the couch did not usually sit at that angle. Looking onwards, I realized there had been a scuffle of sorts in the living room.

  There was a pool of red liquid seeping through the kitchen door.

  I knew it was blood, but I had to know where it came from, despite already sniffing my tears back. The creaky black door would not budge until I gave it a heavy push. The images that I saw in that kitchen made me run and never look back.

  The days to follow were painful and hard. I had no family to turn to and I was scared. Out of fear and despair, I ran. Running can only get you so far in this life, and one way or the other you’ll have to either stop to rest or get tired and quit.

  I stopped at a gas station, thirty miles east. My stomach was rumbling, and all my thoughts were on food. I had no money and I knew I would have to dive into a dumpster to the side of the building and see what I could find.

  Luckily for me, the gas station was also a café, so I had hit the jackpot. As I filled my mouth and belly with meat that was way past its due date and some unfinished fries, something caught my eye and made me pause for a while.

  A man was sitting awkwardly on a stool inside the cafe facing the window. In his brown khaki pants, I could see the outline of his wallet peeking at me, as if begging me all the way through the glass window to come take it.

  I knew it was wrong, for my momma had raised me right, but there was no way I was going to die hungry.

  I dropped the garbage in my hand and wa
ited. He was done in a few minutes. He walked out of there looking content and sated, and I remember feeling jealous as I ran past him with as much strength as I could get and picked his pocket.

  I did not get too far, for strong hands caught me. The man who had me in his grasp was thin and pale with a thick, gray mustache, but no one would have imagined him to have been that strong.

  He looked at me straight in the eye and told me words that resonated with me to this day.

  “Don’t scream. Surrender with dignity.”

  Looking back at how I met Jon that day, I laugh at those words. It was the first mark of his sarcastic nature. He wasn’t the man from whom I stole the wallet. No, that was the sheriff.

  I spent a week in jail before Jon bailed me out. Of course, in keeping with my character at that time, I never thanked him, and moved on with my life and forgot all about him.

  Crime was my forte. I reveled in the gang life, stealing and selling drugs. I was actually doing great for myself. By the time I hit twenty-six, I had my own block in the hood and was quite content with my life until one night in particular.

  Jimmy was a poor boy I had grown accustomed to as a brother. He was short and plump, and you could never tell if he was part of a gang or not. He reminded me of a racoon who had an innocent face — until you found out how sneaky he could be.

  He was one of my most trusted allies and unfortunately, he reminded me of myself when I was his age. Trouble was what he was used to, and three days after the New Year celebrations, he got into a scuffle with another gang member.

  Jimmy was shot in the head and died.

  That brought back some suppressed memories of mine, of my past and what I saw through that old creaky black door when I was fifteen. Sean had died protecting our sister, and mother had tried to dissuade father from killing her children.

  In his last act of cowardice, my dad had hung himself. I had always wondered how I was never looked for by the police, even after I was caught stealing that wallet and saved by Jon.