Page 58 of SKIN

Emily’s eyes shot open, her mouth popping wide on a sharp gasp as she sucked more oxygen into her lungs. Her airways dilating and her skin blanching as blood flow was diverted to her heart and brain. When she started thrashing against her restraints, I knew it’d made its way to her musculoskeletal system.

“Morning, sunshine. I assume you slept well?” I arched a questioning eyebrow as she slung a few very unladylike words in my direction. “Now, now, is that anyway to treat the father of your child?”

“I’m not pregnant, asshole.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” I hummed, snapping my gloves on before laying out each of my sterile instruments across the tray. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed doing this shit the old-fashioned way. But patience wasn’t a virtue I had time to indulge anymore.

I could feel her eyes on me, watching my every step as I prepared the syringe. Flicking the side with my thumb and index finger until the fluid settled at the bottom. Then ripped off the light-blue surgical mask and tossed it in the medical waste bin. Most of this was unnecessary. For aesthetics. It had been a while since I had an audience and I had to admit I missed all the attention. It was a goddamn aphrodisiac if the grinding of my zipper were anything to go by.

There’d be time for that later. Right now I had a patient to attend to.

I stepped around the metal surgical table until I was positioned between Emily’s legs, grabbing each ankle and drawing them apart before forcing her knees to bend with the makeshift stirrups I’d fashioned for just such an occasion. She responded with another sharp gasp and a lot more expletives.

I ignored the filth coming out of her mouth as I reached for the syringe I’d left to settle on the tray. Time was of the essence after all. The sample needed to be fresh, less than thirty minutes from preparation to insertion if we wanted the best results. Which we did, of course. Emily just didn’t know it yet. Motherhood would grow on her. I was sure of it.

I lifted the hem of her new hospital gown, seeing as my little pet didn’t appreciate the dress I’d gifted her, and peered up at Emily from between her spread thighs.

“What the fuck are you doing, Cohen?” she hissed between her teeth, but I could see the terror in her eyes.

It did things to me. Sent a shiver down my spine to the base of my balls. The kind that would have me popping a button if I weren’t careful.

I remained statue still, refusing to show her the effect she had on me, before I allowed one side of my face to tug back into a smirk. “What does it look like we’re doing, Emily? We’re making another baby.”

Before she could respond, I jammed the syringe into her tight cunt, rolling back a bit on my stool to watch the way her pussy ate it up. Inch after inch disappearing between a pair of pretty pink lips. Like her body couldn’t wait to get another taste of me.

The thing was… Emily could call me delusional till she turned blue in the face. Claim I was out of my mind and only seeing what I wanted to see. But none if it changed the way she responded to me. How pliant she became in my hands or how easily she caved beneath the pressure of my touch.

She was just as obsessed as I was. I just wasn’t in denial about it. And after a little more coaxing, my pet wouldn’t be either.

I tugged off my gloves, one at a time, before tossing them across the room. Not bothering to see where they landed before yanking down my zipper and pulling my cock free. A few quick strokes from base to tip and I was ready to make sure the first dose stuck. Then offer her another, drenching her womb with so much of my cum my spermatozoa would be seeping through her uterine walls and finding their own damn eggs.

69

EMILY

My heart was beating much faster than it should. Almost like the damn thing was trying to pump its way out of my chest. My stomach fluttering in waves and sweat beading on my forehead. Those very same little droplets of moisture then dripping down my temples and pooling in my hair. I was gulping in breath after breath, my lungs expanding and contracting at double the speed and my skin hot all over.

I felt like I was both dying and being resurrected at the same time.

I needed to get out of here. This room. This building. But no matter how hard I tried to yank myself free, the straps on my arms and legs wouldn’t budge. A realization that seemed to send my anxiety into overdrive. Almost as much as the idea of being forced to have a kid with the madman playing the part of a mad scientist.

I’d take a coat hanger to myself before I’d let that happen. He’d figure that out soon enough.

I felt like I was fucking dying as Cohen dropped a knee onto the table, leaning forward before quickly shoving himself inside me. The first thrust left me gasping. The second and third had me squeezing my eyes shut while everything after that didn’t really register as my lashes fluttered open again and I stared past the top of his skull into the blinding whiteness of the overhead lights.

His voice was close to my ear again, his rough facial hair scraping across my cheek as he whispered a mixture of promises and threats. None of them meaning much of anything. They were just words. And this was just a moment in time. Like everything else, it would all pass.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself until his hand migrated to the space between where our bodies were joined. His fingers circling. Making slow, sensual movements over my clit. While he continued to grind on top of me, matching the speed and rhythm. Each soft flick sent goose bumps rising across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end and my toes curling.

I didn’t want to enjoy it. The things he was doing to my body. I didn’t want to acknowledge the tightening in my lower stomach or the pressure building between my legs. But it’d be so much easier if I did. If I pretended I liked it as much as my nerve endings seemed to.

It wasn’t giving up. It was giving in. It was getting by until I could get out.

So I did. I closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and surrendered to the sensations. The push and pull. The delicious friction. The smell of soap and cologne. It may have been ten years since I allowed myself to bend to his will, but something about it was so familiar. And strangely nostalgic. Like my body recognized him even when I couldn’t.

I knew I was fucked. In every possible way a person could be fucked. But I couldn’t be bothered to care when my thighs began shaking. My nipples tenting the thin fabric that barely separated us and my walls contracting and sucking him deeper. Keeping him close. Trapped. Until we both got what we wanted from each other. Then I hit that point of no return, allowing wave after wave of ecstasy to wash over my body as I twitched and trembled beneath him. One, two, three more pumps and Cohen was right there with me. A single eyebrow raised and a stupid fucking grin on his face.

“Do you know what happens to a woman’s body when she experiences an orgasm?” It was one of those questions that wasn’t really a question, seeing as he kept talking anyway. “Besides a natural rise in blood pressure and release of oxytocin—the hormone that bonds you with your partner and makes you much more receptive to intermingling your DNA—the pelvis muscles contract, raising the cervix while pooling the sperm at the point of entry, which is believed to increase the likelihood of conception by nearly fifty percent.”

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