DAMAGED - A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free

silent, thumping a fist against the cramped wooden walls.
    “Is there somebody in there?” someone had said, and she went in again to suck out the last pump of cum. God she was beautiful then. She could make me explode just by looking at me sideways. In our early twenties, my life’s mission was to hold on long enough to squeeze those sweet, sweet orgasms out of her ; I never anticipated a future where I’d be struggling to eke out any orgasm at all.
    Today was the last day of the “fertile window”, measly day 5, and she was pissy with me even though she said she wasn’t, and I was pissy right back, even though I said I wasn’t. I was being a little rough now, sure, but fine. If she wanted me to be some stupid breeding stud pony, well, then she could shut up and take it.
    We had used toys, we had watched movies, we had nearly broken our necks sharing a shower. Our sex had taken on that weird, stubborn vibe of a long distance marathon just before things start to get ugly. We were going to procreate, dammit, come hell or high water.
    I made a few more angry thrusts then released a load into her, aware that I was probably pulling some rather unflattering faces. I flopped down beside her, knackered.
    She did not look happy. I couldn’t believe it. I had huffed and puffed myself nearly to a coronary and she was lying there still, as irritated as we when we started. What did she want ?
    She cleared her throat.
    “I’ve booked an appointment with the fertility specialist,” she said to the ceiling.
    “What, why?” It seemed like a stupid question once I had said it.
    “It’s been more than 6 months now. Something should have happened by now. I’m not that old. Something’s wrong. We need to take the next step now.”
    I listened quietly.
    “Are you sure you’re not just jumping the gun? Maybe this was the lucky time, eh...?” I said, reaching for her. She shot a dry look at me.
    “But pudding, come on, this is part of the problem. You’re so stressed. And you’re stressing me out. Can’t we just go with it? Enjoy ourselves? It’ll happen.”
    “But it isn’t happening now!” she snapped.
    Oh shit. I was going to make her cry.
    “Love, just calm down. We need a break or something, you and me both. We should go somewhere…”
    I scooched up closer to her and propped myself up on my arm, looking at her imploringly. “Let’s go on a holiday, you and me, and we’ll forget about work and ovulation and whatever for a while and just enjoy each other again. People always get pregnant when they just relax a little.”
    “I’m done relaxing,” she said, with a spite in her voice that was unusual for her. Almost instantly, she melted again and hugged me, her tangled hair tumbling onto my chest.
    “Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, “I don’t mean to be like this. I’m just …I want a baby Alan. I’m ready for it. Now .”
    We sat like this for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the neighbour’s telly to break the silence.
    “Love, don’t worry. We will have a baby. Book an appointment. The doctor will probably say everything’s just fine… will you go on a holiday with me then?”
    I gave her a cheesy grin, trying to cheer her up.
    “Ok,” she said and nestled into my chest.

Chapter Six
     
     
    I’ve worked on some pretty complex machines in my life, honestly, but nothing compares to girl bits, and that’s the god’s honest truth. Tubes, frilly open pieces, what looks like a one-way valve but totally isn’t --
    “Look at me,” I said, “I’m Ovaria, and I’ve come to fetch your soul, mortal.”
    I was brandishing a plastic uterus model as a face mask, each fallopian tube making fabulous impromptu feelers. The middle bit made a pretty hilarious nose, if I did say so myself.
    “Jesus, you’re such a two-year-old Alan, can you put that down?” she said.
    “Negative! I will shoot you with my mucous lasers instead. Pew pew!”
    Ovaria, queen of the vaginas, waggled menacingly at her.