Marriage and Hot Sexy Stuff.

“Please Will," she begged, kissing me again, reaching for my other hand and trying to pull it around her. "I want to be with you so much it's making it hard to breathe".

"It wasn't just a physical attraction between us. It was something more with Hanna, some chemistry in our blood, something between us that snapped and crackled, that made me always want just a little more than I could take. She offered friendship, I wanted her body, she offered her body, I wanted to hijack her thoughts. She offered her thoughts, I wanted her heart"......

 

I peered over my book reluctantly, to the sight of my husband laughing at himself, as he attempted to throw grapes up in the air and catch them in his mouth.

OK, it is time. I am finally ready and feeling wise enough to share some advice on marriage.

There really is only one thing I would say about it all.

Ladies, do NOT read romance books. EVER. Just don’t do it to yourself.

 

I have recently had some time off work on Doctors orders, and there is only so much TV junk I can take. SO, against my better judgement I decided to pick up a series of books and read through them, and by read, I mean devour and by devour, I mean I could have rubbed those pages all over my body like a Himalayan salt exfoliator. 

I have been seen around town lately, at petrol pumps and shopping for groceries and on the tread mill at the gym, while turning page after page. 

My current spiking hormones and libido (apparently common after a miscarriage) has me suddenly chasing my husband around the house like Pepi Le Pew, which is so weird because it is usually the other way around, which is exactly what he yelled over his shoulder as he made a run for it.

I am not referring to a quaint Jane Austin tale either. With my blood on fire, it is for the hot books I stupidly did reach. The hero in my novels were not reserved and sincere Mr Darcy types….no, my heroes were packing a different set of attributes (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

It has unfortunately screwed with my head, warped my perception and made me believe that there needs to be beds of rose petals, longing lusty looks and paperwork being swept off desks to clear the way. You know, the opposite of normal everyday life. 

There is now a look in my eye when I glance up at my husband after each chapter, and because of this, he is very jumpy when I am around. He even squealed this morning, as I ripped the covers off him while he slept.

Thanks to the hormones and these hypnotic (hypnotic in a Charles Manson go kill people kind of way) books, I have begun purchasing expensive lingerie again too! Fancy stuff like when we first started dating. Strappy, lacy confusing pieces I would never actually have the nerve to wear in a million years usually, or even know how to put it on with a detailed You Tube instructional video.

I say things to him now like “Take me Luke, take me” breathlessly, to which he bewilderingly answers, take you where?

I am suddenly pouring bubble baths, lighting candles and feeling the need to wink at my husband as I say over my shoulder, I am heading to bed early.

Luke, thinking I have an irritated eye, sees it as an opportunity to watch cricket uninterrupted, before me waking up to him giving me a shove and telling me to move over to my side.

Learn from me ladies, just don’t do it. PUT THE BOOK DOWN!

First chapter in, I knew I was in deep ‘THIS IS NOT REALITY’ trouble.

The protagonist describes the heroine so achingly and adoringly.

Creamy perfect skin, rosy cheeks that blush under his gaze. Heaving chest, golden hair. Of course, he himself, is almost God-like. Carved like a Michelangelo sculpture, fingertips that know how to make her tremble with ecstasy at the first touch. He did not simply check her boobs out at a party one night, ask her on a date to the movies a couple of times and the rest is history. His intense stare – makes her feel like she is food, he is consumed by her beauty, her body, her giggly conversation.

The protagonist does all the right ‘fantasy only’ things, possessive when any other man dares to look at her, mega rich and able to whiz her to a deserted island to be alone to make hot passionate love under the stars all night long…and I mean all night, 1, 2,3 and 4 times, oh my. Understanding all her worries and fears and fixes it all with his lips, picking her up and carrying her to bed as if she were a wisp of air.

In our defence, no real problems exist here in actual reality. No-way-Faye, it is on!! AND, it is also not to say it hasn’t always been healthily so, we are totes on fire don’t you worry. WE GOOD, WE GOOD! (Luke asked me to include this disclaimer).

Just I mean, not to complain, but when Eric or Bennett or Will have their way with Sara or Chloe or Hanna, it sounds like they completely ravage each other like they cannot possibly get close enough - like they want to breathe their skin and hair and naughty places all day long. That sounds like a lot of hygiene issues to me.

With each page, I turn, it gets more and more intense, how a man stares at his woman like she is the most gorgeous creature that ever lived. Perfection. Their skin burns and their panties drop all from his intensely dark gaze. 

They are also doing 'it' for hours at a time, again and again with not much pause time in between. I mentioned this to Luke the other night, he actually had to Dr Google it for me, to prove that just is not physically possible… twice was, well, time for a public holiday in his honour.

DON’T READ THE BOOKS LADIES!!!!

Oh, and as for ELEVATOR SEX that they ALWAYS inevitably end up having in these smoky BBQ saucy books – just shut up, sexy romance authors, SHUT UP.

We tried this once a few years ago, and it does not and cannot work, I don’t care who you are.

Have you ever counted how many seconds between floors, Luke and I have… not many!

Have you ever been tempted to hit the emergency stop – DON’T.

Do you understand what happens? I can tell you, it instantly becomes AN EMERGENCY.  Phone calls from reception, 2 burly maintenance men and potentially Police Rescue (depending on the length of time), as soon as the button is pressed. As soon as.

The problem with these books is you read them and go WOW, a man in a grey flannel suit gazing at her intently, in a perfectly sky blue dress, showing every curve; as he removes his tie and unbuttons his top button slowly walking closer to me, I mean her, as we, err I mean they..…

Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes, I got so caught up in the madness of it all I failed to put the book down and realise something. 

While I have been unwell, my spunk of a husband may not have worn a grey flannel suit and tie to work each day, but had taken out the garbage, shopped, cooked dinner and cleaned and asked me daily if there was anything I needed. EVERY DAY. He would snuggle into me of an evening reminding me I was loved and adored. Reminding me we are each other’s place to land at the end of the day, kissing me softly on the top of my head and whispering lovely skin-warming things, like how my skin felt soft or nuzzling into my neck to tell me how good I smelt... how bananas is that!...like it was straight out of Bennett's mouth! 

He is in every way, the man I need and long for, completely, without him I don’t know who I am.

Also… Bennett Ryan, what kind of name is that? He can take a hike to be honest, because my husband gives me more than I could have ever hoped for without referring to his 'hot stirring loins', which, incidentally, probably more means a trip to the chemist, aisle 3.

Perfection is not reality nor is it something I strive for any more. Which kind of is… perfect.

I may pull out the lingerie with 72 straps and clasps later tonight – and maybe I will walk into the room and we both *completely crack up in hysterics at the sight of me, before I go change back into my sweats.

But that is life and real and I wouldn’t change it for all the 45 orgasms in a 6-hour period tea in China.

I love you endlessly my hot, intense leading man, always.

 

Emma Kate xoxo

*Nope, no, he did not laugh..complete high 5 to me. Wink wink. Forget the books, buy the damn lingerie, girls!!

Emma BrookerComment