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Miss Last Night giggled. Without any warning she flipped herself over me so that her knees were wrapped behind my head, her pussy was at my chin, and her mouth was around my cock.
“Carry me wherever you want, Daddy,” she murmured. “Take me to the candy shop.”
The heat of her little mouth and her flicking little tongue was starting to get me hard and I wriggled away from her before it became impossible. Her lips were moist as she looked back at me, thighs slipping across my cheek.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I scooped her up into my arms and carried her toward the door. “Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just we need to be out in the hallway and there was no way I was getting up once you started all that.”
Miss Last Night kicked her feet and let her head fall back, biting her lower lip.
“We also need to be louder,” I added, peering down the dim hallway toward Rachel’s room.
“I can be louder,” Miss Last Night purred.
Shifting the girl around in my arms, I pressed her noisily against the wall right outside Rachel’s room. My fingers went to her clit and she proved true to her word: Miss Last Night could, in fact, be louder.
“I sure hope we don’t get caught,” I said in that voice that was practically a shout over Miss Last Night’s high-pitched whines.
“Caught by who?” Miss Last Night moaned. “Caught by the police? Oh my God, let’s do this in a park. Or on the freeway!”
“What, no,” I said as I pressed Rachel’s door open with my toes, “no, by my—”
I’d craned my neck, which was presently being sucked on by Miss Last Night, into Rachel’s room to find it…empty. The bed just a rumpled mess of sheets. The lights off. The bathroom unoccupied.
“What the fuck,” I muttered.
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Miss Last Night said, bucking her hips impatiently at my stilled finger on her clit.
She repeated this even louder when I dropped her.
I stalked down the hallway and would have completely forgotten about Miss Last Night except for the fact that she ran after me and launched herself onto my back. When she went to wrap her feet around me, her heel collided with my half-hard dick. I fell to my knees at the top of the stairs, groaning in fucking pain. Miss Last Night slipped off me and got on all fours on the stairs, bare ass to the door, mouth to my ailing, throbbing prick.
It was then, as Miss Last Night was “kissing it better” and I was groaning either like I was having the best fucking sex of my life or like I was never going to have the chance to have kids anymore, that Rachel walked in through the front door.
Miss Last Night was so preoccupied with swirling her tongue around my aching cockhead that she didn’t even notice till I tapped her on the back and said in a fake panic, “Oh, no, oh my God. My wife!”
Miss Last Night whipped her head around to look over her shoulder. Despite the pain (and despite my now quite unavoidable boner), I sighed in relief. All Miss Last Night saw was my wife, with an armful of shopping bags, casually assess the scene at the top of the stairs, slowly close the front door behind her, and then walk away without any comment at all. Miss Last Night and I were silent and frozen on the stairs for a moment, both of us doing nothing but listening to Rachel in the kitchen, unloading her bags.
Miss Last Night looked up at me with confusion. “Your wife?”
“That’s what she does when she’s mad. When she’s really fucking mad. My wife.”
Miss Last Night glanced toward the bottom of the stairs and then back up at me and said with a sheepish, slightly hopeful grin, “I don’t know. She didn’t seem all that upset to me.”
“You better go,” was all I said.
I slipped past her, leaped down the stairs, and crossed the parlour shop toward the kitchen in the back.
“Honey, I know you’re mad,” I said. “I know that even though you’re not showing it like a good wife is supposed to do, you’re enraged. That you’re just waiting till that chick sticks her head in here to completely lose it. That you’re about to fly off the handle and who knows what you could end up doing with all these knives around.”
Miss Last Night had not gone as I’d suggested. Instead, she squirmed her head beneath my arm as I tried to push her back and peered curiously into the kitchen at my wife. My wife, who was holding up a new dress to turn this way and that in the kitchen light. My wife, who was unpacking a baguette, a wrapper of cheese, and a jar of olives from the market. My wife, who was trying on a pair of earrings and asking, quite fucking calmly, “Chinese or Indian tonight, do you think?”
Rachel looked over at me and put on a goddamn award-winning smile. Miss Last Night dared to wriggle in against me even further and I gritted my teeth.
“Wife,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “You’ve just caught me cheating on you. Cheating on you with this woman here. This naked woman right here who just moments ago had my cock all up in her mouth. You can even still see the precum on her lips, I’d bet.”
Rachel smiled at Miss Last Night and said, plopping an olive into her mouth, “Hello.”
