Breeding Clinic (Heatverse)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

KAT

Four days pass in a blur of fucking, bathing, and gulping down protein water. We’ve had sex on every flat surface in this room, and a few of the vertical ones. I’m less feverish and my thoughts are clearer.

So I do what I’ve been wanting to do ever since I first laid eyes on Liam and his beautiful cock. I slide down his legs and take him into my mouth. While he’s soft, I can fit more of him inside me. I swirl my tongue around his head.

He tastes good. Like sex and sin, and decadent pheromones. His cock plumps in my mouth until I can’t take him to the root anymore. When fingers card through my knotted hair, I notice he’s awake.

“Kat, you don’t have to,” he says.

But this isn’t for him. I’ve missed sucking cock. I always loved the velvety slide of skin between my lips. Playing with all that softness over such hardness. Pushing my tongue into a weeping slit. I palm his big, heavy balls and roll them gently in my hand.

“You don’t… Fuck. That’s good. You’re good at sucking cock.”

I pop off his cock, enjoying the way a string of saliva connects his dripping tip to my lower lip. “I want to. Your cock is perfect.” It was made to be worshiped. Thick and straight, with a slight upward curve. His tip is red and well formed with a wide corona. I press his cock to his belly and trace his ridge with my tongue.

“Well… don’t let me stop you then. If you really want to.”

I let my eyes go half-lidded as he stares at me. I bring his tip to my mouth again and suck. His eyes flutter shut and his breath stutters into a low purr.

With a hand wrapped tight around his base, I suck his tip into my mouth and jerk his length. Use his excess skin to massage his shaft, making a tight ring of my fingers. Milking him. My jaw aches—I’m out of practice—but I keep going.

His breathing stutters and his purr gets deeper. His cock thickens, the knot at his base swelling against the heel of my palm. His balls pull up tight.

“I’m… Fuck, I’m coming.”

Ignoring his warning, I take him as deep as I can and squeeze his knot. Pulsing. Mimicking a fluttering pussy. His perineum jerks, and the first lash of cum strikes the roof of my mouth. He’s salty and musky with a hint of his pheromones. Crisp, herbal pine. The more he comes, the sweeter he gets. The more I like the way he tastes.

I gather it all in my mouth, swallowing every drop, then lick him clean. And I purr while I do it. Until he’s a limp mess underneath me.

Once he’s bone dry, I pull off his cock and give the split in his head one last swipe of my tongue to make sure I got it all.

“Fuck, kitten. That was so good. Come here. Let me return the favor. I want one last taste before they make me go.”

I didn’t suck his cock to get my pussy licked, but I won’t say no. I crawl up his body and settle my knees on either side of his head. He nuzzles between my thighs, his nose sliding between my folds.

His mouth is warm and wet. He sucks my lips into his mouth and darts his tongue inside my core. He purrs while he licks, and I bury my hands in his tangled curls as he eats me out.

When his tongue moves to my clit, I’m ready. It’s sore and swollen, but he’s gentle as he sucks me, licking patterns around my clit. Almost reverent. Pressure builds in my pelvis, winding tighter and tighter. Desperate and needy, I ride his face. All concerns about his ability to breathe are gone. He’ll figure it out. And I need to come.

Balanced on the precipice of release, I tense. And then pleasure washes through me. I cry out, riding the waves. Riding his tongue. He laps up my slick and licks me through my aftershocks until I’m clean.

Once my heartbeat and breathing have steadied, I climb off him and collapse into the nest.

He reaches over and drags me against him, our hot naked bodies pressed flush.

“You’re pregnant.” He lets out a shaky breath and smiles. “We made a baby.”

I tense, and he sits up, his brow furrowed with concern.

“You can’t possibly tell that yet. It’s too early,” I protest.

“I can,” he says. “I’m an alpha. I can tell. Isn’t this… This is what you wanted, right?”

Emotion overwhelms me. Of course it is. But also… it isn’t. I was the girl who always dreamed of finding her pack. Getting mated. Having babies. The cliche omega who wanted to be a homemaker. Instead, my pack rejected me. I couldn’t move past the lost pregnancies. Didn’t want to give up. They were tired of the heartache. So they moved on without me. I never planned to be a single mother. But I’d rather have a baby alone than never have one at all.

“It is. I’m just nervous. What if it doesn’t… stick?” I’ve lived through it before. Even when it hurt so bad I thought it might kill me.

His thumb makes circles on my thigh. He pulls me closer and tucks my head under his chin, and then he purrs. It’s comforting. “Nobody can predict the future. But if it helps, they told me I have grade A swimmers.”

My lips turn up in a smile while my head rises and falls with his breathing. His heart beats a steady rhythm under my cheek. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” He rubs my arm, my back. “They basically said my sperm are really smart. They know which way to swim. And if it doesn’t work out, I wouldn’t mind trying again. You know, I wasn’t expecting this. To like you, I mean. But I do. Do you think…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s good to hear that I didn’t pick stupid sperm,” I say, trying to lighten the mood again.

We had fun, and I like him too. More than I should, considering I’m paying him for his sperm. He’s a donor, not a hookup. He’s not my alpha.

Am I really pregnant? I smile and sit up. My hand goes to my lower belly, though there’s nothing to feel yet. “Will they tell you if it sticks or… doesn’t?”

Liam frowns, his eyebrows pinching together. “Of course. I?—”

The door lock buzzes, and I have enough time to grab a blanket and hug it to my chest as a nurse walks in. “Hi. Sorry to barge in, but if your heat’s over, we need to turn this room over. We had another patient go into their heat cycle early.”

“Oh, of course,” I answer. The soft moment fades and grim reality sets in. Liam isn’t my lover, and this isn’t my home. It’s a fertility clinic, and he’s my sperm donor. An enthusiastic one, but still only a donor. I got what I paid for, and now it’s time to leave.

“I need to find my clothes.” I get out of bed and run a hand through my snarled hair, looking around. The room is a mess. There are blankets and pillows scattered everywhere.

Liam extracts his gray sweatpants from the nest. I don’t remember pulling them into it or building one. My memory of the last four days is spotty. I get dressed, grateful the nurse busies herself with putting on a pair of gloves and stripping the bed. I shove my blankets from home and vibrator into my bag.

He’s already gone by the time I’m ready to go. A pang of disappointment hits me, but then I chastise myself for it. Of course he left. He’s earned the break after what I put him through. I leave, thanking the nurses and staff as I go, my face tomato red. How many of them watched me get railed for four days straight? Listened to me come? Watched my heartbeat spike with every orgasm?

They’re professional and friendly, but busy as I leave. This is another day at work for them.

I dig my car keys out of my purse and unlock my car, blasting the AC and rolling down the windows. My phone is dead. I plug it into the charger and start driving. When I’m halfway home, a bunch of text messages and missed calls come in. Most are from Jen, a few are from Chelsea with pictures of Waffles in amusing places or wearing funny outfits, and one is from my editor saying she finished the manuscript and sent the invoice.

The first thing I do is text Chelsea that I’m headed home and won’t need her to come by after her classes today. The second to call Jen. My best friend answers on the second ring.

“Bitch, I am dying for details,” she says .

“I’m driving home now. Can’t wait to brush my hair and shower. I look like roadkill.”

“How’d it go?”

There’s a flash of memory of Liam purring for me when a cramp got bad. I can still smell him on my skin. Part of me wants to put off the shower as long as possible so I don’t wash his scent off me. But the more rational part of me knows it’s best to move on. I’ll probably never see him again. Hopefully. If I do, it’s because this cycle failed.

“It was great. Different from what I expected, but good. I got to meet my donor.”

“Oooh. Is he cute?”

“He is. And nice, and funny.” And great at eating pussy, but she doesn’t need to hear that.

“I’m glad it worked out well for you. When will you find out the results?” she asks.

“Next week. I have to make an appointment to get blood work drawn.”

I can hear her kids in the background, and sure enough, a minute later Jen says she has to go.

Waffles clings to my side when I get home. He follows me into the bathroom and sits on the counter while I shower. Once I’m clean and my hair is combed out, I take special care to put thick unscented lotion on my inner thighs where I’m chaffed.

After, I grab some broth and crackers and a ginger ale and plant my ass on the couch with a cozy blanket. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Waffles joins me, settling in my lap, and we find something good to watch. Heats always take it out of me. And I have a lot of sleep to catch up on over the next couple of days.

The fertility monitor beckons me like a siren’s lure every time I go to the bathroom to pee. It doesn’t help that I work from home, so I see it constantly. The urge to pee on a stick gets so bad that I have to shove it into a drawer so I don’t waste the expensive test sticks.

By the time the clinic sends me an automated appointment reminder for my blood work, my resolve breaks. Am I a bit nauseous? My appetite’s been poor. Are my breasts more tender than usual? Every potential symptom becomes my latest hyperfixation. They’re probably all side effects from the progesterone supplement they called in for me. Although they don’t think my progesterone is the problem, it’s better safe than sorry.

Waffle meows and paws at the bathroom door, and I’m jarred out of my staring contest with the drawer. One test won’t hurt. The appointment’s tomorrow, anyway. And if it’s not good news, I’d rather find out in private. That way I can spend all night crying and planning what to do for my next heat.

I dig the fertility monitor out of the drawer and find a pregnancy test strip, then pee and stick it in and wait. Minutes stretch into an eternity. By the time it beeps, I’m a nervous wreck. I glance at the screen.

There’s a smiley face with the word pregnant under it.

“Oh, fuck.” I stare at it to make sure it’s real, then pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

It’s real. I’m pregnant. For now, anyway. My happiness is cautious. But I finish up in the bathroom and text Jen to share the news.

Kat

I’m pregnant

Jen

OMG! Already?

Good job sperm donor!

I told you Josh was the problem

I don’t know why he refused to get tested

I go to the clinic tomorrow for the official test

How often do you have to go?

Every day for three days then weekly

They have to make sure my hormones are doubling

Exciting! I’m so happy for you 3

When do you get to see the baby?

My OB made me wait ten weeks

It’s torture

Five to six weeks

Our discussion turns to other stuff. My new book, and her disaster playdate with a new mom from her local baby group. Her responses get slower, so I tell her I’ll talk to her tomorrow. With three mates and two kids under five, her life is chaos.

I smile to myself and stare at the digital smiley face. I can’t wait for a little chaos of my own.