Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Her expression says it all as she hands it over. Fucking hell, I knew I shouldn’t have been here today, but Tiff insisted. Seven days from the due date was fine she assured me.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Reubs!” Her voice is practically a wail in my ear. “She’s early. Get here now, please. QUICK!”
“On my way. Don’t let her out before I get there!”
“I might not have much choice!”
I hear her scream out a FUCKKKKKKK, and I’m out of my seat, racing like a madman.
I let Jen handle the logistics as I make a dash for it. Grotto closed. The pillows get tossed aside along with the beard, but I’ve got no time to get changed before I get in the Jag to race over to Alexandria Natal Suite. A Santa suit will have to cut it.
The tyres screech as I pull out of the car park. No matter how many times Tiff and I have talked this through, imagining the details, it’s made no difference. I’m absolutely fucking shitting myself.
My gorgeous baby girl is having my baby girl. And the last thing I want to do is fucking miss it.
I put her on speakerphone as I drive.
“Are you ok? How are you feeling?”
“LIKE SHIT!” she yells, Tiff style. “Fucking hell, Reubs, it hurts like an absolute BASTARD! I thought we’d prepared for this but Jesus Christ, it’s nothing like getting punch fucked. My whole body is screaming, not just my cunt.”
I hear the voices of the maternity ward nurses in the background and have to choke back a laugh. What a character. She’s going to be someone to remember – no doubt an infamous Mrs Sinclair when baby number two comes along.
We have the pleasure of meeting baby number one first, though.
I beep my horn at a complete asshole who slows down too quickly and misses the green light. Every second counts.
“Is Ella with you?” I ask my wife.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Ella’s voice sounds out. “Josh is, too.”
“Hey, Reubs,” Josh laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ve got her safe. The little one isn’t done by a long way from the looks of it, so you’ll still get to enjoy the show.”
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
I don’t give a shit which spot I’m parked in when I bail out of the Jag and race over to the private ward. I don’t bother with the elevator, just bound up the steps two at a time as people stare.
Because shit. Yes. I’m still dressed up as bloody Santa.
“Mrs Sinclair?” I ask the nurse at reception, and she leads me on through.
It still always brings a smile to my face when I hear Tiff’s name like that. I got down on one knee the second we saw the plus sign on the pregnancy test, but the ring had already been in my pocket for weeks.
“We have her all set up and ready to go. She’s doing very well. Didn’t want an epidural, only gas and air.”
My heart jumps into my throat when the nurse opens the door for me, and I see my red-haired goddess on the bed with her legs up and wide. She’s red faced, grimacing as another contraction hits her.
“REUBEN!” she cries and I rush to her side, taking her outstretched hand in mine.
“It’s ok, Tiff, I’m here now. I’m here.”
“We’ll be outside if you need us,” Ella says.
“Enjoy, Reubs,” Josh smirks as he pats me on the back on the way out.
I’m glad Tiffany was hanging out with them today on the run up to the due date. Josh may have looked upon me as a piece of shit when we first crossed paths, but he’s certainly come around to me. He was over the moon when Tiff’s pregnancy test showed positive back in March.
“This is your fault,” my wife says to me. “If it hadn’t been for the Christmas tree escapades earlier, she’d have probably stayed put a few more days.”
Tiff’s dirty gaze locks on mine, even through her pain. Our Christmas tree escapades were exquisite this morning – me sucking on Tiff’s wet leaking nipples as I slammed her cunt deep. Her swollen belly has driven me crazy. I’ve had a constant hard-on since the moment my big beauty got even bigger, her stomach stretching with our child.
Tiff’s nipples are leaking now as she rides the contractions. I love the way the milk dribbles down her.
If I wasn’t so invested in medical professionals, I’d want the midwife to fuck off out of here and leave us alone. I’d want to put my hand inside my wife’s bleeding pussy and feel my little girl’s head making an entrance for myself.
“Here we go, ten centimetres dilated,” the midwife says during the next contraction, and I shift position to get a better view. “Time to push! Push, Tiffany! Push!”
Punch fisting has nothing on this. I’m utterly transfixed as my baby’s head begins to bulge from my wife’s pussy. It’s so big. So beautiful. So fucking primal in its brilliance.