Chapter 17

Carter

If these latest expense reports could hold my attention half as well as June does, I’d have them done already.

Truth be told, right now I’d much rather be doing June.

I’d never had a secretary as decorative as her before, mostly by design—the way her hips flare out beneath her pencil skirt when she bends over to highlight a discrepancy, the way her hair falls over her shoulders like waves of chocolate.

I can’t stop fucking staring at her, and I can’t even complain about it. If my office was over the Grand Canyon, I’d want to gaze upon its majesty, too.

Fuck work. Figures and numbers are pretty fucking meaningless in comparison. The only figure I’m concerned with right now is that of my bride.

Suddenly, she looks up and catches my stare. It makes my heart fucking stop—and the way she smiles after makes me think she knows it.

What she doesn’t know is that I’m fantasizing as I stare. Not just about bending her over that desk and making her moan into the intercom…but also about the way that cute little skirt of hers is going to start filling out once we know for sure she’s carrying my child.

She’s beautiful now, but add in that baby bump, and she’s going to be fucking glowing. Good thing I no longer have to restrain myself, because she’s mine. I’m gonna have her everywhere and anytime I want to, even on the—

The fantasy comes to an abrupt end as the devil himself bursts into my office.

“Christ, I’m up to my ears in child support payments! I can’t take it anymore…there’s just too many of them,” my father’s currently on his monthly rant about paying all the baby mamas he’s knocked up.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve looked up to my dad. When I was younger, he was the very picture of success—he had more money than he knew what to do with and his choice of pussy every night, with no fucks to give about knocking his conquests up…I mean, what more could a man want?

Boy, was I fucking naïve.

I now know the answer to that question, and I’m sure at one point in time, my dad did, too.

He truly loved my mom. Everyone who ever knew both of them as a couple said as much. It took a real toll on him when she passed away during my and Lawrence’s birth.

Since then, he’s been a real man-whore, bringing true glory to the name Abraham Fertility Inc. He’s the very face of the company, sowing his seed every-fucking-where. Lawrence and I were quick to follow in his shoes as playboys extraordinaire.

My eyes skirt over to June, sitting at her desk, typing away. The look of concentration on her face is sexy as hell. The green blouse she’s wearing compliments her eyes and skin tone. She looks like a fucking goddess. Doesn’t hurt that it hugs her curves in all the right places, too!

“Maybe you should’ve kept your dick in your pants then, or at the very least worn a condom,” I shrug.

“Pussy is much better without those lousy rubber sacks. It ain’t the money, it’s that there’s too many fucking kids to keep track! I had Vicky calling me two days ago, and Francesca and Marlene today, the phone calls never end!” He throws up his hands in resignation.

“Should I have June create you a spreadsheet?” I’m only half joking. She’d do it if I asked, but the utter reality would be pretty fucking shocking to her.

“Har, har, har. Laugh it up, son…” He drops a file on my desk and leaves as quickly as he had come.

I have no sympathy for the man. You’d think he would’ve learned after the first of my brothers and sisters were born. But no. They just kept popping up out of nowhere.

Seriously, every time I turn around, I’m hearing about a new baby on the way. I swear, he could fucking wink a woman pregnant at this point.

I know all too well how easy it is to knock someone up. But unlike my old man, I took that one painful experience and turned it into a valuable lesson.

My eyes flick over to June again. Looking at her, it’s crystal clear that I’m not the same.

All my father and I share is that super sperm that we could probably bottle and make millions out of. I can just see the tagline now: Delivering Dreams Around the World.

For once in my life, I can lay eyes on a beautiful woman and know that I have a good future waiting. She’s unlike any other I’ve met and any other I will meet. I know that for fucking sure.

I knew it the first day we met.

Yes, there’s a contract involved, but I can feel that it’s more than that. It feels so good, and so right to fuck her. She gives good head, too.

She’s every man’s dream, and she’s mine.

She flips her hair over her shoulder as she reaches for the filing cabinet right outside my office. Our eyes connect again, and the smile she shows me is so damn dazzling, I can feel my cock pressing against my trousers.

She’s driving me fucking crazy, and she knows it. As she bends over, I get a clear line of sight of her perky tits.

That fantasy about bending her over my desk is about to become reality if she keeps this up. I don’t give a fuck if it’s the middle of the morning. It’s about time for a snack anyway.

I can’t wait to find out if she’s pregnant, for her to show me the pregnancy test. The anticipation is wrecking me, and I can’t seem to think about anything else. It normally takes about two weeks to find out, and I can tell you right now: it’s going to be the most agonizing two weeks of my life.

I might just have to find ways to keep my mind occupied. Like June naked on my lap, riding me like a cowgirl. Yeehaw.