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She was now huge compared to what she was when he found her.
Because of that, her awkwardness was much worse. She waddled around the apartment like a fucking penguin, her hands always holding onto her belly as if she was afraid it would just drop to the ground.
And then she’d wince when either the kid kicked the shit out of her insides or when she had back spasms and stomach cramps, which the doc called Toni Braxtons or some such shit.
The doc said it was her body preparing to spit out that kid. Why they were named after some singer he had no fucking clue. Even so, Red said she couldn’t wait. And though Sig kept it to himself, he couldn’t wait, either.
Not that he wanted Red to leave, which would happen once she pushed the kid out, but because she looked completely uncomfortable. Miserable even.
However, the doc also said she and the kid were looking a lot healthier and hoped for a birth without too many complications.
In Sig’s opinion, one complication was too many. Not that anyone asked him.
His eyes slid to the bedroom door as her belly entered the room before she did.
Fuck, it looked as though she’d swallowed a fucking basketball. Or a large pumpkin with a stem because her belly button was totally pushed out and visible against the maternity nightie that she now had no choice to wear since she no longer could squeeze into his shirts.
She’d tried. And she’d split one.
One night he caught her sitting on the bed in just her “boy shorts,” what she called those panties she wore, crying about it with the ruined tee clutched in her hands.
“It’s an old T-shirt, Red, nothing to fuckin’ cry about.”
She’d lifted her tear streaked face up to him and wailed, “I knooooow. But it’s your T-shirt.”
“Jesus fuck,” he had muttered under his breath. She fucking cried about everything. A stupid commercial, her toast being too dark, the fact that he had to leave to actually do some repo jobs so he could buy her fucking groceries—since she now ate non-stop—and, worse, she cried over nothing.
She just cried.
It had been cute at first. Now it wasn’t.
He worried about her sanity more than ever.
But that day she sat on the edge of the bed naked, except for those light blue boy shorts, had got him right in the fucking chest.
Why he had a thing for pregnant women, he had no fuckin’ clue.
Or maybe it was just Red.
Her tits had gotten heavier, her nipples bigger and darker, her belly had blown up and her face had rounded out a little. Her hips had widened and her thighs had thickened. But fuck, when she sat there crying over his fucking ripped shirt, all he wanted to do was fuck her until she stopped crying.
He didn’t.
Instead, he’d taken a fucking shower, whacked off and watched as his cum circled the drain and disappeared.
And when he opened his eyes, he’d noticed she was in the bathroom peeing, and watching him.
“It’s only natural,” she announced, wiped, washed her hands and waddled back out of the room.
She was whacked.
And, for fuck’s sake, her being that whacked made him want her even more.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He was afraid he would start spinning out of control the day she left and never stop until something or someone had to force him to.
But for now, she had a month to go and had taken one of her countless trips to the bathroom and was headed back to the bed to climb back in with him.
And he was in no rush to get out of bed this morning, not when she was in it with him.
With cute little grunts and groans—which he was sure she didn’t think were so cute—she got back into bed, rolled to her side, facing away from him, then backed her ass, which was also a lot fuller now, right into his hard-on.
“Oh,” she squeaked.
“Yeah, shoulda known that might be an issue.” Because it wasn’t anything new with them sleeping together.
She giggled but didn’t pull away.
“Probably be best to give it some space, Red.”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah, well... It ain’t always about you.”
She giggled again which again shook her ass against his dick. That did not help.
It wouldn’t take much for him to pull those boy shorts she now wore everyday down her thighs and slide deep inside her.
But he wasn’t sure if she was ready for that mentally, and physically, he wasn’t sure if that was allowed this late in the pregnancy. It wasn’t anything they’d asked the doctor because Sig didn’t think it would happen anyway.
They touched. They kissed. Sig disappeared and fucking whacked off elsewhere.
With another little grunt she reached behind her, grabbed his arm and drew it around her. Then she released a contented sigh like she always did when she wanted him to hold her.
