Old-Fashioned Husbands Collection

OLD-FASHIONED HUSBANDS COLLECTION DINAH MCLEOD CONTENTS I. Answering to Him Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Epilogue II. Sir, Yes Sir Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Epilogue III. His Good Girl Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Epilogue Dinah McLeod Blushing Books Blushing Books Newsletter PART I ANSWERING TO HIM CHAPTER 1 The carpet was plush and kept me comfortable while I was on my knees. I had my finger on the zipper of his pants, toying with it, giving him a sly smile. I brushed my hand along his long shaft, grinning when he groaned in anticipation. I slid the zipper down slowly, the sound arousing me as much as it did him. I didn’t have to look far to see his desire for me. His head was thrown back, his eyes were closed as he panted. Even after all this time, he was still hot for me. I reached inside and pulled his hard cock out of his pants, looking up at him through my lashes. “Are you ready?” I didn’t have to ask, but I did, just to tease him with the sound of my sultry voice. “I’ve been ready all day,” my husband replied, groaning as I stroked him. “Ever since that hot text…you’re so naughty.” An unexpected thrill shot through me at the word and my cheeks flushed. Thankfully, Oliver was so breathless in his desire for me, he didn’t seem to notice. I had no idea what I’d say if he did. “Did you think…” I lowered my mouth and ran my tongue over the purple head, “…about all the naughty things I’m going to do to you?” “Alicia,” he moaned. “You are too sexy for words.” I felt my heart catch at the compliment, and I couldn’t help smiling at him. “Someone is trying to earn brownie points.” His only response was a groan, as I’d been working my hand up and down his cock. I kept at it, increasing my speed every thirty seconds, until he was practically salivating. Only then did I lean down to take the full length of him into my mouth. Just as I parted my lips to take him in, I heard the sound of the door being thrown open, and I froze right where I was. Shit, I thought, dread filling me. That could only be— “Mom?” Jonah’s voice was smack-full of shock, with a little horror thrown in for good measure. “What the fuck?” “Watch your mouth, young man,” Oliver bellowed, tucking his rapidly deflating pecker into his pants and zipping them shut. “Geez, dad!” Jonah exclaimed. “I come home and see you—” “Why are you home?” I asked, finding my voice at last. “Last period is free on Wednesdays, Mom,” he sighed, as though he’d told me the same thing a million times before. For all I knew, he probably had. I really needed to start keeping a calendar. “I’ve got work to do,” Oliver muttered, rising to his feet. I locked eyes with him, silently begging him not to leave me alone to explain this. I could see the hesitation in the depths of his cocoa brown irises, but then he shook his head slightly and turned away, pretending not to see my desperation as he walked out of the room. “Close the door,” I instructed my slack-jawed teenager. When he did, he turned back to me, his eyes staring at the staircase. I had no doubt that he wished he could escape me, like his dad had, and leave the awkward silence behind. “Jonah,” I began haltingly, not quite sure what to say. “What you just saw was…your father and I…we enjoy a healthy marriage, and that isn’t limited to…” “You were going to give him a blow job!” he practically shrieked. His face began to turn red and reminded me briefly of those bygone days when he had been a squalling infant. Technically, I had been in the process of giving him one, but I wasn’t going to clarify technicalities. “Your dad and I are—” “Mom,” Jonah interrupted, his voice somewhere between a groan and a bark as he waved his arms frantically, his voice displaying the same panic. “I get it, OK?” I studied him for a minute. Each of his features was so familiar to me—the chubby cheeks, the freckles on his nose, the black hair he’d inherited from his dad that he wore long in front. I didn’t know how he could stand greasy strands of hair obscuring his beautiful blue eyes. He was still hanging on to some of his puppy fat—I blamed the video games; Oliver blamed the Cheetos—and the way he held himself, with his shoulders constantly slumped, made it look worse than it was. I’d memorized every detail of his face long ago, but then, in serious moments like this one, his face changed completely, giving me a glimpse into the future and the man he would one day become. I felt my whole body still, my eyes glued to his face, trying to take it in, but just as quickly as it came it evaporated, leaving no trace behind to attest that it had ever been there at all. “Ok,” I said, my voice no more than a whisper. I cleared my throat and then repeated, louder, “OK.” “I’m going to my room.” “Sure. What do you want for dinner?” Ignoring my question, Jonah dropped his backpack at his feet, pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head and turned away. Normally, I’d call him back and demand he put his backpack where it belonged, but I wanted to get past this awful, embarrassing moment as much as he did. I watched his retreating back as he made it all the way up to the stairs. When he got to the top, he turned