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Chapter Eight
Junior
Three Months, Three Days Later
“Oh My God. I hate you, Hector. I am so uncomfortable. Why won’t these babies come out?” she asks sitting on the barstool in the kitchen.
“Babe, it hasn’t been that much over yet,” I say as I try to commiserate with her.
“What do you know?” she growls. If she wasn’t so distressed, I’d laugh at how cute she is right now.
“You’re absolutely right, Carmen. I don’t know shit,” I say trying to appease her.
“You have got to help me, Hector. I love you so much. I’m sorry about what I said earlier and pretty much everything I’ve said in the last week, but I need your help now.” She looks up at me. Her eyes are pleading with me.
“Aww, babe. How can I help?”
“Fuck me,” she deadpans twirling her hair around her fingers.
“I’m sorry. What?” I ask totally confused.
“Doctor Garcia said that is a tried and true way to induce labor. I need it. Help me.”
How can I resist that?
“Come on baby. Let’s go to bed,” I say deciding that I should indeed help my Princess out.
She was just wearing a robe, but now she is bared to me. There are no words to describe how beautiful my wife is. Round with my children, she looks like a motherfucking Goddess.
“Stop staring at me. Let’s go. Why are you still dressed?” she asks wiggling her butt on the bed.
“Patience, baby. Patience.”
“I ran out of patience about six weeks ago, Hector. Get that massive cock over here.” I can’t help laughing loudly. I strip quickly and join her on the bed. I kiss her pouty lips and help her move into a position that is comfortable for her. When she’s fully seated on my cock, she moves her hips. “Oh, God yes, this feels amazing,” she cries. Over and over, she rises up and down, until she throws her back screaming my name. I fill her with my seed. She moves off of me to lay on her back, both of our breaths coming in pants.
“Why are you so beautiful?” I ask, kissing her again.
“Shut up,” she giggles.
“Are you in a better mood now?”
“No. Ahh,” she says clutching her belly. "Holy fuck, it worked," she screams, clamoring up from the bed. "I need pants. Where are my pants?"
"Calm down, babe. You keep your pants in your closet. Remember?"
"Oh, right," she says going into her closet. She comes back out fully dressed, in leggings and my New York Knicks sweatshirt. Even nine months pregnant, it's too big for her. "You’re not out of bed yet? We have to go to the hospital, Hector."
"We have time," I say getting out of bed.
"There's no time. Get dressed, Hector. If I have these babies in the truck, I swear to God, I'll never forgive you."
"Alright. Two seconds and we are out of here."
“Two seconds,” she says sliding on some flip flops. I pull on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Then, I grab her already packed bag and some tennis shoes. “Where are my wallet and keys?” I ask, starting to panic a little.
“Oh my God. They are right here. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, we are checked into the hospital and waiting for her doctor. She still looks like a Goddess, sitting in that bed that makes her look even smaller than she is.
