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does it transform into a protectivecocoon, shielding your little unborn progeny from the outsideworld, it also experiences some bat-shit crazy adjustments in theprocess—both physically and mentally.

My body hadbeen experiencing these things in the two weeks it has been sinceJanette—the City Precinct Nurse—visited the apartment to check meover after being sick.

I remember themoment when she pulled the test strip out of the cup which held myhormone-affected urine and feeling as if she’d opened her mouth andsaid in a low, deep, slow-motion voice...‘You’re pregnant,Alexis’.

At first, Ihadn’t known what to think—apart from being incredibly shocked.But, as the disbelief wore away, I found myself to be so angry atmy own stupidity for forgetting to take my contraceptive pill inthe first place. Yes, I had been a little preoccupied anddistracted by the crazy turn of events my life had taken during thetime in which my husband had confessed to having an affair. But Ihad taken my birth control pill on and off for half of my life, soto easily forget it like I had was completely careless.

I was havinganother baby, and it was not something I had planned, nor had iteven been in my foreseeable future because, let’s face it, my lifehad recently been turned upside-down. I had just left a marriage of12 years after finding out my husband had cheated on me—then hehadn’t cheated on me—then he had cheated on me. And, on top of hisinfidelity, I had also found out that he’d spawned his ownoffspring with the cheating bitch.

If that wasn’treason enough to feel that carrying a baby in my retired womb wasnot such a great idea, then surely the fact that I had recentlyfallen deeply in love with my new employer was.

Bryce EdwardClark had pursued me tirelessly while I thought I was happilymarried. He had also taken it upon himself to go behind my back—inthe form of an indecent proposal—and offer my husband an obsceneamount of money to—in my words—‘pimp me out’.

So, wasgestating, birthing and mothering another little human being at theage of 35 something I had planned? Hell no! Remarkably though,pregnancy hormones had a sneaky way of altering your thoughtpattern, and it was these hormones, together with constantly seeingthe joy and elation Bryce displayed every time he looked at me,that had somewhat changed my mind.

If I hadthought my Mr. Love-Smitten Clark had been absolutely andundoubtedly in love with me before carrying his child, then I waswrong. Because the way in which he looked at me now, and the way hehad been acting around me for the past two weeks, was nothing shyof full-blown adoration and worship.

He kissed andtouched my belly every chance that he got. He rubbed my back duringthe morning, and sometimes, noon and night sickness sessions. And,he delighted in cooking fresh, organic meals for me. He was justamazing and attentive, and I was so lucky to have him.

The thing is,with all the beautiful, loving and sentimental gestures, came manyannoying and aggravating ones too, like demanding I let him give mea foot rub nightly—which I was still dead against. He alsopractically carried me around everywhere within the apartment—whichwas getting beyond the joke. And, he had been sparse with the ‘Ineed to be inside of yous’—because apparently, ‘having sex may bedangerous’. Dangerous!...Ha, I will be the one who is classifiedas dangerous if my Mr. Overprotective Clark does not have sex withme within the hour. Lucky for me, this was a foregoneconclusion due to the fact that we were sitting together in thewaiting room of my obstetrician’s office. You see, I had everyintention in asking her to kindly inform Bryce that hot, loving,penetrative sex during pregnancy was not only safe, but essentialin keeping the mother stress free and happy.

“Do you needsome water?” Bryce asked while draping his arm over my shoulder andplacing the other on my lap.

“No, I’mfine.” I squeezed his hand with my own as I read an articleslandering Princess Kate for being too brazen in her choice ofsunbathing attire. I mean really, give the poor woman a break.Stupid paparazzi. Get out of the bush you’re hiding in and get alife. Grrr, they annoy me.

Certain thingshad really upset and annoyed me lately, and I mean REALLY upset and annoyed me. Things I wouldn’t normallyblink at, like privacy-invading paparazzi for one. But, there wereother things, like road-kill, and Stephanie dying on ‘The Bold andThe Beautiful’ which had me turned into a blubbering mess.

“Do you needanything at all?” he asked again. Apart from your long, gloriouslove-wand to enter my abandoned, yet eagerly expectingpleasure-tunnel? No...No, I don’t.

My frustrationturned to a smug inner smile as I thought of something I did need.“On second thought...yes.” I replied.

He lookedready to be put to task and perform his fatherly duties andrequirements. “What, Hunny?”

I lowered myvoice. “I want to fuck you in that bathroom over there.”

Without takingmy eyesight from the magazine, I pointed to the door with a pictureof a little man and woman on it. I had spotted the toilet themoment I walked in—my toilet radar currently being on highalert.

“Alexis, we’vespoken about this. I’m not making love to you until the doctor hasperformed the ultrasound and given us the all clear.” He clenchedhis fist and released it as it sat upon my shoulder.

“Bryce.” Ikept my voice calm but sarcastically sweet. “I know we’ve spokenabout this, and again I will tell you it’s perfectly safe to makelove to me.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke and kept scanning themagazine I had rested on my lap. “Don’t get me wrong, I love yourtongue and all the mind-blowing things you do with it, but I needto feel your cock inside me, and I need to feel it now.” I dramatically flipped the page in my magazine.Seriously, what the fuck? There was a full-pageadvertisement for KY Lubrication Gel with a picture of a naked manand woman gloriously tangled around one another—I was totallyjealous.

I dropped myhand to Bryce’s lap and slowly moved it up his leg without raisingmy eyes from the pornographic picture in front of me.

He groaned andstopped its wandering with his own.

“You’refucking killing me,” I whispered as

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