Lips of an Angel

We'd barely fucked in the previous few months. I don't know if she realized it, but I sure as hell had. She scheduled everything in our life down to the minute and somehow kept forgetting to book in time for us to act like a married couple instead of just mindless zombie parents.

But that day...

Once upon a time, I would've just lifted her sundress up and buried my face between her legs without so much as a word. But there was no way that would fly with her anymore, so instead I'd hit on her, told her I wanted her, told her how much I missed her and that I wanted her so fucking bad right then.

She glanced at the clock.

I tried to swallow my disappointment and went to continue loading the car with all the shit she'd deemed necessary for the birthday party, but before I could, she'd grabbed me and kissed me heatedly.

We didn't make it to the bedroom. I lifted her on the table and fucked her right there, in full view of the front door and anyone who might happen to walk by. And when we finished, I told her again how much I missed her, how much I fucking needed her like that, and what did she say?

"Maybe we should try for another."

I couldn't go through that again.

She couldn't go through that again.

So I laughed it off and said we should think about it when Ramona was a little older since one was a handful already, and I put it off the next time she brought it up by making up some excuse about focusing on work, and after some time she seemed to forget. Slowly, she forgot who she was, and I forgot who she was, and that angelic smile became something I could only see in my dreams. But she didn't bring up having another kid, and that meant I could keep her safe.

Until I cheated on her.

Until it was either promise her another baby or lose my wife.

Until I had to choose between giving her what she wanted and putting her back in danger.

So I promised her what she wanted, and then I took away her ability to get it.

**

She opened the door with a mix of caution and concern on her face.

"What are you doing here?"

For a moment, I couldn't speak. It might have been because I was trying to collect my thoughts and figure out how to explain that once upon a time I'd have done anything to stay with my wife and that at some point, I'd apparently changed my feelings, and that I wasn't sure if I'd left her or if she'd kicked me out or if my marriage was even really actually over.

It also might have been because Mallory was wearing a long white t-shirt that set off the red of her hair, the strands seeming to dance as lightning punctuated the golden glow of her flashlight.

Just a long white t-shirt.

Nothing else.

Including, from what I could tell, nothing underneath.

"Scott?" she asked.

"I..."

She looked amused. At least, I think she looked amused. I don't know how I knew what she looked like, since it's not like her tits looked amused. Maybe it was something in my peripheral vision, maybe it was just an aura of amusement that I picked up with some strange sixth sense, but I had a feeling she was amused when I couldn't tear my eyes away from the front of her shirt.

Or whoever's shirt. Probably her husband's. I was pretty sure it wasn't her shirt, in any case, because it wasn't stretched across her breasts. Instead, it rested lightly against her, draped over the form of what looked like two perfect, swollen, deliciously full tits capped by nipples just dark enough and hard enough to be seen through the fabric before falling loosely away, hiding the rest of her curves beneath it.

Well, most of her curves. The hem of the shirt ended mere inches away from the junction of her legs, close enough that I could imagine the treasure that lay just above those smooth, milky white thighs.

"Did you get lost on your way home?" she asked, and there was definitely amusement in her tone.

"No," I finally managed to say as I tore my eyes away from her legs. "I got... I left. Her."

Her lips parted and her expression changed.

"You left Liz?" she repeated. "Like... like forever?"

"I... maybe," I said haltingly. "Or she... she might have left me. Metaphorically, I mean. She's... she's at home. You know, I don't..."

Mallory reached forward and took my hand, pulling me off her front step and into the warm and dry darkness of her house.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

"Yeah."

"No, you're not." She spoke patiently, still holding my hand, her fingers warm against my soaked and clammy skin.

"No, I am," I said, and was almost surprised by the fact that I meant it. "I... I feel..."

"Feel what?" she prompted.

I probably should have just said something like "good" or "okay" or "relieved," but I couldn't quite bring myself to lie to Mallory.

I also couldn't bring myself to answer truthfully, since admitting to her that I was horny as fuck didn't seem entirely appropriate. It also probably had a lot to do with the unexpected sight of her in that fucking t-shirt that was driving me wild and less to do with what she was actually asking me about.

Instead, I just shook my head. She looked at me, those huge eyes full of empathy.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But also, I'm not sorry. I'm glad you're getting out."

I felt the corners of my mouth flick upwards, a sound like a cough managing to escape in place of laughter. "Me... me too. I think."

She smiled softly. "I'd hug you, but you're sopping wet."

I glanced down at my rain-soaked clothes, so wet that they'd dripped onto the tile in her front entryway.

"Sorry," I said.

"We can change that quite easily."

I didn't look up at her. I didn't need to; the suggestion was in her voice, the hint, the invitation to see up close and personally what she'd done to fuck up her marriage.

And wasn't that how all of this happened in the first place? Isn't that how it happened with Liz, all those years ago? Working together late one night, her tugging her shirt down just a bit lower as if I wouldn't notice her doing it, her sauntering up to me with her lip between her teeth and her auburn hair brushing her shoulders and her eyes pleading with me? Wasn't she the one who grabbed me, who pulled me to her, who initiated that first kiss that put everything in motion? She didn't know about my wife; she'd never seen my wedding ring, since I never wore it in the restaurant. But she'd started it all; she'd begged me to fuck her and how was I supposed to resist?

And Monica, friggin' Monica Halliday with her open relationship and her wine-scented breath, whispering in my ear that she knew how frustrated I was with Liz because she was Liz's best friend and best friends knew those things. Wasn't she the one who told me how much she wanted me, and who grabbed my hand and pulled me into my house and led me to my bathroom and got to her knees in front of me? Wasn't she the one who let me finish in her mouth, then pulled her panties off and sat on the bathroom counter and told me to eat her pussy?

How the fuck was anyone supposed to resist temptations like that?

"I'm sorry," Mallory said, pulling me out of my thoughts, and the sultry invitation was gone from her voice. "I... I thought you... I mean clearly, you don't--oh, God, why did I even say anything when you don't--"

"Mallory," I said, but she kept talking.

"--want to... I'm so dumb. I'm sorry. And after earlier when I--ugh. I'm just making a total ass of myself, aren't I? I just--this is why Jeremy always says--"

"Mallory," I said more insistently.

She stopped, looking up at me with shining eyes.

"You're not letting me answer," I said, almost amused.

She gave me a haughty look. "Oh, so the huge awkward pause where you weren't saying anything at all wasn't enough to come up with some sort of response?"

"Uh... no."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm really fucking horny and more than a little distracted," I said, glancing down her body meaningfully before looking back up.

Her jaw dropped almost comically, a slight tinge of pink bursting onto her cheekbones. I swallowed hard, but kept my eyes on hers.

"My marriage just ended and I'd really like to have sex with you," I said. "And if I've misread this, then I'm sorry and I'll go, no hard feelings and no... no nothing. You tell me to fuck off, I'll fuck off. But--"

"If I tell you to fuck me, you'll fuck me?" she interrupted.

"Without question."

She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile and failing miserably. "So you do want me?"

"Very much."

"Even though I'm..." The smile faded and she held her left hand up just enough that I could see the glint of gold on her finger.

"Your husband is shit," I said forcefully. "Trust me. I know shit husbands. I am... I was one. So no, I don't give a shit that you're married, because you deserve better than him."

There was no holding back her smile that time, and the moment that brightness crossed her face, I reached for her.

Despite her earlier statement about not hugging me because I was soaked, she didn't protest as I brought one hand to her cheek and the other to her waist, directing her chin up so I could finally capture those sweet lips as I pulled her body against me. She let out a soft, giggling squeal as my wet clothes pressed against her t-shirt, but it didn't stop her from kissing me back.

I groaned; I had to. She was warm; so warm, and I was so fucking cold. Her lips were like a demon's: scorching hot, devilishly insistent, deliciously addicting. Instantly, she owned me, and instantly, I felt my cock starting to harden beneath water-laden denim.

I ignored it for the moment; what mattered more was the feeling of Mallory's breasts pressed against my chest and the softness of her cheek beneath my fingers. What mattered was her silky smooth hair and her breath mixing with mine and the absolute need I had to feel everything all at once. I wanted her; I wanted all of her, every inch of her, I wanted to taste her pussy and squeeze her ass and lose my breath beneath the weight of her tits. And it took everything in me, fucking everything in me, not to immediately start ravishing her body.

No, despite all my flaws, I was not selfish. I was not about to use Mallory like she was a doll or a toy or some mindless bimbo who was just going to spread her legs and let me hump away until I was done. I was going to fuck her right and that meant not immediately groping and pawing at her like I'd never touched tits before.

Instead, I poured myself into kissing her, into worshiping her lips and trailing my fingertips down her neck. She shivered as I traced the collar of the t-shirt, and again when I wandered lower, and lower, and lower until my fingers were climbing the swell of her left breast. Her breathing quickened just slightly as I inched closer and closer to her nipple, just enough to make that soft catching sound in her throat as she anticipated my touch.

And then I didn't.

I moved my hand to her ribcage and felt a soft whimper against my mouth. I tried not to smirk; instead, I moved my lips to her jaw and then her neck, sucking lightly on the tender skin there. My hands skimmed along her side, taking in the gentle curve from her waist to her hip, teasing along her body carefully until she was squirming beneath my touch.

"Touch me, please," she whispered, her voice breathless in my ear.

That was it; there was no saying no to that. There was no way to keep treating her like she was glass, to keep savouring her body, to force patience on my impatient self. A rumbling groan started deep in my chest, a low vibration that betrayed how much I fucking needed this.

Almost without my permission, my hands moved from her hips to her ass. The hem of her shirt was pushed mindlessly out of the way and--oh God yes, I was fucking right, she had absolutely nothing on underneath.

The tips of my fingers played along the folds between her legs. She was already warm, already starting to get wet, but I didn't delve further into her slit. Instead, I filled each of my palms with her ass cheeks, grabbing so much of them that my fingers were buried in her crack and brushing against her asshole, and squeezed hard as I bit down lightly on her neck. She gasped, a high-pitched noise of surprise that almost turned into a moan; almost, because before she could moan, I'd claimed her mouth again.

Her hands fluttered inconsequentially against my biceps as I kissed her urgently. She nipped at my lip and I grunted, returning the action and earning a delighted sigh that made my cock twitch. Again I squeezed her ass, and again she made those muffled noises that were practically music.

God, she could be a fucking addiction.

She kissed me hard, then wormed her hands between our bodies and down my chest. I parted from her reluctantly, not ready to loosen my grip on her gorgeous ass but forced to by her hands trailing along the wet fabric of my shirt. She glanced up, biting her lip as she reached the hem, a silent question that I nodded the answer to.

Carefully, she stripped my t-shirt away from my stomach. The ghost of it remained, wet fabric replaced by cool air and goosebumps as Mallory pulled it higher and higher. Once she had it off, she let it fall to the ground with an entirely unsexy-sounding splat, but I barely heard it as she stared at my chest.

"You're lovely," she breathed after a moment, and yeah, hearing that from a gorgeous woman decades younger than me made me blush like I was a fuckin' schoolgirl. "Come with me."

And what was I gonna do, not let her take my hand and lead me down the hallway?

I wasn't stupid.

So I followed her, both desperately thankful that the flashlight didn't show more and aggravated that I could barely make out the sway of her ass beneath the t-shirt as she walked ahead of me. I wanted to see that more than anything; I wanted to watch the tantalizing peeks of flesh beneath fabric as she walked, but I also didn't know if I could handle such a thing without losing my fucking mind. So I just followed, but as soon as we were in the bedroom and the door was closed, I reached for her again.

"I want this off," I said, grabbing at her shirt.

She caught my hand, guiding it away as a wily glint appeared in her eye. Without saying anything, she stepped out of my reach and put the flashlight on her dresser.

I was captivated by the sight of her; by the t-shirt that was now clinging to her body, soaked through by the water from my clothes. It molded itself against her tits, barely concealing the darkness of her nipples even in the dim light. She looked like something ethereal; a mermaid or a goddess or a siren, something mystical and beautiful, something that absolutely didn't look like a woman who had given birth five months earlier. I mean, shit. It reminded me of Liz's body, how she'd bounced back so quickly even though it seemed like her mind hadn't, and how fucking sexy she'd looked when her breasts were--

I stopped myself. I wasn't thinking about Liz. I didn't... I was done with Liz.

I was fucking done with her.

Mallory aided my distraction by peeling her shirt off. I stared unabashedly as she revealed herself to me, drinking in the sight of rosy nipples and the enticing shape of her pussy topped with a small patch of red curls surrounded by perfectly smooth skin.

Fuck, she was just so... fuck.

"You look like you've never seen a naked woman before," she said.

"It's been a while," I choked, and she threw her head back as she laughed.

"Come here," she directed, and I went.

She had trouble undoing my jeans, partly because they were wet, partly because my cock was so hard they felt tighter than anything I'd worn in my adult life, mostly because I was so busy pawing at her tits that she could barely get her hands between us. Her breasts were spectacular, full and heavy and firm in my hands, and it was only when she teasingly slapped my wrist that I stopped grabbing them.

She took the opportunity to finish undoing my jeans and kindly didn't laugh as I awkwardly tried to remove the rest of my wet clothing. Once it was gone, she made me stand back so she could have her turn to look again, and it felt like my cock only got harder when she licked her lips as she stared at it.

Without warning, she dropped to her knees, big eyes gazing up at me as she nestled between my legs. She looked away from me once she wrapped her fingers around my cock and I twitched beneath her palm, and again when she started to stroke me. I felt my mouth drop open as her tongue darted out to lick up the precum that had started leaking from my tip.

"Mmm," she said, glancing back up just before attempting to swallow my entire cock.

I groaned. Loudly. I couldn't help it. Her mouth was fucking amazing, just so... unghhh. It was hot and it was wet and her tongue swirled around the head of my cock, flicking against all the sensitive spots like she knew exactly which ones would make me tremble before her. She bobbed her head a few times before attempting to swallow me again, then pulled back and started to stroke me as she kissed her way down my shaft.

When she reached the base of my cock, she glanced up, then pressed a final kiss against it before licking my balls.

I almost lost my mind.

None of the women I'd been with--none of the ones before my first wife, and not my first wife, my current wife, or the woman I'd fucked while I was married--had ever done that.

Mallory, though?

Fuck.

I was way too distracted to think about what it said about her, but she knew her way around a cock.

I mean, she didn't even sit me down, didn't even wait for me to ask, just got on her knees in front of me. She licked my cock and sucked my balls and just... just worshiped my cock with her mouth, all the while looking up at me with big, sparkling blue eyes. After a while she moved back to my shaft, pink lips stretching around me as I filled her mouth. At some point, I'd apparently grabbed her hair, and it was soft and silky beneath my palm as she bobbed her head.

It was around the time I noticed I had her hair in my hands that she stopped fondling my balls. She looked up at me meaningfully, put her hand over mine, and pressed it harder against her head.

Oh, fuck.

I wasn't ashamed about the size of my dick. It wasn't like I was hugely well-endowed; I was about the average size, if the slightly exaggerated size men claimed was "average" was the actual average. So, maybe a little bigger than the actual average, but not enough that women were complaining it was too big. It wasn't something I bragged about or anything, and I only brought it up to make it clear how impressive it was when Mallory shoved the entire thing down her throat.

Whether she felt my knees trembling or just really knew how to give head, I didn't know, and it didn't matter. She put her hands on my ass, steadying me as she fucked my cock with her face, as my saliva-coated shaft pumped in and out of her mouth and the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat.

And God, oh God did I want nothing more than to finish in her mouth. And maybe if I was twenty years or so younger, I would've, and I would've watched it drip from her mouth and let the sight of my cum all over her beautiful lips get me hard all over again so I could fuck the hell out of her.

But I was not twenty or so years younger and I had no idea if I was even capable of two rounds. I was fairly sure I was, was fairly certain I could probably fuck her three times, maybe, but I wasn't about to risk it.

"Mallory," I gasped. "Honey, you gotta stop."

Her eyes had been closed, but she opened them and held my gaze as she stilled, then slowly pulled my cock out of her throat.