Ghostface Killer(83)

"Fuck, yes, mine." He drives his cock implausibly deep as my pussy pulsates all around him. It's like an alarm is sounding in my womb.

"Christ, Stevie." He grabs one of my breasts as he comes strenuously. His grunts and groans reverberating through my body like an electric current. "Holy shit." Baz continuously squeezes my breast like a stress ball until he empties his entire release inside me.




 

 

Resting his head on my back, we both slowly recover. Fused together at the hips, he presses passionate, wet kisses up my spine, following the trail of my tattoo across my shoulder blades.

It's so sensual and intimate and arduous.

"Your angel of death, huh?" I ask, tucked securely beneath Baz.

"An angels an angel." He strums the side of my round belly, firm in his beliefs.

For Baz, as long as I'm his, I'll be any kind of angel he wants.



A sharp pain yanks me out of a deep sleep.

"Oh, shit!" I roll over into the fetal position and clutch my abdomen.

"Stevie?" Baz pops up off his pillow. "What's wrong?"

"I'm having pains. Bad pains."

"Should I call the doctor?" He's overtly worried.

"Maybe." I breathe heavily, in and out, until the coiling tightness subsides. Once it's gone, I relax, rolling over onto my back. That's when I feel it. Fluid drenching the sheets and the inside of my thighs.

"Baz." I sit up. "I think my water just broke."

"What?" He tosses off the sheet and reveals the huge wet stain. "Shit." He flies out of bed just as another contraction comes on.

"Fuck!" I fall back onto the mattress, seizing in pain. It's so intense I almost throw up.

Baz paces the room as he talks to Dr. Miranda. It's nearly five in the morning.

"Contractions? How far apart?" He looks over at me, completely lost.

"Close!" I hiss as the pain begins to subside. "I just had two in two minutes."

"Every two minutes . . . Okay. Bye." Baz chucks the phone on one of the sitting room chairs and returns to me. "She's on her way. She's calling Levinstein, too."

"Okay, good." I catch my breath.

"She's early," he voices, scared out of his mind.

"You fucked me so hard last night you induced labor."

"You think?" He actually has the audacity to look smug.

"I read it could happen. Fuck!" Another contraction hits, and there's ungodly pressure between my legs. I squeeze Baz's hand and scream.

"Jesus, Stevie, you're going to wake the whole house."

And that's just what I did, cause seconds later, Gianni, Frederick, Bull, Gun, and Desmond all rush into the room. Gun and Bull both have their weapons drawn. Thank God I pulled Baz's T-shirt on before I fell asleep last night or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

"She's in labor," Baz tells them with his hand protectively out. "Her water broke. Miranda is on her way." 

Every face in the room relaxes.

"Master Benjamin, what can I do?" Frederick steps forward immediately, dressed in a pair of dark pajamas.

"Answer the door when she rings the bell. Everyone else . . . I don't know . . ." He looks to Gianni.

"We'll wait outside. Just call us if you need anything."

"Drugs!" I erupt. "I need drugs." The force in my lower abdomen is unbearable.

"It's a little too late for that," Gianni informs me sympathetically.

The pain in my stomach is constant now, and all I want to do is push.

"It feels like it's happening so fast. Should it be happening this fast?" I ramble as I see stars.

"It really is Baz's kid!" Desmond calls from the hallway. "Always in a hurry with no place to go!"

"Shut the fuck up, man! I'm high energy!" Baz yells back, the banter distracting me slightly.

I squirm uncomfortably on the bed, breaking into a cold sweat. "Where's the doctor? I feel like I have to push."

"Don't push. Just wait." Baz traps my hand with both of his, trying to keep me calm. "She'll be here any minute. Don't push, Stevie. Wait."

"That's easier said than done, Baz. She wants to come now." I pant like a thirsty dog.

"A few more minutes."

"I don't think we have a few more minutes. It feels like her head is breaking through my vagina!"

The door bursts open just in time as Dr. Miranda and Dr. Levinstein invade the room.

"Oh, thank God." I drop my head onto the pillow.

They both get to work, slapping on latex gloves as they move in what looks like a choreographed dance.

"Okay, let's have a look." Baz helps Dr. Miranda reposition me on the bed so she can get comfortable between my legs, while Dr. Levinstein checks my heart rate and pulse.