by K. C. Crowne
Doctor’s Baby Plan
A Student Teacher, Doctor's Surrogate Romance
K.C. Crowne
Contents
Also by K.C. Crowne
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Triplets for The Millionaire (Preview)
About the Author
Also by K.C. Crowne
K.C. Crowne is an Amazon Top 10 bestseller.
All books are FREE on Kindle Unlimited and can be read as standalones.
Doctors of Denver Series (This series)
Doctor’s Secret | Doctor’s Surprise Delivery | Irish Doctor’s Secret Babies | Millionaire’s Surprise Triplets | Doctor's Baby Plan| Knocked Up by the New Zealand Doctor
Mountain Men of Liberty Series
Baby for the Mountain Man| Junior for the Mountain Man| Knocked Up by the Mountain Man| Baby For Daddy's Friend | Triplets for the Mountain Man | Taken by the Mountain Man| Secret Baby for the Mountain Man | Mountain Man’s Accidental Surprise | Quadruplets for the Mountain Man | Delivering His Gifts| Mountain Daddy’s Fate | Mountain Man’s Lucky Charm | Mountain Man's Best Friend's Sister
Lumberjacks of Grizzly Falls Series Lumberjacked | Lumberjack’s Baby
Rainbow Canyons Cowboy Series
Taboo Cowboy |Cowboy’s Baby|Her Cowboy Daddies | Southern Charm| Cowboy’s Bride
Big Bad Daddies Series
Big Bad Doctor | Big Bad Daddy| Big Bad Taboo Daddy | Big Bad Prince|Big Bad Mountain Man| Big Bad SEAL| Big Bad Boss| Big Bad Sugar Daddy| Big Bad Mountain Brothers
Bearded Brothers Mountain Man Series
Her Mountain Daddy| Beauty and the Beard| Bride and the Beard| Built and Bearded |
Firemen of Manhattan Series
Big Bad Fireman’s Baby| Big Bad Firefighter| Big Bad Fire Daddy|
Spenser Sisters Reverse Harem Series
Men on a Mission| Christmas with Four Firemen| Dirty Cowboys
Checkout KC’s full Amazon Catalog
All books are FREE on Kindle Unlimited and can be read as standalones.
Description
"Screw IVF. Let's do this the old-fashioned way."
The agreement we made was simple...
Step 1: Sign the dotted line.
Step 2: Deliver the babies to their father.
Step 3: Move on, and forget it all happened.
Easy enough, right??
Sure... in theory.
Except, I may have done the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't:
Fall in love with the gorgeous, but emotionally unavailable, doctor who knocked me up.
How will I ever return back to my old life after I deliver the twin babies to their father?
Prologue
“However good you looked in that dress, it’s nothing compared to you right now.”
A hot rush spread from my lady parts, the sensation making me weak at the knees.
Then he closed the distance between us, placing his hand on the small of my bare back and bringing my body against his. I could feel his hardness through his jeans, the long, thickness of his length.
He leaned in to kiss me again, and this time he brought his hand down between my legs, gripping firmly onto the soft skin of my inner thigh.
I gasped through the kiss as he moved up, up, until his fingers were only inches away from right where I wanted them.
“Tell me what you want,” he spoke into my ear, his lips taking a break from kissing me along the length of my neck.
It was all such a bad idea.
The responsible part of me was practically screaming, insisting loudly that what I was on the verge of doing might very well be the biggest mistake of my life. That I should stop at this very moment.
But that’s not what I did. Instead of doing the smart thing, the responsible thing, I brought my lips to his ear, gave his earlobe a quick nibble, and said the exact word I shouldn’t have.
“You.”
And we were off to the damn races.
He put his hand back on my inner thigh as he kissed me hard, his touch moving up until he was so tantalizingly close to where I wanted him that I wanted to scream. When the side of his hand grazed my lips, just the hint of his touch was enough to almost make me come on the spot.
He touched me more, his hand on the small of my back, his lips on mine. He reached down with his right hand and peeled off my socks.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his palms tracing the outline of my hips.
I grinned, flattered by the idea of a man like him fantasizing about me.
“That right? Thinking about what?”
“Thinking about what I’d do to you if I got you naked in front of me.”
“Then do it.”
He didn’t need any more encouragement. With effortless strength, he lifted me off my feet and carried me over to the edge of his living room couch. Once there, he quickly had my panties off, and my legs spread open wide.
His hand went between my legs, his fingertip pressing on my clit with just the right amount of pressure as he made slow, sensual circles.
It felt so damn good that I worried I might lose control of my body and make noises that would embarrass me. But he kept his left hand on the small of my back and held me in place as his right teased and touched me.
“Oh God,” I moaned. “Touch me just like that.”
He did, only taking breaks to slip his fingers inside of me, my pussy so slick and wet that he was able to enter me without the slightest bit of effort. He knew just how to touch me inside, how to curl his fingers and hit my G-spot.
He gazed intently at me, his eyes narrowed like a hunter’s, a slight smile on his sexy lips that made it clear he loved watching me as he made me come.
When I was close to my orgasm, I clamped my hand down onto his, making sure it stayed in place on my clit. I tilted my head back and let out a long moan as the orgasm coursed through me, my body tightening and then releasing as he touched me through it all.
“I need...” The words shot out of my mouth when the orgasm faded.
“You need what?” he asked.
Playful little shit.
“You want me to beg?” I asked with a teasing tone.
“Nope. Just want to hear you say it.”
I answered his question by grabbing onto his cock through his jeans. His smirk broadened – I’d given him the answer he’d wanted to hear. With that, I hurriedly got him out of his pants and shirt.
His body was perfect. Sculpted and toned and lean and strong.
My eyes tracked up his muscles, and as I did, I noticed more than a few small scars here and there. No doubt they had stories to tell, but that moment wasn’t the time for them.
I was drunk on desire, wanting him so badly I could hardly thi
nk straight. Once I had him out of the skin-tight pair of gray boxer briefs that clung to his powerful thighs and laid eyes on his long, thick cock, any other notion but my need for him to be inside me was gone.
My fingers wrapped around his thickness, his cock warm and stiff to the touch. I guided him closer and closer toward me.
He let me do it, let me tease my lips with his head for just a moment before placing him at my opening.
He didn’t wait to do the rest. With a slow push of his hips, he moved into me and I closed my eyes to focus on the sensation of all his many, many inches pushing deep inside, stretching me out, my walls gripping him tightly.
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 wit
h 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, private 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.
