Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque) by Logan Belle Read Free Book Online

gray-blue eyes sleepy. She wanted to reach out and stroke his face, press her lips against his neck, and breathe him in.
    “Be honest.”
    “Okay, ‘sexual interest’ in her is an overstatement. But I guess I find her intriguing.”
    Mallory took a sharp breath. Even though she had known it without his saying it, the words stung.
    “What am I supposed to do with that information?” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He looked at her arms—she knew he hated when she got into defensive body posture. Sure enough, he reached over and pulled gently on her arm. She kicked him under the covers.
    “Ow!” he said.
    “You know, I see lots of ‘intriguing’ guys—and women, for that matter. But I don’t ever put those thoughts or feelings before our relationship. And that’s what you did last night.”
    “I wasn’t putting it before our relationship! God, Mallory. I can’t win with you. I’m being honest—yes, I find her attractive. Who wouldn’t? If anything, I was diffusing any potential sexual tension by inviting her out with my girlfriend. Everyone knows we are together—there was no subtext. I would have invited Poppy or Scarlett in the same situation. Unless . . .”
    “Unless what?” She finally let herself look him in the eyes.
    “Unless you’re projecting all this onto me because you’re attracted to her.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. And yet she knew he wasn’t being ridiculous. Last year, he had been interested in Bette Noir. And yet Mallory was the one who ended up fooling around with her—surprising even herself with the expansiveness of her own sexuality. But that wasn’t the case this time—far from it. Mallory not only didn’t trust Violet, she didn’t like her, regardless of how hot she was.
    “Am I being ridiculous?” he said.
    “Yes!”
    “Okay, then can’t you admit that maybe you are, too?”
    “No,” she said. But she knew the tone of her voice was giving away the fact that she’d forgiven him. Sure enough, under the covers, his hand traced the lace of her underwear along the outer curve of her ass. She was glad she’d changed out of that T-shirt.
    “Even though you were mad at me, your pussy so was so wet backstage,” he whispered in her ear. “It took a lot of selfcontrol not to fuck you right then and there.”
    Mallory smiled, arching her back against him. She felt him hard against her, and she moved her hand behind her to stroke him over his boxers.
    “What makes you think I’m not mad anymore?”
    “Okay—maybe you’re mad at me . But I think you’ve forgiven my penis.”
    “I should be most angry with your penis. That’s obviously what you think with half the time.”
    “Only the half that I’m in bed with you.” He scooped her in his arms and turned her around so she was lying on top of him. It was a clumsy maneuver, and she laughed.
    “This isn’t comfortable.”
    “So get comfortable,” he said, stroking her hair. She threw the covers aside, then inched down lower until her breasts were between his legs, her arms were resting on his thighs, and she was able to run her tongue along his cock over his underwear. “Yeah, that’s definitely better,” he said. She could tell by the catch in his voice how turned on he was. Maybe she was a pushover, but fucking was so much better than fighting.
    She eased his boxers down, gliding her lips against his bare cock as she undressed him.
    She loved Alec’s body, everything about it—from his legs to his cock to the hollow between his collarbone that she liked to kiss. But maybe her favorite part—the part that she had first noticed—was his hands. They had been study partners in a prelaw class senior year, and she had immediately noticed how beautiful his hands were—large but elegant, with beautiful, tapered fingers like those of a sculptor or a piano player. And when he got excited about something he gestured with them broadly. She would just watch his hands, shamefully