Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
But I can’t do it because she’s my daughter. Maybe Nova and I aren’t related by blood, but I used to be married to her mom.
Stop this shit, my conscience warns. You are super fucked-up for going there.
Yet, I can’t resist the romance of the moment. Is it because it’s the holidays? The glow of the candlelight turning Nova’s skin luminous? There’s something intimate and personal about the moment, and I feel my attraction towards the alluring young woman build. I literally lean forward to capture Nova’s lips with my own, before catching myself. Then, I stop and jerk upright.
“Yes, I think I want kids,” I say in a wooden voice. “I can definitely see a family in my future.”
What the fuck!?!? the voice in my head howls. Where the fuck did this come from? You haven’t ever wanted rugrats. Soiled diapers, foul odors, and burps that smell like sour milk? Fuck no!
But that sentiment’s not quite right either. When I married Betsy, in our early years, we wanted to get pregnant. Unfortunately, those dreams were dashed within months of inception because Betsy got sick almost immediately. But many eons ago, I did contemplate becoming a father, even if the idea only lasted for a few short months.
Yet now, it seems those dreams have come roaring back to life. Even worse, they seem to have come roaring back as I enjoy a meal with my beautiful stepdaughter, our hands clasped as she smiles at me innocently.
“That’s so wonderful,” Nova murmurs. “I’d love to be a mother too. It’s definitely something I look forward to.”
My cock goes rigid as every cell hums alive in my body. Holy fuck, is this conversation going where I think it’s going? Is Nova going to ask me to be a daddy to her future children?
Unbidden, my cock stiffens under the table as my balls grow heavy, filling with seed. Goddamn, I’d love that. I’d love to enjoy this young woman’s curves, making her scream with pleasure as I plunder her soft white body. I’d love to see Nova’s back arch as she comes so hard that she sits up in bed, her legs shaking as she takes my shaft deep within her sopping folds. I’ll spray her fertile fields with my male seed. I’ll make sure she’s pregnant within our first few acts of intimacy.
Then, I have a vision of Nova, beautiful and radiant, her belly heavy with my child inside. I see her in a warm bath as I wash her hair, her eyes closed with pleasure as my fingers massage her scalp. Then, Nova stands once the bath is done, that lush, pregnant figure slick and gleaming with my baby inside. I press a reverent kiss to her distended belly, gently saying hello to the life within.
Have you fucking lost your mind? the voice in my head barks harshly. What, you think this is a Hallmark romance? You really think you could be a good father? A good husband?
The word “husband” snaps me out of my reverie because I haven’t thought about getting re-married since Betsy died. It’s been more than ten years since my wife passed, but the prospect of tying the knot again never entered my mind. It’s not that the idea repulsed me. It’s that I never even thought of it because Betsy occupied a sacred space, and no other woman could possibly live up to her ideal.
But now, my brain’s gone haywire because I’m dreaming of Nova at my side, pregnant with my child. Hell, I’m envisioning the gorgeous blonde pregnant again and again, filling this townhouse full of our kids. I see her in a white dress at the altar, smiling at me beneath a veil, with her tummy already large with our first baby. Hell, I can see us exchanging rings ...
But then reality jolts me back to Earth because the young woman smiles sweetly before removing her hand.
“I guess this is as good of a time as any, Daddy, since we’re on the topic. Do you think I could get a prescription for birth control from you? You are an ob-gyn, after all. It’d be easy.”
The question plummets me back to Earth where I land with a spectacular crash. My stepdaughter, whom I’d just envisioned in a white wedding gown, is asking me to prescribe birth control for her ... because she wants to sleep with another man.
3
Nova
Hunter’s gaze clouds and then darkens. He pulls away psychically, even if his large form is still in the same place at the table.
“What do you need birth control for?” he asks in a smooth voice. “Are your periods too heavy? Too light? Are you experiencing unexplained mood swings?”
I bite my lip because I’m not sure what to say at this moment. But I decide to go with it.
“It just seems like something I should do,” I murmur, a blush beginning to creep over my cheeks. “You know I’m a senior in high school now, and soon to be off to college. I just want to be ready.”