his fingers disappearing between my legs.
Damn.
There’s nothing more sexy to me than a very confident man displaying a dash of vulnerability.
I start to give in a little. We’ve never done anything like this in the apartment. Not even the couple of times we’ve been here alone.
“Michael,” I say, returning his kisses. “The children.”
“They’re fine.”
Not if they see this.
I know this is wrong, that I should stop. This is so bad.
But it feels so good. And Penley
won’t
come in here.
I undo Michael’s robe all the way and stroke him with my hand. It’s as if I’ve lit a fuse. He’s very hard and very large.
Quickly, powerfully, he grabs my shoulders, spinning me around — as promised. Down go my pants and my underwear.
I reach and grip the back of the washer, the metal cold against my bare thighs. He enters me amid a swell of goose bumps, and after only a few swift thrusts I feel myself ready to explode.
“Miss Kristin, where are you?”
Sean’s little voice filters in from down the hallway. Michael and I both freeze in place.
“Did you find my Jimmy Neutron socks?” he calls out.
“Tell him you’ll be right there,” whispers Michael, slowly beginning to thrust again.
Feeling every inch of him inside me, I can barely speak. The moment couldn’t be more dangerous.
Or more of a turn-on.
The socks are still in my hand, and I squeeze them tight as my body tenses, quivering.
“Miss Kristin?” Sean calls out again. “Are you there?”
Michael takes hold of my hips, thrusting faster and deeper, faster and deeper. My head whips back, my toes curl, and then my entire body completely lets go.
“I’m coming!”
Chapter 25
CONNIE SQUINTS AND MAKES a funny face, which is just what I need right now:
funny.
“They really should pass out flashlights with the menus, don’t you think?”
“Either that or pay the electric bill,” jokes Beth.
My two best New York friends and I share a knowing laugh, keenly aware that our restaurant of choice this evening — the very dimly lit and ultrahip Bond Street — is a far cry from our usual, more modest haunts. In the heart of downtown, the place offers Japanese cuisine at its trendiest and most expensive. The sake alone goes for twenty dollars a serving. Yikes!
I raise my palms. “Speaking of
paying the bill,
what on earth are we doing here?”
“You said you needed a night out, Kris, so I figured we’d splurge a little,” says Connie. “You’re worth it, sweetheart. Besides which, the Abbott Show is going to call any day now, any
second,
so we’re pre-celebrating.”
I glance down at the menu with its skyrocket prices before looking back up at Beth, the struggling actress, and Connie, the social worker with the city’s Division of Family Services.
We’re splurging, all right.
“So how’s the Pencil?” Beth asks.
“Thin and mean as ever,” I answer.
“Why doesn’t she like you, Kristin? I don’t get it. Who wouldn’t like you?”
“Actually, I’m not sure Penley likes anyone. After two years, though, you’d think she’d at least trust me with the kids.”
Connie chimes in with a smile. “She probably thinks you’re writing the sequel to
The Nanny Diaries.
”
We all laugh at that one.
“Seriously, if you hate this wretch of a woman so much, why do you keep working for her?” asks Beth. “This stepmom from hell.”
“The kids,” I reply. “I love them. And they really do need me.”
Never mind their father.
There have been so many times I’ve wanted to tell Beth and Connie about my affair with Michael. Maybe I haven’t because I’m embarrassed or ashamed — which I am. Or maybe because I know what they would say — “Be careful, Kristin; you could really get hurt” — and I don’t want to hear it. Especially because they could be more right than I’m willing to admit.
So I keep Michael to myself. From time to time I tell the girls about having a few dates with some made-up guy. The script
Damn.
There’s nothing more sexy to me than a very confident man displaying a dash of vulnerability.
I start to give in a little. We’ve never done anything like this in the apartment. Not even the couple of times we’ve been here alone.
“Michael,” I say, returning his kisses. “The children.”
“They’re fine.”
Not if they see this.
I know this is wrong, that I should stop. This is so bad.
But it feels so good. And Penley
won’t
come in here.
I undo Michael’s robe all the way and stroke him with my hand. It’s as if I’ve lit a fuse. He’s very hard and very large.
Quickly, powerfully, he grabs my shoulders, spinning me around — as promised. Down go my pants and my underwear.
I reach and grip the back of the washer, the metal cold against my bare thighs. He enters me amid a swell of goose bumps, and after only a few swift thrusts I feel myself ready to explode.
“Miss Kristin, where are you?”
Sean’s little voice filters in from down the hallway. Michael and I both freeze in place.
“Did you find my Jimmy Neutron socks?” he calls out.
“Tell him you’ll be right there,” whispers Michael, slowly beginning to thrust again.
Feeling every inch of him inside me, I can barely speak. The moment couldn’t be more dangerous.
Or more of a turn-on.
The socks are still in my hand, and I squeeze them tight as my body tenses, quivering.
“Miss Kristin?” Sean calls out again. “Are you there?”
Michael takes hold of my hips, thrusting faster and deeper, faster and deeper. My head whips back, my toes curl, and then my entire body completely lets go.
“I’m coming!”
Chapter 25
CONNIE SQUINTS AND MAKES a funny face, which is just what I need right now:
funny.
“They really should pass out flashlights with the menus, don’t you think?”
“Either that or pay the electric bill,” jokes Beth.
My two best New York friends and I share a knowing laugh, keenly aware that our restaurant of choice this evening — the very dimly lit and ultrahip Bond Street — is a far cry from our usual, more modest haunts. In the heart of downtown, the place offers Japanese cuisine at its trendiest and most expensive. The sake alone goes for twenty dollars a serving. Yikes!
I raise my palms. “Speaking of
paying the bill,
what on earth are we doing here?”
“You said you needed a night out, Kris, so I figured we’d splurge a little,” says Connie. “You’re worth it, sweetheart. Besides which, the Abbott Show is going to call any day now, any
second,
so we’re pre-celebrating.”
I glance down at the menu with its skyrocket prices before looking back up at Beth, the struggling actress, and Connie, the social worker with the city’s Division of Family Services.
We’re splurging, all right.
“So how’s the Pencil?” Beth asks.
“Thin and mean as ever,” I answer.
“Why doesn’t she like you, Kristin? I don’t get it. Who wouldn’t like you?”
“Actually, I’m not sure Penley likes anyone. After two years, though, you’d think she’d at least trust me with the kids.”
Connie chimes in with a smile. “She probably thinks you’re writing the sequel to
The Nanny Diaries.
”
We all laugh at that one.
“Seriously, if you hate this wretch of a woman so much, why do you keep working for her?” asks Beth. “This stepmom from hell.”
“The kids,” I reply. “I love them. And they really do need me.”
Never mind their father.
There have been so many times I’ve wanted to tell Beth and Connie about my affair with Michael. Maybe I haven’t because I’m embarrassed or ashamed — which I am. Or maybe because I know what they would say — “Be careful, Kristin; you could really get hurt” — and I don’t want to hear it. Especially because they could be more right than I’m willing to admit.
So I keep Michael to myself. From time to time I tell the girls about having a few dates with some made-up guy. The script
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