Trisha’s Donor


Denny is forty-three and a new grandfather, so he shouldn’t be lusting after his younger executive assistant. When he discovers Trisha is planning to use artificial insemination, the fantasies of making her pregnant drive him to distraction. When they are unexpectedly caught in a snowstorm together, he has a chance to make his move. If Denny can get past his hang-ups over the age difference, and his insecurities that she couldn’t possibly want him, it’s his opportunity to offer to be Trisha’s donor. The caveat is he offers his sample the old-fashioned way, and it comes with some strings attached, like a lifetime commitment…

This is a QuikRead and the perfect length to finish during the morning commute or while waiting for an appointment. No cliffhangers!

This story is connected to “David’s Baby,” but both stories may be read alone.


The ringing phone was an unwelcome distraction from the lines of code Denny was currently trying to dissect in search of the stealth virus infecting his client’s operating system. “Trisha, answer the phone,” he called irritably. When it rang again, he got up from his chair and stalked to the outer office, his gaze searching for the executive assistant who should be behind her desk.

Seeing no sign of the hot blonde—not that he should think of her that way—he stretched to pick up the phone. “Monroe Security,” he said in a crisp voice.

“Hello. May I speak with Trisha Emry please?”

Denny cast another glance around the tidy office. “She’s not here right now. May I take a message?”

“This is Rebecca with Willow Bay Clinic. I’m calling with her appointment reminder for tomorrow morning. Please tell her lab work confirms she is ready.”

“Hang on.” Denny moved closer to the desk to pick up a pad of paper and pen. He took down the pertinent details. After disconnecting the phone, he frowned, rubbing his smoothly shaved chin. Why did that place sound familiar? It wasn’t any of his business, but he couldn’t help being concerned for her. It must be something serious if she was going in for a Saturday appointment. Clinics didn’t do that, as a rule.

He sat down at Trisha’s desk and turned on her computer, pulling up the search screen. In a few seconds, he had the results of his search for Willow Bay Clinic and knew why it was familiar. They ran the series of commercials featuring infertile couples made pregnant by the clinic’s techniques. He knew for a fact Trisha wasn’t married and hadn’t been dating anyone, to his knowledge. They often worked long hours, so when would she have time for a relationship?

Perusing the sidebar menu, the words “Sperm Bank” caught his attention and offered the glimmer of an explanation. Compelled to know more, though not comfortable exploring why he was curious, Denny opened her drawers, searching through the desk. He hit the jackpot in the bottom drawer, finding a brochure from Willow Bay highlighting their donor sperm program.

Anger filled him, and he pounded a hand on the desk. Cursing, Denny exited out of the computer and returned to his office. He paced, trying to work out his anger, while working out exactly why he was annoyed to start with. Not ready to look any deeper, he accepted a shallow explanation that occurred to him. It must be because she was a valued employee, and he relied on her greatly. The thought of her leaving in a few months, or reducing her hours, didn’t sit well with him.

How long would it be before she told him she was leaving? How long until her belly swelled up ripe and firm from some stranger’s genetic sample? His mouth twisted as he imagined the cold, impersonal conception.

When his mind conjured an image of her swollen with a baby, his cock twitched. He cursed softly again, trying to remember he was a grandfather now. His daughter Liv and son-in-law David—who was only eight years younger than him—had recently presented him with a grandson. At forty-three, and a grandfather, he had no business thinking lusty thoughts about his twenty-five-year-old assistant. Did he?

Of course not. Denny should not be imagining her pregnant, or thinking about how full her breasts would be in his hands. He shouldn’t be remembering how wet and horny pregnant women got, if his deceased wife was an indicator. He should certainly not be thinking about the fact that she was fertile right now, that her womb was ready, and an egg waited for eager sperm in her fruitful body. An egg she clearly wanted fertilized.

With a stifled moan, he threw himself into his desk chair, determined to return his attention to the computer code he’d been deciphering and away from forbidden, dangerous territory. He had little success redirecting his attention, but made a good effort toward nipping those thoughts in the bud as the afternoon progressed. By early evening, he had himself convinced he didn’t care a thing about Trisha’s fertility or her pregnancy plans.


All his good intentions and attempts to think other things fled his mind when he exited his office at quitting time and entered hers. Denny drew to a halt at the sight of her sweetly rounded ass extended in the air as she tucked files into the bottom drawer of the metal cabinet. She must be headed out somewhere, like a date, because she had changed from her black suit into a bright-red dress that demanded everyone pay attention.

He bit back a groan as she rose, and he saw just how figure-hugging the dress was. It molded to her curves, displaying a generous amount of her full breasts, before ending mid-thigh. For someone who planned to get pregnant tomorrow, she sure looked like the quintessential twenty-something party girl tonight. “Where are you heading off to?” he asked more gruffly than he’d intended.

Trisha frowned, taking a moment to smooth back her fall of blonde platinum blonde hair. Denny’s fingers itched to touch those silky strands. Normally, she kept her hair pinned up in neat rolls, buns, or twists. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn it loose and flowing past her shoulders. Maybe never in the entire year she’d worked for him.

“I’m going out with some friends.” She grimaced a bit. “Bachelorette party.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. “You’re getting married?”

She seemed to flinch, but he wasn’t sure if it was from his severe expression or harsh tone. “No, of course not.” A huge grin leant her gamine features a mischievous air. “When would I have time to date with the hours we keep, Denny?”

His posture relaxed slightly, and he could suddenly take a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s true.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “It’s already nearly seven. When are you meeting the girls?”

“About an hour.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything else, feeling awkward around his executive assistant for the first time since he’d hired her. Just knowing what she planned to do tomorrow was tearing into his peace of mind. The coldly clinical conception of a child didn’t sit well with him, but he couldn’t deny he was eager to see her body rounded with a baby.

His baby.

That was a dangerous thought. Making a move on an employee could be disastrous. The financial and legal consequences would be a nightmare if she misconstrued his interest as sexual harassment. Even if she took it as simple male attention, without any aspect of coercion, she would probably laugh at him. No, she was a kind woman. Trisha would let him down gently, go to her party with her girlfriends, and then have a good laugh at the old guy who’d come on to her.

Being a grandfather was making him feel older than he should. Either that, or just his wayward thoughts were adding the years. He knew relationships with younger women could work. Hell, his daughter and her husband, who was sixteen years older than Liv, were so happy it made him ache with a bit of envy. He’d had that with Lisa, before a car crash cut short their fairytale. Of course, Lisa had been a year older than him, and he’d been younger than, young enough to be confident that women still wanted him, and that he wasn’t a pervy old man lusting after a woman technically young enough to be his daughter.

She shrugged on a heavy winter coat. “Do you have plans tonight, Denny?”

He shook his head, his cock hardening at the flash of her shapely leg as she slid her foot into obscenely high red heels that made him want to fuck her right then and there—not that he’d ever stopped wanting to do that since the idea first occurred to him earlier in the afternoon.

“No babysitting tonight?”

He shook his head again. “Liv’s breastfeeding, so they don’t go out much without Daniel.”

Trisha’s expression softened. “She’s so lucky.” Her sigh seemed full of yearning. “He’s such a sweet little baby.”

Denny smiled. “That he is.”

She cast him a look that was hard to read. “You must have a date though?”

He frowned. “No.” When was the last time he’d gone on a date? It must have been two years ago, when he’d briefly dated Liv’s high school history teacher. A couple of outings, a few tepid kisses, and they had both stopped calling each other.

It was her turn to frown. “I don’t believe it.”

He snorted. “Why not?”

She shrugged, bending forward to adjust the strap of her shoe and making his mouth water at the sight of her breasts threatening to spill from the red fabric. She stood up all too soon, seemingly unaware of how close she’d come to a wardrobe malfunction. “A guy like you must have women beating down your door.”

Denny rolled his eyes. “A guy like me? A grandfather?”

She shrugged. “So what? Grandfathers still have lives.”

He made a noncommittal sound. “Well, I should let you get going. It could be a long drive in the snow.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, and I don’t even want to go.”

She made no move to step aside as he walked toward her, reaching past her for his wool coat. Her breath was cinnamon-fresh, and her floral perfume teased his nose. “Why are you then?”

Trisha lifted a shoulder. “She’s my cousin’s best friend, and we’re sort of friends. Plus, I probably won’t be going out much in the future.”

He cocked a brow, wondering if she was going to confide her conception plans. “Oh, why not?” Would he be bold enough to offer his services if she mentioned it?

After a brief hesitation, she said, “I don’t have much interest in that scene. I never have, to be honest.” Giving him a sweet smile as he opened the office door for her, she said, “I’m more traditional, I guess. I’d rather be home with my family than out drinking until the early hours.”

A pang in his chest made him gasp. If he hadn’t had a mental image of cuddling with her on the couch while their children slept upstairs, along with a poignant ache for that scenario, he might have worried he was having a heart attack, despite his healthy lifestyle. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. “I’m the same. I met Lisa when I was home on leave one weekend. I was twenty, and she was twenty-one. We were married a few weeks later.”

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