Chapter 17

Andrew pet Da Vinci idly while the TV was on in the background. His attention was really on his phone, though, his eyes drawn to it even though he knew she wasn’t going to text him tonight.

He’d fallen into a routine all week with her, texting late into the night. They hardly ever ran out of things to say. He went to sleep every night this week feeling better than he had in years.

But tonight, Mal was at Nikki’s wedding. So he knew he wasn’t going to be getting any texts from her. Still ... his eyes kept flicking involuntarily to the phone beside him anyway, hoping he’d see it light up.

He hadn’t dared to tell Paul and Heather. Not yet. He knew how they’d react, of course. And he couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like he thought this was a good idea, necessarily ... but ... if the only risk was that he might get hurt ... hadn’t that already happened?

Too often, he’d been a passenger on the trip through his own life.

How am I ever going to get what I want if I don’t put myself out there?

He’d done that with Cameron, to a degree. Not too much, thankfully, so it didn’t hurt that much that he didn’t expect he’d hear from her again. Not after she ghosted him.

All in all, he was even more sure now that was really for the best. They were just two lonely people who’d needed someone to keep them warm at night. He’d served that purpose for her when she’d needed it, and it was a good memory. Now it would stay that way instead of becoming a bittersweet one when things inevitably frayed in the end.

Because whatever they’d been skirting around the edges of, it was never going to work. They just didn’t have anything in common. They couldn’t even hold a conversation without half of it being silence.

Usually her half. He smirked at that.

But with Mal? Even the silences felt electric. It had always been that way — and it still was, even after three years of being apart.

That didn’t mean Andrew wasn’t well aware he had a blind spot for his wife. Obviously he did. He had to make sure he wasn’t setting himself up for an even worse fall than he’d gone through last time.

If she was really going to do things differently this time, she’d have to show him. Andrew was determined to take it slow, so he could find out if this was real or just a desperate mirage they’d both conjured up.

In his head, he could feel Paul and Heather exchanging one of their looks.

Yeah, yeah—

KNOCK-KNOCK KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK ... KNOCK KNOCK.

He grinned, floating to the door. Da Vinci wasn’t as enthusiastic, immediately abandoning the couch cushion for the safe space underneath.

Mal stood on his stoop, her grin beaming bright enough to be a hazard to planes and ships. She was wearing a powder-purple bridesmaid gown with a long slit that showed off her toned, tanned leg practically from her mid-thigh. The dress clung to her body like it was made just for her. Her chocolate hair was done up into a braid that cascaded down her back and framed her glowing face, her cheeks slightly flushed — her hazel eyes alight with the kind of mischief that made his heart beat faster.

“I thought you had Nikki’s wedding?” he asked, half serious and half joking.

“Yeah,” she said with a kidding sigh. “I hung out at the reception for a while, but eh — felt like going for a walk. How ‘bout you?” She winked.

He didn’t see a car out there behind her. “Did you walk here?” he said, impressed.

She laughed. She had a contagious, delightful laugh that invited everybody who heard it to join in. “No, not in these heels.”

He turned aside for her to enter and she did, holding up a pair of sneakers. As he closed the door behind her, she looked around, craning her neck conspicuously.

“I was a little afraid I might be interrupting something...” she said, looking back at him. “I’m not, am I?”

She was fishing and he knew it. But she wasn’t interrupting anything, so what did it matter?

He shook his head with a knowing look. “No. I never heard back from her.” Andrew didn’t even try to sound disappointed.

Mal shrugged as if to say, “shucks, that’s too bad,” and stretched her leg out of the slit of her gown much further than it needed to go as she bent over to change shoes. Her legs were smooth and strong, like everything about her. She wasn’t small, like Cameron. Mal had muscle on her. Years on her. Life on her. A woman in every sense who knew exactly what to do with what she had.

Wow, am I getting turned on already?

She gave him one of her galvanic grins, pretending to be oblivious, but he didn’t buy it. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it, though.

“Ready?” she asked, which made him realize he’d just been standing there. She tsked at him as he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his keys.

Outside, it was clear — the stars twinkling in the sky without a cloud to obstruct them. Andrew loved this time of year, and this time of evening. Everything felt crisper, clearer, more focused. Even the quiet of night.

They started walking around his neighborhood, to nowhere in particular. She looked like she’d be cold, but she said it was crowded and hot at the reception, so it felt good out here. The rosiness still lingering in her cheeks said she wasn’t lying.

That didn’t stop her from looping her arm inside Andrew’s so she could get closer. He felt a little silly that he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and she was dressed to the nines. But then, he probably would’ve felt sillier had he answered the door in a suit, so he made his peace with it.

It was the kind of night that nostalgia was made for — quiet, peaceful, cool. The stars overhead invited reflection. She must’ve been thinking along the same lines.

“Reminds me of when we were in college,” she said wistfully, her head on his shoulder as they slowly approached a little neighborhood park with a bench and a swing set.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her being so comfortable with him already. At the same time... why shouldn’t she be? She’s my wife for Pete’s sake. It doesn’t even feel weird. Just like it always did.

“Yeah.” He smiled at the memories. They were good ones. “We’d just ... walk together, for hours. ‘Til the sun came up, sometimes.”

She smiled too. “Everything seemed so urgent then, you know? Everything was so important. Now I can’t even remember all those things that were the most important things ever.” She laughed a little, rubbing Andrew’s arm with her other hand.

Mal stopped and looked up at the stars, so Andrew did too. It’d been a long, long time since he’d looked up at them — really looked up at them. Looking up at the night sky was something you did as a kid, when you were a romantic and when you had time to get lost in your thoughts — good and bad — with a future to dream of.

Even though there was a bench right there, Mal flattened her gown behind her and took a seat on the grass, gingerly lying down on her back.

With a laugh, Andrew joined her, settling in next to her.

“You’re gonna get that thing dirty,” he chided.

“Psh, they’re gonna clean it anyway, not like it’s mine!” She stuck out her tongue at him and they laughed.

The sky was clear and dark. What they could see of it was framed by tree branches that hadn’t yet lost all their leaves, but were well on their way. The new moon, cloaked in shadow, let only the smallest slivers of light reflect down onto them.

He felt her fingers close around his and he did the same.

“Not everything seems so urgent anymore,” she said, her head beginning to rest against his.

“There are some good parts about getting old, I guess.”

“Some of us faster than others,” she said, even though they were the same age. He elbowed her and she let out a giddy laugh.

They were quiet for a moment, feeling the warmth of the other in the cool grass, lost in the night sky.

“I think I’m better about seeing what’s important than I was,” she said quietly. “I would do so much differently.” Her voice was even softer now, barely above a whisper. He felt her head turn toward him.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said. “Even ... even when ... when I was hurting you.” He could hear the shame in her voice now. “I just ... I didn’t know what love was then.”

He turned to face her, their noses fighting each other for space.

“I love you, Andrew,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she said it.

Her hand rose to his cheek, and he moved the millimeter forward he needed so that their lips met. Andrew pulled her closer, their tongues dancing with each other.

“I love you too, Mal,” he said, breathless. “I always have.”

She kissed him again, her tongue aggressively exploring his mouth as her hands roamed his chest. Abruptly, she pulled back before they went any further, and they grinned at each other like they were in school again. They got up and walked back to his duplex at the quickest pace they could manage while still holding hands.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Mal planted him against it, turning him toward her so she could kiss him again without any inhibitions. Her tongue snaked into his mouth and then onto his face and down his neck. She gave him a playful bite — grinning and giggling suggestively as she did — then kissed him in the same spot, tipping up his chin.

Andrew gasped as he felt her fingers undoing his belt, tugging down his pants and boxers in the same motion. His cock sprang out, bare against her gown, excited even more by the silky touch of it.

Excited was the watchword for every part of his body. Every touch, every caress, every sound was so heightened that he could barely breathe — what he had dreamt of for so long was finally happening, and it was real.

Mal moaned into his ear as she cleaned it with her tongue, nibbling on his earlobe, and he felt his knees wobble.

“Yessssss,” he hissed out, like a steam kettle doing the only thing it could to stop from overflowing.

With one of her mischievous grins, she took his hand and slid it under her dress, between her thighs. She wasn’t wearing any panties.

Andrew groaned at the feeling of his wife’s pussy — hot, wet and eager for him. He slid two fingers in and out of her, and she let out an audible sigh into his ear.

“You’ve been waiting so long for this, haven’t you,” she whispered. Her voice dripped with the promise of finally ending that unbearable anticipation ... as long as he could wait just a little longer.

All he could do was nod, unable to do or think anything else.

Mal draped her hands around his head, grinding her naked pussy against his growing cock, pressing him into the door. It was all he could do to stop from unloading right there on the welcome mat. Instead, he held her hips, gripping them tightly through the silky fabric of her dress as the door rattled against his back each time she pressed into him, his aching cock getting harder and harder.

“I can tell you have,” she cooed. “You’re so hard already.” Her voice was a low growl in his ear, driving him wild inside. The knowing, in-charge tone she took with him had always had an almost hypnotic effect on him.

“Do you dream about this pussy at night, Andrew,” she said, more statement than question. “Dream of fucking your wife again?”

He groaned, feeling every muscle in his body surging to lurch into her in answer. Yes, he had dreamt of this. And she knew him well enough to know that he had. More often than he ever wanted to admit.

Andrew tried to move his hands up her back, but she grabbed them and held them above his head, roughly pinning him by the wrists to the door. He writhed in her grip, not because he was trying to get away, but at the excitement cresting inside him.

He gasped and his body hummed at the feeling of being stretched out against the door, exposed in front of his wife, his swollen cock at a 90-degree angle and begging for her to do whatever she wanted with it — with him.

Mal kept humping him, slowly, testing his endurance. The door banged loudly against its frame each time. If his neighbor was unsure of what they were up to before, all doubt would be removed now.

She growled from deep in her throat, a grin beaming at maximum wattage, and he groaned like an animal in heat through his own grin, anticipating her next move.

Holding his wrists still, she jammed her mouth against his, her tongue aggressively and sloppily having its way.

“You don’t care how many other men have been in this pussy, do you,” she said between kisses in that same commanding tone.

Andrew felt a shuddering whimper come out instead of an answer. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say anyway. He did care ... but ... she was also right. He needed it — needed her. Right now. And she knew it.

“Aww, poor little cuntquistador,” she said in a voice that she clearly meant to be playful, “can’t conquer any other pussy, can you?” Her eyes were an inch from his now, and her index finger impishly slid off the edge of his nose. He closed his eyes, not wanting to answer.

How did she know?

Who was he kidding. Everybody probably knew.

Everybody knows I can’t man up, that the best I can hope for is some sad girl letting me eat her out ‘til she falls asleep.

He felt her lean in, his eyes still clamped shut while her tongue slithered along his neck again. The heat from between her legs radiated against him just before she slid along his painfully erect shaft.

“But you don’t even want another pussy, do you, Andrew,” she whispered into his ear. His entire body shuddered at the sound of his name on her lips. “You’d do anything to fuck me — and only me, wouldn’t you.”

He would. He knew she was right. She was always right. She knew him too well. He would do anything. And so he nodded vigorously, a low-pitched whine escaping the lips he thought he’d closed up tight.

Mal smiled and let his hands come down, leading him to the couch. Da Vinci quickly scampered out from underneath, hightailing it for Andrew’s bedroom.

She pushed him into the seat and yanked off his shirt.

“Mal,” he said as she attacked his chest with her mouth, “can you — ahhhh — can you ... not say stuff like that? I just — ahhhhhh — I just wanna focus on us, okay?”

She stopped and looked up at him with genuine surprise in her hazel eyes. “Of course,” she said. She was smiling, but at his rock-hard dick. “My little prince.” She pressed her reddened cheek against it and he groaned, throwing his head back. He wanted to cum right then, but did his best to hold on — until she told him it was time.

“Aww, you couldn’t handle a blowjob right now, could you, little guy,” she said, licking the glans with the very tip of her tongue. He shuddered and squeezed the armrest tight.

With a devious giggle, she pulled him down, leaving his upper body on the cushion and the rest of him hanging onto the floor. Mal kicked off her shoes and stood over him with a leg on each side, stepping up onto the couch in her bare feet.

He gazed up between her long, strong legs, able to make out the outline of her pussy in the dark underneath her dress. His eyes seemed to roll into his head without him telling them to. He could smell her, remember her taste on his tongue — he’d completely surrendered any semblance of control he thought he might’ve still been holding onto.

And he had never been more excited about it.

She lowered herself onto him and he eagerly licked her, holding her steady on his mouth as he worked into the familiar contours of her perfect pussy. He recalled exactly where to swirl his tongue, where to suck, how to get her to moan through her whole body — everything felt exactly as he’d been imagining for so long, exactly as he’d remembered in his dreams.