She's certain she doesn't

I giggled, breathless and flushed, playfully rolling my eyes at Clark's question. “I’m not sure I want you looking for a job right now,” I teased, my voice still rough from the exertion.

Clark’s eyes caught mine, their usual warmth now edged with mischief. Leaning in, he let his lips graze the curve of my ear, a barely-there touch that sent a ripple of heat down my spine. “Would you rather I spend the day making love to you again, or should I take a break and whip up some breakfast?” he murmured, his voice low and brimming with wicked amusement.

A thrill coursed through me, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “I’d rather you keep making love to me,” I whispered, my tone laced with seduction.

His answering grin was electric, the teasing glint in his eyes stoking my own hunger. He closed the distance again, his breath brushing my skin as he chuckled softly. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he said, his lips trailing a line of fire along my jaw.

The weight of him against me was intoxicating, his presence commanding every ounce of my attention. His body shifted, and the hardness pressing into my thigh made my breath hitch. Before I could say anything more, his lips returned to my ear, his voice huskier now, tinged with a longing I hadn’t anticipated.

“You know what I want,” I replied softly, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “But you also know it’s not possible.”

Clark’s expression shifted, the playfulness melting into something achingly sincere. His hand came to rest against my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin as his eyes bore into mine. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I still want to try. I want to feel you carry my child, to see you glowing with new life—our life.”

His words unravelled me. I shivered, my body responding instinctively to the yearning in his voice, the quiet determination in his gaze. Before I could say anything, he closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was equal parts tender and consuming.

"Would you prefer to impregnate me at this moment, or would you rather go prepare breakfast?" I inquire of Clark.

"Here and now, unquestionably," Clark responds, and I grin as I sensed the transformations occurring within me.

I felt his hands travel down, gripping my hips with a possessive hunger that sent sparks through me. As he pressed me closer, his need was evident, his arousal a firm reminder of the possibilities unfolding between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in, letting the moment guide us.

When he slid into me, it was effortless, as though we were designed for this, for each other. My breath caught, and I arched against him, savoring the exquisite fullness. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, each thrust stoking the embers of pleasure building deep within me.

“I want you,” he murmured, his voice rough as his rhythm deepened. “I want every part of you.”

“And you have it,” I whispered back, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I surrendered to the sensations crashing over me.

The connection between us was electric, every movement a silent conversation of need and promise. His eyes stayed locked on mine, the intensity in his gaze unrelenting. I could feel his body trembling, his breath hitching as he fought to maintain control.

“Let go,” I urged, my own voice breaking under the weight of my desire. “I want to feel everything.”

His pace quickened, his control unravelling as his hips moved with more urgency. I could feel him swell inside me, the heat of his release imminent. With one final thrust, he groaned, his body stiffening as he found his climax, warmth flooding me in a rush that was both physical and deeply emotional.

As the aftershocks rippled through him, he didn’t stop, his movements gentler now, coaxing me toward my own release. His whispered encouragement, the feel of his hands on my body, and the look in his eyes pushed me over the edge. My muscles tightened around him, and I cried out, the intensity of my orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave.

We stayed like that, tangled and breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s. The room was silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing.