Chapter Four

Emmett

For a moment, all I can do is stare openmouthed at Jenna. Did she just say my sample? No way. A fucking pee cup to catch the goods—is she insane?

I shouldn’t be pissed. She’s not exactly asking me for a hardship here. But orgasming into a cup isn’t what I want. She is, and right up until five seconds ago, I thought we were on the same page about this arrangement. I’ve been looking forward to taking this sexy firecracker of a woman to my bed tonight, not handing her my jizz in a sterile plastic cup. What a fucking letdown.

“Is there a problem?” she asks, blinking at me.

I manage to unfreeze my brain enough to respond. Leaning closer, I say quietly, “Hell yes, there is. I’m not jacking off into some cup for you in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant. What did you think I meant by doing this ‘the old-fashioned way?’ I wasn’t talking about using a butter churn.”

“Of course I knew you were talking about having sex. I’m not that naive. And I didn’t intend for you to do it here,” she says, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see her flush a little. “I just decided the physical act of making a baby wouldn’t work for me.”

“Why not?” Could I have misread her that badly? No way. If I know anything, it’s how to tell whether a woman is interested in me, and Jenna’s been showing all the signs since the moment we met in that elevator.

“Because I didn’t want to invite any . . . complications.” She hesitates. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, you seem great and all, but I barely know you. We met two days ago. We’ve had one dinner together. I spend more time deciding on my next shoe purchase than the amount of time we’ve spent together.”

Is that all? So she’s not the type to fuck on the first date, no big deal. Was she worried about me trying to rush her? I would never pull a dick move like that—but then again, like she just pointed out, she doesn’t know me well enough to know that. I have to earn her trust the hard way.

I give her a reassuring smile. “That’s an easy problem to fix. We can keep going out and take things as slow as you need.”

“But I don’t want to take it slow.”

My eyebrows dart up. “Oh? I can do quick too.”

Her gaze drops for a second and she stammers, “Th-that’s not what I meant. I do feel like we click, but I just don’t have the time or energy for anything involved.”

Oh, I get it now. Looks like we’re in the same boat when it comes to dating.

I steeple my fingers in front of my chin. “I see where you’re coming from. But sex doesn’t have to complicate things.” In fact, in my experience, sometimes it makes them wonderfully simple. “If you just want to be fuck-buddies, that’s fine with me.” I flash her a wolfish grin. “More than fine, actually.”

Her eyes remain rock steady, unmoved by my flirting. This is the kind of stare down I’ve given to doomed opponents at the negotiation table, and I always win. But something about Jenna’s confidence leaves me feeling unsure.

Breathing a labored sigh, she explains, “This little cup ensures we avoid falling into any kind of relationship in the first place. I already have a life plan all worked out, and it doesn’t include a man.”

“Then it’s lucky I never have relationships anyway.” When she blinks owlishly, I elaborate. “Let me lay it all out for you. You’re clearly a very busy woman, and I’m a very busy man. I’m married to my job. It might not be the happiest marriage, but it’s still mine, and I don’t do infidelity. My life has no room for anything beyond one-night stands. I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in almost a decade. Shit, I barely have time to grab a beer with my best friend once a week, let alone take care of a kid. So, if all you want is for me to knock you up and then get the hell out of your life, that works perfectly for me.”

“Yeah, that’s all I want, no strings and things done on my terms . . . before and after, if you get my drift. What if you change your mind, though?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to worry about that possibility. Part of the reason I went for a sperm bank is so some stranger wouldn’t come crawling out of the woodwork someday, demanding paternity rights.”

“I swear, this kid will be one hundred percent yours. I’m willing to put that promise in writing, if you want. I won’t get involved or even have any opinions on how you raise him or her. Trust me, I’m happy to do nothing more than lend a helping dick.” Very, very happy.

Jenna’s expression changes from stubborn to thoughtful. She chews her lower lip, then replies slowly, “Well, if it’s legally binding, maybe. And I’ve heard that orgasms facilitate sperm uptake, so I guess having sex instead of artificial insemination might not hurt my chances of fertilization.”

This is the strangest dirty talk I’ve ever heard, but I’ll take my victories however I can get them. She’s willing to consider the idea—or at least stop shoving that damn cup at me.

I take the opportunity to press my point further. “Using a sperm sample defeats the whole purpose of my offer anyway. The reason I suggested this in the first place is so you didn’t have to resort to . . . what was it you said they did? Getting your cervix catheterized in some cold clinic.” I grimace and can’t help but notice the way Jenna’s mouth has turned down too.

“That’s a fair point.” She shrugs. “And you’re certain you can be no-strings about this?”

I nod. “Absolutely. You’ll be free to go your own way. Hell, if the kid wants to hop a train and run away to join the circus, they can be my guest. Just as long as you never let them go vegan.”

She snorts, trying not to smile. “You said you wouldn’t have any opinions.”

I put up my hands in mock defeat. “Fine. Just put the cup away, for God’s sake.”

She sighs but tucks it back into her purse, and I’m glad to see it go. Then she adds, “There is one more issue we should talk about.”

“Lay it on me.” Whatever it is, I’m sure I can deal with it.

“This might not be a once-and-done thing. We might have to keep trying to conceive for months. And since we’d be having unprotected sex, I’d need to see a copy of your test results to be sure you have a clean bill of health, and you’d have to agree to only sleep with me until we’re done.” Her eyes are sharp, evaluating me, but there’s vulnerability in them too. A hint of trepidation as she waits to see how I’ll react. “Can you commit to those conditions?”

I should be freaking out. Sleeping with only one woman for however long it takes her to pass a pregnancy test? She’s essentially asking me for monogamy until further notice.

But strangely enough, I realize I’m far from turned off. And it’s not just because of her assurances that she won’t get attached. I can already tell that having her once won’t be nearly enough to work her out of my system. Her sexy curves, her smart mouth . . . nope, Jenna isn’t a one-night kind of lady.

Intrigued, I nod. “Yeah, I’m still on board. That makes sense, and I'm happy to swap test results.” In fact, I’m so on board for that, it’s all I can do not to pull her on top of me right now.

“Are you sure you’re good with all that?” she asks.

“Absolutely. We’re going to fuck, Jenna, and we’re going to do it until the job gets done.” I stand up, pull out my wallet, and drop a fifty on the table to cover our meal and tip. “So, are you ready to get out of here? No time like the present.”

She blinks up at me, looking confused, then chuckles. “Oh no, we’re not doing it tonight.”

“But you just said—”

“I’m not ovulating yet.” She stands up and pats my cheek, her coy smile maddening. “Good night, big boy. Let’s talk next Tuesday.”

I’m left standing openmouthed on the restaurant patio with tented pants, hot all over, watching her strut away down the street. And not even a good-night kiss to show for it.

Fuck!

• • •

My erection still hasn’t died all the way down by the time I get home. I park in the building’s basement garage and hurry up to my penthouse, eager for privacy. I can still feel the ghost of Jenna’s fingertips brushing my cheek, like the lingering heat of an ember.

I would have expected all this talk of babies and clinical stuff like ovulation to kill my boner, but somehow, with Jenna, it’s the total opposite—sexy as all hell. She puts everything out there so freely, no beating around the bush or getting embarrassed. My usual playmates like to have fun, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes it’s clear they lack the confidence and directness of maturity. Jenna is completely different. Not a girl, all woman.

God, I can’t wait . . .

After draping my sport coat over the back of the couch, I head to my bedroom and sit on the edge of the mattress as I unzip my pants and pull out my stiff cock. A sigh of relief escapes me at the first firm stroke. I close my eyes and let my legs splay open as I focus on the sensations. I jerk myself to dirty thoughts of Jenna, already feeling a warm tingle spreading through my veins.

The fact that she’s making me wait to take her just gets me even hotter. What will I do with her when I finally get my hands on her luscious body?

I tighten my grip on my cock and let my imagination run wild with pornographic images. How will she look, sound, smell, feel? Is she a screamer or will I have to pull the noises out of her, overwhelm her before I get to hear her cry out in pleasure? What are her favorite positions? Does she like being pinned, or will she take the reins and straddle me? Whatever she’s game for, I’m ready to play.

I pump fast and rough, twisting my fist around the precum-slicked head, rubbing my thumb against the sensitive slit. I picture Jenna everywhere. Writhing on her back underneath me, riding me hard like a rodeo bull, on all fours and pushing her ass back against my hips as I thrust from behind. And I try to imagine what it’ll be like to fuck her bare, to feel every bit of her hot, wet pussy clenching around my cock with no condom between us. What it’ll be like to empty myself inside her. To make a baby.

This will be a first for me—actively trying to impregnate a woman—and after decades of preventing that from happening, I should feel turned off. Instead, the thought has the opposite effect.

My thighs tremble with my oncoming orgasm. I buck faster and faster, thrusting up into my hand. There’s no one here to hear me, no need to restrain myself, so I tip my head back and let out a long, loud groan as thick cum spurts over my fingers.

I slow to a stop, breathing hard. Then I get up to throw my soiled shirt and chinos into the laundry and take a shower before bed. Despite the long day I’ve had, thoughts of Jenna run rampant through my mind and I’m already feeling the urge to jerk off again.

Next Tuesday, she said.

Jesus. It’s only six more days, but it already feels like forever.