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28
Izzy
Midnight Rendezvous
Icrawl out from under Jim’s heavy arm and peel myself from his broad chest. It’s pitch black in our room, the lights are out, the curtains are drawn, but Jim and the light from the alarm clock flashing 02:12 keeps the boogeyman away and illuminates a path to the bathroom.
I climb out of bed and trip my way over our discarded clothes and shoes. Quietly opening the bathroom door, I close it fast when the fluorescent light illuminates half the room and has Jim rolling away.
I don’t want to wake him.
I turn to the bathroom mirror and almost jump out of my skin at the stranger staring back at me. Wild hair. Wide eyes and smudged makeup. A red, wrinkled cheek from resting against Jim’s chest. And I’m soaking wet, andnotin a good way.
My boobs literally drip onto my belly, milk that Bean would usually be eating at this hour. I desperately need a shower to wash away the sticky substance, but first, I pull a breast pump from the overnight bag Jim brought up earlier.
Half blind, I work to assemble all the parts, and as minutes pass, my eyes adjust to the harsh brightness. Plugging the assembled pump into the wall, I sit on the closed toilet and place the suction cups over my nipples.
I’m just a common cow. Sitting alone in a cold bathroom while my baby sleeps – or eats from a bottle – fifty miles away.
Thankfully, it rarely takes more than ten minutes to fill the bags. I can get the job done, jump into the shower, then go back to bed and crawl beneath Jim so he can warm me all over again.
I sit back and relax, thinking about my baby. She’s probably awake right now. Probably snuggling into Aunt Kit’s arms. I briefly consider sneaking back into the room to grab my phone so I can call them, but I don’t. I refuse to be that psycho mom who calls at two o’clock in the morning just because I’m awake and lonely.
She’s safe. And as long as I know that, then I’ll accept the help for what it is and enjoy my husband for the evening.
The door slides open and sends me jumping with fright. “Sorry.” His pretty smile turns up as his eyes squint almost closed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” I reach out for a towel in a feeble attempt at modesty, but he shakes his head.
“Don’t cover up. I like looking at you.”
“You like seeing this?” I wave a hand down my naked body. “Me sitting on a toilet while a machine sucks away at my boobs.”
He smirks. “I like seeing you always. Any way you come.”
I smile and shake my head. “Why are you awake?”
“I missed you.” He gestures to his own chest. “And I think I started lactating last night. I’m all wet.”
Heat floods my face. “I’m so sorry. It just happens. Not my fault.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry.” He walks the rest of the way into the room, completely naked, and perches his hip against the counter. “It’s just milk. Milk for our daughter.”
Don’t look. Don’t look. Stop looking!The glinting metal at the end of his dick draws my attention like a sailor to a lighthouse.
It’s just so… taboo.
So sexy and forbidden.
“Did it work?”
“Hmmm?” My eyes shoot to his with embarrassment.
“Did it feel good?” He points toward his dick. “I read that it does.”
I nod. “It totally worked. Did it hurt getting done?”
“Yeah, it hurt a-fucking-lot.” He laughs. “I cried. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
