Page 60 of His Relentless Angel

I’m out of my plastic seat in an instant. “We’re done here.” I help a stricken-looking Bailey off the examination table, her arms circled around her belly protectively. “Leave. Now,” I bark, nailing the doctor, who looks like he’s hardly older than Bailey, with my eyes as color rises to his cheeks with indignation.

“You can’t fire me,” he scoffs, slapping his tablet down against his thigh.

“The hell we can’t. And best believe, I’m lodging a complaint with whoever runs this place. You’ve got no business seeing patients if that’s how you react to mental health treatment. Now get the hell out.” I point toward the door with a poster tacked to it of the different stages of fetal development, then drop my fists to my sides.

I’m generally a walk-it-off until I calm down kind of man, but I’m seeing red. He’s seconds away from me knocking the arrogance right off his contorted face if he doesn’t get out of here pronto.

The doctor slams the door behind him like a petulant child, and I help Bailey out of her blue paper gown and into her maternity jeans.

At almost three months along, it’s shocking how fast her belly is growing thanks to the twins we found out we were having at her second ultrasound appointment. That was the real shocker of the century since twins don’t run in either of our families. The woman who did her ultrasound had joked that we got a two-for-one special, but Bailey has been a wreck ever since, scared that the twins are going to fight as awful as she and Autumn did growing up—as Grayson and Lainey continue to do.

After going straight to the medical practice’s admin to make my formal complaint about the OBGYN, requesting a different doctor or else we’ll find a different practice, we walk hand in hand toward the black Lexus LX I purchased for Bailey when her Honda finally crapped out after almost twenty years on the road.

“Need me to make an emergency appointment with your therapist?”

The therapist her psychiatrist recommended she work with in tandem has been a godsend. Though Bailey usually comes home exhausted and with puffy red eyes from her weekly appointments, the positive change in her confidence and self-esteem has been astounding. She doesn’t tell me everything they discuss at her appointments, but I do know she’s slowly starting to see what I see in her. She’s not so quick to look away from me or her own reflection in the mirror whenever the haze, as she calls it, tells her lies about herself.

“Yes, please,” she says with an unexpected smile, rubbing her belly.

Dropping my forehead to hers and smiling back, I ask, “You’re ok? After the way that asshole treated you?”

“No, but I think I will be.”

* * *

“Come on, baby. Just a peek. I don’t think I can wait another month.” I knock harder against the French doors of her sewing room in our new house. She covered the multitude of little rectangular windows in the door with rainbow-colored cling film as soon as she started sewing her wedding dress so I couldn’t see into the room.

“No! I’m not going to let you spoil our wedding day.”

“I guarantee you, nothing could ever spoil it.” She could walk down the aisle dressed in plastic grocery bags duct-taped together, and I’d still think she’s the most gorgeous woman to ever walk the earth.

“What about a hurricane?”

That stumps me until I remember… “It’s not hurricane season.”

“Oh, right.”

“Let me in, baby,” I croon.

“No! Go away! I need to concentrate. I have to let out the fabric and add another panel again because your giant babies are growing too fast for me to keep up with.”

My dick swells in my jeans, as it always does when I’m reminded that my sweet angel is carrying my babies. “Hey, that’s your fault. Six-foot-five men with giant dicks are all fun and games until you end up pregnant with their extra big babies.”

“Ugh!” I hear her stomp her foot. Then there’s a long pause. “Who says you have a giant dick? It’s probably just above average.”

I spin and race into our bedroom, locking the door behind me. In the bathroom, I prop my cell phone on the rolling wooden stand that holds Bailey’s numerous bath products, then climb into the soaker tub after it fills halfway with warm water. Leaning forward, I press the record button, then get comfortable and let my head hang back over the lip of the tub. I stroke my cock, letting my mouth drop open with a long moan, my body shuddering at the pleasure and for what I know is to come.

“You see this, baby?” I ask the empty bathroom, raising my head to look directly at the camera with hooded eyes. “You know how good it will feel stretching your little pussy until it’s the perfect size, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you squirt.” I squeeze my shaft as I work my fist up, pre-cum beading at the slit. I stroke it faster, bringing myself close to the edge. “Fuck, fuck, I’m going to cum.”

I release my cock, edit the video, then send it to Bailey’s phone. Then I sit back and wait, grinning to myself. Not two minutes later, she pounds on the bedroom door, and my phone lights up with an incoming call.

“Let me in!” she begs when I answer the phone.

“Not gonna happen, baby.” I tap on the button to add video and hold the phone away from my body so she can see me jacking my cock again. “Bad girls who joke about the size of Papi’s dick don’t get to play with it.”

She wets her lips and pouts on the screen, a sliver of white material hanging off her shoulders. “Let me in. Please, Papi. I want to play.”

Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head, then groan when I fuck up into my fist. “Feels too good. Can’t stop now.” I make an exaggerated shudder like I’m about to cum.

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