Honey Does
Carnal Passions Presents
Honey Does
By
Kate Richards
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Carnal Passions
A Division of Champagne Books
Copyright 2013 by Kate Richards
November 2013
ISBN 978-1-77155-104-5
Cover Art by Petra K.
Produced in Canada
Champagne Book Group
#2 19-3 Avenue SE
High River, AB T1V 1G3
Canada
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One
A warm armful of Honey brought life to his boyo, as it did every morning. Mack’s wife could raise the dead if she put her mind to it. His cock, nestled between her soft, round buttocks, hardened more with every passing moment. He buried his face in the sweet-smelling caramel-colored hair he’d always loved. As most of his friends complained about their lack of a sex life, Mack fought the urge to tell them the cure lay between Honey’s silky smooth thighs. Her sweetly curving breasts and tiny waist drew his hands, his lips. Standing, she came just to his shoulder, a perfect fit in bed.
He worried about being enough for her.
She’d given up so much for him and the kids…
~ * ~
“Honey, wanna do it?”
Morning wood.
If it weren’t for nature’s early morning gift, they wouldn’t
do it
anymore at all. She glanced at the clock and almost said no. Again. Why did he seek her out when she had to get up in five minutes and make breakfast, get the kids ready for school…?
Mack’s strong arms tightened around her, and her resolve faded. He nuzzled her with his stubbly cheek, raising goose bumps on her skin.
“Okay, but we have to be fast.”
He knows that.
Once, they had spent long evenings making passionate love, with enough foreplay for anyone. Or at least for her. But more and more often, all Mack looked for from her was the precious five minutes before their day began.
So, while they still made love four times a week, which her girlfriends all assured her rated pretty great for an old married couple, these rewarding encounters totaled approximately twenty minutes per week. Well, fifteen, for the three weekdays and maybe another ten for Sundays. So twenty-five. And the only
guaranteed
Big O on the weekends. Although he still managed to get her off in their hurried embrace at least two times out of three.
Why process averages while his erection poked her in the ass?
You can take the underwriter out of the office, but…
“Ohhh.”
Mack murmured low in her ear. He pulled her tight against him. Next he would…yep, he cupped her breast and nudged his knee between her thighs. She could predict within seconds the exact routine.
Taking care of their family burned up more energy than she ever knew she had. If he didn’t totally do it for her anyway, she’d have put an end to his nonsense long before. But the big guy did…so he got away with it.
He urged her legs wider.
If it’s Friday, it must be doggy-style.
And we’re off. He left her breast behind, and his hand drifted down to stimulate her. Despite the routine, she grew wet, her breath shortened, and his dick slipped inside.
Within the required time, she crashed over the edge into waves of pleasure—lasting about sixty seconds before—
A pounding on the door heralded the arrival of their younger daughter. “Mommm, I’m hungry.”
Mack rocked against her one final time with a groan and dropped away. “Like clockwork.”
She rolled to the side of the bed, slipped her feet into slippers, grabbed her robe, and stumbled to standing. “Mom’s coming.” Once upon a time she’d showered, styled her hair, and dressed in designer ensembles for the office.
“When will those kids learn to feed themselves?” His grumble held none of the pleasure of moments earlier, echoing her own silent complaint.
She missed the afterglow.
But as she shuffled off to the kitchen to prepare a healthy breakfast and pack lunches for her brood and the grumbly bear, Honey smiled. She scrambled a few eggs and toasted some whole-grain bread, set juice and glasses on the table, and started the coffee brewing.
All the ordinary moments of the day, the things keeping her family moving. But while the trio of blond heads bowed over their meal, Honey slipped to her desk in the corner and brought up email. She clicked on the tracking number and confirmed.
Out for delivery.
“What’s up, Honey?”
She jumped. “What?”
He dropped a kiss on her head. “Is my lunch ready?”
“On the counter.”
Like every morning.
“Thanks. Anything exciting going on today?”
She minimized the screen. “Oh, you know...”
He didn’t…but he would soon enough.
“Everything okay?” She was kind of surprised he noticed her distraction, but touched. Honey spun her desk chair and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his warm, just-big-enough-to-be-comforting belly. Mack had gained some weight in their years together, but it did nothing to lessen his appeal for her. His red hair was combed back, still damp from the shower.
“Everything is fine, and thank you for asking.”
“Okay.” The big goon kissed her hair again, and she let him go. “Have a good day.” He scooped up his lunch box and headed toward the door, off to spend his shift with grownups. With his partner. All day in the squad car with Sexy Sandy.
The woman should be a model instead of a cop. Not that she didn’t trust Mack, but why couldn’t he have been assigned someone a little less…blonde?
Honey’s gaze darted back to the screen. The answer to all their worries would be delivered by the guys in brown. Appropriate for the item. Even if not one of them could compete with the erotic lure of the guy she made dinner for every night.
Ten minutes later, she walked the kids to the bus, waved while they left then raced back to begin the real work of the day. Waiting for the box.
Honey paced from the living room to the kitchen and back again, still in her robe and slippers. She didn’t dare leave the house for fear the delivery would require a signature. Or maybe not be in such a “discreet” package as the site advertised. Her next-door neighbor would love reporting a purchase from a sex toy site to everyone at the Neighborhood Watch meeting.
Bitch.
Honey didn’t even want to take a shower until the item was safe in her possession.
She also couldn’t focus on anything else. Her dull life needed something to liven it up.
She hadn’t minded staying home while the kids were little—not most of the time. She and Mack had agreed in her hospital room as she’d kissed Bonnie’s downy, newborn head. Her job lent itself to telecommuting. She could return to the marble and steel high-rise and her corner office when their children were in school. A few years. And it might be nice to spend time at home.
So she’d worked during naps and late at night while her family slumbered, struggling to keep up and missing promotions others gained by their presence in the office—even if her work surpassed theirs. Not a situation Miss Most-Likely-To-Succeed tolerated with much grace.
But since their youngest had entered kindergarten, Honey’s presence mattered even more. Homework and teacher conferences, three kids who took turns with colds and tummy troubles…how could she go back to work and leave them to another’s care? Lots of moms didn’t have the options she did.
So she worked at home, in sweats or pajamas, maybe shorts and a tank top on a good day. She wondered why her husband showed any interest at all. But she planned to make a change.
Today.
Honey fled back to the computer and brought up Sodom&Gomorrah.com. “Sex toys guaranteed to send you straight to hell.”
She giggled and hit the bookmark for the particular item she’d ordered. If she couldn’t make vice president for a while, maybe she could win the award for most creative wife.
When her local friends offered no help with her problems—in fact seemed appalled a woman with such an active sex life would complain—Honey had consulted her online acquaintances at HardworkingMoms.com. More and more often, these ladies who lived all over the world filled in the blanks where her PTA people left her flat. They seemed to understand her need for a life beyond wife and mother.
All stay at home moms like her, they also found time and ways to express their creativity, their intelligence, and their sexuality. A resource she found invaluable—and kept secret from her other, daytime world. Even Mack.
Jenna from Belgium directed her to Sodom&Gomorrah.com, swearing their products saved her marriage to her US serviceman husband. Honey had clicked right to the site. She’d scanned page after page of toys in wide-eyed amazement. Vibrators of all sizes, shapes, and colors. Dildos. Bondage equipment from silken ropes to suspension harnesses. She considered a two-headed glass monster guaranteed to bring pleasure to both man and woman at the same time, but feared Mack would run screaming when he saw it. Or die laughing.
What she chose would have to be something he might find fascinating yet not terrifying.
After she selected and rejected half a dozen items, an ornate purple box appeared on her screen.
Half price, today only
.
Before she could lose her nerve, Honey placed the order and hit
Send
.