I sleep like what?
My Honey issue #1
Honest to frigging God, I didn’t see this one coming. You guys know I’m sick, right? Don’t sick people deserve to convalesce in peace? I thought so. In fact, I made/make sure my guys always bask in comfort when they’re feeling ill at ease. Who remembers Nurse Bambi? Am I right?
Anyways, here’s the depressing truth, and the even more depressing conversation with, guess who? HONEY!
Here’s the deal. We’re sitting across from one another in the morning ready to have our coffee when I was just about to take a sip of my steaming Java and Honey says, “You sleep like a vampire.”
I pause, and the steam out of the cup rises in front of my eyes, but not enough that I can’t narrow my gaze at him. “Excuse me?”
“A vampire.” At this point he tucks his arms up crisscross over his chest and leans back like a stiff. “The undead people.”
*Imagine me hanging my head in disgust for a second and then turning to look at you without lifting it back up* Seriously? *Now I bring the old noggin up and look at him.
“Did you just notice this? I mean we’ve been married for nearly three decades, and in all that time something as creepy as this has escaped your notice?” Not that I thought for a moment that I sleep like Dracula or anything, but I find with Honey if I jab him with facts he can’t dispute, he apologizes to me faster. So I was going with the idea that maybe he was mistaken just this once. *Wink, wink* Why? Well, could be that I’m sick and I discovered if I remain in one position and I keep really still, I wouldn’t be hacking and coughing all over the freak lying beside me in bed who NOW thinks I’m a undead bat.
Honey to his credit, took a large mouthful of coffee, swallowed, and then returned his cup to the table before he shrugged. “Maybe you were just bitten.”
To which I deadpanned. “If I were you’d be the first one I’d feast on. For no other reason than I couldn’t fathom living without your wit for all eternity.
Moving onto my Honey issue #2
I didn’t see this one coming either. Yesterday I’m putting together the pasta and Caesar salad for dinner and Honey is in the kitchen, as he usually is. He’s like a big kid. Always trying to steal stuff before it’s done, or taste stuff while it’s cooking. Actually, I’m so used to this that half the time I don’t even notice, but last night? He brought something new to the table…or kitchen…or routine. There I am walking around him for the third time, filling pots and getting plates out that I finally tried to push him out of my way.
I laughed. “Would you move?” I smacked his hand away from where he was trying to grab a piece of bacon I cooked for the salad. “Just step aside a bit.”
He steps in front of me instead. “Oh, sure, that’s what you’d like, isn’t it?”
*Looks right at you and shrugs because YES that’s exactly what I wanted* I say, “Of course.”
Now you have to imagine Honey being totally dejected here. He did a great job even I was feeling a little bad for his “kick-the-can” expression until he over sold it when he said, “I was working so hard today I can’t feel my hands. They’re bloodless. Numb. The damaged one has all kinds of strange tingles in it. It’s going to fall off.”
“You’re not getting the bacon.”
“Look, it’s not getting enough blood to it.” He flashed it at me, turning it back and forth for my perusal.
I didn’t even blink. “No bacon.”
“Things fall off when they don’t get fed.”
“Don’t you mean blood to them?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” he said eyeing the meat on the counter.
Now, not only did I blink, but I looked right down the length of him until I got to….you know where, and mused, “I wonder if Bobbit was trying to steal the bacon when his fell off?”
That got his attention. “His didn’t fall off!”
I smiled and said, “I know.”
Yeah, that must have got the blood pumping. Honey was out of the kitchen, and my hair, in no time. LOL!
Tonight I shall sleep au natural. Meaning? I am going to cough and hack all I want, and Honey is going to wish for old “Vlad the Impaler” to be sleeping beside him once more.
So before I begin, are you sitting down? No? *shrugs and starts to pace back and forth as I say* Go ahead, find a seat. This one’s gonna be good. Promise.
*Stops pacing after a minute and turns to you* Ready? Great. Now, this is what happened. First let me explain that I currently have a plague-type thing going on. I’d say it’s a cold, or maybe a flu, but lucky me thinks it’s a lot of both. Yay!
Oh, for those of you who’ve been reading my blog for a while you already know how illness affects the Murphy household. For those of you who don’t, feel free to check this out (click here). It explains the dynamics between sickness and man (otherwise known as Honey versus death). It’s a pretty good drama so you may want to pop up some corn.
But I digress…
Picture this. Me on the couch last night during the early evening hour. I’m fading fast. As in I swear if the pooch wasn’t sprawled across my lap I would have slid right off the darn seat. I can barely keep my head up and Honey does what Honey does best. He remains oblivious to the pestilence that has its clutches on me. No word of a lie. This is what he says.
“Hey babe, you come here often?”
If I could have turned my cannonball head to glare at him I would have, but instead I made a face and continued to stare off into space.
“Not even a grin? What’s the matter?”
I would have frowned, but my pounding forehead said no way. “I’m sick. I’m so sick in fact I’ve been sitting here for the past hour working up the strength to go to bed.”
He says this with such conviction I have to look. He can’t be serious. Maybe I was deluded. Could be. I gauged my fever was about 102. “You didn’t believe me when I passed on dinner? Or took medicine after I told you that I was S.I.C.K. Sick?”
“But you look great.”
Me, blink, blink.
“Your cheeks are a nice pink color.”
“That would be the fever.”
“Your eyes are glassy. Just the way they go when I’m turning you on.”
I didn’t blink this time. “Fever.”
“You’re really quiet. Makes me want to do things to you.”
If I could have hurmphed I would have. Instead I deadpan, “Fever.”
“And your hair looks particularly great tonight.”
Yeah, I didn’t have an answer to that one, other to say that someone upstairs has a helluva sense of humor. My hair did look great and the only ones to see it besides Honey and me were going to be our bed pillows. #$#@!!!
“Now that I’m looking at you, you’re quite beautiful this evening.”
*Looks right at you* Seriously, people? This is what Honey says when I feel like I’m a walking petri dish for the touch it only with a ten-foot pole specimens growing in it? “You can compliment me all you want, you’re not getting any.”
Fortunately, his thoughtless attitude gave me the strength I needed to drag my fever ridding butt up off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. I was just pouring myself a glass of juice to take to our room, when he comes up behind me and put his arms around me. When he bent to whisper in my ear, I wasn’t sure whether it was the chills from the fever or the chills from his husky voice that made me shake. “Don’t go to bed mad. I was just thinking it would be a shame to waste such a good look on sleep.”
I didn’t have the strength to shrug him off. “You better be kidding.”
“You don’t have to kiss me.”
And right there I started to steam. Again, it could have been the fever, but I’m thinking not. Quietly I asked, “Do I have to talk?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Do I have to breathe?”
Bingo. That got his attention. “What?”
“You know, breathe, because right now I’m thinking you’ll be getting some over my dead body. So breathing, would kind of defeat the whole purpose.”
LMAO! The look on his crestfallen face? Priceless!
Men! They have such messed up priorities, it’s a wonder the human race has survived for as long as it has. Hello? Remember the bubonic plague?
Anyone else envisioning this kind of scenario?
A London gal in the 1340’s holding up her hand and saying, “Not tonight dear, I’m feeling under the weather. Isn’t there some sort of scourge menacing the land?”
To which her single-minded mate with the messed up priorities quips, “Pish-posh. It ain’t like I’m going to let you breathe on me or anything. Lift up the nightie and let me give ya a go.”
Who still feels like crap, but at least Honey is making me laugh. Today he called me on my cell six times. Why you may ask? Well, it seems he likes my husky phone sex operator voice. Did I mention that he was watching a documentary in the family room while I was three rooms over trying to work? He was hoping I’d talk dirty to him. So I did. I read him a scene out of my next book.
Four minutes into doing that and there he was standing at my office door *looks right at you* Aaaand, we were back to me not having to breathe on him! *Shakes head* Unbelievable!
Before I get to the Heart Day surprises I need to tell you that I was away. As in I was away from home and Honey for a full week. Did I mention that Honey doesn’t like it when I go away without him? No? Think getting your fingers slammed in the door kind of excruciating pain. At least that’s how Honey whines about me being gone. Actually he doesn’t whine. I do but fib. He biatches about it. It starts the week before I go, while I’m away (via cell), and of course when I get home. *sigh*
This time I thought I’d leave him things to do to keep him busy. *taps index finger on front tooth and recalls here* I left a list of various things I wanted done before I returned. Great idea, right? It keeps him busy and the time flies by and I get all those little projects I’d been meaning for him to do – done.
The list was as follows:
I wanted a new fan put up in our bedroom.
The main bath repainted.
The front of the house landscaping addressed.
And the last thing I really wanted to see fixed was Madge’s birdfeeder from hell. <- Do. Not. Ask. Suffice it to say, the darn thing has almost caused world war three around our place so I thought Honey could mend the proverbial fence he busted while he was…well, on one of his Steven King adventures.
*insert me being away and blissfully unaware of what was going on at home*
Now *insert me returning and finding*
Not one. That’s not ONE of the things on the list done!
Oh, wait there’s more to tell. I may not have gotten a new fan in the bedroom, but Honey changed the perfectly wonderful fan I had in the living room to a new one. Why, you may ask? I have no idea.
So, yeah. I was surprised too. So here’s the conversation over this surprise.
Me. “Well, I don’t know what to say. It’s nice, but I really wanted the bedroom fan changed. Can we put the fan you took down here and install it in the bedroom?”
“No. I pitched it.”
*Stares right at you* I just bought the darn thing less than eight months ago and it wasn’t cheap! “You threw it out?”
“I gave it to one the guys. He thought it was great.”
And there I am thinking, Of course he did.
Then we move to the…well, I’d say main bath because that’s the room I wanted repainted, but Honey directed me to the laundry room. Surprise! He repainted that room instead. *insert me checking my nail polish here before I casually look up and tell you* He painted it an eggshell color. Although I’ll be damned if I’ve EVER seen an egg that putrid mustard color in my life.
Insert the mighty snow globe here!!!
We needn’t discuss the landscaping as I knew he hadn’t done it when we pulled up to the house. But then? Surprise! He did the back of the property. *insert me holding up my right hand and swearing on a bible here* I swear he cut down every plant I love. *takes a deep breath and calms down for a second* Okay, admittedly most of them did have wicked thorns and they were a bugger to maintain, but beauty is pain right? And he’s the one who married me, so he should just suck it up. *Looks away and then looks back at you defensively* It’s true isn’t it?
All right, never mind the foliage butchery I can deal with that, but what I can’t deal with is Madge’s “all fixed” birdfeeder. It’s supposed to be in her backyard and instead he fixed the thing and “Surprise!” put it on a new pole in the center of our part of the yard. Grant it, Mom can see it better and it’s not surrounded by as many trees for Steven King and his harem to swing or drop from, but still. Now I’m stuck looking at that monstrosity every morning while we have coffee and there’s not a thing I can do about it. Madge is whistling, and Honey is getting the old mother in-law nod all day long.
Given all this, you’d think I’d be really mad, but how could I be? You see, when I was away he called me late one night and said something that made remember why I fell in love with him. His exact words went – while he was bastardizing my list, mind you – something like this:
“Babe, we have a nice house. We have a beautiful place to call home, but it isn’t one unless you’re here. It’s as if the place doesn’t breathe when you’re gone. I can’t wait for you to be sleeping in our bed and our house to feel like a home again.”
Yeah, not gonna lie, I was riding on the high of that romantic sentiment long enough to forgive him for everything…well almost everything. The birdfeeder in my side of the backyard? It is SO going. Oh, and so is the putrid mustard color in the laundry room. Meh, who am I kidding? I still want the fan in the master bedroom and the front yard landscaping to be done. I also want my shrubs and trees he annihilated in the backyard replaced as well.
In fact there’s only one surprise he gave me on heart day that I was completely satisfied with. It was in a case that looked like a mini leather duffle bag. Actually, it looked like the kind of bag that bowling shoes come in – only there weren’t any shoes in it, if you know what I mean. Honey went toy shopping!!! He left the bag in the center of the bed with a big red bow tied on it. Two of the items were upgrades to our favorites, but the third one? Surprise! A totally new item. It almost made me forget everything else. Amost…
How was your Heart Day?
Here’s the blurb
A woman who opens her mind, closes the door to a self-inflicted prison…
She didn’t know the ecstasy of total surrender.
She never wanted to be tied up.
Or forced to beg a powerful man for his dark attentions.
Until she made the mistake of provoking him…
A man who uses his mind on a woman, opens the gates to paradise…
He’s enjoyed the pleasure of a sub’s surrender.
He’s tie them up.
Held them down.
And forced them to beg for his special kind of attention.
But it isn’t until she provokes him that he wants more than mere enjoyment from the experience.
He intends to own the moment, before he commits to the challenge of owning her.
Too late she learns. With a man like him, forgiveness is a gift. It’s not something she’s entitled to just because she said, she’s sorry.
Slowly, he fisted a hand in the soft curls and pulled until her head was angled enough that their gazes met. “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I start getting really creative with your punishments. At the moment we’re doing this the vanilla way, if you want to step things up a bit I could see a ribbed plug, vibrating nipple clamps, and a flogger in your future.”
I love Neil!!! *sigh* Anyways, here’s a small snippet. I love these two together!!!! Can’t wait for you guys to meet them.
Reluctantly she eyed Cannon’s giant silhouette filling up the doorway, and tried one more time. “Are we going somewhere?”
“To my place.”
Yup, she should have left that destination unconfirmed. It was one thing to guess and another to know for absolute certainty. Standing, she moved to gather her things as quickly as possible. When she arrived at the spot directly in front of him, she looked up. “Don’t you mean lair?”
“I prefer den.”
She figured he’d chosen that term because he called her tiger earlier. “Tigers don’t sleep in dens. They usually sleep next to their kill.”
“I don’t see myself as a tiger. I see myself as a lion. Lions sleep in dens.” He paused and tilted his head to the right, letting his dark gaze rake her from head to toe and back again before he said, “But you make a good point. Tigers sleep next to their kill, so maybe I am a tiger after all. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
What was that supposed to mean? He slayed women with his sexual powers of persuasion, and then slept next to them when they were too dead to move afterward? “Funny, the animal I see you as is one belonging to the Suidae family. A chauvinist one.”
The second that left her mouth she wanted to grab it back. Before he read the panic in her eyes she turned her gaze away and stared at the door frame, praying he’d let the insult go.
“I can help you with that Catherine.”
The soft tone of his voice surprised her almost as much as his palm cupping the underside of her chin. She had to look. She couldn’t stop herself. She also had to ask, “Help me with what?”
“This.” He lifted his thumb, and the warm, hard, pad outlined the whole shape of her lips before he quickly tapped on her mouth, leaning down to huskily whisper in her ear, “It’s quite big and naughty. Nothing a ball gag can’t fix.”
(end of snippet)
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