Page 7 of Such A Good Guy

In fact I’ve never lovedanyoneor anythingbuther.

My parents died when I was young, but I only remember them with vague neutrality. Like everyone else in the world, I feel neither hate nor love toward them. Just pure neutrality. It’s like all of the emotion I’m supposed to feel toward other people is only channeled toward Luna.

It comes out easily, just like I read online, and I hold the T-shaped piece of plastic up to the light. It’s glistening, dripping with the wet slick of Luna’s ovulation. I stick out my tongue, running it over the ridges and corners of plastic. Her taste explodes on my tongue and I have to tighten my fist on my jeans to keep myself from howling like a fucking werewolf.

I’m going to lick up every drop

Oh my god, she tastes like nothing else on earth. Infinitely sweet, full-bodied, dripping with fertility. Her body is so ripeand ready for my seed. When I’ve cleaned every drop off with my tongue, I dump it in the plastic bag I brought.

No evidence.

I have to sit for a moment and calm myself again. My cock is throbbing so hard it’s aching.

Then I reach for the funnel.

Because I’m nottakingLuna yet. She’s going to be awake when I do that.

But I do need her pregnant.

It’s easy to load the funnel full at the very cusp of her sex. And then again. Way too easy. I’m losing control when it comes to her. Even my usual strategies to control myself aren’t working. Ever since she said she wanted a family, it’s like that heated feral monster inside is getting closer to the surface.

My body wants Luna’s. Badly.

And I’m fraying between being the kind of man she wants (apparently Mr. Goddamn Darcy, the Regency Dream) and the kind of monster I know I am inside.

My T-shirt is stuck to my back with sweat with the effort of holding myself back by the time I’ve carefully tipped every bit of what’s in the funnel into her sweet forbidden channel.

Then I sit there like a fucking hawk, just watching her beautiful spread legs.

Every time I see a drop of cum, I use my finger to drag it all the way up her slick pussy lips, and gently push it back inside.

By the time I’m convinced not one drop is getting out of her, I’m shaking with the effort.

I want to tear open her pussy, sink my cock so far inside her that my cum runs down her legs and plugs up her asshole.

But now I have about 12 weeks.

12 weeks until she’ll definitely start to show.

12 weeks until baby’s first ultrasound.

12 weeks to put the other parts of my plan into motion.

12 weeks to make her mine forever.

CHAPTER 2

Luna (12 weeks later)

“So, why are you going to Toronto?” my airplane seatmate asked.

I hesitated. Not only was I an introvert who did not want to have a whole-ass conversation with this nice refrigerator salesman, it was an awkward question.

And no one wanted to hear the answer.

Which was that my drug dealer brother had just drunkenly fallen into a ditch and died while on tour with his best friend, and since my parents had both long disowned him, I was the one flying in to collect his ashes.

Not the kind of thing I felt comfortable sharing with a happy, pink-cheeked grandfather.

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