Page 57 of Angels Fall

My hand finds its way behind the white lace at her hips and my fingers land on the soft, already wet flesh between her legs and I say, “No, they won’t. They’re adults.”

I drop my mouth to her neck and nibble at the skin along her throat and up to behind her ear. She’s wearing beautiful earrings and I take them in my mouth along with her earlobe, sucking and tugging at the skin and allowing my hot breath to pulse in her ear, the whole time working my fingers inside the folds of her pussy.

Her head drops back, like it’s done every time I reach into her, and with my other hand I force her to undo my pants and take hold of my cock.

She moans as I get two fingers worked high into her and then she pushes me backwards against the wall, kissing and pulling on my shaft. She grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head, pausing as she sees the fresh splotches of red that have yet to become scars themselves dotting my body along with the long-forgotten scars that have settled into their final resting places.

“Is that what I did?” she asks.

“It’s what we did,” I tell her. “Did it feel good? To do it? To punish me?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“OK.”

I finger her deeper and she coos. It makes me harder.

Then she pulls my fingers from inside her and places my arms at my sides. She begins kissing the healing wounds. She rests her palms on my stomach and kisses her way down. Starting at my collarbone, working down my sternum, kissing, licking, nuzzling every rugged edge of me.

She goes down on her knees and pulls off my boots, one at a time, then draws my jeans down to my ankles and pulls them free as I step out. She looks up at me and I run my fingers through her hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say.

She says nothing, puts her hands on my hips, and flicks at the tip of my dick with her tongue.

“Fuck,” I gasp.

She slides the very edge of her tongue inside the slit in my tip, wrapping her lips around the head, building pressure as she lets her tongue swirl around. I fist her hair and force her head all the way down my length, and she bobs back and forth, making me dizzy.

I glance ahead and see us in the full-length mirror she was looking at herself in when I interrupted her. Me, battered and bloodied but still here. Her, without visible scars, but no less punctured and bruised. And also still here.

I watch the ocean of red hair push in and out. In and out as she sucks and licks and teases my cock. Her gorgeous ass is propped on her heels and her back arches and bends with every movement she makes to consume me.

I push her head gently back, withdrawing myself from her mouth, and a strand of saliva pulls back with her, like it’s a lifeline connecting us and is afraid to let go. We won’t be apart for long.

I take her by the shoulders, stand her up, and turn her around so that we’re both facing the mirror. I drape one arm around her chest and the other around her waist. I kiss her shoulder, put my cheek next to hers, and say, “I want you to see everything.”

“Why?” she asks, a hint of sorrow in the question.

“Because,” I say, “I want you to understand.”

We stare at our reflection, her looking into my eyes and me into hers. I’m waiting for her to ask, “Understand what?” But she doesn’t. She says, “I want that too.”

And then she takes my hands and pulls me with her over to the mirror. She places her palms on either side of the frame, sticks her ass out to me, spreads her legs, and, looking up at my reflection in the glass in front of us, says, “Make me understand.”

MADDIE

He stands there for a moment, not breaking eye contact with our reflection, then he bows his head down to kiss me on the shoulder again. He presses his cock up against my ass and I take a breath at how hard and perfect his dick is. Each time I feel it it takes me by surprise. Like it’s the first time.

He takes my breasts in his hands, pulling the material of my bra down just enough to pinch my nipples as he kisses down my spine. He keeps kissing down, and down, sliding his hands along my stomach as he pulls back. I have a moment of what I can only call separation anxiety when his dick loses contact with my ass, like it’s somehow going away for good and I’ll never feel it again. I try to shake that notion from my head. Not because it might be true, but because I don’t want to care if it is.

And then I’m not thinking anything because I feel something warm. I look into the mirror and all I can see is myself bent over and, down below my spread legs, him on his knees, his massive cock pointed directly north. His face is obscured by my backside and I feel him pulling my panties to the side and then spreading my ass with his thumbs.

His warm breath is on my rear and then suddenly his tongue is inside it. He’s reaching around, rubbing my clit, and tonguing my asshole. My eyes squeeze shut tightly and I can feel water gathering at the corners of them.

Now that his mouth is on me, he’s burying himself inside me. Lapping and prodding. His one hand is still rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles, and two fingers of his other hand are inside my pussy, spreading me open, massaging my walls.

I let out a sound that’s not quite a moan, not quite a cry. A combination of both. A sound I don’t recall ever having made before in my life. And I can feel his smile spread across my skin.