“Neither of us have roommates anymore. What if the power goes out tonight? It could be hazardous.”
I blocked my brow and nodded studiously. “You’re right. The best option would be for us to cohabit.”
“And maybe we should go check the room now? To make sure we’ve got a flashlight?” She batted her lashes. “You know, just to be safe.”
My cock zapped to life. I slid my hands around her waist and rested them low on her back, fingers curving around the top of her luscious ass.
“I like the way you think.”
Frankie grinned and we started toward the elevator.
“Let’s go to my room,” I said. “It’s closer.”
She shot me a quizzical look. “Only by a few feet.”
The elevator doors slid open and I guided her inside, lips at the shell of her ear as I pressed the floor number. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know if I can wait the length of this elevator ride to tear your clothes off.”
She shivered.
The doors closed and I slammed Frankie into the wall, hiking up her dress and wrapping one silky leg around my hips as my mouth claimed hers in a hard kiss. Frankie moaned in surprise. I ground my bulge into her and she moaned again for another reason entirely.
We grappled with each other the whole elevator ride—hands roaming, searching, gripping. By the time the doors opened, we were both panting feverishly.
I grabbed Frankie’s hand and ran for the room, laughing. That was just one of the many things I loved about Frankie. No matter what we were doing, I always had fun with her.
I unlocked the door and flung it open, pulling Frankie into the darkened room and heading straight for the bed.
“I’ve missed this,” she said.
“I’ve missed you.” I grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her onto the bed. She bounced once and shrieked in surprise.
“This dress would be a lot easier to take off standing up,” she said.
I chuckled, pulling at my tie and unbuttoning my shirt. “I don’t care. I like seeing you spread out on my bed. It reminds me of the night I tied you up and ate your pussy while you were completely helpless.”
Frankie chewed her lip hungrily and pushed herself up on her elbows. “I think about that all the time.”
“Yeah?” I stripped my shirt off and started working on my pants. “Does it make you wet?”
“Come over here and find out.”
A growl ripped from my throat. My pants and boxers fell to the floor and I covered Frankie with my body, reveling in the sensation of my naked skin against the silky fabric of her dress.
I captured her mouth and kissed her hard and deep, showing her exactly how much I wanted her. She sighed against my mouth and moaned when I nipped her bottom lip. My cock throbbed insistently.
“Turn over,” I instructed.
Frankie didn’t hesitate a beat. She flipped onto her stomach, pulling her hair to the side to allow me access to her throat.
“Good girl,” I murmured.
I kissed the back of her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there, and started pulling on the zipper of her dress, revealing her back inch by inch. My fingertips traced the path of the zipper. I reached the bottom and parted the material, kissing over her shoulder blades and down to the base of her spine. Gooseflesh rose in my wake and Frankie shivered.
I pulled the bottom of her dress up to her hips, exposing her juicy ass, enclosed in a pair of black lace panties that drove me to the edge of reason. I slid a hand between her legs and cupped her pussy, applying pressure above her clit. She was hot and wet even through the lace. Fuck, this girl would be my undoing.
Frankie moaned and lifted her ass to give me better access.
“I can’t decide whether to get you off with my hand first, while you’re all disheveled and at my mercy, or to get these clothes off and fuck you until you cum on my cock.”
“Please fuck me,” Frankie said in a breathy voice. She looked over her shoulder at me, lips parted and eyes wild with want. “Please.”
Any self-control I’d had snapped.
I reached up and practically tore the dress down Frankie’s body.
Blood pounded in my ears, though it felt more like fire in my veins. Seeing her soft curves on display was almost more than I could take. I unsnapped her bra and pulled down her panties before finally rolling her over and burying my face in her ample breasts.
I kissed and sucked with wild abandon, one hand reaching for the bedside table. Once I found what I was looking for, I sat back on my heels and rolled the condom down my turgid cock while Frankie looked up at me with smoldering eyes.
I kissed her again. My body quaked from how much I wanted her. Needed her. I probed my cock into her folds and plunged in to the hilt.
Frankie dug her fingernails into my back, scratching down my spine and making my scalp tingle. I gave her everything I had. No mercy. No holding back. She thrust up against me and our bodies slapped together with wild abandon.
My body swirled with pleasure. It burned under my skin and hijacked my brain, leaving me with only a few thoughts.
Harder.
Faster.
Heaven.
Her hands on my ass. My teeth in her neck.
“I’m so close,” Frankie panted.
My only answer was a growl and a thrust so hard the bed rattled against the headboard. I moved to my knees and slung her legs over my shoulders, needing to see her come apart.
Frankie’s breasts jiggled with the force of my thrusts. She gripped the bedsheets as I plunged even deeper inside of her than before, grunting with effort.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “Yes! Levi! Oh god, Levi!”
A spike of white hot lust surged straight down to my balls. Sweat prickled on my brow but I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Not when we were both so close to cumming and the world seemed like it would end if I did.
Frankie screwed her eyes shut and the first spasms of her orgasm held my dick in a vice. My eyes rolled back in my head and I broke, shuddering as I spurted over and over again. Frankie milked me to perfection. The room spun and blackness crept in from the edges. For a moment, I heard nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing and my heart hammering.
I came back down, pulling out of Frankie with quivering legs and collapsing to the side. She rolled over to me, grinning, cheeks flushed.
“I never want to not do that,” she said, nuzzling under my chin.
“Me neither.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and stroked her back. My voice came out barely a whisper. “Maybe the next wedding you should start planning is your own.”
Frankie emerged slowly, almost lazily, and met my gaze with a smile. “If I don’t kill you before we get to that part.”
I kissed her cheek. “Sweetheart, you kill me every single day.”
Epilogue
Frankie
1 year later...
“Ow!” I complained. “Careful with the zipper!”
Val smacked me. “I’ll be careful with the zipper when you stop fidgeting.”
“I can’t help it. I’m nervous.”
She came to stand in front of me, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. It’s going to be a piece of cake.”
I sighed. “I know. I’ve only done this a million times.” After a pause, I added, “Though not this part, I guess.”
Val chuckled. “I should hope not.”
I touched her arm. “Thank you for being here. It means the world to me.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” she replied. “Even if I am working for free.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
We both laughed, and I walked over to the mirror to admire the fit of my gown. I’d opted for a slim-fitting mermaid that accentuated my curves, giving me an ass J-Lo could only dream of. My hair was braided loosely over one shoulder, with pearls and diamonds woven into it. Val came to stand beside me, looking gorgeous as ever in her sea-green m
aid of honor gown, and the two of us leaned against each other. When the door flew open, we both jumped.
“Your father is driving me crazy,” Mom announced, storming into the room. “He won’t stop complaining about his diet.” She dropped her voice to imitate him. “What kind of Italian am I if I can’t eat carbs?”
I turned from the mirror and my mom halted in her tracks. She wrung her hands, eyes filling with tears.
“Baby, you look amazing!”
I went over and hugged her. “I feel amazing. I’m so glad you guys could be here.”
Mom sniffed. “If I’d known that marrying rich would mean the whole family would get flown out to some swanky mountaintop resort, I would have encouraged you to bag the guy from the start.”
“Sure you would.” I patted her back.
“This place has so many good memories for me,” Val said dreamily. “I’m glad you decided to have your wedding here. It’s like I get to experience my own wedding all over again.”
I pulled out of the hug with my mom and smiled at my best friend. “It’s like I get to experience your wedding all over again.”
“Are you ready?” Mom asked. “They’re waiting for you out there.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”
The walk to the ceremony space was familiar from when I did it with Valerie, except now each step was shaky and my heart raced at the prospect of what was waiting for me on the other side of the oak double doors. Mom gave me one final hug before entering the room, and soon after the music started.
Val clasped my hand. “You deserve this, Frankie.”
I squeezed it. And then she stepped through the door.
A few seconds later, so did I.
The first thing I noticed as I walked down the aisle was my gorgeous husband-to-be waiting for me with a stunning smile. Levi filled out his tux sinfully and my mind flashed with visions of tearing it off him later.
Then I noticed that Val wasn’t the only one standing on my side of the altar. I nearly tripped.
I had bridesmaids.
When the hell did I get bridesmaids? I peered at them and my mouth fell open when I recognized the first face. Olive Dennington. I went down the line, putting a name to the face of each of the seven girls.
They were my clients, all my favorite ones. By the time I finished absorbing this information, I had reached the alter, where Levi took my hand and leaned down to me.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Literally never been better,” I said. “Just confused. Did you invite them?”
Levi’s lips turned and he gently shook his head. “They heard you were getting married and all wanted to be here.” He glanced over my head at the girls, then back at me. “You made their weddings the best day of their lives. I guess they wanted to do the same.”
I turned to face them. I scanned down the line, grinning like a maniac, and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Then I turned to the officiant, who’d been waiting patiently this whole time, and nodded. “Let’s do this thing.”
The ceremony flew by, and it felt like I rode a cloud through all the words and smiles. But when the officiant pronounced us man and wife, time narrowed down to that single second where Levi looked at me with so much love in his eyes that I thought I might burst from happiness.
And when my husband kissed me, “Careless Whisper” played in my head.
I closed my eyes and thought back to our first kiss by the fire, to the journey that had brought us together, and to the adventure that lay ahead.
I opened my eyes to a new world.
Her Baby Donor
CHANCE CARTER
Chapter 1
Casey
I groaned as I looked at the clock on my computer. 119 minutes until the evening admin assistant would be in to relieve me of the front desk.
Minute after minute, day after day, I watch as these women, these families, come in with their excitement and hope and baby bumps.
Why couldn’t I have that?
Half my high school graduating class was already settling down with the loves of their lives, and the other half were on their second or third kid. I never thought I’d have everything together by my mid-twenties, but I’d at least hoped for something, a boyfriend, a fiancé, hell, even just some man candy to help me find my way.
A tall, blonde woman jolted me from my thoughts as she tapped a perfectly-manicured fingernail on the counter.
“Excuse me,” she said, as though I was the bane of her existence.
“Welcome to 6th Street Fertility Clinic,” I said, faking a smile. “I’m Casey. What can I do for you?”
The woman pointed to her protruding belly, as if my question was too ridiculous to dignify with a response.
“Right, of course. Please sign in and take a seat.”
As she slammed the pen against the clipboard with the last swirl of her signature, I decided she was about sixteen to eighteen weeks along. Three years of working at a fertility clinic had given me a myriad of useless skills, like predicting how far along a pregnant woman was, or guessing what men on the train were sperm donors.
There was definitely a type.
I almost felt sorry for whoever the father was of this woman’s child. I’d seen it dozens of times, rich men spending tens of thousands of dollars to give their wives whatever they wanted, as long as it wasn’t the time of day.
This time, it was a child.
Next time it might be a designer poodle, or a luxury cruise, or a new sports car.
Most of the patients we saw at the clinic were actually quite nice. When women came in with their husbands, it was usually because they had been actively trying and both really wanted a child. Those were the ones I felt bad for—that they had to go the fertility route— and I wanted to see them come back several months later with a beautiful, healthy baby bump.
But some women, like the one who’d graced me with her presence on this particular day, only wanted a child as a badge of honor, a trophy to carry around.
I watched from across the waiting room as the woman—Miranda James, as her signature identified her—freshened up her makeup, a small compact mirror in hand. I imagined she was trying to hide any trace of the weird spots and pigmentation that came along with pregnancy. Without the token baby bump, most people would never guess she was pregnant. She had toned arms peeking through her paisley tunic and freshly-dyed hair, telling me she didn’t take doctors’ recommendations seriously.
“Miranda James,” I said, startling the woman, who dropped her eyeshadow palette on the ground. Despite her arrogant demeanor, I knew better than to make a pregnant woman bend down to pick something up. I rushed around the counter and swooped up her palette, setting it in her palm.
She huffed and grabbed her makeup without so much as a “thank you”. Following me up to the counter, she asked, “What do you need?”.
“I just need your copay, Miss James,” I said.
“It’s Mrs. James,” she said, throwing her credit card at me. “Here.”
The clinic had a policy of always calling patients miss. We didn’t know their personal lives—and, quite frankly, it wasn’t our business. This wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, a trophy wife had yelled at me for this exact reason. I handed the woman her credit card receipt and told her, as politely as I could, to sit back down until she was called again.
How could the Mirandas, the Traceys, the Merediths, the Tiffanys of the world look so gorgeous and put-together all the time? How did they not only manage to find Mr. Right, but find them with so much money they could buy them whatever they wanted, and so much patience they’d put up with everything they did?
I glimpsed down at my round thighs, tight against my twill pants, and sighed. Beneath the pants were a pair of overpriced panties from Victoria’s Secret that hadn’t been seen by another person in months—maybe even a year. They were the prettiest, sexiest, naughtiest pair I owned, but for all the good they
did me, I might as well have been wearing a plastic bag.
What I wouldn’t give for a strong, dashing sugar daddy to come in and sweep me off my feet, bend me over the reception desk, pull down my twenty dollar twill pants, and slide his long, hard cock deep inside me.
My job was stable, and my bosses were great, but working at a fertility clinic was hard sometimes. All of these happy couples with fairytale endings strolling in and out, day after day, as I just sat and watched them. The closest I’d come to my happily ever after was an averagely attractive boyfriend during my junior year of college. He played too many video games, and his personal hygiene wasn’t the greatest, but at least he kept me company. And at least he loved me.
Or so I thought, until I found him screwing my roommate on my bed. So that ended pretty fast. Since then, I’d been on exactly five dates. Three duds, and two mediocre one night stands.
Even my best friend, Liana, who had sworn to stay single until she was forty when I first met her seven years earlier, was now married and expecting twins. I was happy for her. She’d found a great guy who was smart and sexy and really complemented her personality. At the same time, it stung when I realized we wouldn’t be raising our kids together. With no prospects on the horizon, I was a good few years out from even the possibility of having kids.
I’ll admit that I’d considered doing what quite a few of the women who came into the clinic were doing. Having a child alone. They paid thousands of dollars for the most coveted sperm we had. Of course, these were generally wealthier women who were nearing 40 and didn’t want to go through life childless. Not only was I just 26 years old, but there was no way in hell I could afford the insemination process. I’d been on the other end. I knew all of the extra fees and hidden costs—and I knew there was no promise of success.
There were a few good-looking guys I’d kept my eye on, in case it ever did come to the point where I was seriously committed to artificial insemination with donated sperm. For now, it was just in the back of my mind. I wondered if my bosses would consider an employee discount.
I’d bet they’d never been asked that before!
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