by Nan Comargue
He looked down at his hands. “Erica and I had an argument.”
“I’m sorry,” Mallory lied as she pushed herself up on her elbows. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. His hair was flat now. Had they argued before or after they had sex? The state of his hair suggested after.
Mallory turned her watch to face her. It was only nine-thirty. Maybe not—unless Jamie was a quick trigger. And she really didn’t imagine he was.
Despite his negative response, she got the feeling that he wanted to talk. She started to shift her feet out from behind him so that he could sit properly.
“No, don’t.”
His voice was low, barely audible but the message was clear when he turned to grab hold of her ankles. Lifting them a little, he slid back into the sofa cushions then let her legs drape over his thighs.
He touched his finger to one of her stilettos. “You always wear high heels, don’t you?”
Mallory remained still. “They give me a few precious inches,” she answered. Why did her voice sound so breathless?
He smiled. “Do you usually sleep in them too?”
“No, not usually.”
He didn’t wait for any further invitation to slip the shoes off her feet. His hands continued to rest over her bare feet, cupping her insteps in his palms. He had big hands. Manly hands.
Mallory wondered suddenly just how manly the rest of him was. His cock for instance…
“Your feet are so small,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on his hands as he stroked them.
“Just like the rest of me,” Mallory quipped before she realized just how provocative that sounded.
Jamie’s hands moved up her legs ever so slowly, touching her skin with the flat of his palms, finding the hidden places behind her knees. A shiver started at her toes and worked its way up through her body. Her nipples were hard, their state clearly visible through her thin bra and blouse.
Jamie was staring at her breasts, his lips parted. Mallory wanted to hide them. She wanted to strip off her clothes and let him see all of her. She wanted to do both equally at the exact same time. It was extremely frustrating.
His hand was under her skirt now, his fingers trembling with want. Goose bumps broke out over her flesh. He was so eager. So…young.
Focus. She needed to focus.
She was here to betray him, not to be seduced. But nonetheless that was what he was doing. Seducing her.
Mallory shut her eyes. His strong fingers had found the damp patch in her panties caused by his touch. He rubbed her through the thin cloth, made transparent by the moisture she was emitting. With her feet elevated in his lap, he had a perfect view between her legs.
His delicate rubbing was making her even wetter. Her pussy felt soaked.
Mallory’s head rested on the sofa as she let her knees fall further apart. For a second, Jamie froze. She could feel the tension hardening every muscle in his body. Then his hand moved to hook the side of her panties and pull the damp material away.
Heat coursed through Mallory’s entire frame.
This boy, her best friend’s nephew, was staring at her bare pussy. And she loved it.
He muttered something—it sounded like “God, Mal!”—before his fingers caressed her wetness, tracing the slick curves of her vagina, the tight whorl of her clit. Her entire pussy swelled beneath his touch, reaching out to him, until he made her cry out. She rotated her hips against his hand, wanting more.
He gave it to her, slowly penetrating her sheath with his forefinger. She moaned in frustration. It wasn’t enough.
Jamie mimicked the movement of a cock, thrusting one and then two fingers inside her pussy, stretching her internal walls to his shape. Then suddenly he withdrew his fingers.
Mallory felt bereft then embarrassed. She scrambled to sit up just in time to see him stick his fingers into his mouth and taste her juices.
The sight swamped her completely, flooding her pussy with more cream. Her entire body felt heavy, filled with desire for him, this golden boy with the pronounced bulge in his worn jeans.
Her mouth was watering.
“Let me take care of that.” She slipped to the floor before him.
He widened his knees to allow her to slide between them. Mallory unzipped his jeans, freeing his massive penis. It was golden like the rest of him. Long and thick. Delicious.
She nuzzled his cock with her lips, getting to know the size and shape of him, but even that gentle tease made him groan in pain. He was close to the edge. She could hear it in his voice.
Licking the tip of his shaft, Mallory glanced up at his face. His eyes weren’t squeezed shut as she’d expected but narrowed into midnight-blue slits. He was watching her enjoy his dick. The thought made her shiver with delight.
Holding his gaze, she took his cock head into her mouth and eagerly suckled it. As she got accustomed to the width of him, she drew his dick deeper inside, relaxing her throat muscles to accommodate his above-average length.
This time Jamie’s moan was long and loud. As she sucked him off, he tangled his fingers into her hair, gently tugging on the thick, dark strands. But she wanted his fingers somewhere else. Stroking her sensitive nipples. Rubbing her clit again.
As soon as his hips began to thrust into her mouth Mallory carefully withdrew. The tip of his cock left her lips with an audible smack. She bent to kiss the slick head, licking away a pearly drop of pre-cum. Beautiful.
Jamie was still staring down at her, his eyes soft and bemused.
“Come here,” he growled, pulling her up and onto his lap. Her legs splayed naturally around his hard thighs, his stiff, wet rod trapped between his belly and hers. She couldn’t resist stroking it, watching as her fingers greedily encircled its width.
When she looked up, she realized that he wasn’t watching her touch him as she’d assumed. He was staring into her face.
He cupped her chin in one broad palm as he lowered his head to hers. Their lips met in a hot, hungry press. Almost immediately Jamie was seeking entrance beyond her lips and she readily parted them for him, giving him complete access. His tongue was busy and rapacious, searching out every crevice of her mouth. As soon as it stilled, Mallory suckled it eagerly, drawing a prolonged moan from deep in his chest.
His hands braced her back, holding her close but it wasn’t close enough. His penis was still nestled into the warm curve of her hand. She squeezed it experimentally and he groaned again.
He broke their kiss, his mouth travelling blindly over her cheek to her ear.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered.
The words wrenched her. Make love. It sounded so lovely, so innocent. When was the last time she’d thought of making love to a man? She screwed them. She fucked them. She didn’t make love with them.
“I want to fuck you, baby,” she murmured back. “I want to ride this cock until you collapse.”
He surged to his feet, picking her up in his strong arms. “Not like this. I need to feel all of you. I want you beneath me. I want to see how those incredible golden eyes look when you come.”
He carried her to his bedroom, where she was relieved to see that the sheets were smooth.
This time he got his way.
He undressed her with clumsy fingers, making Mallory flinch as he broke two buttons from their moorings. Then he laid her on his bed and she forgot about the damaged blouse as he stripped for her.
He was perfect. His skin was a beautiful, even tan across his wide shoulders and chest, down to his sculpted abs, over his narrow hips until it became abruptly pale around that stiff golden cock.
She barely got her fill of him before he was lowering his body on top of hers. He was burning up but that didn’t stop her from running her hands over his taut body and squeezing his tight ass.
He kissed her again, their tongues battling each other, as he touched her all over. His hands cupped and shaped her breasts, briefly pinching her nipples hard enough to make her gasp before
one swept down over her body and sunk into her wet folds. Her cunt was on fire for him and she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing up against his fingers, seeking release.
Except it wasn’t his hand that wanted her pussy.
Jamie trailed hot little kisses down between the valley of her breasts, pausing to suck one nipple and then the other into his mouth before he ventured down her stomach, across her abdomen, to her throbbing core.
The first touch of his lips against her cunt made her cry out. Then he licked his tongue flat against her pussy and she could do nothing except grip his hair in her hands and moan. He lapped up her cream, suckling her soft nether lips into his mouth, his tongue following the hidden curves of her vagina. He encircled her entire pussy but he still didn’t touch her swollen clit, which was throbbing as powerfully as her heart in a fierce rhythm that was made up of both pleasure and pain.
He lifted his head, not to attack her clit finally but to surge upward to cover her again. His mouth locked on hers and Mallory sighed as she tasted her own juices on his lips and tongue. Below, his dick was demanding entrance into her wet hole.
“Condom,” she managed to gasp and had to put up with his brief absence as he rummaged in the drawer next to the bed and came up with a foil wrapper. Then she watched to ensure that he put it on properly. His fingers were shaking badly.
Mallory welcomed him back down on top of her, her knees splaying wide and her fingers latching onto his sweet ass as he finally entered her pussy. He was going too fast, not allowing her to get accustomed to his girth before he was inches deep inside her. But she was wet already and his penetration was soon a pleasure rather than a discomfort, made even better as she slid her hand between them and rubbed her aching clit.
Her pussy opened up even wider to accommodate him and she was soon moaning in delight as she took his cock deep in her cunt. It was the largest one she’d ever had inside of her and he certainly knew how to use it, grinding and twisting against her until her fingers became superfluous.
He kept up the twisting action as he began to thrust in earnest, pounding her wide-open pussy and managing to hit her pearl as well. His balls made a soft slapping sound against her thighs. Above it a woman was screaming.
Was that her?
He lifted her ass at the last minute to penetrate her as deeply as he could, his cock reaching the tip of her uterus with every hard thrust. Mallory’s head lolled back against the bed. She was so close. Her clit was on fire. Her whole channel felt stretched and filled to the brim. It was a completeness she’d never even known she was missing.
“God, Mal!” He shouted her name as his shoulders began to shake and his hips spasmed against hers. He came with one aggressive push and held his staff hard inside of her as his climax ripped through him.
Feeling his dick jerk inside her, Mallory’s body let go. Her vision exploded into a rain of bright stars as she orgasmed, her small frame shaking uncontrollably beneath his much larger body.
He was still moving inside of her, gently now, his mouth pressing kisses against her lips and face, murmuring words she didn’t want to hear.
It cost her a supreme effort to ignore the fierce pleasure still coursing through her body and raise her hand to brush the gold hair from his forehead.
“Jamie,” she said, “we should talk.”
Chapter Two
Present day
A pile of bills sat on her apartment floor when she pushed open the front door. Mallory stooped to gather them up, meaning to throw them onto the growing stack sitting on her coffee table. Except she didn’t.
Two weeks of correspondence sat on the table already. She had to face it sometime. After the day she’d had at work she might as well do it now. Her life couldn’t exactly get worse, could it?
Thirty-eight years old and everything she’d accomplished was housed in this small, dingy apartment. She’d sold her house two months ago and she still hadn’t quite gotten used to making the left turn from the main street onto this one. Her old home was the other way—a right turn, just five hundred yards away but what a world of difference! Her old house was on a leafy street meant for people on their way up. This part of the city was reserved for those who were on their way down. Like her.
The first two envelopes were legal bills. God, did they send them every week now?
Her eyes focused on the past due amount. It was considerably smaller now. Why was that?
She found the answer in a minute. Her divorce settlement. The law firm had credited it against her amount owing. She and Paul hadn’t owned much of the house even after seven years in the place but to see her half of it swallowed up before it ever made it into her hands was depressing.
It was a good thing she hadn’t counted on that money for anything, like a down payment on a new place. With her new firm—the one Paul had encouraged her to start just before they split up—doing so poorly she’d never expected to own property after the divorce. Now it looked like she might never be able to own anything ever again.
Mallory wrote out a check for a hundred dollars to the lawyer. It would have to do for this month. The money would be coming off her overdraft in any case.
After she’d written a couple more checks, she knew she needed a drink.
In her fridge was a squeeze bottle of ketchup, a long-expired container of vanilla yogurt that she was afraid of opening and a bottle of champagne.
She slammed the door closed. She kept forgetting about the champagne. It had arrived the day her divorce became finalized, just a few days after she started living in the apartment. Paul’s idea of a joke no doubt. He could be odd in that way. Totally humorless most of the time, with those strange bursts of hilarity at words or actions no one else found funny. That should have been a warning sign. Now looking back, there seemed to be so many.
Checking the cupboards, she found a can of sliced mushrooms and a box of fluorescent pasta and cheese. She lacked the milk and butter to make the latter and the gastronomic fortitude to consume the former bare.
Mallory slammed the cupboard door. She needed to go grocery shopping. She needed to show some signs of life. After all the divorce hadn’t exactly come as a surprise. Her few friends told her that it was the best thing that could have happened to her and she didn’t disagree. She and Paul had never been right for each other. They’d clung together because they’d been tired of searching and afraid of being alone. Both terrible reasons to get married.
But instead of going out or even picking up the phone to place her usual takeout order, Mallory went back into the fridge and grabbed the bottle of champagne.
She popped the cork and started drinking straight from the bottle. Hell, there was no one there to see her.
* * * * *
The knocking at the door must have been going on for a long time before Mallory woke up because she’d incorporated it into her dreams. A woodpecker in a tree outside. A set of fireworks going off at an outdoor party.
When she did manage to slide off the couch and onto the floor, the first object she set eyes on was the half-empty bottle. Shit, had she drank all that? No wonder her head felt as if it was stuffed with steel wool.
Her front door suffered another barrage of knocks.
“I’m coming,” Mallory mumbled too softly to be heard beneath the raps.
Somehow she got to the door, her high heels threatening to buckle under her feet.
When she pulled it open, she confronted two tall blond men. No, wait, make that one tall blond man. Hang on, it was two again.
Mallory blinked solemnly at the men—or man. Did bill collectors show up at the door now?
“Can I help you?”
Through bleary eyes, it was hard to make out the expression on his face. He was dressed in a suit. A Jehovah’s Witness perhaps?
“Yes Mal, you can help me. You can invite me in.”
He knew her name. And she knew that voice.
“Jamie?”
He was inside her apartment before she realized it
, standing close to her. Automatically she stepped back and she sensed rather than saw the smile that flickered humorlessly across his face.
“What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes with the side of her hand. It didn’t help. He was still there.
“I wanted to share some of that champagne with you. But I can see that I’m too late.”
“It’s half-full,” Mallory protested before she quite understood the meaning behind what he was saying. “You sent the champagne? Why?”
Somehow without her realizing it he had caught her hand and was steering her firmly toward the couch. She knew that she ought to jerk away—if only because his touch was making her feel both thrilled and wretched—but at that moment he was the only solid thing in the apartment and she had no choice except to hang on.
He was bigger, she realized vaguely. An inch or two taller than she remembered. And he’d filled out, gaining a breadth of chest and shoulder that he hadn’t possessed a decade ago.
She drank the sight of him in.
That tall, muscular body. Those long legs that stretched out before him as he settled on the couch next to her. Those strong capable hands.
His eyes were darker, almost black. Or was that just the crummy lighting in her apartment? No, they were definitely darker than she remembered because the light didn’t affect his hair, which was the same gold. It contrasted well with his dark suit.
“I wanted to celebrate.”
It had taken him so long to respond that she didn’t connect what he said now with her question from a moment ago.
“Celebrate what?” she asked stupidly, pushing the heavy, tangled mass of her hair away from her face.
She must look like a mess. What a reunion! When she’d imagined this meeting in the past she was a successful businesswoman in her prime—and looking it.
Really she was just a failure.
Jamie had leaned forward to refill her glass. “We’re celebrating your freedom.”
The divorce. Of course he was here to rub it in.
Mallory let her head droop back against the couch. She ignored the glass he held out to her.
