Maggie walked into the Evergreen Fertility Institute the next afternoon with her head held high, even though her heart hammered against her ribs like a caged bird desperate to escape. The memory of yesterday’s session still burned through her body, Julian’s thick c**k stretching her, his low groans in her ear, the way he’d whispered her name like a prayer right before he filled her. But then came the pain, the sudden roughness, and his cold professional mask slipping back into place afterward.
She had cried in the Uber home. Then she had gotten angry.
Now that anger had sharpened into something colder, more calculated, and dangerously arousing.
She would follow the contract to the letter. Every clause. Every possibility. And she would make sure Dr. Julian Hawthorne watched every single
