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Jesus…what must that baby goat turd be thinking inside me?
By the time Wyatt comes, I’m completely spent. I barely even register him between my thighs, watching his semen drip out of me before he thrusts his semi-hard erection back inside me.
This is clearly a thing for him, and I’m not sure when it became a thing for me too, but I think it might have happened during one of our many sundown sessions.
God, this is fucked on so many levels.
I’m a paid surrogate having sex with the intended parent. This is going to get so damn messy if I don’t get control of this situation.
After I go to the bathroom and clean myself up, I’m starfished on my bed, covered in a sheet, struggling to find the words I know I need to have with this crazy man crawling back in bed with me.
My head flops over to look at him, and he quirks an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something.
I groan and say in a huff, “Fine, you’re the best and biggest I’ve ever had.”
“I know.” A victorious grin lights up his face as he rolls onto his back and props his hands on his chest casually. He looks so boyish right now it’s disarming. He’s usually so serious and solemn. I wonder when was the last time he had sex.
“Do you make all your conquests tell you you’re the biggest and best?” I ask, rolling over on my side to poke him in the ribs.
“Nah, I just wanted you to say it.” He side-eyes me. “It feels good to get a leg up on you because since the day we’ve met, I’ve felt like I can’t catch up.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” he replies with a huff. “You argue about everything yet still get me to say yes to things I would normally never agree to…like a fucking mini horse in the barn.”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping carrots to Handsome,” I deadpan, propping my hand on my hip. “You two are totally vibing.”
“I’m not vibing with the mini horse.” His brows furrow like I’m speaking nonsense, but I see a hint of a smile in the corner of his eyes. It’s swoony.
But I can’t be swooned right now. I have boundaries to set. “Well, I’m going to push another one of your many buttons.”
“What?” he groans, shoving his hand through his short tresses.
“We need to establish some ground rules for this sexuationship.”
“Sexuationship?” He repeats the word I just made up, and I have to laugh.
“Yes, this is officially a sexuationship,” I reply, looking away because it’s hard to think straight when he’s shirtless. I did not think a hairy-chested man was my thing, but on Wyatt Fletcher…it just works. My voice is firm as I stare up at the natural wood beams that line the barn roof. “You can’t just come in and get sex anytime you want. That does not work for me.”
I feel him watching me, so I continue.
“If we’re really going to keep doing this throughout the pregnancy, I think we should work something out like we did with our insemination nights. Maybe we do the sundown rule.”
“Sundown every other night?” Wyatt asks, and I glance over to see a very pleased look in his eyes.
“Maybe not that much,” I retort, wondering if my body could even sustain that much sex. I really need to call and ask the nurse about sex during pregnancy. “We can just do it when the mood strikes us, I guess.”
“I will be in the mood every day,” Wyatt deadpans.
“Jesus.”
“Multiple times a day if you like.”
“Okay—”
“A light breeze will get me in the mood with you.”
“Whoa there, Mountain Man,” I exclaim, and he looks positively tickled at my outburst. The ass. I sit up in bed, clutching the sheet to my chest to feel some semblance of control. I splay my hand out between us and say very firmly, “I need some boundaries honored here, or I am going to go insane.”
