Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Jason
Ask and you might receive.
The glittering excitement in her eyes the moment she pulled me into the room had been a sight to behold. And the way she laughed and vibrated and leaned her forehead on my chest told me more about this woman than I’d ever known before.
At heart, she was a rule breaker.
Who else would try to conceive a child in this way?
Who else would choose, or accept, a guy so different from her own mindset?
This was a woman who pushed boundaries, in her work, in her life, in her mind.
She had enjoyed our caper, and I suspected she might be willing to cross another line and enjoy it a little more.
“You want me to … watch?”
She didn’t sound horrified. More … curious. That was the scientist talking.
I hoped it was also the woman thinking.
Either way, I took it as encouragement and plowed onward. “Is that something you might be interested in?”
The slender column of her throat bulged on a swallow. Rather than answer my question, she posed one of her own. “Would it help you achieve orgasm?”
I could feel my mouth kicking up at the corners. “Yes, Francesca, it would help. Not that I had problems before, but I think I might produce a bigger output if I had someone else participating.”
Sure, let’s use the science as our excuse.
“What kind of participation would you expect?”
That’s more like it. Ever the investigator.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. You can sit in that armchair and watch. Or put that scarf over your eyes and listen. You can sit on the bed and touch me. You can wrap that dainty hand of yours around my cock and stroke.”
With each escalation, color crept into her cheeks, and her breathing became more ragged.
“Or you could stay in the bathroom with your headphones on and imagine what I’m doing. Like last time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea what I was doing last time.”
“Sipping tea and stroking your pussy … cat.”
She gave a silent huff of laughter. Another thing about the professor … she enjoyed a dirty joke.
“Would you expect me to reciprocate? Have you present when I complete my part?”
“Not unless you want that. I recognize it’s a special thing for you, a ritual of sorts, and I don’t want to interfere with that. It’s not a quid pro quo. I just think it would be hotter if I could jerk off in your presence.”
She licked her lips. “Okay. Uh, let me get the supplies from the bathroom.”
While she did that, I peeled off my jacket and tee. When she returned with the lotion in one hand and the sample cup in the other, I was already pushing my sweats down.
She ran her eyes over my body. “I saw you in one of those holiday calendars once.”
“Yeah, did that a few years ago. I’ve had a few injuries since.” Appendix removal, hip surgery.
“You look better now. More … rugged.” Her voice turned to gravel on that last word. She placed the lotion, tissues, and cup on the side table. “Are you sure you want me here?”
“Francesca, nothing would give me more pleasure.” My cock had already started swelling as soon as she laid her hands on my chest, and now I was in “intriguing bulge” territory.
Her gaze dipped to my underwear, the cotton straining with my erection—I mean, how could it not? I was turned on. She had turned me on, and she had to have known the power she had over me.
Another dart of her tongue over her lips. “What do you need me to do?”
“What do you want to do?” I didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She could have said no, especially once I started stripping, but she was here. Still. Because she wanted to be.
I was banking on her wanting more than just watching.
“Could I touch you?” she asked.
“You can do anything you want.”
“That’s quite the offer.”
Touch me, Doc. Take those eager hands and stroke me from root to tip.
She placed a hand on my chest—and remained still.
Peered up.
Sighed.
“You feel like a marble statue. Like Michelangelo’s David.”
“That the one who’s naked in some museum in Italy?”
She nodded as her fingertips started to wander, mapping the topography of my chest. “The Uffizi in Florence. It was quite shocking at the time, but even more so during the Grand Tours of the nineteenth century. People were scandalized at the sight of marble genitals.”
Now “genitals” is probably the least sexy way to describe a guy’s junk, but not when spoken by Franky St. James. She was close enough that my dick strained and touched her hip.
She coasted her hand down the hard planes of my stomach and lingered at the waistband of my boxer briefs.
“You should take these off.”
“You do it.”
“I wasn’t planning to be so involved.”
“Yet here we are.”
Involved in this encounter and maybe in other ways. We were trying to make a baby, and that was about as involved as you could get, I reckoned.
She kept her eyes on mine as she rolled my underwear down, but not all the way. Just enough to let my dick spring free and make itself known.
I would have forgiven her for dropping her gaze to the rather forceful presence between us, but she kept her eyes on mine. Somehow that was hotter, probably because she was wearing those slutty little librarian glasses.
“Lie down,” she said softly.
I did as I was told after kicking off the underwear. Lying back with my arm behind my head, I let her look her fill. She tracked every inch of my body, her appreciation evident. I’d never felt sexier than this moment with this woman looking at me like she wanted to lick me all over.
“Touch yourself.” Her voice had taken on a husky tone and Jesus, I was hooked. More of that, baby.
I took myself in hand and gave my cock a good, hard stroke. I was already leaking. My balls were as heavy as ten-pound gym weights. This wouldn’t take long, but damn, I needed it to last.
With the way Franky was looking at me, I needed to stay in this moment forever.
A quick inhale, and there was no doubt her nipples were peaking behind her blouse. Did she want to touch herself? Touch me? Come closer? Kiss me?
Kissing would be personal, though.
Like this already isn’t?
I needed her closer. “Sit beside me, Doc.”
She didn’t hesitate. Something about her quick acquiescence sent a surge of pleasure through my body. I squeezed the base of my cock, anxious to stem the sensations that threatened to run riot through me.
“You saw my calendar?”
“The whole world saw it.” She sounded put out.
“Don’t like anyone looking at me?”
“I can’t begrudge the orphans or kittens the benefit of your time.”
So she didn’t like anyone seeing me half-naked, not even on behalf of innocent kittens. This revelation was incredible.
“Now, only you get to see me. Right here. Right now.” Another stroke, and pre-come seeped over my fingers.
She licked her lips.
Fuckkkk. I wanted that pretty, smart mouth on me, but that would defeat the object of this exercise, which was to get my sperm inside her sweet, hot pussy. I resolved to make it my mission: one day, I’d fuck her mouth, watch her take me all in, and unload down her throat.
Today it was enough to have her want me and not know what to do with it.
She moved a hand to my thigh and gave a light scrape of her nails over the skin. I could feel her energy vibrating, her need this bright, brilliant thing. Maybe it was the baby fever, but I liked to think it was also me.
“As much as you want, Francesca.”
“W-what?”
“Touch me wherever you want.” Or yourself. I didn’t say that aloud, though I had to wonder how wet she was. I knew having an orgasm when she did the insemination was supposed to aid in encouraging my boys to swim their little tails off.
Her hand curved around my thigh, in between. I parted my legs to give her access.
“Could I cup your testes?”
All praise the doc’s vocabulary. That shouldn’t have been hot, but here the fuck we were.
“Cup away.”
She fondled and gave a light squeeze, and Christ, that was so damn good. Her fingers were warm, curious, and when she palmed my balls with a slight roughness, I lifted a couple of inches off the bed.
My hand flew faster along the length of my cock, the sensations building and building in a way I recognized. “I’m gonna come.”
She continued to cup and stroke my heavy balls, her slender fingertips driving me wild.
“Francesca, I’m—baby, get the cup.”
“What? Oh, right!”
She grabbed the cup off the table and held it over the crown on my dick just as I came. This orgasm was definitely longer and more powerful than before. Not sure if that meant a higher volume, but it felt like more.
More chances of hitting that egg. Boom.
I took the cup from her and scooped up as much as I could. I got the impression she was reluctant to touch my dick—apparently my balls were her line in the sand.
I handed the cup off. “Just gonna clean up.”
She nodded as I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom. A quick wash—and the addition of clothes, because not dressing would seem presumptuous—and I headed out to the room.
Franky sat on the bed, her hands on her lap, all prim and back to business.
“You okay?”
“I don’t think you realize how grateful I am, Jason.”
She sounded so serious, nothing like the tease of before. I took a seat beside her.
“I get it.”
“I’m sorry, but I think I need some time alone. For the next step.”
I was disappointed, but I couldn’t let it show. Maybe she felt that part was personal to her and my contribution wasn’t necessary beyond the sperm. I couldn’t very well cajole her into letting me watch.
I’d flown too close to the sun.
“Sure, whatever you want. This is your show.”
“Thank you.”
My cue to leave, which I did as quietly as possible.