I move—just a little—as she says hello. She sends me an evil glare and I pause mid-stroke so she doesn’t sound like she’s being nailed even though my cock is wet with her juice.
“Oh my God. Of course. We’re on our way!” Joy scrambles away from me, leaving me hard and wet.
“Sweets, Bells is not having her baby in the next five minutes. Come back here.” I’m close to begging.
“No.” She hops over to the closet and starts throwing clothes on. “I promised Bells I would be there. I’m her breathing coach, remember?”
“Backup coach,” I correct, sadly climbing off the bed. My cock points in her direction, and I have to slap it into submission. It does not go quietly. I nearly shave the head off when I zip up my jeans. The damn thing will not go down.
“We both know that Mick’s going to pass out at the first cry that comes out of Bells’ mouth. She said he was shaking so hard, she had to make him pull over so she could drive to the hospital.”
“Fuck.” I pull a shirt over my head and reflexively sling the shoulder harness around my body. There’s a tug on the strap, and when I look over, it’s Joy, pulling the leather off.
“You do not need your gun in the maternity ward,” she chides.
“You don’t know that.” But I let her have it.
She pulls her messy hair up in a clip, grabs my hand, and drags me to the truck. Once she buckles in, the phone goes on.
“You live-streaming?”
“Yes. Everyone’s looking forward to it.” She waves at the screen. “Guys, I got the call and we are on our way. Honey, smile.”
“I’m driving.” I lift a finger. The livestream always makes me uncomfortable, especially since her followers have given me a nickname—or rather my own hashtag: #BBBH. I asked what it meant once and have been sorry ever since. She types something in. “You don’t use that hashtag anymore, do you?”
She averts her face, but I catch a glimpse of her guilty smile in the window.
“Big Balled Bounty Hunter is not something to be embarrassed about. If they wanted to call you Small Dick Skip, then I’d be concerned,” she says.
I shake my head. “Are you showing the delivery?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think Bells would be okay with that.”
“You are.”
“What?” I jerk around.
She grins innocently. “Someone has to man the camera. I’m the breathing coach.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I can feel the nausea overcoming me.
In the hospital, we’re directed to the maternity floor. It’s surprisingly quiet. I mention this to Joy.
“Did you think there would be a lot of shouting?”
I nod. “Yes, and crying. Crying, shouting, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.”
“This is where babies are born. Not a funeral parlor.” She hurries down the hallway to Joy’s room. When we get to the door, there’s a moan and then a loud thump. Fortunately, Mick has not passed out. He is on the floor but not because he’s fainted. Nope. Instead, he knocked Bells’ hospital case onto the ground and is on all fours trying to gather everything up.
“Oh thank God you’ve come. I tried to hold off calling you, but as you can see, this is close to being a disaster,” Bells says.
Joy hurries over. “I’m live-streaming. Is that okay?”
“Yes. Yes.” Bells pushes her hair out of her face. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re glowing. Say hi to my followers.”
Bells waves. “Oh my God, there are forty thousand people watching?”
“I know. I think the live birth is fascinating. What can I do for you? Oh the comments say to give you ice chips.”
“Have them.” Bells points to the table. “What else do they suggest?”
“They want to know where your husband is.”
Joy swivels the camera to Mick and me. I sweep everything into the case and place it back on the counter. Mick stays on the floor.
“I should just stay here. It’s better down here.”
“He’s sweating,” I confirm.
Bells starts to shake her head but is interrupted by a sharp scream.
“Oh my God!”
I think we all three say it. Mick scrambles to his feet. I beat him there by a mile, but I let him push me aside. Joy’s narrating for her audience. “It’s just a contraction, everyone. No need to be alarmed.”
“Sorry,” Bells pants. “I didn’t expect it. I haven’t had one in—oh my God!” She grabs Mick’s hand. Mick squeezes it back, and for a hot second I think everything is going to be okay. Then Mick gasps, turns white, and goes down. I leap forward to wrench Bells’ hand out of his grip while Joy films the whole thing. The medical staff comes in, places Mick on a stretcher, and rolls him into the corner. Joy hands me the camera before I can check on him. The birth takes a couple hours, but it flies by, and I barely remember the sweating, screaming, and crying that I did while Bells delivered her baby girl.