Sex And Writing|| 18+ [{Completed}]

23: Epilogue

Not today. Today of all days, not today. I’ve already been up since 4 am, helping Cam prepare himself for this once in a lifetime opportunity. The one thing he had been looking forward to. And this, this would take it away from him. Although—he wouldn’t be mad, I would be! I’m not ready for it. Yet.

Just not today! Just not now. Just wait.... like 4 hours, please! If I had to get down on my knees and beg God to delay this, I would! I begged with them. Mentally pleaded with them. Pleading with them to stay put and not appear just yet. Not yet.

“Are you sure you want to come? You don’t have to...” He said with concern. Always looking out for me, especially these last 8 months. Like I was his fragile little doll about to break, but I wasn’t.

I rolled my eyes as I adjusted his suit, running my fingers over his chest. “You think being the size of a whale will stop me from supporting you?” I smirked as he ran a hand over my very. And I can’t express this enough---very swollen stomach.

I looked like a beached whale with swollen ankles. Or maybe I swallowed a beach ball, and it now protruded my belly out further than my toes. What were my toes again? Or maybe I was a turtle? I could barely move anymore and don’t even get me started on how hard it is to get out of bed. Or sleep comfortably. Or shave my legs. Or my wooha for that matter! Sex with Cam in this condition was a must — no, no, — -a need! I couldn’t get enough of him. That’s what got you like this in the first place, Mercy. I felt like Mandy Moore on This is Us, waltzing into the bedroom trying to look sexy and it just didn’t work, because of this big ass belly making my life miserable.

Whoever said pregnancy was magical was full of shit.

“You think they’ll behave?” He smirked, reaching down to peck my cheek.

“Do they ever?” I groaned back, cupping his cheeks. And right on cue one of them kicked the crap out of my ribs. I’m surprised she hadn’t broken it by now.

“You’ll do great out there,” I beamed up at him, his hands coming over mine. Intertwining our fingers together.

“And you’ll tell me if you need to leave?” He asked sternly, and I rolled my eyes again.

“I’ll be fine, Cam, I promise. It’s not like they're going to explode out of my vagina like tiny footballs.” I smirked as he rolled his eyes.

Yeah—right I’ll be fine. If I ever had famous last words, this would be it, besides “I won’t get attached” such bullshit. Such utter-fuck my life, the pain became unbearable. Every God damn 10 minutes my stomach was cramping into solid rock. But I had to stay, just one more hour.

For Cam.

He looked so handsome on stage in his suit. The ghost of a man I had met two years before. We were better than ever. Mentally — Physically—Emotionally. We changed, adapted, and grew together. Together forever.

Oh, shit!

A babbling brook poured down my leg, covering my leggings in a warm liquid. Slowly pouring into and onto my furry winter boots.

Oh, no. No! Not this! NOT NOW!

I was wet. So—so sopping wet. And not weeping wet, because Cam had just uttered erotically sinful words into my ear. I was WET. Like there’s now a lake at my feet, wet. This only happened in the movies! It never happened first.