Off-Limits Box Set

by Ella James

  At the time, I’d never felt so free before. And so I married her.

  What happened next—how we unraveled—was not her-specific. We fell on the swords of youth and my addiction. My not-normal girl was maybe needier than normal. She wanted more than average, while I was capable of giving so much less. It was like math, what happened. We just didn’t add up. Marley removed herself from the equation.

  “You want me between your legs?” I ask her now. “You want my cock inside your cunt?”

  I wait for her to flinch at my crass language. When Marley nods slowly, I can’t hold back a groan.

  “You can’t just say that shit.”

  “I’m not just saying it.” She straightens her spine, and I see her for the first time, maybe, as the woman she is now.

  “You want to fuck me,” I say slowly.

  “Yes.” Her cheeks redden for a moment. “That was never our problem, was it?”

  Fuck sure wasn’t. But still… “You want me to knock you up? You really want to have a baby that you made with me?”

  Her blush is darker this time. “I could go to a sperm bank, but c’mon, Gabe. This is such a good idea as far as logic goes. I know you’re not a psychopath or serial killer. You don’t have diabetes, cystic fibrosis, something like that.”

  “Not diabetes. Marley, you’re my fucking ex.”

  “Is that a ‘no’ then?” Her face locks down.

  “Would you share this baby? Child?”

  “Yes. We could offer him or her a mom and a dad. Who once were married.” She grins, shaking her head. “See? It’s almost normal.”

  “And if I want to tie your arms?” I step closer. “And plug your ass? And make it ache? Is that what you have in mind, Marley? Do you want to get down on your knees for me? Because that’s all I want. That’s what I’d want from you.”

  I see my harsh words make their mark, but then I watch her face take on a sterner look. “I liked the other day. It was better than I’d had in years. Since you. I don’t have to be your friend to enjoy you in bed.”

  My cock hardens so fast, I have to grit my teeth to keep a moan in. “You can’t tell me that.”

  Her mouth twitches. “That’s why I did.”

  “Oh, Marley. What are you doing?”

  “Making you an offer.” She smiles sweetly, and I know for sure she’s not as reckless as she seems. I’ve been a dick to her since she moved in, and Marley probably doesn’t trust me as far as she could throw me. But she doesn’t care about that. It doesn’t matter that we have this history. Hell, she may not have a shred of feeling left for me. I’m a means to an end, for her. A stepping stone on her path to what she wants, which evidently is a baby.

  She shrugs. “Think about it.”

  Then she turns and disappears through her door. She’s closing it behind her when I push it open.

  My balls ache as I say, “Go sit on the couch.”

  I see her eyes flare with surprise. To my delight, she does exactly what I ask, sitting on her couch with her hands on her knees, still wearing her ridiculous alien jumpsuit.

  “Take the costume off.”

  I watch as she unties it at the neck and peels the top part off, exposing smooth skin and creamy breasts that strain a black lace bra. She stands to step out of the lower half, revealing black panties and legs that look exactly as I recall: sinfully voluptuous, with just a hint of definition and a lot of fucking curve. There’s never been a body like Marley’s.

  When she’s finished, standing mostly naked in front of me with her head tilted and a sly smile on her mouth, she does a wink thing and says, “Your turn.”

  Jesus Christ.

  She’s peering up at me with lust-drunk eyes as I lower the sheet around my waist.

  I tug my throbbing cock. “You want this?”

  She reaches for me, and when her hand closes around my head, my eyes shut. I let Marley run her smooth, soft hands over my cock, tracing a vein down to the base, then cupping my balls.

  “I could make it really good for you,” she whispers. I grit my teeth as she strokes the hot spot at the underside of my head. “It would be kind of a trade,” she says. “My body for your sperm.”

  I groan as she starts pumping. “Marley,” I breathe. “I’m an alcoholic.”

  She tightens her grip on me, making my feet arch. “So what? Everyone has something.”

  She wraps her mouth around my head and gives a tugging suck. “I know this is crazy,” she says as she licks down my shaft. “It’s a crazy plan…” She licks back up me. “But I think there could be…something in it…for us both.”

  Her free hand cups my balls, rolling them gently. “You could be as involved as you want. Lots or not a lot.”

  She sucks my cock into her mouth again, and it’s a struggle to stay standing as she traces my slit with the tip of her tongue.

  “You have the best dick,” she says, more to it than me. “I’ve thought so even when the rest of you is a dick, too.”

  I clench my fingers in her hair, and Marley deep throats me a few times.

  “Fuck…” I can barely stand up.

  “Why don’t you sit, and I can kneel in front of you?”

  When I blink, I find her brown eyes warm, her face pleasant and sincere. I could get used to this. And that’s exactly why I can’t sit. I keep up the charade I started almost fourteen years ago—the idea that I’m some kind of dominant, that I need to be in control—for the same reason I used to.

  I can’t get relaxed with Marley. Not then, and for fuck’s sake, not right now.

  I carry her into the room I think is likely hers. It’s warm and quaint, filled with a maple antique bedroom set, including a queen-sized bed with a hand-carved, wall-high headboard. I lay her on the bed, and Mar gives me a small, dreamy smile.

  Dear fuck.

  She’s not your wife, I tell myself. Where in the past I told myself to open up to her, that we were trying for something, now I must remember at all times that what we’re trying for is sperm plus egg. My cock in her cunt. Marley’s whimper and my moan.

  I strip off her underthings, my cock growing harder, heavier at the sight of her plump, perfect pussy and her wet-dream tits. I think of nudging up between her legs and dining on that cunt, but I’m so hard, I might come just from having her, and that won’t do for the good dom.

  I rub a finger through her slickness, stroke my fingertip over her clit until she’s lifting her hips, and then I stretch out beside her and beckon her until she’s close enough to grab. I bring her down atop my face and pant as Marley’s tongue traces around my head.

  Then I fill her soft cunt with my fingers, and I start to lick her core…along her slit…around her clit: teasing her—and Marley jerks and yelps between lapping at me like an ice cream cone.

  Finally, I give her clit some love, and she is moaning, pumping my shaft, stroking my balls, and it’s as if she remembers her unholy task as I start lapping at her in earnest, because she sucks my cock into her mouth, taking me so deep she coughs, then blows me like the hooker that I know she isn’t. Goddamn, I forgot the kind of head she gives…

  Marley knows exactly what I need and when. The only thing that keeps me from spurting down her throat in something like a minute is my focus on her cunt. I need her whimpering and sagging on my face, and pretty soon, that’s how I have her. She’s still deep-throating me, but with less focus. Good.

  I can feel her jerky breathing, feel her shaking. I trace a ring around her clit, then focus on her slit and filling her pussy with my writhing fingers.

  Marley hums around my cock, and my tongue on her clit goes limp as my balls draw up.

  She swirls her tongue around me, and I try to think of something else as I lick up and down her puffy seam, parting her lips and lapping at her clit.

  “Please,” she starts to whimper. The wetter she gets, the tighter she feels around my fingers, the harder and deeper she sucks me, until I’m right there on the ledge and have to think of babies to hold
off so I can finish her. And then I do, and she sucks me so deep and hard, I see stars.

  I shut my eyes, let out a breath, and let myself come.

  Marley laps up all of me. When the deed is done, I ease her off me and lay her on her bed, then pull the covers over her. When she looks up at me, her eyelids are heavy.

  “It makes me so sleepy…” She smiles, and it’s as if not one day has passed between twelve years ago and now. She always smiled with her heart in her eyes. I remember how it used to make me feel disarmed.

  I try to pretend I don’t feel that way right now. I think I succeed, because she looks a little less relaxed as she brushes her hair out of her eyes and sits up.

  “So—does this mean you want to make a baby with me?”

  Seventeen

  Marley

  He stands by the bed, solemn-faced and statuesque as he looks down on me. One hand comes up to his scruffy face, and his gaze trails down to the bottom of the bed, as if he’s lost in thought.

  “Take some time to think about it.”

  His eyes snap back to mine, his handsome face twisting in an almost-mournful look. “Marley. I meant what I said.”

  “What part?” I murmur, frowning back at him.

  He rubs a hand back through his hair and breathes deeply, making his pecs swell and his shoulders rise. “This isn’t the best time.” He says it hoarsely, looking miserable now, and guilt squeezes my stomach.

  “Maybe it’s too much, then.”

  He steps closer, reaching down to hold my hand—except he doesn’t. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, jaw tightening as he stares down at it. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  His grip on my wrist tightens slightly, and I can read the part of this he isn’t saying.

  “Only physical. And you want it how you want it. You want to set some rules. You want to be in charge,” I whisper.

  His eyes lift to meet mine. “I would have to be.”

  I nod. Last time we were together, he was always big on kinky things like tying me up and spanking me. Everything we did felt so good, I never even thought to question it. And now, this go ’round—unlike last time—I don’t expect more. I don’t need more. I’ve been single for a while now. I’ve been pregnant single. “We would have a physical exchange, and after, you would be the baby daddy, Gabe. Just that.”

  He lets go of me and nods once. “I’ll sleep on it,” he says quietly.

  So I’m left there with my sexed-up room, my empty room, my empty heart, my empty life—waiting to find out if the man who broke my heart will give me something invaluable. Something undeniably strange and probably twisted and very possibly amazing.

  The next morning, standing in the kitchen, I put the top back on my pen and peer down at the sheet of lime green construction paper I found in the bottom of one of my boxes, and I admire my handiwork.

  The Plan

  Gabe & Marley

  Needs (Marley):

  -1-2x a day “encounters” two weeks out of every month

  -Attractive partner with stamina and mystique

  -Occasional cider and lattes (both with excessive whipped cream)

  Offering:

  -1-2x a day “encounters” two weeks out of every month

  -Enthusiastic partner with flexibility (in every way – tehehe)

  -Occasional meals (of food and also the illicit variety)

  **Please fill in the following**

  Needs (Gabe):

  Offering:

  I giggle to myself the whole way down the stairs and up the house’s front walkway. I leave the paper folded into a discreet square and stuck in the seam of his door, and then I ring the doorbell and knock loud and long enough that I feel pretty sure he heard.

  I consider jotting my phone number at the bottom before leaving, but decide not to. I don’t want it feeling too official. Of course, I guess it is kind of official.

  Would our baby have curls?

  I go to work with a feeling of lightness and peace. I don’t feel anxious or emotional about what his reply might be. I’m going to be flexible (as promised) and let what happens, happen.

  That’s the plan.

  Gabe

  Flexible in every way.

  I snort.

  Fucking Marley.

  The words of “The Plan” are written in sparkly gold gel pen. All that’s missing is a scented sticker or a lipstick mark. I’m smirking in the foyer, thinking about riding my bicycle to the drug store for some stickers, when my lawyer calls.

  The firm has had people on my case day and night for months, and they feel confident at this point—$400,000 later—that they can’t bring a reversal.

  Fuck.

  I figured that would be the outcome, but…just fuck.

  I can’t stay in the house. I end up going for a run with Cora. Then I go upstairs to the green room. After a brief look at my laptop, and I stretch out on the bed. I shut my eyes and let myself drift in and out of sleep. And while I lie there half-dreaming, I play a slideshow in my mind of Marley.

  It’s probably dumb as fuck to get involved with her again. And what about the baby part of things? Even thinking of a baby makes my chest hurt. There’s a part of me that doesn’t ever want to see a fucking little kid again.

  I think of Marley at the clinic, fixing up sick kids. And how she wants a baby of her own. I think about the shit she walked in on the other day…and what I did to her. And what I did last night. The way I used her as a balm for myself. Selfish. I was a dick the first time we knew each other, and I’ve been a dick to her since the minute she got here. Not because she deserved it, but because I felt like shit.

  So fucking selfish.

  I try to think of Marley with a big belly. Marley with a baby in her arms. It makes me think of Gen, but I do it anyway, because I can’t go into something like this blind. I have to wipe my eyes, and then I get up and go work out downstairs.

  The folded piece of paper still sits on a chair in the front parlor.

  I look at it as I come and go. I try to run at times I might see Marley. I even try the six o’clock run time again, but I don’t see her. For three days, I listen to her move above me, and I think of how it felt to be inside her mouth. How it would feel to come inside her. And even though I try not to, I think about her home-cooked meals and whipped cream coffee.

  On a Friday, I get an international call and answer, thinking of my many overseas deals.

  The voice on the other end of the line is like a kick to the gut.

  “Hi Daddy! It’s me, Geneva! I’ve been on a trip. I got my Mommy’s phone. I said ‘Mommy, I want to call Daddy, I can’t keep waiting!’ Mommy said you have to live at work, far, far away. Are you writing a book about palm trees in the ocean? That’s what Mommy said.”

  I can barely breathe to speak.

  “Mommy said I can see you at Christmas if I’m really good!” I hear someone whisper. “Now she says I can’t.” She starts to cry. My fist is clenched so hard I feel shit snap. “Daddy, why did you go?” I hear her sniff, and then more whispers. “Did you know I have another Daddy now? Mom said you want him to pretend to be my Daddy?”

  I do the best I can, for my daughter. Because this child is mine, and she will always be mine. I tell her what her mother wants. I smooth things over. Make her smile.

  When the phone call ends, I run to the bathroom and vomit.

  After that, I fill the green form out and walk it up to Marley’s door.

  Marley

  The Plan

  Gabe & Marley

  Needs (Marley):

  -1-2x a day “encounters” two weeks out of every month

  -Attractive partner with stamina and mystique

  -Occasional cider and lattes (both with excessive whipped cream)

  Offering:

  -1-2x a day “encounters” two weeks out of every month

  -Enthusiastic partner with flexibility (in every way – tehehe)

  -Occasional meals (of food and also the illicit
variety)

  **Please fill in the following**

  Needs (Gabe):

  -Your pussy, bare and spread for me. My tongue between your swollen slit. My fingers in your cunt. My thumb on your clit.

  Offering:

  -One hard cock—only sometimes a dick. Plenty of stamina and more-than-average mystique.

  In his own neat, all-caps, hand, he wrote: BE READY FOR ME.

  Eighteen

  Marley

  I haven’t told a soul about The Plan. Not because I feel so sure my besties wouldn’t understand but—

  Okay, yes, it’s safe to say my friends will think I’ve lost my everloving mind.

  Sex with Gabe would seem extremely no bueno—risky at best, self-destructive at worst—but if they find out I’m trying to have a Gabe baby? They’d probably have me committed.

  And it’s true, we need to talk more about how we would share the baby. Who would have the baby and when. But I can’t really see a losing situation. It’s about ethics. If I couldn’t conceive a child by a father I have access to, I’d use a sperm bank, and I wouldn’t feel badly about it. But if I can give my baby a dad—if I can give my unborn, unconceived child the gift of a living, breathing father who could mentor him, who would love her—then I have to try. And Gabe would love a baby.

  If he still wants to be a father to a child who isn’t his by blood and whose mother wants him to get lost, I think it’s very safe to say that he would love a baby we made.

  And he wants to make one. I can’t help grinning into my bedroom mirror like a kid at Christmas.

  I’m wearing Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer leggings and a red sweater I know maximizes my bustiness. I rub a little lotion on my throat and have to suppress a giggle. I feel like I’m in high school.