Lips of an Angel

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice husky.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Not wrong. Too, uh... too good."

"Oh." She smiled knowingly, pressed a final kiss to the tip of my glistening cock, and stood up. "Well, it's a good thing you stopped me. I'm not done with you yet."

Thank God.

While I fought to cool down a bit, I took Mallory in my arms and kissed her again. My cock pressed against her stomach, trapped between our bodies as I held her firmly against me. That was still almost a bit too much, so I very carefully used my hips to nudge her towards the bed. As soon as she was there, I guided her onto her back. She giggled and scooted further up on the bed, her knees bent as she leaned back onto her pillow.

It was her hair that caught me; the way it fanned out behind her as she lay back. Suddenly, her hair wasn't red flicked with gold; suddenly it was auburn, thick and full and rich. Suddenly her eyes weren't bright blue; they were dark, sapphires pooled with water and rimmed with thick black lashes. Suddenly she wasn't Mallory; suddenly she was Liz on our wedding night, when I'd stripped every last piece of lacy white lingerie off her beautiful body before sinking my cock inside her.

"Are you just gonna look or are you gonna join me?"

My heart stuttered and I blinked as Mallory became Mallory again. Shakily, I laughed, and shook off the strange feeling coursing through my body as I joined her on the bed.

I distracted myself by indulging in her body. My lips found that place on her neck again, the one that made her squirm and gasp, and from there I kissed down to her collarbone, then to her breasts.

Mallory really liked that.

Even if I'd wanted to, I don't think she would have let me move my mouth past her breasts. I had a hand between her legs, but I had no idea if she even noticed me fingering her. She was obsessed with the attention I paid to her breasts, writhing beneath me as I played with her nipples, flicking them with my tongue before sucking on them. The noises she made... I'd never heard anything like it, never had a sound make my cock ache like those sounds did. It was beautiful, fucking magical, listening to the sweet way she said my name over and over again as I lapped at those sensitive little nubs.

And then she begged.

"Please, Scott," she whispered, and suddenly I was twenty-four again, with a gorgeous auburn-haired waitress begging me to fuck her against a table.

It was almost aggravating how she popped into my head. I didn't want to think about Liz; I didn't want anything but to fuck Mallory, to feel that release, to be with someone who fucking wanted me for once.

"Please--" she started to say again, but before she could say my name, I moved up her body and kissed her heatedly.

"You're so fucking sexy," I mumbled against her mouth. "I wanna be inside you."

"Yes," she groaned, spreading her legs further as I held myself over her. "Yes, please."

My cock was so close to her mound. I knew how wet she was, how fucking soaked with juices her pussy was, and I could practically feel the heat rising off her. Slowly, I put a hand between us, reaching for my cock so I could guide myself inside of her. For half a heartbeat, I waited to see if she'd tell me to stop, that she wanted me to wear a condom, and I'd swallow hard and begrudgingly agree to it because even though I was shooting blanks, I didn't want her to think... well.

But she didn't say anything, and when the tip of my cock reached her waiting hole and I asked if she was sure, if it was still okay for me to fuck her, if she was having second thoughts, she reached up and pulled me in for a kiss.

"You said if I told you to fuck me, you'd fuck me," she whispered.

"Yes," I replied.

"So fuck me, Scott."

I didn't wait another moment. With her lips still on mine, I slid my cock inside her, barely able to stop my eyes from rolling back in my head as the slick walls of her pussy embraced me.

She moaned; I felt it, not just the vibrations against my mouth but the sensation of it surging through my veins, urging me on, telling me to give in and just fuck her already.

So I did.

The moments themselves melded together. I felt her legs wrapped around my waist. I felt her lips on mine, her breath against my cheek, her nipples beneath my palms. I heard her moan my name again and again, the same way I moaned hers. I felt that tension start up, that build up of pressure, and as much as I tried to slow myself down, I couldn't get enough of her. I lost myself, my mind in a haze, and all I could focus on was how good her pussy felt, how delicious her mouth was, how much I loved the feeling of her nails digging into my back.

I was close--not quite there, but definitely close--when I heard her gasp and felt her clench around me just a little tighter. Moments later, she was panting, mumbling soft words against my mouth.

"Dontstopdontstopdontstop," she pleaded, her voice high-pitched and her eyes squeezed shut. "Don't stop, Scott, I'm gonna--I'm so close, oh my God, please--"

"Come for me, honey," I murmured. "Come on my cock, that's what I'm here for."

She whimpered, then wailed. I don't know how Ellie slept through it, but it didn't matter; Mallory was coming, and she was coming so fucking hard that I could barely move. Her pussy was gripping me as tightly as her arms were, her body shaking and trembling beneath me. I watched her, completely enthralled, entirely captivated by the way her back arched and her lips parted and her neck bared itself to me.

That moment lasted forever; all too soon, it was over, and she slumped back against the bed as I resumed fucking her. Her eyes opened and she smiled up at me as I worked towards my own orgasm, her eyes bright and satisfied and so, so blue.

"Are you close?" she asked as I fucked her.

"Uh-huh," I grunted.

She looked slightly alarmed. "Don't come in me."

Fuck.

"Come in my mouth," she continued.

Oh, fuck.

The words alone almost made me come.

I pulled out; she scurried out from beneath me. She pushed on my chest, forcing me onto my back, then shoved my cock back in her mouth and down her throat.

It didn't take long before I reached the point where I couldn't stop myself, where I had to grab her hair and warn her she was about to get a throatful of cum, where I was hearing angels sing as the pressure finally released and I was pumping my load into her mouth. I felt her tongue against me and the muscles in her throat flex as she swallowed, and I would've sworn that woman was sucking my entire soul out through my dick.

She held my cock in her mouth for a while after I was spent, kissing it and licking it as I gasped for breath. When she finally released me, she crawled up beside me and let me wrap my arms around her, holding her against my chest so I could kiss her head and bury my face in her hair.

"That was amazing," she murmured.

"Mmm," I agreed.

"I mean, wow," she continued. "If I could get fucked like that all the time, I'd--"

But I never did find out what she'd do. My best guess was that she was going to say she'd stop cheating on her husband, who picked that moment to return home.

"Mallory!"

We both jumped at the sudden voice booming from the front of the townhouse. Mallory jolted upright, her eyes wildly alarmed.

"Jeremy," she whispered, and Ellie started crying from the other room, and I knew I was fucked.

Mallory managed to shrug a housecoat on and I somehow got my jeans on; apparently the threat of being discovered by the wife-beating husband of the woman I'd just fucked was enough of a motivator to make wet fabric slightly more compliant. But that was all I managed to get on, since the jacked-up fool that was apparently her husband was holding my t-shirt when the bedroom door swung open with a bang.

"Goddamnit, Mal, are you seriously back on this shit agai--" He stopped, staring straight at me. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Jeremy, I can explain!" Mallory said desperately.

"You can explain?" he shouted. "You can explain why you're fucking a guy who's... Jesus Christ, Mal, it was bad enough when it was Landon, now you're cheating on me with a guy your dad's age? You got fucking daddy issues now or something?"

"You need to calm down," I said harshly. "Lose the fuckin' tone and we can talk about this."

"Oh, sure, you want to talk about why you're fucking my wife?" Jeremy asked sarcastically. "Did she tell you she was married?"

"Don't," Mallory begged. "It's not what it looks like."

"It's not?" Jeremy turned to her. "'Cause it looks like you just fucked this guy. Did you just fuck this guy?"

"I... I..."

"So that's a yes?"

"I can explain," she said.

"You can explain after I kick this fucker's ass." Jeremy threw the wet t-shirt at me. "You wanna give me your name, fucker? Or can my wife give all your info to the paramedics after I'm done with you?"

"As long as it's my ass you're kicking and not hers," I said.

He stopped, staring at me. "What?"

"I said you can hit me, but if you hit your wife again, there's gonna be a problem," I said.

He turned back to Mallory. "I told you I was never gonna do that again. I fucking said--"

"You still did it!" she replied shrilly.

In the background, Ellie wailed.

"You said you forgave me!" Jeremy roared. "I told you I was fucking sorry, didn't I? And I'm never gonna do it again, even though you're such a goddamn slut that I can't be out of town for two goddamn days to work so our daughter has the fucking necessities and--"

"Don't call her a slut," I said heatedly.

"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife," he spat. "Especially not after you fucked her in my goddamn bed, you piece of shit."

"At least I don't hit my wife."

"Oh, you don't?" Jeremy laughed. "You just fuck other people's wives? What's your wife think of that?"

"How do you know I'm--"

"You've got a fucking wedding ring, you moron," he said. "Just like she does. Just like I do. Wanna see it?"

And then he punched me in the face, although I was fairly certain he used his right hand, which means he didn't actually show me his wedding ring.

I wasn't about to point that out to him though.

Instead, I reeled backwards, caught myself, and blocked the next fist that flew towards me; the left one, that time. He was quick, though, and before I could even try to hit him, he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the wall.

If I thought not coming in Mallory's mouth when she was going down on me the first time was hard, it was nothing compared to fighting with her husband. I wasn't in terrible shape; I jogged daily and ate healthy and played beer league baseball in the summer.

But I wasn't a fighter, and I wasn't in my mid-to-late-twenties-Liz-wasn't-really-sure, and the guy had to work some kind of construction or trades job that kept him ripped like a fucking MMA fighter.

He kicked my ass. There was no way around it. I got a couple of hits in; if he even noticed them, I would've been surprised. He, on the other hand, left some very noticeable marks on me. By the time the cops showed up, I had a black eye, a bloodied nose, and various other bruises on my arms and upper body.

The officer who pulled him off of me put him in handcuffs immediately; I had just enough time to catch most of my breath before they clinched them around my wrists.

"Why?" I panted.

"It's standard procedure when there's a domestic incident, sir," the officer said. "What's your name, please?"

"Scott," I mumbled.

"Scott what?"

I swallowed hard, nearly gagging on the taste of blood in my mouth. "Scott Roth."

The officer jotted that down, then frowned and looked up at me. "Wait, Liz's husband?"

My lack of an answer was apparently answer enough. The officer raised his eyebrows, then glanced at the other side of the room, where his partner was still detaining Jeremy.

Liz was going to fucking kill me.

**

By the time I was released, the storm had stopped and the clouds had parted, leaving the sky full of millions of tiny flickering stars to witness my walk of shame.

They didn't bring me down to the station. They didn't bring Jeremy there either, even though I pleaded with the officer to do it so that Mallory would be safe.

If it weren't for Mallory pleading with them not to take him to the station, they might've done it.

"Just stop, Scott," she had said when I told the officers I was worried for her safety.

I'd thought at first that she was the one who called the police, but she hadn't been. A concerned neighbour probably had after hearing the sounds of Jeremy beating my ass. My mouth dropped open and I looked at her. Her face was red, though whether it was from embarrassment, anger, or the last lingering effects of the screaming orgasm I'd given her, I didn't know. Given the pink flush on her collarbone, there was a pretty good chance it was the last one.

"You said--" I started.

"It's none of your business," she interrupted. "I'd like my husband to stay home tonight, please."

When the officers escorted me out of the house, she was sitting with Jeremy in the living room, trying to convince him that she'd mistaken me for him in the dark because of the power outage.

"There was a flashlight in the bedroom, Mal," I heard him say tiredly.

She paused. "Well, yes, but it was still dark and I..."

The front door closed behind me and I didn't hear the rest of her explanation.

"You're good to get yourself home?" the officer asked me as we walked towards my truck.

I nodded mutely.

"Listen, it's none of my business, but your wife--"

"It's none of your business," I said.

The judgement in his eyes was clearer than the sky was.

"Well, you be good to her," he said flatly. "Liz is a sweet lady."

Before I could respond, the front door of the townhouse opened.

"Wait up," Jeremy called, and I stiffened.

"Mr. St. John, I think you need to go back inside," the officer warned.

"I'm not gonna do shit," he said, walking up behind us with his hands raised non-threateningly. "I just wanted to ask Scott here one last thing."

"What?" I asked cautiously.

He folded his arms across his chest.

"Look, I... I have to ask, okay, and I know it's kinda sick, but..." He took a deep breath. "Did you come inside her?"

"What?"

Even the officer looked shocked.

"I said, did you--"

"I heard you," I said hurriedly. "I just... no."

He looked at me hard. "Tell me the truth, bud. Let me remind you that you just fucked my--"

"I know what I did," I said. "And I didn't... no. I didn't. And even if I had, I've had a..." I sighed. "I had a vasectomy so there's no chance I knocked your wife up."

Jeremy swallowed hard and then nodded brusquely. "Good. I just needed to... you know. Know."

"Are we done?" the officer asked.

"Yeah," Jeremy said, turning on his heel.

"Don't hit her," I said.

He stopped and looked back at me. "The fuck you say?"

"I said don't fucking hit her." I glared at him. "Regardless of the fact that she totally changed her tune the second you got home, I know what she told me, and I know--"

"I know." Surprisingly, he laughed. "Total one-eighty, right? I swear to God, she's fuckin' crazy." He shook his head, a look of pain on his face. "I love that damn woman so fucking much, but she's just... I'm not perfect. I know I've fucked up, okay? I know she's gonna make me pay for that for the rest of my goddamn life and I'm fine with it." He glared at me again, his eyes like stone. "I'm not gonna ever hit her again, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna beat the shit out of anyone who thinks they can just fuck my wife whenever they want."

"Mr. St. John, uttering threats in front of an officer of the law--" the officer started.

"I'm not threatening shit," Jeremy scoffed. "Whatever, man. Go home to your wife and enjoy explaining what a piece of shit you are."

He left, and the officer made sure I got in my truck, then watched to make sure I drove away, and even though the last place I knew I'd be welcome was at home, that's where I went.

I couldn't think of where else to go.

The garage door was still open when I drove up; Liz's car was still inside. I parked in the garage like I always did and sat for a moment, then pulled out my phone and dialled Liz's number.

At the very least, I owed her a head's up I was there.

But to my surprise, she didn't answer, and when I cautiously let myself into the house and called out, she didn't respond.

Heart racing, I searched for her. I checked the basement, the bedrooms, all the bathrooms. I looked out into the yard, called her name, getting more desperate when I discovered her cell phone sitting on the kitchen table. She never went anywhere without her phone. Her keys were still hanging on the hook by the door. Her purse was in its usual spot. The only thing she apparently had with her was her shoes.

Panicked, I put my flashlight on the counter and paced the darkened kitchen, trying to figure out what to do.

Did I call the police? Did they... I mean, this was completely out of character for Liz. Was that enough of a reason for her to be considered missing?

And what about the fact that I'd... well. I'd ended our marriage. Sort of. I mean, I said I was going to leave to give her space. She said if I left, it was over. I said we'd talk in the morning. She asked if it was all an excuse so I could go fuck Mallory. I said yes.

So I think that meant I was the one who ended the marriage.

And what if she was just out walking or something? Clearing her head?

And what if she got hurt while she was out walking, and she didn't have her phone, and...

"Scott?"

I jumped and whirled around.

"Liz," I said, and I was so relieved to see my wife standing in the entryway to the kitchen that I went to her without thinking, intending to wrap my arms around her. It was only when I was close enough that the light from the flashlight brightened her face that I realized she was smiling.

She was smiling.

Not just any smile; her smile, the smile I'd fallen in love with, a smile that I hadn't seen for so long, I'd forgotten the effect it had on me. It transformed her face, her eyes glimmering brightly, every bit of her looking the same way it had when I'd first fallen for her all those years ago.

And being the fucking moron I was, for a moment, I thought it was for me, and I smiled back. Stupidly, I thought it was because she was happy to see me. That she didn't want our marriage to end, that she wanted to patch things up, that for some reason, she wanted me back.

But then I realized her lips were... different.

They were swollen.

Her skin was flushed.

Her hair was...

The smile faded from my face.

Her hair was a mess, sticking out haphazardly in every direction, and there were leaves stuck in it. Her clothes were all rumpled and her shirt was on inside out and the fact that her nipples were poking through the fabric told me that she didn't have a bra on. And if that wasn't enough, there were tiny marks all over her chest and neck, little bites that dotted her perfect skin, and she smelled like... well. I knewthat smell.

The point was, she was smiling like an angel, and I was not the man who put that smile there.

"Where were you?" I asked shakily.

She didn't answer, just frowned as she looked at me.

"What happened to your face?" she asked.

It was my turn not to respond, which was enough for her to figure out what had happened.

"Jeremy came home?"

I nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said, and like the actual angel she was, she genuinely sounded sympathetic.

"Where were you?" I asked again.