In With the New Baby Read online

  In with the New Baby

  A New Year’s Secret Baby Romance

  Copyright © 2019 Jamie Knight Romance.

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Lincoln

  Chapter 1

  Lincoln

  Chapter 2

  Lincoln

  Chapter 3

  Amanda

  Chapter 4

  Lincoln

  Chapter 5

  Amanda

  Chapter 6

  Lincoln

  Chapter 7

  Lincoln

  Chapter 8

  Lincoln

  Chapter 9

  Amanda

  Chapter 10

  Amanda

  Chapter 11

  Lincoln

  Chapter 12

  Lincoln

  Chapter 13

  Amanda

  Chapter 14

  Amanda

  Chapter 15

  Lincoln

  Chapter 16

  Lincoln

  Chapter 17

  Lincoln

  Chapter 18

  Lincoln

  Chapter 19

  Lincoln

  Chapter 20

  Amanda

  Chapter 21

  Lincoln

  Chapter 22

  Lincoln

  Chapter 23

  Amanda

  Epilogue

  Amanda

  Your Sneak Peek of Bundle of Joy: A Single Dad Secret Baby Romance (Catharine’s story)

  Prologue

  Lincoln

  I’m not supposed to be lusting after my physical therapist. Especially not after how I acted when I was last in her office.

  I know she thinks I’m a cocky jerk, but I have my side of the story, and I’ll tell it to anyone who wants to listen, because I really want to save whatever it was that Amanda and I had before I flipped out.

  I know I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help but get mad at what they were suggesting for my medical treatment. I don’t let anyone tell me what to do.

  But her? I might let Amanda tell me what to do with my hurt knee, if she’ll let me do whatever I want to the rest of her body. I want to grab that juicy ass in my hands and squeeze. I want to spank her while I bend her over and put my hard cock in her.

  I haven’t felt like this about anyone for a long time. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way about her, when I’m her patient. But I can’t seem to help it.

  I want her. Not just stretching my leg while doing exercises, but also letting me stretch out her tight little pussy with my cock. Not just trying to help fix my knee so I can get back to fighting, but also on her knees for me, with my cock down her throat and her legs spread wide for me while I rub that hard little clit of hers until she cums, begging me to fuck her.

  I might want her for more than that, too. I might just want her for good.

  What the fuck am I even thinking?

  I’m usually not the relationship type. I have too much baggage, and dark secrets in my past. Too much pent-up anger wanting to make me explode. But with her, the only way I can see myself exploding is inside her, shooting my cum out into her, even though I know that could make a baby, and I never even thought I’d want a baby.

  But I can see those wide child-bearing hips carrying my baby. I love every inch of her hourglass shape and I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in her belly.

  I want to own her, claim her, make her mine.

  And I always get what I want.

  Chapter 1

  Lincoln

  This sucks.

  All of New York City has probably heard about the drama that went down at Big Apple Physical Therapy today and I know I rightfully sound like some monster, so I feel the need to tell my side of the story – not that I’m proud of it, mind you. I’ll rewind to just before it all got really heated and set the mood for the big horrific event.

  Like I said, this sucks. That’s what I was thinking then and what I’m still thinking now when I mull over the occurrences in my mind, after the fact.

  Here I am, a former Navy SEAL taught not to drown by being nearly drowned, and an MMA fighter who has taken the most hits possible. But I guess it’s my own fault. I’m a 34-year-old dude in an 80-year-old man’s body.

  The last fight, last night, really fucked up my knee. I think it’s blown out and it doesn’t help that it’s been operated on to repair the tendon that then developed scar tissue to make it even worse. But I’m a man, have always been so, and nothing like that is going to fucking stop me.

  Go hard or go home, I always say.

  The next big bout with Cesar Ramirez could be coming up soon. He’s been trying to get me to go up against him. He’s good, though I hate his guts, but it’s the real deal. A hundred thousand dollars ain’t nothing to sneeze at. I just need the doctor to give me a pass and I’ll be straight.

  Don’t I always get what I want?

  Still, my body is fucked up. After having been deployed in Afghanistan, then Iraq, I have to admit I’m tired. I’m a tough motherfucker, but I just need to settle down for a while. Find a nice girl who can take care of me and who I can take care of in return.

  God knows I wouldn’t have a hard time finding one. Women throw themselves at me like candy, saying I’m hot and good in bed, but really they’re probably just after my money. I was somewhat of a celebrity who built a name for myself in the MMA world, first in New York City and then in Vegas. My friend Damien, with whom I served in the military but who later became a financial advisor, helped me invest my earnings from fights, sponsorships and from acting in commercials wisely, and now I’m super rich.

  Damien’s a smart guy now only in the financial arena but also with life in general, and he always says I need to find like a kindergarten teacher or someone like that. A nice girl with compassion and love and, most important of all, as Damien says, it has to be someone who is willing to put up with my bullshit.

  He makes it sound like it might be tough for someone to love me, though. For me to find the right woman. I just don’t get it. I’m a nice guy but no one else sees that. I suppose I’m a big rough around the edges, as this little incident at Big Apple Physical Therapy shows.

  I was taught to be tough, the caretaker everyone can depend on. I’m the one who takes care of everyone else.

  I don’t want anyone to pity me or feel sorry for me.

  I need to take care of myself.

  So today, with the holidays not too far off even though I’m not feeling as if I’m in very good holiday spirits – but when am I ever in any kind of good spirit?, let’s be honest – I’m driving in some lightly falling snow over to Big Apple Physical Therapy, where I’ve been referred for my knee. Damien assures me it’s a great place – he went there himself after being injured in war, and he says his physical therapist Anne was the best.

  Still, I’m not thrilled about having to go, and that’s putting it fucking mildly. My Ford F150 that I just bought rides like a charm. I love the new smell of a truck. She’s my baby. The only one I can depend on.

  I might be a billionaire but I still like to drive a humble truck. Plus, not many people in New York even have the luxury of owning a car so I know I’m lucky.

  When I arrive, I walk in and see that the waiting room is a mess of magazines I know I won’t even read. I hate that I have to come here. I don’t want to wait. I’ve got shit to do.

  I walk up to the counter and ring the bell. Who has a bell anymore, anyway? It’s the twenty-first ce
ntury, for God’s sake. It isn’t the Dark Ages.

  No one is there, and no one answers. I just want to turn around and leave.

  Fucked-up knee or not, I don’t have time for this, and I’ll look for any excuse to get the fuck out of here.

  I wait a few minutes and start to leave.

  “Can I help you?” someone finally walks out and asks.

  Great. Just when I thought I was about to get out of here.

  She’s dressed in scrubs but I guess she works the desk, too. She looks respectable enough, so I give her a chance.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Name is Lincoln Drake. I’m here for some rehab.”

  The woman clicks away at the computer.

  “Yes,” she says. “We have you scheduled. A referral from Dr. Hung.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He’s a good dude but he thought I needed a specialist.”

  “Yes,” she agrees. “My name is Anne, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  So, this is Anne, the physical therapist that Damien had mentioned was so great and helped him so much. At least I’m glad I got a good one and not some quack.

  We shake hands and I follow her into an examining room. I jump onto the crinkly white paper on the table and Anne looks at my chart.

  “So, tell me, Mr. Drake, are you feeling any pain right now?”

  “Fuck yeah I am.”

  When am I not?

  But it’s particularly bad lately, hence why I have to be here.

  “On a scale of one to ten, one being the least severe and ten being the most severe, how would you rate it?”

  I take a minute to think about this. It fuckin’ hurts but I don’t want to be a pussy, either.

  “I would have to say a seven.”

  “Seven?” she asks and starts to write on her clipboard.

  “No,” I say, deciding to be more honest. Fuck it, if I’m already here, I might as well let them try to help me. “I have to say it’s an eight.”

  She looks at me.

  “An eight?

  I nod my head.

  “Yeah but I don’t want you to think I’m a wimp.”

  Anne laughs.

  “It’s not about that, Mr. Drake.”

  “Lincoln,” I say.

  “Lincoln,” she says. “If you’re in pain, you’re in pain. And given your background, I can’t say that I am not surprised.”

  I lean back against the wall as the white paper crinkles under me and sigh.

  “Whew,” I say.

  Anne laughs.

  “Why do you seem so relieved?”

  “Because when it comes to pain, I’m supposed to be a man.”

  Anne shakes her head.

  “Like I said, you certainly have an impressive background and I don’t think anyone would argue that you’re not a man.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I say. “You know, nowadays at the VA hospitals, things ain’t too good. But I’ve heard good things about you and am glad you can be my therapist.”

  Anne lifts his arm and scratches the back of her head.

  “About that, Lincoln,” she says.

  “What?”

  I knew there had to be a fucking catch.

  There always is.

  “I’m really overbooked and so I’m going to have Amanda Nelson be your physical therapist. I’m assigning her for you because she’s really good.”

  “No way,” I say. “I want you. No one else.”

  Anne comes over and places her hands on my shoulders.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be in the best hands.”

  I watch her leave and I’m sitting here disappointed.

  Whatever you think you want in this life that can help you never works out.

  Amanda? I think to myself.

  Sounds like a young name.

  Probably some recent college kid who thinks she knows everything when she doesn’t even know anything beyond her own backyard.

  I wait and seethe.

  I am pissed off.

  I vow not to like her.

  No matter what.

  But that’s hard to do once she walks in.

  “Hi,” she says.

  Wow, I think. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow.

  Chapter 2

  Lincoln

  “How are you doing?” Amanda asks, and it’s only now that I realize I forgot to say hi back to her because I was thinking “wow” so many times in a row.

  “Good,” I say.

  In fact, I’m doing more than good, now that she’s here. Because she is just my type. Dark hair, olive complexion, juicy green eyes and just those curvy hips and breasts. She was made to carry my children.

  She takes the blood pressure cuff off the stand near me.

  “I’m taking your blood pressure.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’m not only a physical therapist, but I’m also a trained nurse. I switched professions fairly recently, and I like this one a lot better. I particularly like working in sports therapy.”

  Now I think, yeah, I was right. Miss Know-It-All.

  “But I already had that done.”

  “Perhaps,” she says and pushes up the sleeve of my t-shirt. “But I like to start from scratch.”

  I sigh and say, “OK.”

  She inflates the cuff, I feel the pressure, and she puts the stethoscope in the crook of my arm and under the cuff.

  “Can I ask you if…”

  “Shhh!” she says. “No talking.”

  I say nothing. Yeah, she’s hot but she’s also a feisty one.

  I have to admit that turns me on. I will my cock to stay in place instead of springing up, which would be very embarrassing right about now.

  She releases the cuff and places it back in one quick movement.

  “Take off your shirt,” she commands.

  “No problem!” I say.

  I whip it off and throw it to the floor. It’s times like these that I’m grateful I have had such a rigorous career both as a SEAL and an MMA fighter and that I’ve stayed in shape. I want to impress her with my washboard abs and my toned, strong pecs.

  She’s not even looking at me, though. So much for that goal.

  She comes over and starts feeling my shoulders, chest, and back. I flex my pecs to impress her.

  She doesn’t even notice.

  “It’s my leg, you know…”

  “Yes, I know,” she says. “But it’s all connected.”

  She’s close to me and smells good, something lavender-like. I look up at her and just want to kiss her. Kiss her forehead, cheeks, then lips. Then move down to her neck and breasts.

  I bet her big, plump tits are so nice to look at and squeeze and suck on when her shirt is off – they look great even with her scrubs on. Then I’d move down her stomach to her pussy and then….

  “Do you?” she asks, as if she’s repeating herself.

  “Huh?”

  “I said, do you have any known allergies?”

  “Uh, no… no.”

  She sighs and shakes her head and mutters something about playing games.

  But I say nothing. She wants to play games, I’m willing to play. I’m a competitor, after all. A fighter who will battle for what he wants.

  And I want her.

  Despite this less than perfect beginning, I will have her.

  I know I will. Because I’m the type to take what I want and I want her.

  It won’t be easy, since she seems like a fighter of a different sort. Feisty and sassy, she’s sure to put up a challenge. But she will be worth it.

  “Your knee is hurting you, correct?” she asks and bends down to it.

  “Hurting me?” I ask. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

  I know I’m getting angry, but I can’t help it, no matter how hot Amanda is. I wanted Anne to treat me but instead she stuck me with this newbie and it seems like she doesn’t even do her homework.

  She stands back up and steps back.

  “I just mean…” she says
.

  “And I just mean that after all of the ton of records at your disposal, you don’t even know the basic facts of my case?”

  “Listen, Lincoln,” Anne says and comes over to me. “She’s a professional. Don’t be like that.”

  “If she’s such a fuckin’ professional, why doesn’t she know what I’m going through?”

  “Lincoln,” Anne says, and places her hand on my shoulder.

  I swat her hand away and say, “Fuck this!”

  I grab my shirt and pants and leave the room in only my boxer briefs. As the door closes, I can hear Amanda asking Anne what the fuck is up with me.

  Not giving a fuck what I look like, I exit the sliding doors as lots of people look at me.

  Haven’t they seen a fighter before? Hell, when we get weighed, we sometimes are butt naked.

  Fuck these people. They don’t know what I’ve been through.

  I reach the parking lot and pull up my pants at least and hop into the truck. I throw my t-shirt on the passenger seat and slam the steering wheel.

  “Fuck!” I exclaim, really loud.

  I look around and see a stray dog crossing the street and almost getting hit. I jump out of the truck.

  “Come here, boy!” I whistle.

  He jumps into the cab and sits on the passenger seat, shivering with fear.

  I feel like shit. I pat his head and tell him, “Good boy, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

  He lowers his head, pants, and wags his tail.

  “I’ll take care of you,” I repeat.

  Unlike the way I treated Amanda Nelson.

  Now I feel like complete shit.

  Chapter 3

  Amanda

  I’m happy today.

  Or at least I was, before Lincoln Drake came in as my newest client and ruined my mood. So now I’m telling my version of events because it’s probably hard for people to believe that I could like this guy or have the hots for him. I know it’s weird, but I can’t help it.

  Like I was saying, though, I’m happy today.

  These new purple scrubs I bought at Walmart smell clean and fresh. I love my job and feel that the transition from being a nurse to a sports therapist was an easy one. I liked nursing, but the hours were tough. Going in for twelve hour shifts four days a week, over all kinds of different hours, just messed with me.