Seducing Him

Chapter 1:

Chapter 1:

A week. That's what he asked me to give him. One week and I would know whether or not he would help me make a baby. That entire week was spent pacing, staring at the phone, and watching Broadchurch so that I would have to something to cry to.

I was giving him a free pass here. All the man would have to do is screw me to his heart's content. He wouldn't have to do anything else. No dirty diapers to change, no sleepless nights. Wasn't that every married man's dream come true?

Perhaps he was indeed gay. If it took him this long to decide to screw his wife, he had to be right? Or did he have a mistress on the side and needed to ask her permission? No, no, that last one couldn't be right. In the contract it was very adamant about not having any other sexual partners besides your spouse.

Maybe the man I married was a germaphobe. That would explain why he suggested semen fertilization. Did the idea of him having sex with me disgust him?

These thoughts plagued my mind for seven days. Instead of barging into his office again, I waited. I didn't call him. I didn't text him. Hell, I didn't even email him. Being the good girl my parents raised me to be, I didn't pester him one bit.

As each day passed the more and more I felt as if the answer would be no. In his office he hadn't given me an inkling of an idea on which he'd choose. I made a list of all the pros and cons of him having a child, hoping that this would help me understand which he chooses.

Finally on the seventh day, the phone rang. I picked it up on the first ring, anxious to get my answer. Instead he simply asked me to meet him in his loft and gave me the address. A small twinge of guilt hit me when I realized I hadn't even known where my husband lived.

I dressed in a simple dress that hugged my curves. My lucky heels were snuggly hugging my feet. I curled my hair hoping that the curls would stay this perfect. When I felt like I looked pretty enough to seduce my husband, I made my way to his loft.

Dylan's loft was located three blocks from mine. It was in a gorgeous building that had recently been renovated. I punched in the code to take me to the penthouse. As soon as the elevator doors opened I was greeted by an apartment that looked like it was in a magazine. Hell it had probably been in a magazine for all I knew. Everything was sleek and modern. The whole room was in pristine condition as if no one lived here. Then again, he hardly did live here. Of the few things I did know about my husband, the one thing I knew was that he traveled a lot for work.

“Come in,” Dylan ushered me inside as soon as I arrived.

“It's gorgeous,” I said, taking in the apartment.

“Thank you. My designer keeps all of my properties up to date with interior fashion,” he told me. “Please, take a seat.”

We went to go sit in the living room. I took the couch whereas he took the chair sitting in front of me. For a moment we just stared at one another. He was quite handsome, there was no denying that. Unlike the last time I had seen him, there was now a 5 o'clock shadow on his face. A voice in head wondered what that would feel like nuzzling my body. Quickly I pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

“I hope your travel here wasn't too bad,” he says.

As much as I wanted to get to the point, I played along with his small talk. “It wasn't too bad. I walked since the weather was nice. Besides I only live a few blocks away from here.”

“I didn't know that,” Dylan admits.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Somehow that doesn't seem to surprise me. In fact, you don't seem to know anything about me. After all you did think my name was Lizzie.”

He sighs. “I suppose I deserved that. Your visit took me surprise.”

“That's an understatement.”

Ignoring my comment, he continues on. “What you have pointed out to me is that I've neglected my duties as a husband. You want a husband who is there, who will ask you about your day. Isn't that what all women expect?”

“You honestly don't know a damn thing about women, do you?” I roll my eyes. “All I want from you, is sex. I want you to get me pregnant. That's it. No pillow talk, no nothing.”

His head turns slightly sideways as he stares at me. “Just sex? Why are you so adamant about getting pregnant?”

“Because I have to listen to my mother, sister, friends, and coworkers question me when I'm going to have a baby or babble on about what new thing their child has done. You have no clue how frustrating it is to be the only married woman who doesn't have a child,” I let it all out. “I want a child that I can call my own. Someone that looks like me. Someone that random people on the street will point out our similarities.”

“Then I give you permission to go choose a mate to have a child with,” Dylan says.

I move to where I am standing in front of him. He looked up at me with those hazel eyes, wondering what my next move was going to be. “I am not going to let my family business fall to shambles all because my husband is supposedly letting one fact of the contract slide.”

“So what do you propose?” he asks.

I groan. “Speaking to you feels like swimming upstream. I want you to f*ck me. To uphold the contract the baby has to be part your's too. I'm not breaking the contract. The only way for both of us to be happy about this is if you just screw me and get it over with.”

Dylan stands up. Now he is the one looking down at me. “Oh, Lauren, if only it were that simple.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, growing nervous. “You would be getting something out of this deal too. The company would have an heir.”

“Just because your biological clock is ticking, doesn't mean I feel the need to reproduce.” he states.

I push him backwards. “You bastard.” I spit at him.

 He pulls me roughly back to him. My chest crushed into his. “If you want a child, fine I'll give you a child. But we are doing this my way.”  

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