Hot Cop by Laurelin Paige & Sierra Simone

Author:Laurelin Paige & Sierra Simone [Paige, Laurelin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942835219
Published: 2017-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

11

Livia

Stairwell at Corinth.

I hit SAVE on the entry I’ve just added to yesterday’s date in my Google Calendar. Then, after thinking about it a second, I click the entry again and hit “edit.” In the notes section I add one word: Twice.

I hit SAVE one more time and then click on VIEW so I can see the entire month at once.

I quickly count the dates that have entries. There are eleven in total.

Holy shit.

That’s eleven times that Chase and I have had sex in the last two weeks! That’s a fuck lot of fucking. And that isn’t counting extra for the entries that have notes like yesterday’s stairwell incident.

Mmm. The stairwell.

My toes curl just thinking about the way I had to clutch onto the railing so that I wouldn’t collapse from the punishing sequence of orgasms he delivered.

Yeah. The stairwell was nice.

It’s really probably not an entry I should include on the calendar. I’m well past my fertile period, and my “meetings” with Chase are now primarily about keeping him satisfied—the man has a voracious appetite. But I included a couple of the times right after I was ovulating, in case I have my dates wrong. Once I decided to include those, I didn’t know where to draw the line, so I’ve continued recording them all.

I figure it’s better to have more data than not. That way I’ll be able to accurately quantify the sacrifices I made in order to get pregnant.

I chuckle at the thought. As if having sex with Chase could ever be considered a sacrifice.

My humor quickly fades as I realize something else from looking at my calendar—my thirtieth birthday is even closer than it was a month ago.

Funny how that happens.

The familiar dread and death thoughts settle over me, making me feel antsy and anxious. I’m old. My body is old. My legs ache. My back aches. My breasts ache. Death is near.

Maybe I’m just fussy because I’m pregnant.

Or it’s PMS.

And if it’s PMS, why the fuck am I not pregnant yet? After eleven times with Chase’s so-called super sperm, surely I should be knocked up by now. Is it me that’s the problem? Can I not get pregnant the natural way? Will I need infertility treatments to get my baby?

I’ll have to get a second job for that. A third job.

Which wouldn’t leave any time for the actual banging.

Of course, if I am pregnant, there won’t be any purpose for banging.

I throw my head back and groan. I want a baby, and the sooner the better. But the idea of no more sex with Chase is so horrible, it makes me want to puke.

Wait.

Do I actually need to puke? I sit back upright and concentrate on the way my body feels. Am I nauseated? Is this morning...er—I look at the time—early evening sickness?

Maybe I should take another test. Yes, I’ve taken five already this week (one just this morning), and all of them have been negative. But my period isn’t actually due until tomorrow so maybe it was still too early.

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