Bedroom Secrets series
Reality-inspired books by Kathryn Michaels.
View book trailers at http://www.youtube.com/user/WriteMeKathryn
Sneak a peek into Sweet on Me!
Wine-red satin; delicate, black lace.
At first, it looked like ordinary lingerie, just with a little more frills when I opened up the red-ribbon-tied, white gift box and pulled aside the shiny, cream coloured tissue paper. It was only when I tried to unravel the mystery of how the different bits and pieces of satin, lace and thin garter straps fit together that I came to a slow, panicked realization of how it was meant to be worn.
Blushing an equally deep red to match the satin, I held the tiny piece of material up to the bright florescent lamp on the stark white ceiling. With barely enough fabric to block out the light, it was salaciously sexy and the most provocative outfit I had ever seen.
Talk about the icing on the cake. I winced, the blood rushing to my cheeks. Someone, please save me! He can’t seriously expect me to wear this. The most erotic thing I have so far is the sheer lace babydoll he gave me for New Year’s.
“Go ahead. Wear it,” he said, as he put his legs up on the corner of his cluttered, black-brown office desk. He leaned back in his high-back, black chair and lit his Benson & Hedges cigarette, savouring the sight of my blush.
The front of the panty was made of exquisite, intricately designed lace, that left nothing to the imagination as it changed midway to a wine-red satin thong, that fit snugly between my butt cheeks, hiding nothing of me from behind. The lace was secured to my hips by a satin belt that made an upside down “T” as it rose upwards in a slim faux diamond strip, where it met my neck, in the form of a delicate, black, one-inch wide lace choker, leaving the two soft, pale mounds of flesh bared and inviting.
I stood there, waiting, goosebumps chasing themselves up and down my skin but I couldn’t blame it on the frosty winter. The heating was on and it was warm inside his small office. Overly exposed, that’s how I feel. Shivers ran through my body every time the cold, metal clips hanging from the end of the garter straps grazed my skin.
“There is a pair of matching black silk stockings as well. Why don’t you put those on?” he suggested, drawing another puff from his cigarette and exhaling slowly as he watched me.
With barely any room to maneuver in that tiny grey box of a room he called an office, I gingerly pulled the stockings out and turned to the chair on my right, lifting up my left leg and perching my foot there, so I could carefully roll the stocking up.
It was unnerving the way his eyes traced the side profile of my twenty-eight year old body — the fall of my long, wavy brown hair past the crook of my neck; the curve of my slender, bare shoulder which led down the snowy white skin of my lightly toned arm until it met my bare hand, resting on my hip; and the smooth roundness of my tight ass.
“Very nice, Ophelia … very nice indeed,” he remarked once I had finished putting the stockings on and spun around to strike a pose for him, stifling a hysterical laugh as I glanced self-consciously at myself.
I look ridiculous! I thought uncomfortably, as I rolled my eyes, an awkward imitation of one of those lingerie models I used to see in magazines. This is so not me.
“Don’t do that, Ophelia. You look amazing dressed like that. I am so happy you wore it for me,” he smiled slyly as he cleared the surface in front of him. “Now, come lie down on the desk in front of me. It is time for dessert and if it is as delicious as I fully expect it to be, we can invite some guests.”
My heart rate jumped as I sucked in a startled breath. Oh, shit! What have I gotten myself into?
Sneak a peek into Crazy for Milk
“What are you doing there?” Caleb asked me groggily, as he peered at me with his sleepy blue eyes. He had caught me staring at myself in the mirror. It was nearly three in the morning by then. “It’s late. Come back to bed.”
The depth of the male spousal understanding never fails to surprise me. In my heightened sensitive state, I was in no mood to be understanding or kind in my response.
“It’s so painful!” I wailed softly, as I shot him a glare and went back to sitting at my earlier spot on the floor, my arms crossed as I rocked myself back and forth. “My breasts are engorged and it hurts and I can’t get the milk out and she won’t feed and what little milk I have expressed out is going to waste!”
Caleb sighed as he crawled out of bed and sat next to me. He obviously thought that I wasn’t making sense anymore and was completely, utterly losing it. Maybe he was right.
“How can I help?” Caleb asked. “What if I helped you to express?”
We tried and of course, it didn’t work. Two novices trying to dissect the mysteries of motherhood and breastfeeding in the middle of the night. How could it possibly work?
My brain was ceasing to function. I couldn’t think past the pain anymore. I just wanted it to end. What was I thinking of when I assumed that everything would work out perfectly? My tears were flowing down my face, as I looked at him in helpless dismay.
Caleb’s expression was hidden by the dim light as he sat cross-legged on the floor opposite me in his boxer shorts with only the pale bathroom light illuminating the outline of his lean, muscular body. What’s running through his mind? I wondered, desperate for alternatives. The silence stretched out between us as I stared at him, the tears blurring my vision as I waited for him to save me from this torment. Surely he could find a way.