by K. C. Crowne
I placed my hands on the sculpted roundness of his ass, guiding him the rest of the way. And when he was buried to the hilt I glanced down, savoring the sight of him vanished within me.
He drew back and then pushed into me again, a moan from deep within me following along with his movement.
He did it again and again as he took hold of my breasts, squeezing them and teasing my nipples, making them go stiff against his touch.
His pace quickened, grunts sounding from deep within. I wrapped my legs around him, locking his body against mine. As he drove into me over and over, another orgasm began to build.
I rested my head on his broad, round shoulder as he pushed inside, my fingers grazing the taut muscles of his back.
“I want you to come for me,” he said, his voice low and deep.
The pleasure was so intense that it took everything I had in me not to lose control. The steady rhythm of his thrusts lulled me into the precise trance-like state I needed for the orgasm to release.
I was in a state of complete rapture.
And I never ever wanted it to end.
Chapter 1
RYAN
“Surrogacy?”
The word came out of my kid sister Grace’s mouth as if it were the most unthinkable thing possible.
“You’re not serious, are you?”
Sometimes Grace reminded me so much of, well, me, that it gave me pause. She had my same sandy brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and high, angled cheekbones. Unlike me, she was small-ish, with a slight but curvy figure. She spoke expressively, and like me, she didn’t have any problem letting everyone know exactly what was on her mind.
That evening was an engagement I’d been looking forward to and not looking forward to for a long time. Grace and I were at my parents’ house in suburban Denver, the evening unseasonably warm for late spring.
“Of course I’m serious. You think I’m pulling some kind of shenanigans here?”
She pursed her lips and grinned slightly, giving me the look she always did whenever I used one of my old-fashioned turns of phrase.
“Wait,” our mom said. She raised her palms in front of her face, as if trying to bring the conversation to a halt so she could have a moment to process what she was hearing. “Surrogacy – that’s where you have some random woman carry your child to term?”
“Mom, it’s not some random woman. There’s a whole process. You meet different women, you get to know them, you see if you’re comfortable with her carrying your child.”
“So,” she said. “It’s like dating, except at the end instead of a ring and a wedding there’s a doctor’s office and a turkey baster.”
“Mom!” I said, trying to hold back a laugh. “That’s…no. We’re talking more about genetic compatibility. Some of these women are really incredible.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Mom said. “If they’re so incredible, why don’t they have normal families?”
Our father watched the conversation with his index finger crooked in front of his mouth—the sign he was listening—carefully preparing what he wanted to say.
Now Grace was the one to interject. “Mom! Come on, don’t be so small-minded.”
“What?” Mom asked. “I don’t think there’s anything small-minded about wondering why my son, my handsome, doctor son, can’t find a nice woman to have kids with the regular way.”
Dad raised his palms, closed his eyes and looked down as he prepared to speak. “Now, here’s what I’m worried about. You’re going to give your, uh, seed to some random woman—”
“Not random,” I interjected, sidestepping the issue of how weird it was to hear my dad say the word “seed” in that context.
“OK, some woman you interview and decide is the right one to go through all of this with you. Now, what’s to say she doesn’t carry this baby to term and at month eight decides that she doesn’t want to just give it away when she’s all done?”
That was Dad to a “T”. He was a computer guy, having built his own electronics repair business from the ground up after moving us here from New Zealand when I was fifteen. And that meant he was as logically minded as they came.
“That’s right,” Mom added. “You can sign all the papers you want, but you can’t legally guarantee that the baby’s yours at the end. I mean, she did lend you her uterus. It’s her baby, too.”
“All of this gets hashed out legally,” I said. “And that scenario sounds like something out of a Lifetime movie, Dad.”
“A what-time movie?”
“Women’s channel,” Mom answered, leaning close to Dad and giving him the info. “Lots of baby-drama movies.”
“Anyway,” I went on, “They screen these women up and down, left to right. The woman would have no legal claim on my child. It’s all worked out ahead of time.”
Mom shook her head. “None of this makes any sense.”
“What part doesn’t make sense?” I asked. “It’s making a baby, just with more steps and contracts involved.”
“You’re such a sweet boy!” Mom crowed, her blue eyes, the same blues as Grace and mine, flashing. “You should have women kicking down your door to want to have your babies.”
“Women like a tall man,” Dad interjected, stating the words with the certainty as if they’d been written on tablets Moses brought down from the mountain. “And you’re tall. Taller than me though not sure how that happened. It’d be one thing if you were a shorter man. They have a little more trouble finding women, you see. But a man of your height?”
Grace and I shared a knowing look.
“It’s not how tall Ryan is, Dad,” Grace said. “Or how sweet he is, Mom. It’s that he had a really bad experience with Cindy, and he doesn’t want to go through anything like that again. This is just an easier way to get what he wants.”
I winced. Just the mention of my ex’s name was enough to make my stomach tighten.
Pure rage took hold of Mom’s face. “Oh, don’t you mention the name of that, that you-know-what, in my house.”
Dad nodded, as if he’d processed everything about the situation and was ready to lay down his take.
“I understand that you’d be apprehensive about dating again after what she did to you, Ryan. But that’s no reason to go to such drastic measures. See, a man and a woman finding one another and forming the bond of love is as integral a part of romance as, well, the physical component. Perhaps what you need to do is take some time and let the wounds heal, rather than what you have in mind.”
“But I’m ready,” I said. “I’ve been delivering other people’s babies for so long that it’s starting to drive me a little bit nuts that I don’t have one of my own. And it’s not like I’m some kid still in med school. I’ve got a good career and money in the bank and a big house that I bought with the intention of filling it with kids. Not to mention, I want to get started on this parenting thing while I’ve still got the energy for it.”
“I don’t know,” Mom hemmed and hawed. “Kids need two parents.”
“Not always the case,” Grace said, raising her finger. “There are tons of non-traditional families out there who love their kids just as much as traditional ones.”
Mom opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get out a word, a timer in the kitchen went off.
“That’s the steaks,” Dad announced with the same matter-of-fact tone he used during the conversation about my future as a parent. “Let me attend to those.”
“Shoot,” Mom added. “I didn’t even get the table set. You two hold on while we get dinner ready, alright?”
“Let me help,” Grace offered.
“Yeah,” I said, preparing to rise. “I can pitch in.”
“No, no, no,” Mom waved us off. “You’re both guests, that means you don’t do a drop of work. Sit and relax and we’ll have dinner ready before you know it.”
Mom and Dad hurried out of the room, both sharing a pointed look that made it clear they were about to have their own, pr
ivate conversation about the surrogacy matter.
“Pretty nice change of pace, huh?” Grace asked with a smile. “Remember when Mom and Dad wouldn’t let us even look at the food before we’d set the table?”
“You bet,” I replied. “I’ve still got some very distinct memories of Mom swatting my hand away from casserole dishes.”
Grace smiled, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. No doubt she had some opinions of her own on the surrogacy matter.
“Want another?” I asked, raising my empty whiskey glass.
Grace glanced down at her own. “Sure. And I need to pee. Since it’s pretty nice out, do you want to have a drink on the porch while Mom and Dad get dinner ready?”
“Sounds great.”
My sister hurried off, leaving me alone. As I rose to head over to the dry bar in the living room, the spot where I’d seen Dad make countless after-work cocktails, I took a moment to recover from the mini-interrogation I’d just had. Drinks, in hand, I stepped out onto the porch.
The weather was pleasant – cool and crisp and thick with the freshness of spring. The sun was beginning its early set, a deep orange blanketing the westward Rockies. Kids played in the other yards of the subdivisions, the occasional car coming home from work pulling into one driveway or another.
Cindy. I should’ve known that a conversation about a subject like this would involve her in one way or another. God, I wished the mere mention of my ex wasn’t enough to take me back to the day my life had turned upside down. But it was.
Those sneakers – they’d been the first sign something was off. I’d stepped into my house—our house, the house I’d bought for us and our future kids—early one afternoon to see a pair of gaudy-as-hell white and gold high tops placed neatly by the stairs that led up to the second and third floors.
“Cin?” There’d been apprehension in my voice as it carried through the house. We’d only just moved in and hadn’t furnished the entire place, and the emptiness made my voice carry like I was speaking in a huge warehouse.
No answer. That wasn’t surprising – the house was so big that we lost track of each other at times.
My eyes went back to those ugly high tops as I ascended the stairs. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I’d had a bad feeling. When I reached the third floor, the double doors to our master bedroom shut.
As I drew closer, I could hear laughter – a man’s and a woman’s. My heart thudded in my chest as I hurried over to the door and reached for the handle and –
“Oh, awesome,” Grace said, her voice snapping me out of my daydream. “The good stuff.”
I shook my head and glanced to the side, seeing her there with the drink in hand.
“Wait a tick,” I said. “How long have you been standing there?”
She smirked. “Long enough to see that million-mile stare you always get when you think about she-who-shall-not-be-named.”
“Come on,” I said, trying to play it cool. “You don’t need to give her the Voldemort treatment.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked, totally shocked at my words. “Ry, she cheated on you.”
I winced. “Alright, easy.”
“I know you’re Mr. Rational like dad sometimes, but you’ve got a right to be hurt and angry.”
“Angry doesn’t do anyone any good. No sense in stewing in negative emotions. I kept my cool while we split up and that’s how I got through it with the minimal amount of drama, remember?”
She raised the index finger of the hand holding her glass. “You might be singing a different tune if you had to go through a divorce.”
“That’s right. I got lucky catching her when I did, and now it’s behind me.”
Grace gave me a skeptical, narrow-eyed glance, as if she were scoping me out to see if I was hiding some deep-down anger. When she didn’t see it, she shook her head.
“A graffiti artist,” she said with a scoff. “I can’t believe she cheated on you with a freaking graffiti artist. Is that even a real job?”
I allowed myself a chuckle. It all still hurt a bit, but it was months in the past now – more than enough time for me to have a sense of humor about it.
“’Graffiti artist’ was what he told people his job was. The real source of his income was the trust fund his lawyer parents set up for him.”
Grace laughed. “You know what? Those two deserve each other. A spoiled brat and her doofus rich-kid boyfriend. You dodged a bullet, Ry.”
“Don’t I know it.”
She clasped her glass with both hands, a thoughtful expression on her face.
I could tell what was coming.
“You’re sure about this?” she asked. “This whole surrogacy thing?”
“Surer than I’ve ever been about anything. But let me guess, you’re not.”
“Listen. You’re my brother and I’m going to stick by your side no matter what. But it’s just…I don’t know. This is a really out-there plan. Not that I don’t think you’d be a kick-ass dad, but more that you’re a busy dude. You’re one of the top OB/GYNs in the state, and you want to add being a single dad on top of that?”
“I wouldn’t want to do it if I didn’t think I was ready. Come on, you have to know I’ve put some thought into this, done all my research.”
“Oh, I don’t have any doubt you’ve done your research. You’ve been doing one kind of research or another since we were kids. It’s more…I don’t know.”
“You don’t think it’s a good idea. And let me guess, you agree with a little of Mom and a little of Dad.”
“You guessed it. Part of me is wondering if this kid is going to miss having a mom, and another part is wondering if you’re going to get some woman in your life who decides at the last second that she wants to be a mom after all.”
“Like I said, that wouldn’t be legally possible. But I’ve measured all the risks and –”
“Thought and thought and thought. I know. Sorry to be such a wet blanket, but I just want to make sure you’re not acting out of hurt or something. Or, even worse, that you’re not giving up on finding love.”
“Not giving up. When have you known me to give up?”
“Good point. You’re as stubborn as Dad.”
I chuckled. “Right. And now, I’m stubborn about being a dad, having a kid of my own to love and raise right. And I’m ready.”
A small smile formed on her lips. “And I know better than to talk you out of something when you’ve got your mind set on it. I guess with your love life, it’ll be a nice filtering thing. A woman meets you and she knows you’re a doctor and you’re a dad and that’s who you are.”
“Exactly. The kid won’t be some hypothetical down the road. He or she will be right there, and we’ll be a package deal.”
She nodded, as if I were selling her more and more on the idea.
“I hope you’re not thinking me poking at your plan like this means I don’t think you’ll be a kick-ass dad.”
“I know. And I’m damn sure you’ll be a kick-ass aunt.”
“I’ll drink to that. I’d better be first on the list when you’re thinking of babysitters.”
We tapped rims and took sips. Moments later, Dad stuck his head out and let us know dinner was on.
The meal was amazing, of course. We chatted more about the surrogacy plan over steak and baked potatoes and sauteed vegetables. By the time mom brought out her blackberry cobbler, I’d managed to answer whatever questions they’d had.
Once back in my car, however, I found my mind lingering on what Grace had said about giving up on love. Truth be told, I hadn’t thought about that angle. Part of me wondered if having a kid through surrogacy was my way of sidestepping my love life, of skipping around something that I hadn’t had much luck with these last few years.
Cindy had been the first woman I’d made room for in my life. Up until then I’d simply been too damn busy to even think about dating. But with her, I’d decided enough was enough – I had given a relationship a fai
r shot.
And it’d blown up in my face.
I put that out of my head as I drove through the outskirts of Denver back toward my house. About halfway there my phone lit up with a call from Hayden Frost. Hayden and I went way back, the two of us growing up in New Zealand together and then reconnecting at Harvard Med and moving to Denver soon after. After putting in some time at public hospitals, we’d both made our way over to Pitt Medical.
“What’s up, heart doc?” Clouds gathered up ahead. Though the day had started out pleasant enough, it was starting to look like snow was in the forecast for the evening.
“Not much, baby doc. How was the evening with the folks?”
“Well, I broke the news. So, it went about as well as could be expected.”
“Shit. You told them about the rent-a-womb plan?”
“Not the phrasing I went with, but yeah.”
“And how’d they take it?”
“Not thrilled, to say the least. But I’m sure I can win them over in time.”
“No doubt about it. Anyway, the reason I called was because I wanted to ask if you had a date for Valentine’s this Friday.”
I was confused. “Wait, what? Valentine’s?” My life had been such a blur of work and researching the surrogacy plan that I could hardly remember what month it was.
“Bud, it’s in three days. And I guess that answers my question about whether you have a date or not.”
“No date. And no plans.”
“Perfect. Then you’ve got one now – me.”
I laughed. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Serious as a heart attack. And in my line of work, I know just how serious those can get.”
“You know,” I said through a grin. “That joke gets funnier and funnier every time you tell it.”
“Hey, when you find winners, you stick with them. Anyway, come on. We’re both painfully single and could use an excuse to get out of our respective houses.”
“Dinner on Valentine’s Day. You know, that’s a good way for people to get the wrong impression about our relationship.”