Page 15 of Shelter (The Wanderers 4)

Another groan, louder. “No. I don’t. If there ever was a God, he abandoned us.” Storm finally tossed the cup across the room.

Rush caught it out of midair, but he didn’t move from his spot. “I guess you aren’t required to watch me. It’s not like I could replace my sperm with someone else’s from inside this jail cell. Although, I suppose if you don’t like impregnating your woman with my sperm, you could replace it with yours.”

“She’s not—” Storm cut himself off.

“Look,” Rush said, trying to school his voice. “How do you know my sperm count is high enough?”

“We don’t. This first batch is for testing. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He turned toward the stairs.

“Ten minutes? Dude, I’m in a cold, damp basement. You haven’t provided me with video equipment filled with porn nor old Playboy magazines, so ten minutes is going to be a stretch.”

“Just fucking do it,” he muttered as he stomped up the stairs.

This entire situation was a damn shitshow. Rush was still reeling from the new information. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d been brought here to provide sperm. Not in his wildest imaginings.

Dropping onto the cot, Rush flipped the cup over in his palm several times. He was no stranger to jerking off. He lived in a world without enough damn females to go around, for Christ’s sake. Like he’d just told Storm, he wasn’t an asshole. He’d never taken a woman against her will and never would.

The closest he’d ever come to violating a woman was about to happen if these crazy motherfuckers used his sperm against his will to impregnate someone.

Hell, it could be worse. They could’ve also forced him to fuck her while they watched. Or did they think that was going one step too far? Jesus.

Rush was a skilled medic. He hesitated to refer to himself as a doctor since he had no formal training, but these days most doctors didn’t, so he supposed he was as close as they came. At least the man who’d taught him everything he knew was indeed an educated MD. That counted for something.

For three months his skills had been wasted while he sat in a prison cell doing nothing. Now he’d been purchased by this rich family, and their only use for him was his sperm?

If anyone from the actual family ever showed their faces, he’d plead his case. Surely he could convince them he was useful and get them to let him out of this cage. Until then, he had no chance of escaping.

A new set of questions came to mind. How long did they plan to keep him here? What if he wasn’t successful in impregnating the woman? Fuck, what if he was? Then what? Did they intend for him to father all of her children?

He shuddered. He wasn’t worried about his sperm count. He’d examined it himself. He knew exactly what they would find. His swimmers were alive and well. Fertility wasn’t an issue for him.

“What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath. He really was in a bind. What if he couldn’t do this? Like physically. Forget the emotional turmoil he was suffering. He wasn’t at all sure he could fucking masturbate in a jail cell on command. Who did that?

He didn’t even currently have a woman in his life he could use as inspiration. He hadn’t seen a woman in three months. There were women he’d met at The Wanderers bunker, but none who had caught his attention.

At the sound of the door opening at the top of the stairs, Rush flinched and jumped to his feet, leaving the unused cup on the cot as he stood. The sound of feet descending the steps a moment later didn’t belong to Storm. They were too soft.

Finally, a woman came into view. She was carrying something wrapped in brown paper. She had a stern look on her face that seemed out of place. Rush didn’t think the woman was ordinarily as stern as she was trying to look.

When she reached the cell, she held out the paper item through the bars. “Storm said to give you this.”

Rush lifted a brow and smirked as he realized what it would be. He sauntered toward the woman, keeping his gaze on her face. He needed to know what kind of people he was dealing with. “And who are you?” he asked without touching the item.

“That’s none of your concern.”

Rush shrugged. “Seems like it is. What difference does it make if I know your name? It won’t change anything.”

She sighed. “Storm said you were inquisitive. I’m not here to chat though, so you’re out of luck.” She bent down and set what he knew would be a Playboy on the floor.

“The owners of this estate aren’t very hospitable to their guests. I’ve been here two nights and not one person has come to welcome me besides the hired help.”

She snorted. “What makes you so sure I’m not the owner? Or Storm for that matter.”

Rush lifted his brows. He swung his gaze around the room. “Based on the size of this basement, I’d say I’m in a rather large private estate. One in which someone needs to get pregnant because her husband is infertile. He must look like me since this is all on the down-low. I’m going to guess he’s even my age. Which means the woman is probably in her early twenties.”

He let his gaze roam up and down this particular woman’s frame. She appeared to be close to fifty. “You don’t strike me as the owner of this estate since you’re wearing an apron and your shoes are several years old. I doubt you could afford to buy a sperm donor.”

She smirked, standing to her full height, which was about five-five. She was of average build with graying hair pulled back in a bun. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, do you?”

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