Before I could respond, my office phone started ringing again. Those impatient bitches had obviously hung up and called back on a different line.
“I think you better get that.” He chuckled lightly and headed for the door, but he turned back to look me in the eye before he left. “Have a good night, Winnie.” He sounded surprisingly sincere.
“You too.”
With one last nod, Wes was gone, and Georgia’s rambling filled my ear again. “Don’t ever put me on hold again, Winnie Winslow. Not when we’ve got an emergency. And anyway, why was Wes in your office so late?”
I plopped down in the leather chair behind my desk and slipped off my heels, resting my tired feet on top of my desk. “I was showing him Mitchell’s MRI results, Miss Nosy.
“Were you also showing him your puss-ay?” Cassie asked.
“Of course. Who do you think handed him the MRI report?”
Cassie laughed. “You have a flair for bedside manner, Dr. Winslow.”
“Are you leaving the office now?” Georgia asked.
“Probably in about five minutes. Why?”
“You need to stop by Cassie’s apartment on your way home.”
Cassie groaned.
“Why?”
“Do you have latex gloves and some lube handy?”
“What?”
“She needs her cervix checked. She’s been crampy, and I think she might be going into labor soon.”
“I’m three months pregnant, Wheorgie. And I’m pretty sure it’s the chili-loaded nachos I had for dinner that are making me cramp.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Fine,” Cassie retorted. “I’ll have Thatch’s cock check my cervix before I call it a night.”
“Count me in, honey!” Thatch’s voice boomed in the background.
“See? Problem solved, G.”
“No! No! Problem not solved! That could make it worse. Sperm can induce labor!”
“I really wish you’d stop reading pregnancy books.”
“Georgia,” I chimed in. “Cassie isn’t going into labor, and even if she were, there is no way in hell I’m going to check her cervix.”
“But you’re a doctor, Win!”
“Yeah, but I’m not an obstetrician, sweetheart. Unless she thinks she sprained her vagina, I’m zero help in the pregnancy department.”
“I’m coming to get you, Cass. We need to go to the emergency room.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Would you just take a breath? You sound crazier than me, and I’m pregnant and my baseline level of crazy is higher than most.”
“Are you bleeding, Cassie?” I asked, trying to steer this conversation into less outrageous waters.
“Nope.”
“Leaking fluid?”
“Nope.”
“Do you still have cramps?”
“Nope.”
“See, Georgia? Cass is fine. Her baby is fine. Everything is fine. You have nothing to worry about.”
I really hated to admit when Wes was right about anything, but he had hit the nail on the head with the whole “this is going to be a long seven months” sentiment.
“Okay. Okay,” Georgia finally voiced. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you or my godson, Cass. I worry, okay? And you’re just traveling so much. It’s freaking me out a little.”
“Godson?” I asked.
“She’s convinced I’m having a boy,” Cass explained. “And let’s get back to the whole Wes being in your office after hours thing. Now that is something I want to hear more about.”
I groaned. “It wasn’t like that. Just because your vagina’s need to bone all day, every day, is strong enough it could serve as a backup generator for the entire city, doesn’t mean we’re all sex-crazed.”
“But I didn’t say anything about sex,” Cassie teased. “I think the real question here is why are you thinking about sex?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Denial is the first sign you have a problem!” Georgia’s voice was the last thing I heard before I hung up the phone.
They were right. I had a problem, all right. I was pretty sure I’d almost kissed Wes Lancaster in my office, and I was also pretty sure the regret I felt had nothing to do with the situation, and everything to do with the interruption.
“What was that I heard about needing to check your cervix with my Supercock?” I asked Cassie as she hung up the phone. Arm extended, I handed her the glass of ice water I’d just prepared and watched the line of her throat as she chugged it.
She’d been so fucking thirsty since we found out she was pregnant—both for actual liquid and for sex. So much so that she’d been making a bid to kill me by dehydration—sperm dehydration, to be technical about it.
“He’s got a medical background,” I went on inanely, filling the silence as she drank. “It was more as a medic in the Army than as an actual, honest to goodness doctor. So he hasn’t seen much pussy in the medical sense, but he’s definitely familiarized himself with a cervix or two outside of business hours.”
She narrowed her eyes, and I laughed, surrendering with both hands raised.
“Hey, I’m just giving you his resume. I’m only a messenger sent here to help you decide whether or not you think he’d be a good fit for your cervical dilation monitoring needs. I, personally, think he fits the bill perfectly.”
Finally done with her water, she reached forward and set the glass on the coffee table with a laugh. “Will you stop fucking babbling?”
I shook my head and pulled her bare foot into my lap, putting the pressure of my thumb right into her instep. “Look at who you’re talking to.”
“Jesus fucking Christmas,” she pretended to grumble around a groan of foot-massage ecstasy. “I guess I’m going to have to let your Supercock fly into my tunnel to get you to stop talking, aren’t I?”
I smiled and tilted my head back and forth briefly. “Well, I don’t know that it’ll make me stop talking so much as it will turn everything I say exponentially dirtier.”
A full-body shiver ran from her toes to her nose, but she did her best to hide it.
This was one of her new games, pretending to be put out by the idea of chasing several orgasms in a row—a kind of role-playing, if you will—and I had to admit, I found it endlessly fascinating.
Other men might have been offended, but the way she did it was in such obvious disagreement with the desires of her body, it’d be pointless to take it personally.
Instead, I played her game, talking her into it in all the creative ways I could think up, and she rewarded me by coming twice as hard.
I’d also do just about anything to keep her happy during her pregnancy. All the books suggested happiness could do nothing but help in the quest for healthiness, and keeping her and my little girl safe was my biggest priority.
Okay, so I am speculating that it’s a little girl, but I figure the universe, knowing what it knows about me, will be out for blood. And torture. And making me spend twenty-to-life in some maximum security prison when she becomes of age for little hormone-ridden boy-men to chase her all the goddamn time, shooting their sperm out of their tiny penis guns, and doing their damnedest to make my head explode.