Trouble in Hell (Hell Night 1)

Growing tired and wanting nothing more than to go back to Susan’s for a nap before the sonogram, I say with as much patience as I can, “Put half on my bank card and the other half on my credit card.”

He shrugs and stuffs the rag in his back pocket. “Suppose so. Money is money, so long as it’s paid.”

I follow him into the office where he has me sign a couple of papers before taking my payment. My stomach bottoms out when I hand him over my cards. I own a graphic design company, but with the move and my due date being so close, I took off the next three months in preparation and to settle in. I had just enough money to sustain me and the baby. That’s out of the window now though. Looks like I’ll be contacting my clients to let them know I’m back in business early, and hope like hell they haven’t already found a temporary replacement.

My hand shakes as I sign the small slips of paper. I push them across the counter and the man hands me my copy.

“How long before it’ll be ready?”

“Round two weeks or so. Maybe a bit longer. Depends on how fast they can get the parts out to me. I’m a one man show, and I’ve got other cars that need fixin’ too.”

My hands fist at my sides. It’s not this man’s fault that I’m an idiot for not taking my brother’s advice on updating my car.

“Just keep me updated, please.”

“You got it.”

I leave the shop and head toward Susan’s. I encounter a few people who stare at me weirdly. I’ve dubbed the look the Malus Look. Ignoring them, I keep my head up and my eyes forward. As I walk, or more like wobble, I send up a silent prayer that Susan will be kind enough to let me stay with her the next couple of weeks.

TROUBLE

GRIPPING THE DOORKNOB, I twist my neck side-to-side, stretching the muscle before opening the door. No matter how much I prepared myself to see Remi again, when the door clears, and I spot her on the patient bed waiting for me, my mind automatically moves to naughty thoughts. Like having her stretched out on my bed at home. Naked.

She’s wearing a pair of yoga stretch pants and a tank top. The top slopes down low enough to show the tops of her tits, tempting me to dip my tongue between the very generous mounds. I wonder if she’s always so well-endowed or if it’s only because she’s pregnant.

I clear my head of the inappropriate thoughts and close the door behind me.

“Are you ready to see your baby, Remi?”

“I am. I’m always excited to see him.” Her lips form a smile, but it seems deflated.

“Everything okay?” I ask, stepping up to the sonogram machine that’s already been wheeled beside the bed.

“Yeah.” She bites her bottom lip, and I have to force myself not to lock my eyes on her mouth. “I just got some bad news today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I’m curious to know of this bad news, but it’s not my business, so I refrain from asking. “Why don’t you lay back and we’ll get started?”

She blows out a breath and reclines back on the bed.

“I normally have Susan do this, but I wanted to have a look myself since you came in dehydrated,” I explain, lying through my teeth. Susan is damn near as qualified as me and more than capable to perform the sonogram and note any issues, but selfishly, I wanted to do it myself. Don’t ask me why, because I’ve got not the first damn clue. When I told Susan I’d take care of the sonogram, she looked at me strange, because it’s not something I normally do. I ignored the look and went about my business. Thankfully, she didn’t question me on it.

Once Remi is comfortable, she lifts the bottom of her shirt and tucks it beneath her breasts. The top of her leggings go down to the bottom of her belly next, and why in the fuck does her stomach look so damn delicious to me? Why do I want to run my lips over the swollen flesh and lick along the stretchmarks? I’m seriously screwed in the head, and my dick is just as sick, because it’s hard as fuck and begging for attention. My eyes slide to the v between her legs covered by a thin piece of cotton, and I wish this was a different kind of examination.

I’m going to fucking hell.

“This is going to be a little cold,” I warn and squirt some gel right above her belly button. Goosebumps appear on her arms as she shivers. “Sorry,” I mutter.

A whoosh-whoosh fills the silent room as soon as I touch the transducer wand to her stomach and a real smile forms on her face. I spread out the gel and wiggle it around, getting a good look at the baby, which is most definitely a boy. A very frisky one at that. A chuckle slips past my lips before I can stop it.

“What is it?” she asks, and I look at her. Her eyes run from me to the screen and back again.

I point to the screen. “You see this right here?” She nods. “Well, it seems your boy has started early in twiddling his diddle.”

She frowns, and her face scrunches in confusion. “I don’t—” She stops abruptly, and her eyes widen. “What the….” She tilts her head to the side and leans closer to the screen. “Is he…?”

“Yes. He’s flicking his wick.”

“Oh, my God!” she groans, and I laugh when she covers her red face with her hands. “My son is a pervert!”