Page 165

Is my baby growing inside of her, right now?

“Okay,” she murmurs, lip twitching. “Now you’re just teasing me.” The little squirm she makes forces my finger lower, grazing her entrance. Breaking from my daze is harder than usual, and I reach into my pocket to extract the syringe.

Her throat clicks with a swallow. “When did you get that?” she asks, green eyes fixed on the milky fluid inside.

I press my palm to her inner thigh, thumb massaging the tense tendon as I stare into her folds. “About twenty minutes ago,” I explain in a voice that’s dropped two octaves.

She’s getting wet.

She gives me a heavy blink. “Oh.”

The syringe slides in easily, and in my periphery, I can see her toes curl as I bottom it out. I don’t need to ask her to look at me–haven’t in weeks–so when I glance up into her green eyes, she’s already staring back.

Lagan, look at me.

Her breath expands with a slow inhale as I press the plunger, and I’m hoping for that same surge of primal want that struck me as I watched myself come inside of her on the video.

It doesn’t come, though.

This is not how babies are made. It’s not how heirs are born. Whatever happened in her bed last night… that was warm and dirty, not cold and sterile. It was human. That’s the thing about me when I sleepwalk. I’m no longer Lagan or Lex. I’m just a man searching for a woman, whittled down to my own base instincts.

Andfuck,I want to be him right now.

Setting the empty syringe aside, I look down at her naked body, with those sweet lips and rosy cheeks. She’s still as I lean over her, propping a palm on the exam table beside her elbow. I press the back of my other hand to her forehead, soaking in the warmth of it before trailing downward, over her pink cheek.

The urge to bury myself within her is fierce. Not just her pussy, but her skin, warm and soft. The little bit of give in her lower belly. The plumpness of her full, womanly breasts. Verity Sinclaire is femininity personified, and the thought slams into me like a freight train.

“You’d look so fucking good with a baby inside you.”

Her mouth parts in surprise, nipples already peaked from the deposit. “I… would?”

I look at her lips, taunted by the memory of kissing her before. “Round and glowing, the personification of fertility,” I explain, skating my fingertips down to her breast. “Your tits would get so full, areolas growing darker. Your hips would expand, your anatomy preparing itself for birth.” I pull in a breath through flared nostrils, smelling her arousal. “It’s the oldest science known to mankind.”

When I look back up, her eyes are heavier, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Creation.”

The thread snaps and I dart down to take her mouth in a sudden, bruising kiss.

I can’t even count how many times I’ve wanted to. Having her on my exam table, open and ready–it’s been fucking torture. The kiss isn’t as gentle as the one on the screen was, my hand jerking down to palm her warm, heavy breast. Her mouth is warm, slick, and just as frantic. It elicits a stirring deep in my chest, but wanting this girl has never been a problem. Acting on it has. It’s been easier to stay away from her than to deal with the disappointment of being unable to take her. But tasting her like this–Jesus, it’s worth the frustration. Now, her lips are yielding, a moan spilling into my mouth as my tongue delves inside to swallow it. Her breast is warm and heavy beneath my palm, my thumb sweeping over the pebbled nipple.

Her feet rattle the stirrups, soft thighs closing around my hips. “Lex,” she breathes, her nails dragging down my abdomen. “Let me,” she says, tugging at my buckle. “Let me try.”

I tear myself away just to push my forehead into hers, panting.

Sex.

It hasn’t even been that long since I had it–while awake. Six months. I work with a few genuine nerds in the science department, and some of them are still virgins. Six months without sex is nothing, and technically, I just had it last night. Twice.

So why does it suddenly feel like years since I slid my way into a pussy?

“Lex?” she whispers, eyes blinking up at me. “Okay?”

In the end, I’m too weak to say no. Too fucking tired. Sick of the deprivation. All I want is to feel good, and that’s exactly how her hands feel as she yanks the belt out of the loops, thumbing open the button. I exhale when she pulls out my cock, thumb rolling over the head.

It’s what makes me a liability–I know. Whatever it is that allows me to prop my fists on the exam table and let her stroke my cock is the same weakness that got me hooked on Scratch. It’ll either be my oblivion or salvation, and right now, I’d take either.

I take a deep breath and try to feel it, her hand gripping the base of my cock, hard.Toohard. I clamp my fingers over hers, grunting. “Softer.”

She responds by loosening her grip, taking a slow glide from base to tip. I feel a rush of blood, gaze honed in on her heaving chest. “Like that?”