The Plan (Off-Limits Romance, #4)(35)

“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.