Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
I jumped up quickly, shuffling to the side of the bed and climbing onto my feet like a cat. I was quiet, instinctual, and this fluffing giant didn’t know who he was messing with. I would have thought, after all the pranks we’d experienced together while falling in love, it would’ve taught him not to underestimate me as an opponent, but I supposed I was wrong.
But only because men were inherently dumb. And I couldn’t really be blamed for the inferiority of an entire contingent of our species.
I stalked slowly toward the bathroom door, my stomach growling silently in anger. Even she understood the importance of carrying out this mission silently, and for that, I would be forever grateful.
Once there, I leaned my head into the surface and inhaled deeply, allowing the aromas to decode themselves among my heightened senses.
Sweet-and-sour chicken, lo mein, and spring rolls.
Fluffing contraband, secret, unshared food, right there behind the door with my turncoat husband. I knew it was him by the sound of his snuffling as he chewed.
What a dicklicker.
I was fully prepared to bust the door down if I had to, but to my shock, the knob turned easily and the door swung open to reveal my husband, curled up on the tile bathroom floor in front of the shower with food containers strewn out all around him.
His eyes were wide and his lips moist with sweet-and-sour sauce.
“Caught!” I yelled victoriously, as if I’d solved a great, historic heist. “Red-handed and red-faced, Thatcher. How’s it feel to choke on your own nutsac so spectacularly?”
“Whoa, whoa, let’s pump the brakes on the accusations, honey. You fell asleep on my dick. Again. As in, you’ve done this to me before and have now done it another time. Do you know how many times a man can experience that and still survive? I’m pretty sure I’ve officially met my quota. You were out cold, and I was distraught. Chinese food was the only solution!”
“I didn’t fall asleep during sex,” I contested. “We were finished.”
“No, Crazy, we weren’t. I stuck my dick inside you, and I may as well have been plugging a sleep machine into the outlet. You were out! No sexy time. No tantric titties. You literally made me a no-pump chump.”
When I thought back on it, I couldn’t exactly say he was wrong.
This pregnancy kept me so damn tired. All the time.
Plus, I had a long track record of being able to fall asleep at the drop of a dime. I’m talking borderline narcoleptic at times. It wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility for me to fall asleep during sex, even when I wasn’t pregnant. And well, right now, I definitely was. Come to think of it, I couldn’t exactly remember how I’d gotten from check-in sexiness to the end of my nap, so it wasn’t unheard of.
“Yeah, well, I’m sleepy,” I eventually responded, putting a hand to my hip. “I’m building a human, for Pete’s sake. I am literally a walking, talking, miracle of fluffing life right now. How many organs did you fashion out of nothing today, Thatcher? Exactly none, son.”
“I know, I know,” he pleaded, his hands up in a defensive pose. “I understand. Your body is working overtime, and you fell asleep. No harm, no foul. I just needed food as a consolation prize.”
I narrowed my eyes, and he grabbed a half-empty container of lo mein and presented it to me like Rafiki held Simba in The Lion King.
“Here. Please, honey, have some food. I don’t even want any more.”
“So, you just want me to have your scraps?”
“No, I-I don’t even really like lo mein. I ordered it mostly for you. I just ate half of it to make sure it was safe for your consumption.”
I sighed. Lo mein did sound good. And I was really freaking hungry. The only other option was to wait for something else to arrive, and as my stomach’s protests changed over from silent to uproarious, I didn’t think that was the best of options.
I opened and closed my hand like a crab claw in demand of the container, and Thatcher shuffled forward to hand it to me. He looked handsome, staring up at me from his knees like that, and it almost made me want to try having sex again.
I mean, I was wide awake now. Raring to go. There was no way I’d pass out before completing the action this time.
“Maybe we should—” I started, only to be cut off by the sound of a knock on the door to our room. It was light at first, but with each pound, it seemed to get harder and more persistent.
Maybe they’d been knocking for a while, and we just hadn’t heard them?
Either way, I had too much food to eat to be worrying about some rando at the door. This was a job for the Jolly Green Giant if ever I’d seen one.