Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Mission accomplished. Now let’s get on with this. I want to celebrate. Tell the world.
Tell Ava about me?
My eyes narrow without telling them to. For someone who supposedly wants me to be happy, Jake ain’t half trying his best to piss all over my bonfire.
“You wield that physique unfairly,” Ava grumbles, trying and failing to hide the lust in her eyes. I’m here for it, but before we get to celebration sex, we have sticks to pee on.
“Of course I do,” I reply on a cheeky smile, eyeing her towel-covered body. “It’s one of my best assets.” I grab Ava’s towel and whip it away, inhaling my appreciation. Fuck me, it gets me every time. Made for me. All of it. Every handful, curve, and dip. “It comes a close second to this one.” And soon all of this one will be growing. More to love. More for me to take care of. I bet she can’t wait. “Just perfect.”
“You won’t say that when I’m fat and swollen.” Pouting, she peeks down at her perfect body. “And if you say there will be more of me to love, I might divorce you.” Her towel is quickly missing from my hands and covering my best asset again. Really?
“Don’t say the word divorce.” I walk her to the toilet and position her ready to sit. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll eat for two too.” Two jars of peanut butter a day instead of one.
“Promise you won’t leave me when I’m unable to reach your cock with my mouth because my belly is in the way.”
Laughter rises and bursts out loudly. “I promise, baby,” I say around my amusement. We’ll find a way, and hopefully Ava gets past this aversion she’s developed recently to my dick being in her mouth. “Now, let’s pee on some sticks.”
She shifts the towel and sits, and I grin as I crouch, her playfully narrowed eyes following me down. “Do you want to stick your hand in the loo again?” she asks around a smile. “I could mark you officially.”
Another bark of laughter erupts and makes me lose my balance, my arse hitting the floor with a thud. She’s on fire with the humor, and it’s fucking wonderful. My muscles are mush, hampering my attempts to get up. “Ava, baby.” I chuckle, planting my hands onto the floor, fighting my way up. “I love you so fucking much.” I hear the steady flow of her peeing, her hand between her legs. So romantic. I lean up and kiss away her wrinkled, mortified face.
“There,” she declares, pulling her hand out from between her legs and holding the stick up. I quickly take it, not fazed in the least, and reach for another, putting it in her hand. “What?” she asks.
“I told you”—I ignore her questioning face—“sometimes they don’t work.” I push the stick toward her, hoping she’s not completely empty. “Quick.”
She groans, exasperated, but does as she’s bid, her face straining to squeeze out more pee. She hands it over, and I hand her another. “Jesse.” She laughs. “Come on.”
“One more,” I say, helping her along, removing the cap.
“For God’s sake.” She whips it from my hand and gets to work as I pop the caps back on the others, wondering if I can squeeze another out of her. By the sound of her dripping pee and her pink cheeks from the strain, I’m thinking not. “That’s it,” she says, watching me, probably concluding—correctly—what I’m thinking. Okay, I’ll flex, since she’s flexing too. I’ll save the other tests for another time. She gives me test number three and wipes herself, and I go to the vanity unit and lay each one next to each other, tweaking them, making sure they’re level and straight. My eyes run across each one over and over again, as I pout, watching carefully. How long does this take? How accurate is it? Scan. I should sort out a scan. I’ll do that tomorrow. How many weeks are we? A book. I need a book that’s going to help me help Ava. I’ll order one. And a midwife. We should see a midwife. Maybe I’ll hire one full-time.
How long do these damn tests take to show a result?
I scan them again, bent over, watching closely for any change in the little window.
“Are you okay there?” Ava asks.
“I think they’re broken.” I register her next to me, looking at me, not the tests. She’d better drink some water. “We should do some more.” I move about an inch before my arm jars, Ava pulling me back.
“It’s been thirty seconds,” she says over an amused chuckle. Seconds? It feels like I’ve been bent over this unit for an hour. “Here, wash your hands.” She guides my hands under the tap, turning it on and rubbing at them. I keep my eyes on the tests. Is that a letter I can see? I crane my neck, scowling when I note it’s a shadow.