by Celia Styles
“Angela.” She finally croaked, wincing at the sound of her choked voice.
“Angela,” Grey eyes repeated, smiling slightly. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“A very beautiful woman.” Green eyes agreed.
She should have felt violated, as she was in such a vulnerable position, but she didn’t. Despite what she went through only moments before, she felt herself becoming aroused by their roaming eyes. They did not leer at her, they appreciated her. She hadn’t been appreciated in so long.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Green eyes asked, eyeing where her slip was burnt. She wasn’t sure, and she told them as much. Grey eyes brushed her hair from her face and smiled tenderly down at her.
“Let’s get you to the EMTs.”
Be it lack of oxygen, adrenaline, or trauma, Angela did not remember much of the event or the time after it. She remembered her efforts to help the children, she remembered being carried out of the fire, and she remembered being checked over my paramedics. She remembered nothing in detail.
Nothing but them. The two firemen who saved her, and her reaction to them.
After being released from the hospital, Bart took her home and left her there so he could get back to work. She was too tired to be upset about it. Too depressed.
Lives were lost in that explosion, and Angela was not sure why she deserved to live more than them. She wanted more than anything to cry in her husband’s arms, but she was not sure anymore if that man was meant to be Bart.
She cried alone that night, in a big memory foam bed that her husband fucked countless other women in over their four year marriage, and she fell asleep with tears still falling from her eyes.
Grey eyes looked deep into hers. She felt her pussy cream with desire, and it felt like those eyes had fingers that caressed her skin, raising her hairs as they went. Arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her into a hard body, and an even harder cock that poked at her bare ass. Hands dipped below her waist and cupped her sex, pressing hard and making her whimper with desire.
She spread her legs and threw her head back against a hard chest, looking up into deep green eyes. The owner of those eyes smirked and spun her around to face him. The man with grey eyes held her hands behind her back as the green eyed man reached forward and traced his finger from her belly button, up to her sternum, and then along one full breast to a protruding nipple. He traced it slowly, smirking when she groaned in frustration.
“We put out fires for a living, Angela.” Grey eyes whispered in her ear from behind, rubbing his own cock into the seam of her ass, “But in the bedroom, we let them consume us.”
Angela woke, blinking into the morning. After a moment she cried out in frustration and fell back into her pillows with a huff. After everything she’d been through, could she not be given the chance to have that dream to fruition? How unfair.
She got out of bed- uncaringly noticing that Bart never came home the night before- and cleaned herself up in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen.
“You have been sleeping all day, Angela. It is five O’clock.” Bart frowned at her, “Should they have kept you at the hospital? Did you not sleep last night?”
Angela shrugged, “I needed the sleep. I went through a lot yesterday.”
Bart nodded, “You did. Do you remember what today is?” When Angela frowned, Bart raised an eyebrow, “It’s my birthday, Angela.”
“Oh!” She exclaimed and looked at the time, “I made reservations at Luciano’s for tonight, and they are at six-thirty. I will go get ready and we will leave.” She did not feel up to going out, but there was still a part of her that wanted to try to make things work with Bart. She deserved for things to work out.
So one hour later, Angela was dressed in a loose fitting bohemian style white dress and sitting across from her husband in the dimly lit restaurant, surrounded by couples who leaned close to talk and experience one another. She and Bart did not talk, though. Bart spent his time on his phone, claiming that he was still having to take care of responsibilities from work.
“You understand, of course.” He acknowledged, not looking up at her as he explained.
Angela was too numb to care. She told herself she was going to go through the motions, and that is what she was doing. She felt like she was living in a fog that Bart was only making thicker, and she had to concentrate on not high-tailing it out of that restaurant and away from his suffocating presence. So she focused on her food once it came, and ate robotically. She focused on her breathing, making sure she did not begin to hyperventilate from the choking feeling surrounding her. She was not sure what was causing it, but her guess was that it was a combination of everything; her husband’s clear disregard for her wellbeing, the ordeal she went through the morning before, or simply the fact that she knew deep down that her marriage was over. She just knew that she needed air.
“Bart, I’m going to the restroom.” She muttered. He gave no response as she stood and made her way towards the front door of the restaurant. She would have exited had she not noticed the two men sitting towards the back by the restrooms. And they were both looking at her. One with green eyes, the other with grey eyes.
Something made her stop and make her way over to them, her near panic attack forgotten for the moment. As she went, she wondered what they were doing in such a romantic setting. There were no other place settings at their table, and Luciano’s was not a place that many people frequented without their significant other. She brushed it off when she reached them and smiled.
“I… I’m Angela. I was in the school yesterday… You two saved me and I never thanked you.”
Grey eyes smiled up at her, “We remember you, Angela. There is no need to thank us. But what are you doing out? Shouldn’t you be resting after what happened to you?”
Angela shifted nervously, “It’s my husband’s birthday.” She murmured, looking down at her feet, “He wanted it to be acknowledged.”
Grey eyes raised both eyebrows and sat back in his chair, “I see.”
Green eyes smiled at Angela, “My name is Eric, and this is Liam.”
Angela smiled, relieved that the subject was changed, “It’s so nice to meet you both. I’m so glad I saw you again.”
Eric smiled dangerously, “As are we.”
Liam smiled as well, “You know, you are even more beautiful now than when we saved you.”
She blushed as she remembered the events from the day before and how turned on she was by the two men. And as she examined them, she still was. Liam was tall, about six foot five, though he was sitting down and it was hard to tell. His hair was chocolate brown and reached his chin, but was held away from his face by a thin headband. He did not look muscular due to how slender he looked, but she knew he had to be strong. He was the one to carry her from the school.
Eric’s green eyes were paired with almost unnaturally dark red hair and a fair complexion. There was something statuesque about him, like he was a forgotten Michelangelo piece come to life. Where Liam was tall and slender, Eric was stalky. He had thick bands of muscle that wound around his arms, chest, and thighs that drew Angela’s eye and made her struggle to look away. He seemed to know it too, and crossed his arms over his chest to accentuate those features.
Flashes of images from her dream the night before made it difficult for Angela to stay still and not press her legs together to feel the friction against her throbbing clit. The last time she was so turned on, she and Bart were on their honeymoon and she knew nothing of his infidelity. She knew that traumatic experiences commonly elicited sexual reactions, but this was ridiculous. Her panties were so wet that she was getting uncomfortable.
Angela was going to speak again when she felt an iron grip around her upper arm. She looked up into the angry eyes of her husband.
“Who is this?” He asked, faking a smile at Eric and Liam while glaring at Angela. Angela glanced at her saviors and noticed they had not missed this detail.
“The
se are the men who carried me from the school yesterday. I was thanking them because I didn’t get the chance to before I was sent to the hospital.”
Bard grunted, “Get your ass back over to our table, Angela.” He did not spare the men a glance before he turned and stalked back to their table. Angela could feel the rage billowing from him, and she knew he was going to do something stupid if she didn’t listen to him.
She smiled apologetically at Eric and Liam, “I’m sorry about him.”
“You have no reason to apologize for another person, Angela.” Liam told her, eyes boring deep into hers. He leaned forward and slipped a piece of paper over toward Angela on the table, never looking away from her.
“Angela!” Bart yelled from across the dining room, bringing attention to himself, and to her. She flushed with embarrassment.
“If you want to be free of that man, come to this address. Beautiful women like you deserve to know just how a real man can make a woman feel.” He leaned forward even father and lowered his voice so much that Angela was surprised she heard it, “Have you ever wondered how many times you can come in one night, Angela?”
If Angela had her way, she would be back at home bringing herself to toe curling orgasm after Liam’s words in the restaurant. But of course, Bart was less than forthcoming with the fact that there was a party for him being thrown at a colleague’s home. When they arrived, Bart stayed with her for a whopping thirty minutes before he disappeared into the crowd. That was three hours ago, and Angela was close to calling a car to take her home and leaving him.
She decided that’s just what she was going to do, and called the car on her way to the bathroom on the second floor of the house. Once in the bathroom, she did her business, wiping away the arousal that accumulated as she thought about Liam’s words throughout the evening. She was about to flush the toilet when she heard a loud moan come from the bedroom attached to the bathroom. She didn’t know why, but she stopped and listened to the headboard as it pounded against the wall, the bedsprings as they groaned in protest. Maybe she was horny and wanted to play the voyeur. Or maybe she knew what was coming and simply forced herself to acknowledge it.
“Oh God!” She heard the voice, and thought it sounded familiar to her, but she wasn’t sure. There were plenty of Hispanic women with that accent; Angela herself was included.
“You like that, baby?” That voice, though, Angela would never mistake. That was Bart. And for some reason, hearing him speak to this woman with such endearment didn’t hurt her they way it would have a couple years ago. She felt like she was numb to the pain, like she was so indifferent that it did not affect her at all anymore.
“OH, YES, DON’T STOP!”
Marisol. It was Marisol. The cook that urged Angela to leave Bart. The Cook that claimed to be better than Angela because she respected herself enough to cut him off when she found out he married another woman behind her back.
“Did you see, Marisol? Did you see the hallway?”
Angela froze, pressing her hand to the door that separated her from the man who tore her life to shreds and did not blink once. She did not want to hear what he said next, but she knew she had to listen if she was going to finally leave him.
“I had it painted just like you asked, baby; I even picked your favorite color. Did you like it?”
Marisol laughed gleefully, mid-orgasm, “I love it, baby, thank you- OH MY GOD HARDER!”
Angela felt herself break then. That hallway is what broke her. She spent hours working on that hallway, making it perfect. She put so much of herself into that hallway, into the vibrant color that she clung to as a sign that Bart still cared about her; about their marriage. And now she was finding that it was never for her. It was for Marisol. She painted that hallway for Marisol.
Angela reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the slip of paper that Liam slid to her over the table earlier in the night, clutched it in her hand, and walked out of the house full of party-goers, straight into the car she called. She handed the driver the slip of paper and he drove here there in silence.
The house was quaint and comfortable, the sort of house that Angela always wanted as a younger woman. There was only one light on, and as she walked up the pathway to the house she noticed through the window that the light was leaking from that Liam was sat at an easel, grey eyes staring intently at the canvas. From the angel that she saw the scene, Angela could not tell what he was painting, but the familiar look of inspiration in his eyes helped her resolve as she knocked on the door.
It was meant to be.
The man who invited her to have the greatest pleasure she had since she was married was an artist, someone who could push her to get back into the world she gave up for a man who did not care about her. If there was ever a moment of clarity in her twenty-six years of life, this was it. She deserved this. She deserved pleasure.
She knocked on the door.
Liam opened the door and smiled at her, eyes bright with desire at the sight of her. He stepped aside and allowed her into the house, and when she walked in she was shocked at what she saw. She was even more shocked at her arousal at the sight.
Eric lay out naked on the couch with his arm slung over his head, looking over at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She eyed his bulging muscles before her eyes zeroed in on his rapidly hardening cock.
Oh holy monkey door-knobs, he was thick. Not long, but thick, about the size of a silver dollar. Angela felt both sets of lips wet.
“I see you decided you are worth more than that man. We didn’t like how he treated you during your dinner. We were watching you.” Liam stepped up behind Angela and brushed his nose over her shoulder, making her back arch slightly as her flesh prickled from his warm breath.
“He’s been cheating on me for years. I don’t know why I stayed with him anymore.” She confessed, tears of frustration blooming in her eyes, “I was so weak.”
Eric stood and made his way over to her, his erection standing proud before him. He bore his eyes into hers and slowly sunk to his knees before her, never breaking eye contact with her.
“Not weak, Angela. The woman who kept those children safe in that fire is not weak. That woman was you.” He placed his hands on her knees and slid them up her thighs under her dress. Angela inhaled sharply and tilted her head back.
“What were you painting?” She asked Liam, eyes closed and breathing ragged as Eric’s fingers reached her inner thighs.
“I was painting Eric.” He whispered into her ear, wrapping an arm around her middle and pressing his cock into the small of her back. His body was much harder than she expected it to be. She could even feel the ridges of his abs against her back.
“I was an art major before I got married.” She whispered, not even sure why she was talking anymore.
“That’s interesting, Angel. We have a lot to talk about.” Liam smiled into her neck and kissed it lightly.
Eric spoke next, still caressing her thighs, “There are a few things you should know before we progress.” Angela looked down at him and waited. She was sure she would accept anything at that moment if they would just fill her with their cocks for only a moment.
“Liam and I are bi-sexual. We live together like a couple would, but we do not have a label for what we are. We are not polyamorous, but we enjoy sharing beautiful women with each other. Would you like to be the woman we share?”
Angela whimpered and nodded, silently begging him to move his hands higher, to ease the burn in her.
Liam spoke next, “You have to understand, Angela, if you agree to allow us to share you, then you belong to us until you decide you want out. We will fuck no one else, and you will fuck no one else. We will be committed.”
Angela nodded quickly and leaned back into Liam, “I agree. I want it. I want it now, please, I haven’t cum in so long.” She felt tears of frustration well in her eyes, but Liam saw and kissed them away, tenderly trailing his lips along her jaw.
“Angel, you don
’t have to go without anymore.” He told her before he slid his hand down the front of her dress and cupped as much of her large breast as he could. “You are so beautiful. I have always loved my women buxom.” He blew into Angela’s ear and whispered, “Vivacious,” just as Eric touched her pussy over her wet panties.
“You are as excited as a virgin, Angel.” Eric breathed, rubbing her over her panties as Liam peeled her dress from her shoulders, exposing her bra-clad chest.
“Please,” She breathed, leaning against Liam with shaking legs when Eric slipped his fingers under the fabric of her panties, “Please, no more torture.”
Liam growled into her ear, “Don’t worry, Angel. We can put that fire out for you.”
Angela groaned, making Liam laugh before he tugged off her bra and covered her breasts with his big warm hands. Eric slid her panties down her legs and ducked under her skirt with a smirk on his face. He kissed up her legs while Liam kneaded her breasts, licking her inner thighs lightly, making her tremble on her feet. When his mouth finally reached where she so desperately needed it, she cried out loud enough to leave a ringing in her own ears and slumped back against Liam.
She felt Eric’s tongue lapping at her sex, eating up her juices and riding out her trembles as she came hard on his face. Liam was bent over her shoulder from behind and lavishing her nipples with his warm mouth while he held her up with an arm around her waist. After so long without any attention, Angela felt so blessed to have these two men there for her. They cherished her body in ways that she only remembered from before she and Bart became official. She cried out as she came again, bucking her hips toward Eric’s face as he took her clit between his teeth and lightly rolled it with his tongue as he nibbled. She felt her climax coming fast, and she told them. At her words their nurturing became much more intense. She felt and heard them growling against her as their tongues began to work in haste to bring her to the peak of her arousal.