“Twenty minutes.”
Saint grabs my hand. “That’s time enough.”
“We can wait till later,” I say, really not in the mood.
“Queenie.” He pulls me in close, pressing his warm mouth to my ear. “You’re ovulating, and we don’t have a minute to waste. Some experts say you only have twelve hours to fertilize the egg. Every second we wait is a wasted opportunity.”
Saint is like an encyclopedia on fertilization and reproduction. At first, I thought it was cute. Now, I wish he’d drop it. The more he pushes the agenda, the more stressed I feel. It’s even gotten to the stage where I’ve begun to dread sex with him.
And I love sex. That hasn’t changed.
Nor has the fact I love Saint with my entire being.
I want to make him happy. I want to give him a biological child. But I feel like I’m failing him because it just isn’t happening, and he’s getting angrier while I’m growing more miserable.
“Start without us if we’re not back,” Saint says, hell-bent on fucking me.
“Surely, it can wait until after,” Theo interjects, his troubled gaze flitting to mine.
“Butt out, man.” Saint clings to my hand as he warns Theo to mind his own business. He is wound up so tight, and I hate I’m the cause of it.
“It’s fine,” I say, wanting to defuse the rapidly growing tension. “Let’s go.” I tug on Saint’s hand, just wanting to get this over and done with now.
_______________
“The timing feelsright,” Saint says a few minutes later as he thrusts inside me. “It’s going to happen this month.” He hovers over me on my bed, staring at me as he fucks me, but it’s like he’s looking through me.
He’s not really here with me in this moment.
He’s on a mission—the goal to knock me up, and that is all he can see these days. He’s obsessed with impregnating me, and it’s like he’s lost sight of everything else that is important.
I offer him a weak smile because I’m afraid if I try to speak the tears I’m holding at bay will erupt like a volcano.
He slams into me violently, pounding as deep as he can go, a look of fierce concentration on his face. He holds my hips in place with his firm hands, keeping me steady, as he rams his cock inside me, thrusting over and over again until he roars out his release, collapsing on top of me. A sneaky tear leaks out of the corner of one eye, but I swipe it away before he notices.
He rolls onto his side, his chest heaving. His fingers glide down my body, pressing against my clit. I jerk, pulling away from him, swinging my legs over the other side of the bed. “We need to get up,” I say with my back to him. “Dinner is getting cold.”
“You didn’t come,” he says, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
I’m surprised he noticed. Sex with him has become robotic, and I hate it. He barely even kisses me anymore because I can’t get pregnant from kisses.
It’s like all he cares about is putting a baby in my belly, and he doesn’t see how much he’s hurting me. How distant we have become, even though he fucks me way more than the others.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.
Now, I don’t even want him to touch me.
“I came earlier with Theo and Galen. I’m fine,” I reply, in an equally monotone voice.
“Good,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t mean it. “But you should go again. Pregnancy is more likely if the woman orgasms during sex.”
“News flash,” I grit out, glaring at him over my shoulder. “We already had sex, and I didn’t come during the act, so just drop it.”
“Fine,” he snaps, grabbing one of the pillows. “At least lie back so I can put this under your hips.”
“What?” I splutter because this is new.
“I read an article today that said if you stay still after sex, with your hips propped up, that my sperm has a better chance of reaching your egg.”
