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“You bet I want to get started,” he says hoarsely. “Now sweetheart. I want that pretty pussy to be filled with my cream again and again and again. And if you’re not pregnant yet, then you’re going to be very soon.”
And with that, we made our way to his penthouse. Because yes, I only just met him. Yes, the alpha male may be sick. But the thing is that we’re both baby crazy, and when two adults want the same result? There’s no way to stop it, especially not when love begins to bloom. Because that’s how I feel about Mace Jackson. He’s dominating and controlling, with an iron grip on his business. And yet he has a soft touch when it comes to me. He treats me well and coddles me, pulling me against that hard chest whenever I need comfort. He dries my tears and nuzzles my cheek, answering the call within my soul for a mate. So yes, what we’re doing may seem insane. It may seem like the rantings and ravings of lunatics in the asylum. But for us it’s right … and only time will tell what happens next.
Chapter 9
Melissa
Six months later …
I step out of the shower, sore as all get out. But it’s a good kind of sore because as usual, Mace owned my body again last night and it was pure heaven. I came again and again as the man barreled into my holes, spurting his seed in hot, virile gusts.
Because I’ve been riding the sex train non-stop recently. It should be different. Mace is technically a cancer patient, even if he’s going the homeopathic route. I can’t blame him. After witnessing the demise of his Uncle Robbie, the alpha male made it clear that he wasn’t doing the regular courses of chemo and radiation. He was gonna beat it by eating right, working out like a maniac, and having so much sex that his semen leaks from my holes 24/7. After all, we’re trying for a baby so it makes sense that I spend a lot of time on my back with my legs spread. And the alpha male owns me every which way, making me squeal and come even as my fertile body soaks up his seed.
So I stepped gingerly from the stall, my pussy aching. Oh yeah, Mace did me a good one last night, and I’d taken it all. Ten inches into my pink hole, again and again, and yet after it was over, all I wanted was more.
Suddenly, a knock sounds on the front door. Shit, shit! Leonie was coming over for a quick coffee, but I’d gotten a late start to the morning. Hurriedly, I pull on a thick, terry robe and dash to the foyer before opening my door.
“Sorry,” is my hasty greeting. “You caught me in the shower.”
Leonie rolls her eyes before stepping inside.
“Mel, you know we’ve had this coffee date scheduled for ages. But it’s okay,” she says with a queenly air while sailing to my kitchen. “It’s a Saturday so I forgive you.”
I nod while rushing back into the bathroom.
“Just give me a minute to get dressed!” I call out before shutting the door. “There’re some English muffins in the fridge, and I got some special strawberry jam just for you. Help yourself!”
When I step out again with wet hair and a freshly-scrubbed face, I can see that Leonie’s made herself at home. My friend’s sitting at my rickety kitchen table, taking a big bite of English muffin with a huge pad of melting butter on top.
“Yum,” she mumbles while chewing. “Who would ever eat I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter when you can have the real thing?” she asks, taking another big bite. “It’s just not the same.”
I giggle a little, pulling out a chair and seating myself.
“Well, when you have Fabio selling that stuff, it’s pretty hard to resist,” I say drolly. “One flash of that waving blonde hair and poof! I’m a goner. I’ll buy anything he’s selling.”
Leonie rolls her eyes while taking another big bite.
“Are you still reading those romance novels?” she asks drolly. “The ones with the bare-chested pirates with women fainting at their feet? I told you that they’re just fantasy, and not like real life at all.”
My friend knows me too well, but I’m not going to apologize because everyone lives in their own world, right? And who’s to say that a little bit of romance can’t happen to us all?
“Well, I’m still reading,” I say saucily. “I mean, if you can call it reading, if you know what I mean.”
Leonie shoots me a glance.
“They are books, aren’t they? What would it be if it’s not reading? Oh my god, don’t tell me,” she says, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve started watching Lifetime movies non-stop. I mean, the actors are insanely gorgeous, but still, Mel. It’s Lifetime. That’s for old ladies who want to spice it up after their nightly episode of Wheel of Fortune is over.”
