Page 22 of Fallen Angel

Jocelyn walks to the door and it closes with a sharp click.

She returns to stand behind Violet, intent on her handiwork between Mallory’s legs. Jocelyn leans down, and at first Mallory thinks she’s getting a closer look at Violet’s painting but realizes she’s reaching around to cup Violet’s breasts. Violet, ignoring Jocelyn’s touch, stays focused on her brushstrokes. Jocelyn pulls down the bustier, baring Violet’s ample and—Mallory hates to admit—perfect breasts. She can’t resist watching Jocelyn’s fingers graze Violet’s hard nipples, and she feels a quiver between her legs.

“Almost done,” Violet says calmly, as if an extremely attractive woman isn’t fondling her. Mallory dares to take a peek at the image on her leg; Violet has painted a wide-open purple flower that looks like an engorged vulva.

“What is that?” Mallory says.

“It’s a violet, obviously.” Violet takes a step back to admire her handiwork. Meanwhile, Jocelyn is still touching her.

“I’ll blow on it so it dries faster,” Violet says, and before Mallory can protest, she kneels down and pulls aside her panties, blowing gently on her pussy.

Violet holds Mallory’s underwear aside with one hand, and with the other she brushes her thumb against her clit. They lock eyes as Violet presses a finger deep inside her just as the door to the room opens with a click.

It’s Alec.

Chapter Twelve

It never crossed Mallory’s mind to question if the door was locked. She’d officially left the realm of rational thought. And it was a disaster.

Alec takes a moment to process the scene in front of him, then looks at Mallory questioningly. Her heart pounds wildly and she has no idea what to say, no idea how to begin explaining herself. She’s not even sure what he’s seen.

“Don’t you knock?” Violet says.

“And interrupt all the fun?” His eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Well, that’s impossible. So if you’re going to stay, you can at least make yourself useful. See if that door locks,” Violet says.

Mallory’s gotta do something to get control of this situation. She stands up to leave, but Alec doesn’t seem to be interested in walking out. He examines the old-fashioned knob and turns the lock with a sharp click that echoes in the high-ceilinged room.

“Why don’t you sit on the couch and watch. If you’re a good boy, maybe we’ll invite you to join in,” Violet says.

Mallory can tell that Alec is about to say something—maybe tell her to fuck off. But Jocelyn is now once again touching Violet’s exposed breasts. Alec—always up for adventure—accepts her direction and sits on the couch.

Violet returns her attention to Mallory, “I’m not finished with your flower,” Violet says, and it could not sound any more suggestive.

Unsure what to do—no longer sure what she wants to do—she glances at Alec, and he smiles. If she insists on leaving now, it will look like she’s only interested in being adventurous when he’s not in the room. And that’s not the message she wants to send. The only way to do damage control in this situation is to include him.

She returns to her seat on the stool, and Violet kneels before her and tugs off her underwear, careful not to smear the paint of her own artwork.

Violet turns to Jocelyn. “You sit on the couch, too. Don’t distract me.”

Mallory doesn’t dare look at Alec. She feels like her attraction to Violet must be palpable, and wonders if Alec wants her, too. Actually, she doesn’t want to know.

When Violet blindfolds her with her own underwear, the decision is made for her: She won’t be looking at anyone. Mallory reaches up to adjust the fabric and Violet pushes her hand away.

“Spread your legs,” she says. Mallory complies, but still Violet presses her knees apart still farther. Then, shockingly, Violet licks the outside of her pussy. Mallory resists the urge to take off her blindfold, barely able to endure the thought of Alec watching. But then Violet slides her finger inside her and rational thought evaporates. She gives herself over to the waves of pleasure.

Violet’s tongue stops, and all Mallory feels is the slow pulse of her fingers—one inside, one massaging her clit. If she were more relaxed, she would come, but the scenario she’s in makes that impossible. She pulls down the makeshift blindfold to find Violet watching her intently.

“Don’t make me tie you up,” she says, her voice throaty with desire.

But Mallory barely hears her. She’s focused on Alec.

More specifically, on Alec with a completely naked Jocelyn on his lap.

Jocelyn is straddling him, one knee on either side of his waist, her pussy grinding against him, his cock visibly hard in his jeans. His hands cup her ass, his face dipping down to her tiny, pert breasts.

Mallory’s stomach tilts, and before she can speak, Violet says, “Forget about them. Let me fuck you.”