Page 9 of Stowaway Whirlwind
“T-shirt, too, Dad.”
With a groan, Goldie allows me to help her sit up again. Unlike with the hoodie, helping her remove her T-shirt feels much more intimate. Andholy smokes, her tits are huge and spilling out of her way-too-small, light pink bra.
“Fuck me,” I curse under my breath, but obviously not low enough, because her cheeks burn red when I can finally pull my gaze away from her chest. I’d apologize if I weren’t currently tongue-tied as my eyes are drawn back to her cleavage. I’ve never seen a pair of tits so perfect and pale in all my life, and my cock goes rock solid, uncomfortably swelling against my zipper. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and—and it jerks, already wetat the tip with pre-cum, soaking my boxer briefs when Goldie inhales sharply, causing her tits to jiggle.
“Dad. Earth to Dad. Hello!” Nurse Martina snaps her fingers repeatedly.
I jump back, breaking the laser focus I’ve had on Goldie’s supple breasts.Jesus, Jesus, I need to get a grip on myself.I’m perving on ateenagerwho is currently inlabor. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never been attracted to teenagers, not even when I was one. I was always drooling over my friends’ moms or my teachers—never anyone younger than me. So why the fuck this girl has a hold on me, I don’t know.
Feeling like a total creep, I clear my throat and look away, choosing to focus on Nurse Martina in her pink scrubs, the top stretched taut around her own heavily pregnant belly as she barks out orders, telling Goldie to remove the rest of her clothing before she can put on her hospital gown.
Knowing that helping her strip out of her bra and bottoms would be taking it too far, I turn around, willing my dick to deflate, as I hear Goldie rustling with her leggings after kicking off her sneakers. Panties, too.God, I want to look so fucking bad, but I force myself to behave. If the nurse thinks it’s weird that I’ve turned my back, she doesn’t say so.
Goldie whispers, “You can turn around now.”
When I do, I find that the nurse has helped her into a thin blue hospital gown and is taking Goldie’s vitals, jotting them down on a chart. I can’t make eye contact with either of them.
I don’t understand half of what the nurse is saying when the on-call doctor, who introduces herself as Dr. Patel, approaches with a warm smile, twisting her onyx hair into some kind of clip on the back of her head to get it out of her face. I have to look at the ceiling when she sits on a rolling stool at the foot of Goldie’s hospital bed to perform some kind of check to see how far alongGoldie is in labor. I’m just standing there like a lump, totally out of my element, when Goldie latches onto my hand and yelps.
“I’m almost done. Just try to relax, Marigold,” Dr. Patel instructs gently.
I break my stare with the ceiling tile and check on Goldie. She’s full-on crying, tears falling one after the other down her cheeks. I shoot the doctor a scathing glare for hurting her.Big mistake. Because my eyes never make it as far as the doctor. They stop short on Goldie’s golden pussy nestled between a pair of thick, pale thighs.
“Sweet Jesus,” I croak. I think I actually stop breathing as my eyes rake over the light red, curly hairs covering her mound below the swell of her rounded belly. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience until Goldie cries out, squeezing my hand hard enough to grate the bones together.
The look of agonizing pain on Goldie’s face is alarming, and in an instant, I lean down close enough to brush my nose against hers as I cradle her face and try to soothe her. “You’re ok, honey. It’s gonna be ok.” I straighten up and snap at the doctor still sitting between her thighs, “She’s gonna be ok, right? This is normal, right?”
Dr. Patel gives me a sympathetic smile. “Yes, this is normal. You’re at eight centimeters, Marigold, so not much longer to go.” Dr. Patel rolls Goldie’s hospital gown down to cover her, then goes over different positions Goldie can try to ease some of the pain after she refuses an epidural.
I help her off the bed, and Nurse Martina takes over, showing me what I can do to help. She directs Goldie to lean back against me while I support the underside of her belly, easing some of the weight and pressure as we sway side to side. Andoh god,when I close my eyes and bury my face in Goldie’s thick locks that she’s since pulled up into a tangled bun, it feels real. It feels so damn real, like she really is my woman, like her baby really is my child.My hands turn warm on her lower belly, and I pull her a little closer, getting lost in the moment, and only snap open my eyes, shattering the fantasy, when Goldie folds over in pain.
The nurse directs her to brace her hands on the hospital bed and shows me how to massage Goldie’s back throughout the contraction. Her hospital gown parts, revealing her naked bottom. Trying and failing to keep my eyes trained on my hands and not her beautiful peach of an ass, I rub her lower back, her wide hips, and then around to support the weight of her lower belly when she can stand again and rest her head back against the middle of my chest. She fits perfectly in the circle of my arms, and I’m once again lost in the fantasy.
“Why did you refuse the epidural?” I ask her after a lengthy contraction leaves her breathless.
“I don’t have health insurance,” she says, her voice raspy and small. “And epidurals are expensive.”
Fuck, why didn’t I think of that? I open my mouth to offer to give the hospital my insurance card, only to remember that she’s not my wife, and thus, my insurance won’t cover her. And even if we were magically able to get married within the next hour—which I strangely realize I would do in a heartbeat so that she’d have one less thing to worry about—it would still take time to get her added to my plan.
Is this what Wyatt went through? This immediate, overwhelming compulsion to take care of a woman who wasn’t even his yet? How did he withstand it?How amIsupposed to withstand it?
When Goldie tips her head to look up at me, I drop a kiss right over the pulse point of her slender neck. I didn’t mean to do it, yet I can’t stop myself from doing it again when she doesn’t pull away. I internally kick myself, wondering why in the hell I keep forgetting that she’s not mine.
“Davis?”
“Yeah, honey?” I answer with a shaky voice, suddenly terrified that she’s going to balk at my insane behavior and kick me out of her room.
Surprising the hell out of me, warmth blooming in my chest, Goldie reaches up and palms the side of my face. “Thank you for staying.”
I lift her chin up to kiss the corner of her pink lips.Fuck,it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, I repeatedly remind myself, but my heart isn’t getting the memo as I continue to hold her, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are wide, searching mine. I want to kiss her again, but not on the corner this time.
When Goldie’s contractions ramp up, coming closer and closer together, and Dr. Patel returns to the room, I help Goldie back onto the bed.
Nurse Martina props Goldie’s left leg in a stirrup. “Dad, help her with her other leg.”
My heart slams against my ribs when I slide my hand under Goldie’s right thigh and lift her knee, then set her heel down on the stirrup on my side of the bed. Her leg is prickly with hair as I slide my hand down from her knee to her ankle and back up again. I need to remove my hand, but I physically can’t, especially when my eyes drift to between her thighs.I am going straight to hell.
