by M. S. Force
He’s good at this. I have to give him that. He’s had me primed and ready for whatever he wants from the second I got that text, and the closer I get to the office, the more intense the throb between my legs becomes. I still haven’t recovered—physically or emotionally—from what we did last night, and he’s already planning round two.
Between now and then, I have a couple of big meetings and a doctor’s appointment to deal with. The latter takes the edge off my out-of-control hormones as it occurs to me that Dr. Breslow will probably be able to tell, with one look, that I had some pretty intense sex last night. Great…
This isn’t like me. I don’t dither over guys and sex and whether or not to wear panties under my skirt. I don’t play games with men. I date them. I screw a select few of them. And most of the time I dump them after a couple of weeks of nothing special. I know, almost immediately on a first date, if there’s going to be a second date, a trait my sisters say is maddening.
“You need to give them a chance,” Aimee has said repeatedly, with Annie nodding in agreement. I do give them a chance, and nine times out of ten, they blow it within the first hour. I can’t help it that most of them are self-centered dickwads who try so hard to bowl me over with how awesome they are that I can’t get a word in edgewise. Hashtag one and done.
There’s nothing worse than having sex with a guy and feeling dirty the next day because you realize you used him for sex when there’s not a single other thing you want from him, including a phone call. Ever. I’ve done that. More than once. And hated myself for it afterward.
Now, you might be wondering what I did about the panties. I wore them. Of course I did. I can’t be all out and proud in the office I share with my brother. I just can’t, even if I’m dying of curiosity about what Jasper has planned. I figure panties can be removed if need be, but walking around all day without them simply isn’t an option.
The day is frantically busy with one meeting after another. I don’t see Jasper until a lunchtime get-together in the conference room to celebrate Leah’s twenty-third birthday. She’s Natalie’s former roommate in New York who was hired last month to be Marlowe’s assistant, and Marlowe has gone all-out with a catered lunch and a delicious cake.
I forget sometimes how young Natalie and Leah actually are. Natalie, in particular, is mature beyond her years due to her traumatic and tumultuous childhood. Leah has a grittier, street-smart way about her, and I can’t help but notice that Emmett rarely takes his eyes off her. Interesting. Very interesting.
“Who’s around this weekend?” Natalie asks after the cake is served. “My friend Aileen and her kids are coming out for a visit.”
“I am,” Kristian immediately replies. Also very interesting.
“Me, too,” Marlowe says, her mouth full of cake. I love the way we celebrate every little occasion in our office. We are truly more like family than colleagues, and there’s not much we wouldn’t do for each other.
“I’m babysitting the nephews Saturday night,” I say, “but I’m free the rest of the weekend.”
“Lucky you,” Flynn says, chuckling. “You drew the short straw, huh?”
“I offered.” I know he’s teasing, because he’s crazy about all our nieces and nephews.
“Bring them over to my place to play with Aileen’s kids. The pool will wear them out.”
“I might take you up on that. India and Ivy are coming to help me out. Ian has a Boy Scout camp-out.”
“That would be awesome if you brought the kids over,” Natalie says. “We’ll have a cookout and make it a party.”
“I’m in,” Jasper says, his intense gaze fixed on me.
Never have two words packed a greater wallop, and I’m doubly glad I defied his orders and wore panties to mop up the dampness that look generates. Fiend.
After lunch, I leave Dax in charge and head off to my appointment with Dr. Breslow. The elevator doors are closing when I see Jasper coming, sticking his arm between the doors to force them open to admit him. I watch this unfold with a sense of amused detachment from my post in the back left corner, which is suddenly crowded when he presses against me, running his hand up my leg and under my skirt so quickly I have no time to prepare myself before he’s cupping me over the silk that covers me.
“Hmmm, someone is very disobedient.”
“Someone is exceptionally bossy.”
“I like when my orders are followed.”
“Do you now?”
“Mmm-hmm.” This is said against my neck as his lips leave a path of fire from my throat to my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about last night, how hot and tight you were. I can’t wait to be inside you again.”
No man has ever said anything like that to me before, and it’s a good thing he’s leaning against me, because that’s the only thing that keeps me from sliding into a puddle on the floor.
“I’d ask if you’re thinking about it, too, but I can feel how hot you are.”
I’ve almost forgotten where we are when the elevator dings to indicate we’ve arrived on the first floor. Though it’s the last freaking thing I want to do, I give him a gentle shove that dislodges his hand from under my skirt.
He grunts with laughter as he lands against the back of the elevator. “You’re leaving me in a hell of a state, love.”
I glance down to find him fully erect, and my mouth waters at the memory of what he’s capable of with that lovely cock. “That’s your own fault. I was minding my business in the elevator when you jumped in to accost me.”
“Where’re you going?”
“To the doctor, if you must know.”
“Funny,” he says, “me, too. Got to get tested so I can fuck my lady bareback and knock her up.”
Have I mentioned he has a way with words? And that accent, dear God in heaven, the accent…
“Come to my office when you get back. I’ll be waiting. And don’t bother to put your panties back on after the doctor.” He takes me by the hand to tug me behind him as we leave the elevator. When we encounter Hayden in the lobby, Jasper subtly drops my hand, but I wonder if Hayden saw that he was holding it.
“Hey, guys,” Hayden says as he steps into the elevator we’ve just left.
“Hi, Hayden,” Jasper says for both of us.
My tongue is tied in knots.
“Everything all right?” Hayden asks, holding the door open.
“Everything is just dandy,” Jasper says as he ushers me through the door to the parking lot with a hand on my lower back. “Words, darling,” he mutters. “Use your words unless you want the whole office wondering why you’re suddenly speechless.”
I shake him off. “You’re scrambling my brains!”
The bastard laughs, and I’m sucked right in by the smile, the dimples, the eyes, the whole package. He’s absolutely irresistible, and he knows it.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He leans in as if he’s going to kiss me, but my brain isn’t so scrambled that I think it’s a good idea for him to kiss me where anyone might see us. I turn away from the kiss, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.
“Ouch.”
“Out of the way.”
He steps aside and holds my car door for me, waiting until I’m settled before he closes it, rolling his finger to tell me to put down the window.
“What?”
“The next time you turn away from my kiss, I’ll spank your sweet arse until it’s bright, flaming pink. I might just do that anyway the next time I see you.” He walks away, hands in pockets, whistling like he hasn’t a care in the world.
I’m so rattled by the encounter that I drop my keys on the floor and have to dig around by my feet to find them. What I want to know is where has my calm, cool, collected, oh-so-urbane friend Jasper gone? It’s like he’s become someone else altogether since we made our deal. Not that I’m complaining about new Jasper because I’m not. It’s just that I never had any idea this side of him existed.
And how would I know that? I pon
der that question as I battle midday traffic on my way to Breslow’s office. People are always different with romantic partners than they are with everyone else, but I have to admit that I never expected Jasper to be completely different.
If I’m being truly honest, I half expected our “relations” to be awkward, fumbling, comical misadventures that would hopefully lead to a baby. Think Hugh Grant in Notting Hill. Or Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral. Or Hugh Grant in, well, anything. You get the picture, right?
Jasper Autry is no Hugh Grant. After last night, I can confirm there’s absolutely nothing fumbling or bumbling about his moves in the bedroom. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect I haven’t seen even a fraction of who sexual Jasper truly is. And I’m completely intrigued by what I’ve seen so far.
Breslow’s office is almost always on schedule, which is one of the reasons she’s the go-to doctor for women in Hollywood. She knows our time is as valuable as hers. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long in the skimpy cotton gown they gave me to wear for the exam. This was supposed to be my final checkup before she turns me over to her colleague for fertility treatment. Won’t she be surprised to hear there’s been a change in plans?
My belly flutters with excitement and nerves. I want to be pregnant more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and before this thing with Jasper started up, I couldn’t have cared less about how that happened. Now, the journey is shaping up to be as exciting as the destination.
Dr. Breslow knocks and comes breezing in a few minutes later, heading straight for the sink to wash her hands. “So sorry to keep you waiting. We had a mom-to-be in distress this morning, and I’m still trying to get my day back on track.”
“Is she okay? The mom?” I actively try not to think about the thousands of things that can go wrong between conception and delivery.
“She is, and so is the baby. But we’re monitoring them overnight just to make sure.” She claps her hands and takes a seat on the stool. “So here we are! Last checkup before you graduate to fertility! Are you excited?”
“There’s been a slight change in plan.”
“Oh.” Her smile fades ever so slightly.
She’s well aware of how badly I want this baby, so I quickly set her mind at ease. “It seems I have a friend interested in fathering my child.”
“Really? How’d that happen?”
I tell her about being on vacation with my brother and our group of friends and how the conversation with Jasper unfolded, without naming names.
“Wow, so how do you feel about that?”
“I feel good. He’s a very close friend, and he’s fine with me having full custody of the child. And before you ask, we’re working out the details with lawyers.”
“That’s really great, Ellie. So he’s going to donate, then?”
“Ah, not the way you mean. We’re doing it the way Mother Nature intended. What I need today is a clean bill of health, and he’s at his doctor getting the same.”
“Sounds like you’ve got all your bases covered. Let’s do a quick exam and talk about ovulation cycles and other fun stuff.”
I’m so comfortable with her after years of going to her that it’s no big deal to slide down the table, put my feet in the stirrups and bare myself to her. Except, this time, I’m worried about what she might find “down there” after what we did last night.
“Are you two off to an early start?” she asks.
I laugh nervously, wondering just how bad it is. “You could say that.”
“Are you sore?”
“A little.”
“I’ll be gentle.”
In spite of her best efforts, I have to grit my teeth to get through the exam, which hurts more than I’d expected it to. I tell myself this is nothing compared to what childbirth will feel like. Still, I’m glad when it’s over and she tells me to go ahead and sit up.
We go over timing and figure out when I’m likely to be ovulating based on the dates of my last period.
“It’s looks like this next week will be your sweet spot this month, but we could be off by a few days here or there. So my advice is to have as much sex as you can over the next week, and hope for the best. You know the odds are trickier at your age, and it may not happen right away. There’s a lot we can do if it doesn’t happen naturally, so try to stay positive and focused.”
I’m surprisingly emotional as we talk it through. This is really happening. It could happen as soon as this week. She gives me a prescription for prenatal vitamins to start now and an ovulation calendar along with a recommendation for a fairly accurate ovulation kit I can buy at any drugstore to confirm her calculations are on target. I’m told to limit caffeine, to stop drinking alcohol for the foreseeable future, to avoid lubricants that contain spermicide, and to relax and try to enjoy myself.
After I conceive, she continues, we’ll talk more about the possible risks and what to watch out for, but there’s no need to get into that until we have a baby on board.
“All the tests from your recent physical came back normal.” After confirming I haven’t had unprotected sex since then, she hands me a slip of paper that she has signed. “A clean bill of health for your baby daddy.”
I laugh at the term. I’m almost thirty-six years old, and I have a baby daddy! “I can’t believe this is actually happening.” My eyes fill with tears that I blink back, trying to contain them.
Dr. Breslow hugs me. “I’m so happy for you, Ellie. Call me any time if you need me, but I have a good feeling about this. You’re going to do great all on your own.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
“Just remember to relax. Stress isn’t good for you or your body when you’re trying to make a baby.”
Though I’m still sore and cramping after the exam, I fairly float out of Breslow’s office, armed with information and full of my own womanly power to procreate. And the best news of all? I need to have as much sex as possible with Jasper Autry for a full week. I feel like the proverbial kid in a candy store.
What the hell is taking her so long at the doctor? She’s been gone for two hours, which is a frightfully long time to have an erection. The commercials say to seek medical attention after four hours. I’m halfway to a full-blown crisis by the time she comes breezing into my office, eyes alive with joy, skin flushed with the rose-colored hue that reminds me of the blooms in my mother’s garden at home, and wearing a big, goofy smile. I’m struck dumb at the sight of her.
She closes the door behind her and leans against it, fairly vibrating with excitement that can’t be contained.
I get up and go to her, harder now that she’s in the room than I was while thinking about her. “What has you all lit up, darling?”
“This.” She produces a signed piece of paper from her doctor.
“Mine is coming soon.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as tomorrow.”
“Good, because we need to get going in the next few days.”
I must look confused, because she fills in the blanks for me.
“I’m due to ovulate this week, so my doctor said we should have as much sex as we can to better our chances.”
I barely let her get the words out and I’m on her, kissing her with the pent-up desire I’ve had to deny all damned day. I reach around her to lock the door before I push my hand under her skirt to discover she followed my orders to forgo the panties after the doctor, which thrills me. I fill my hands with warm, supple cheeks as I lift her against the door. Though it’s the last thing I want to do, I break the kiss, but only because there are things that must be said. “Let’s go somewhere. By ourselves for the whole week.” I bury my face in her fragrant hair, my lips on her neck.
“We just got back from a week away. I can’t. I have too much—”
“You’re going to get sick. Very, very sick. Something highly contagious that no one will want to be around. On Sunday, you’re going to come down with the plague, and it’s going to keep you out of work for a
week.”
“And no one will be suspicious if you’re out at the same time?”
“I’ll think of something, but we’re spending next week together. In my bed in Malibu. You’ll bring Randy, and the two of you will stay with me.”
“This is crazy. I have a job, responsibilities—”
I kiss her until I feel her begin to yield to me. I want her powerless to resist me, so I kiss her until I feel her moan of compliance. Fuck, her moans make me crazy. I can’t wait to hear them for a whole week. The thought of that makes me shudder from the wave of desire that crashes through me.
What is she doing to me? When was the last time that simply kissing a woman made me shudder? I can’t remember. It’s been a long time. Suddenly, kissing her isn’t enough. I need to possess her. Tightening my grip on her sweet arse, I lift her off the door, absorb her squeak of surprise into my mouth and carry her to the small conference table where I lay her out like my own personal feast.
She wrenches free of the kiss. “J-Jasper, we can’t. Not here.”
“Yes, we can, but only if you’re very, very quiet.”
The sound that she makes isn’t quite a moan and isn’t quite a groan, and it travels straight to my cock via my central nervous system. I’m on fire for her, but before I take what I want, I slowly lift her skirt until she’s bare before me. Dropping into one of the executive chairs, I spread her wide open to my tongue and devour her.
She makes incredibly sexy noises that tell me how hard she’s trying to stay quiet.
I actually can’t believe I’ve got my face buried in Ellie’s sweet pussy in the office. I’ve never done anything even remotely like this in my office, let alone with my business partner’s sister. But right now, I can’t be bothered thinking about such mundane things as work or office decorum or my precious partners, two of whom share walls with me, although not her brother. Thank God for small favors.
Driving my fingers into her tight, wet heat, I groan against her clit as I roll it between my teeth. Her legs tremble violently, and her internal muscles clamp down on my fingers. I remove one of them and push it deep into her arse. She explodes. Her entire body goes rigid, and only her hand pressed against her mouth keeps the entire building from sharing in the moment with us.