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I gulp.
“We bought so much, and you know it’s never going to fit in my studio. We’re going to have to return half of it. Should we just cancel the order now? I don’t mind. Truly.”
My boyfriend smiles and brings my hand up, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“Who says I’m having it delivered to your apartment?”
My jaw drops and I stare at him with wide eyes, but he just laughs.
“Don’t overthink it, baby. Now come on. I need to feed you and take care of those feet, remember? Then I need to show you just how cute I can be. In bed, of course.”
I don’t know what to say because my heart’s thumping hard in my chest now. If the furniture’s being delivered to his place, then he must see a long-term future for us right? Suddenly, I want to sing to the world because maybe my carriage will stay a carriage, instead of transforming into a vegetable. Maybe this Cinderella will get to enjoy the ball, without having to dash out at 11:59 p.m. Breathless with hope, I squeeze Damon’s hand and let him take me home so we can be cute together.
8
Damon
Two months later.
There are a lot of perks that come with being a billionaire, but right now, the perk that matters most is being able to get Christine into the VIP private suite at First Presbyterian Hospital. As one of their biggest donors, First Presbyterian rolled out the carpet for my woman and I’m beyond excited that the big day is finally here. Our baby’s going to be born, and I’m over the moon with joy.
It’s funny how things change. Two months ago, all I wanted was a beautiful pregnant woman to enjoy hot times in the sack with. I wanted to fuck her silly while watching her belly bounce, and to see those big breasts sway up and down as she rode my cock. But now, it’s so much more. Don’t get me wrong, Christine is an animal in bed and I love that about her. She lactates on command now, and we mix a bit of breastfeeding into all of our nocturnal activities, but that’s not the only thing. She’s giving, beautiful, and utterly charming. My world has shifted on its axis because of her, and my carefully planned future has completely changed. I know I want to be with this woman, even if I haven’t told her yet.
A nurse bustles into our room, cheery and upbeat.
“Hi folks, I’m Mary and I’ll be guiding you through labor today. Just one question: is Dad going to be cutting the cord?” she asks while checking Christine’s IV.
I share a look with my woman, and we both smile. Every time someone refers to me as the father of the child, it makes me so happy I want to shout it from the rooftops. It feels right too because I’ve attended every OB checkup over the past couple months, and am very much a part of the process now. Christine nods slightly and I beam at the nurse.
“I’d love to cut the cord,” I say.
“Perfect,” the middle-aged lady beams. “I’ll let the doctor know. She’ll be in shortly to check how you’re progressing, but everything looks fine to me.”
“Thanks,” Christine murmurs with a smile, even if she looks a bit tired. Then, the nurse leaves and I bend over and push Christine’s curls out of her face and kiss her forehead. She grimaces.
“I’m all sweaty and gross.”
“Yes, but you’re beautiful,” I say.
She starts to laugh, but a contraction hits at that moment and her eyes squeeze shut as her grip on my hand tightens to the point of pain. But I stay focused because her discomfort is real, and there isn’t much else I can do but allow my fingers to be crushed.
“Whew, that was a tough one!” she huffs out once the contraction passes. She’s flushed, her skin is coated in sweat, and her curls stick to her cheeks, but Christine’s never looked more sexy and I grin.
“You’re doing something amazing, honey. That makes you the most beautiful person in the world to me.”
She smiles at me through her tears.
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
I kiss her hand.
“Me too.”
Her body tightens up again, and I hold her hand and do my best to help her through another insane contraction. By the time it passes, she’s panting hard with a desperate look in her eye.
“You okay, honey?” I ask while wiping her forehead with a cool rag.
“No,” she answers in a short voice. “I’m being torn apart from the inside out.”
