The Boyfriend Diaries: A Romance Box Set Collection

by S. E. Law

“Of course, sweetheart,” I say. “Here, I poured a cup for you before we even got into bed.”

  I hand her the glass and she takes a few swallows before handing it back to me with a sleepy smile.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she murmurs while lying back down again. “You always take such good care of me.”

  “Of course, honey,” I say, stroking fingers through her soft blonde hair. “But can you do something for Daddy before you sleep?”

  She nods, her eyes already closed.

  “Of course. What is it?”

  I nudge her head downwards until it’s at waist level and immediately, her lips open and suckle at my stiffening tool.

  “That’s it,” I groan, my abs tensing as her cheeks hollow a bit. “That’s right, honey. Use Daddy as your pacifier just like a good baby does. Thank you, sweetheart. That feels amazing.”

  Katie merely mewls and continues sucking while my body grows rigid with arousal. Like a good girl, she continues to suck until finally, I explode straight into her mouth. She swallows every drop before licking her lips and snuggling against me once more.

  “Is that good, Daddy? If I need my pacifier again, I’ll reach for it during the night.”

  Breathing hard, I stroke her soft blonde hair once more.

  “That was wonderful, Katie. Thank you for being such a good girl.”

  With that, Katie yawns and dozes off while stretched out on my chest. Meanwhile, I continue to caress her narrow back and savor the smooth feel of her skin. After all, this is my wife now. After her mother’s heart attack, Katie and I decided we wanted to be exclusive. Not just exclusive, but legally bound to one another, and so in a matter of months, we were married.

  My son, Kenneth, was more than a little surprised when he found out who was going to be his new stepmother.

  “You’re marrying my high school classmate?” he snarled. “What the fuck?”

  I growled right back.

  “That’s right, and Katie’s worth it. So you better push your horns back into your head and get with the picture, otherwise you’re out of a job and a place to stay.”

  That made Kenneth shut up, seeing that Carlton Realty is the hand that feeds him. But he came around soon enough, once he realized that Katie was a permanent part of my life. And now that we have a baby on the way, he’s grudgingly acknowledged that his new stepmother is here to stay.

  Meanwhile, Dinah’s reaction to our marriage and pregnancy was completely different. The middle-aged woman was over the moon.

  ‘This is wonderful,” she gushed. “I’ll have to consult the astrological charts for the best day for the baby to be born. After all, you want the timing to be fortuitous, don’t you?” she asked.

  Katie shot her mom a loving but confused look.

  “Mom, the doctors already gave me a due date, and the baby should be born either ten days before that date, or ten days after. There’s not a lot of room for variation.”

  But Dinah merely chortled.

  “Oh doctors this, doctors that. The truth is that these doctors never really know what they’re saying. I’ll have to consult my charts, my tarot cards, and also Bilal, the Kitchen God. He’s very important to me, you see, and we have a long-standing relationship.”

  Katie merely laughed and smiled.

  “Okay Mom, you do that. And let me know what he says too,” she giggled.

  After all, our love was improbable to begin with. My wife came to me with the intention of preventing an eviction, but instead, we became an item with a naughty secret between us: we enjoy DD / lg roleplay, even if the rest of the world sees it as strange.

  But it doesn’t matter because the people who love us see nothing wrong with our lifestyle choice, and now, my baby is having a baby. I’m going to be a father again, and it’s a gift that I treasure with my entire heart. Katie has become everything to me, and I value her even more because my little girl is now giving me the ultimate present: a child born of our love.

  The End

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  Next up: A Sneak Peek of Mommy’s Boss. My mom’s gorgeous boss just fired her, and I’m going to tell Cameron Savage exactly what I think of him.

  Daddy’s Christmas Gift

  By S.E. Law

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  About This Book

  I’m pregnant with my professor’s baby. But will he ever know his son?

  I’ve had a crush on Professor Moore for ages. He’s incredibly handsome, with a chiseled body, a square jaw, and blazing blue eyes that make me melt.

  Unfortunately, I’m just another student to him. No one special until …

  … I stop by office hours one steamy afternoon!

  But soon, I’m expecting Professor Moore’s baby. He never wanted this because what happened between us was just a one-time thing.

  It’s illicit and taboo and he’ll lose his position at the university if it gets out that I’ve had his baby.

  But now, his son looks just like him, with the same crystal-clear blue eyes and thick chestnut hair.

  Will the hunky professor ever find out about his son?

  Or will this Daddy miss his Christmas baby altogether?

  Happy Holidays! Professor Moore is just the kind of man to steam up the windows during the Christmas season. Let the bells chime and the mistletoe work its magic because Aria gets her baby, but will she get her man too? No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.

  47

  Aria

  “Hey, are you ready?” my friend Elisa asks me. I smile and sling my backpack over one shoulder.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” is my wry reply. “This class is so hard, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Oh please,” Elisa says with a grin. “You’re doing fine, Aria. Don’t even pretend because I know you’re smart. You always land on your feet and end up pulling an A out of the bag despite moaning and groaning like the rest of us.”

  I giggle because Elisa’s right. I’m a nerd and get really good grades. But I’m not so sure I’m going to do well this time around because American Literature 101 has been kicking my ass, and it has me a little unsettled. I thought that this would be an easy course for me because I love to read. Not only that, but high school English was my favorite class and I figured I’d sail through this course too.

  But college has been a different game altogether. First, we peruse about ten books per semester. Although I’m a fast reader, ten books adds up to a lot. I calculated, and it means that we’re reading about one novel per week. Nor are these books short stories, or tiny little novellas that you can breeze through in one night. We’ve read some tomes that were three hundred pages long, and while I love the written word, even I had some trouble keeping up. The only reason why I’m caught up is because I read our last book, The Great Gatsby, in high school, so I only needed to skim it once more. Otherwise, I’d be weeks behind and in deep doo-doo.

  “You doing okay with the syllabus?” I ask Elisa sympathetically. “It’s a lot. I can tutor you, if you need some back up.”

  My friend laughs merrily while tossing her designer nylon bag over one shoulder.

  “You know me, Aria. I only read the first few chapters of each book and then I hit up the reader’s guide. You know, it’s Cliffs Notes for college students.”

  My nose wrinkles with confusion. I’ve skimmed Cliffs Notes before and they’re so cut and dried that it’s alarming. I didn’t feel like they were a substitute for the actual book at all, and decided not to use them for my own academic career.

  “Yeah, but is that enough? How are you able to write essays about plot development and tone when you’ve only read the first few chapters?”

  Elisa merely shrugs.

  “Tone comes quick, silly. You only need to read the first few chapters to figure out the pacing and tone of a book. And then, Cliffs Notes does the rest. They tell you exactly what happens in
the plot, beat for beat, and everything just flows from that.”

  But I’m still confused as we begin our walk to class.

  “Yeah, but what about that last book that started out as a bunch of letters? You know, in the epistolary style? All the characters did was write letters to each other for the first third of the book, and that’s how the plot developed. So how were you able to pick up the tone of the novel when it changed format one third of the way through?”

  Elisa rolls her eyes while flicking her long brown hair over one shoulder.

  “Easy. Cliffs Notes told me when the letters ended, so then I picked up the book, browsed to that chapter, and read a little more beginning from that section. It’s easy-peasy, Aria. This is college. You can’t afford to read the whole book because it would take forever and a day. Plus, there are so many parties to go to and boys to meet. Who has the time?” she asks in a droll tone.

  I smile while rolling my eyes. My friend has a point. What am I doing, immersing myself in my courses when I could be out meeting guys? I must be crazy, and as a result, I’m grateful to be friends with Elisa because she’s a counter to my nerdy ways. If I didn’t have such an outgoing roommate, I’d probably be locked in the library, diving into book after book non-stop. But my roomie drags me to parties all over campus every weekend, so at least I can say I’m having “a college experience.” It’s not exactly fun per se when there are drunken guys groping you and music that practically blows out my eardrums, but at least it’s an experience that I can relay to my grandchildren when I’m old and gray.

  “Come on, Aria,” says my friend as we speed walk to class. “I don’t want to miss Professor Moore today. Now he makes class totally worth it.”

  With a giggle, I hurry in order to catch up with my friend. That’s true. Roland Moore isn’t your average professor, that’s for sure. He doesn’t wear tweed jackets with elbow patches, nor does he have thick, coke-bottle glasses and the body of a Teletubby. Instead, Roland Moore is an insanely handsome man. He looks like a Greek god, with chestnut hair swept off his forehead, a strong Roman profile, and a chiseled body that’s obviously the result of lifting weights on a daily basis. Well, my guess is that he lifts weights because no one gets that muscular from sitting around and staring at a computer all day.

  “Oh my god, I wonder what Professor Moore is going to wear today?” giggles Elisa. “Last week, I was dying in my seat when he wore those jeans that hung off his hips just so. Did you see that ass? I mean, I could hardly even hear what he was saying, I was so obsessed with watching his bum.”

  My mouth goes dry as I remember. Elisa’s right. Last week, Professor Moore wore faded jeans that hung from his hips perfectly, emphasizing the long, powerful length of his legs, as well as the solid mass of his thighs and ass. Nor were she and I the only ones who noticed. I think all of our fellow female students were open-mouthed with wonder as Professor Moore lectured on and on about Moby Dick. He could have been talking about anything, and we would have eaten it all up because he looked so good.

  “It’s wrong to be talking about Professor Moore’s clothes,” I mumble with my head down as we let ourselves into the classroom. “We shouldn’t judge anyone by their appearance. It’s shallow.”

  Elisa merely rolls her eyes.

  “Please Aria. That’s what moms say after you’ve been picked on at the playground. But in the real world, you know that we’re judged by our looks. Everyone is. Plus, you’re gorgeous, Aria. Guys love your long golden hair and curvy body. Heck, you look like a Playboy model, but with clothes of course.”

  I don’t reply because there are other students in the classroom already, and I don’t want them to overhear. But Elisa’s right. I was born under a lucky star, and somehow drew an ace when it came to the looks department. I have long, golden-blonde hair that waves down my back; cornflower blue eyes; and a curvy body that just won’t quit. It’s so lush that I’m embarrassed sometimes because who really wants to look like a Playboy model every day while walking down the sidewalk? I don’t want people to notice me, so usually I wear a baggy sweatshirt and jeans so that I blend in with the general populace.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Elisa emphasizes again, plopping down into a chair and indicating that I should take the seat next to her. “And don’t deny it, Aria. Don’t knock what you got,” she quips.

  I blush scarlet and slink into the chair next to her.

  “Shhh,” I say.

  “What?” she asks loudly, reaching into her bag for something. My friend pulls out a small package of chips, and to my horror, opens it with a rip, the cellophane crinkling noisily. Could she be any louder and more obvious? Especially when we’re having this conversation? But like she doesn’t have a care in the world, Elisa pops a chip into her mouth and starts chewing with noisy snaps. It feels like everyone in the classroom is looking at us, and I blush bright red to my hairline.

  “Want one?” she asks carelessly, thrusting the bag towards me.

  Fortunately, I’m saved because at that moment, the door opens and Professor Moore strides in. All of the air in my lungs goes out in a whoosh because he’s that good-looking. Professor Moore is a recent hire, and likely in his late twenties or early thirties, although there are laugh lines creased around his eyes and mouth. As usual, his thick chestnut hair is brushed off his forehead, revealing strong, proud features and a sensuous yet masculine mouth. The cleft in his chin gives him a rugged look, and yet he’s adorable at the same time too. Today, Professor Moore’s wearing a plaid shirt and those damned jeans that sit on his hips so perfectly. How is it that our instructor looks like a male model? It seems impossible, and yet he’s here, walking and talking like a professor should.

  “Hey everyone,” he greets with a dimpled grin before setting his stuff down on the podium. “You guys ready for some lesbian horror fiction?”

  My eyes brighten and I sit up slightly because this is one of the things that I love about this class. Professor Moore could have picked just about any book to read, since this is a course on American lit. Yet, he selected a wide and diverse group of novels, including our latest assignment, Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado. It’s an interesting selection because the book defies genre: Her Body is horror, erotica, lesbian, queer, and also gothic romance at the same time. It’s also incredibly well-written, and the author appears to be a woman of Latina descent. I love that Professor Moore could have selected a book from the pantheon of established writers, but that instead, he chose this a queer woman of color’s work. Of course, Machado’s debut novel has already won several prizes, but still, I appreciate his inquisitive mind and eclectic taste.

  “So did you guys like the first story in the book?” Professor Moore begins, a devilish smile on his face. “The one where the protagonist wears a green ribbon around her neck?”

  One woman in our class immediately raises her hand.

  “I knew what was going to happen when her husband pulled that ribbon off,” she says in a know-it-all tone. “I knew her head was going to come rolling off like it had been dismembered.”

  Roland manages not to frown. Instead, he nods judiciously, even though our classmate has just given the story away.

  “Thanks, Tricia,” he says. “And what clued you in to that conclusion?”

  Tricia smirks and bats her lashes at him.

  “Oh you know. Womanly intuition,” she says coyly. “Don’t you agree, Professor Moore? I’m happy to teach you about womanly intuition if you like.”

  I stare at the back of Tricia’s head. Oh my goodness, is Tricia actually trying to flirt with Professor Moore right now? In front of all of us? It seems impossible, but with the way her lashes are flickering up and down furiously, I know it’s true.

  Roland merely nods.

  “Thanks, Tricia, but I’m good. Okay, how about someone else?” he asks. “How did you know what the green ribbon would represent? Is it a literal beheading, or is the author trying to say something figuratively?”


  This time, Elisa raises her hand.

  “Professor Moore, I think it was literal,” she says. “I mean, the protagonist describes her head bouncing down to hit the floor, and then seeing the ceiling and walls as the dismembered head rolls around.”

  I try not to cringe because to be honest, horror is not my genre of choice. I never watch scary movies, and I was terrified when reading Frankenstein for the first time. There’s just something about the genre that turns me off, and I’m not sure what it is. It could be the blood, guts, and gore. Or it could be the fact that often, horror novels have a grim look on life, as if they’re painting a dystopian nightmare. I prefer lighthearted and uplifting novels, thank you very much, although Her Body was mesmerizing despite the gore.

  “Good point,” growls Professor Moore. “I agree. The fact that the author visually describes what the head sees as it rolls along the floor makes for an interesting viewpoint, and supports the theory that the beheading was literal, and not just a figure of speech. How about you, Aria? What did you like about the book?”

  The air in my lungs seizes, and I feel my face go hot. Oh my gosh, Professor Moore knows my name? I’ve never raised my hand in class although we’re midway through the semester now. I didn’t even know that he saw me during most lectures, although of course he can see me. This class isn’t huge, so he probably recognizes everyone by now. Besides, he’s not blind. If I can see him, then he can see me.

  “Um,” I stammer. “I liked it. It was good.”

  Professor Moore’s brow arches.

  “That’s it?” he asks. “How did you feel about The Green Ribbon?”

  I flush even hotter and look down at my hands.

  “Um, the author had interesting technique,” I say dumbly. Oh my god, why do I keep repeating myself like some idiot drone? I read that first story and loved it! Why can’t I say something intelligent and witty, instead of coming off like a numbskull?