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Read Online Books/Novels:

Knocked Up by the Dom

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Penelope Bloom

Language:
English
Book Information:

My darkest secret?
I let a stranger dominate me in the most intimate way possible.
He gave me three things that night:
His first name, the sweet taste of submission, and his baby.
Now my Dom is back and this time he won’t stop until I’m his.

Kylie

One wild and reckless night changed my life three years ago. I got a taste of what it meant to be with a real man–how just a whisper could ignite my desire, and his commanding voice could have me kneeling at his feet in submission.

He was my everything and I only knew him for a few hours.

But like everything good in my life, it went up in flames. When I learned the truth about him, I ran as fast as I could. I’d like to think I would’ve stayed if I knew about the baby… but I doubt even that would’ve stopped me, not after what I learned.

Damian

It has been three years since she got away. Three f*cking years. I knew she was mine from the moment I saw her. I had to have her. To touch her. For one night, I owned her submission and she loved every second.

I finally found her again. There’s not a chance in hell she’s going to slip away this time. Not again. Not ever.

I’m going to bring her into my world. I’ll give her everything she wants and all the things she didn’t even know she needs. She’ll be crying out my name. She’ll be dreaming of spankings, handcuffs, and blindfolds.

I’m going to dominate her in every way imaginable. Mind, body, and soul. Especially her body.

But it’s not going to be as simple as I thought because she has a son now… my son.

**As always, this is a totally SAFE, full length book with a happily ever after, no cheating, and plenty of steam.**

Books by Author:

Penelope Bloom Books

1

Kylie

I wait in line at the airport with a small bag that bulges at the seams. The woman in front of me gives it a curious glance, then does a double take when she sees I’m wearing a thin white dress with a bikini beneath. She makes an indelicate snort of disapproval through her nose and turns away.

Let her huff and puff. I’m going on this freaking vacation because I’ve earned it.I’m not even going to stop at a hotel before I go to the beach when I get there, even if I have to march straight off the plane by foot to the nearest ocean. So yes, cranky lady, I am wearing my bathing suit at the airport. Get over it.

For all my tough internal talk, her look still makes me feel a little self-conscious. I hug the bag a little tighter to my chest before unzipping a pocket on the side and pulling a crumpled post-card free. I look at it for probably the millionth time. It shows a scene of water so perfectly blue it’s hard to tell where the sky ends, a rocky outcropping that makes a small cove where the water is clear enough to show the yellow sand beneath.

Blue skies and sandy beaches. That’s what I need. Anything to get me a breather from the day-to-day grind of waking up for work, sitting at my desk for nine hours while I try to cling to what’s left of my sanity, then feeling like my evening goes by in the blink of an eye.

I push the picture back down, closing my eyes and biting my lip. Bermuda. It has taken me months and months to save the money for the plane ticket and the place I’m staying at, not to mention the strings I had to pull to actually get a week off. It’s all going to be worth it. Every second of it.

Someone bumps me from behind, knocking me off balance so I nearly drop my bag.

“Line’s moving,” says a man with a sweaty brow and beady black eyes.

I clear my throat, shuffling forward to take my place in front of the attendant, who asks to see my ticket.

She’s a young girl, maybe in her mid twenties with a pixie haircut and upturned nose. She smacks her gum idly as she glances at my ticket, then the computer screen, and once more at my ticket.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

She makes an attempt at looking regretful, but falls just short. “Looks like your flight was canceled. Next one is tomorrow afternoon, but that flight is overbooked, so you’d have to upgrade your to first-class. It’d be about eight hundred dollars for the upgrade.”

Something deep inside me breaks. I feel it snap like an old, dry twig. A frigid cold spreads from the spot, numbing my stomach and then my whole chest. Eight hundred dollars. More than twice what I had to save for the ticket in the first place. Almost as much as it’s going to cost to stay for the entire week.

“There has to be some other way,” I say, trying not to let the panic I feel reach my voice. My hand on the counter shakes violently so I pull it back, gripping my bag to keep it still. “Please,” I say.

She licks her lips and looks at the computer again. I watch her fingers tap away and her mouth press together in concentration. “Well, there will be another flight in three days. I could have your ticket transferred to that flight for no cost.”

“My vacation time is already arranged through work, I can’t change it now,” I say. “It has to be today. Tomorrow at the latest. I wouldn’t have time to–it just has to be by tomorrow.”

Someone behind me makes an annoyed sound. I glance over my shoulder to see the guy with the beady eyes who bumped me. His arms are crossed and he’s tapping his foot dramatically. I ignore him, but the girl helping me glances at him and tenses a little.

“Ma’am,” she says a little more curtly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but there’s nothing else I can do. Do you want me to upgrade you to first-class for tomorrow or transfer your ticket?”

“No,” I say. “I want a refund.” The words come out of me slowly and painfully. It’s not the end of the world, though. I can just wait a few more months until another opportunity to get time off comes. I’m sure I can get my deposit back from the hotel.

The girl makes an obnoxiously placating face. “We unfortunately don’t offer refunds in this case.”

“This case?” I say, feeling my temper start to falter.

The man behind me clears his throat again.

“Need a cough drop, asshole?” I snap, turning at him with a look on my face that must be terrifying, because he flinches back.


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