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Chapter Twenty Five

The guys and I had timed it perfectly. I walked through the door at nine o'clock, my arms loaded down with bags. Shelby was plopped down in front of the TV on her stomach watching Dancing with the Stars. Her feet, wrapped in ballerina slippers, were swinging back and forth in the air. She rolled around and sat up when she saw me. Her eyes went wide.

"PRESENTS!" she screamed.

Molly had been sitting in my La-Z-Boy recliner holding Ally. Joe was in the swing fast asleep. Ally had her hands pressed against Molly's boob.

Even my daughter was a true McLean. I saw Moll's eyes widened.

"Whatcha bring? Whatcha bring?" Shelby asked. She began to hop around in a big circle around me.

"See the bag hanging off my pinky?" I asked. She stopped.

"YUP!"

"That ones yours."

She took the bag and skipped back into the living room.

"Shelby..." Molly said in her warning tone. Shelby turned back and shook the bag.

"Thank you!"

I laughed. "You're welcome."

Molly came into the hall. She shook her head.

"You didn't have to get her anything," she whispered.

"I wanted to," I whispered back. "I didn't think it would have been fair if I had brought all this home for her mom, and nothing for her."

The look on Molly's face was priceless. Her eyes darted to all of the bags.

"What?"

"C'mon."

She followed me up the stairs. I walked into her room and put all the bags on the floor. I held out my arms.

"Give me peanut," I said. She moved Ally into my arms. I don't think Ally was happy about that; my boobs aren't near as fun to play with.

I sat on the bag and reached down with one arm. I pulled out a pair of jeans.

"This stuff's for you. Go ahead and make sure that I didn't totally fuck up your size."

Molly just stood there. She began to shake her head.

"No. No way. This has all got to go back."

I snorted. "No it doesn't. Consider it a bonus."

She looked at me doubtfully, but like any woman, she began to pull the clothes out of the bag.

"You picked all this out?" she asked increduously.

"I had help," I said lightly.

"The guys?"

I laughed. "Well, Kev did. Bri and How were too busy turning Nick into a woman."

She went from bag to bag, pulling out the clothes.

"Do you think everything will fit?" I asked.

She held up the lacy black bra. A smile played around her lips.

"How'd you know my bra size?"

"I took a guess. My palms are pretty good at playing the cup size game."

When she had pulled out the last item, a skull and crossbones cotton nightgown (I couldn't resist), she sank down on her ass and looked around at the piles of clothes around the room.

"You really didn't have to do this," she said softly.

"I wanted to. We're going to have a long tour and laundry day is few and far between."

She looked up at me and smiled. My heart leapt as she crawled towards me.

A woman on her hands and knees does it to me every time.

Her hands curled around my knees. I leaned down, careful not to squish Ally in the process.

"Maybe when Shelby goes to sleep tonight I can model a couple of these things," she whispered.

I swallowed a lump that I hadn't even realized had formed in my throat.

"I'd like that," I whispered. She arched up and met my lips with the sudden intensity I had come to attribute back to the day Ms. Hell had come to visit. She bit down hard on my lower lip and it took every ounce of self-control not to put Ally in her crib and then come back and just attack her right then and there.

After the best three minutes of my life, she finally pulled back and stood up.

"I'm going to put some of this away and then get Shelby ready for bed," she said. I stood up.

"I'll put Ally and Joe in their cribs," I said.

As I put Ally and then Joe into their cribs, my mind went back to the hotel room in Kentucky. I pictured Molly, drunk out of her mind, laying there with that dildo. She had told me she was sick of Mr. Wonderful.

I wondered if I could become a better substitute.

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My alarm clock had just flipped over to midnight and I was about to give up all hope where I heard a soft rapping sound at my door. I stood up and quietly opened the door. Molly's face peered at me through the shadows. She was holding a pile of clothes in her arms. I quickly stepped back.

"Come in."

I flipped on a small desk lamp as she put the clothes in a pile on the chair. She looked around curiously.

In the beginning, I had told her my bedroom was off limits. I think besides a glimpse into it when the door had been opened, she had never really been in the room. She smiled at me. I fell back on the bed and folded my hands beneath my head.

"What did you bring?" I asked.

"Just a few things."

I about choked on my tongue when she wrapped her fingers under the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head. She had put on the new black lacy bra. My eyes eagerly devoured the sight. She wiggled out of her jeans; the matching underwear was underneath.

I wanted to tell her the show could stop right there, but I didn't want to sound pathetic. With a little snapping motion, she tried around to grab a pair of jeans.

That's when I saw her tattoo.

It was clearly a set of angel wings. Even though it was dark in the room, I could see two names in cursive, one on each wing. I had no doubt that those names were her husband and son's. I smiled. I had probably found the one woman on earth who wouldn't mind that I had Ro's name tattooed on my pelvis.

As I concentrated on the tattoo, she wiggled into a pair of jeans and then went through three of four shirts. Each time I nodded in approval. My eyes never really left her ass. The woman could have been a model for Calvin Klein. She just made jeans look that good.

"So that's the shirts," she finally said. She stripped back down. She picked up the red dress and I watched her wiggle it down over her head, breasts, and hips. With a little stomp it floated down around her knees.

"This is my favorite," she said. Her hands slid down her front, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, no doubt. I sat up.

"The light's bad," I said. "Come closer."

With a toss of her hair she padded barefoot towards me. She stopped just a few inches away from me.

I know that some people think redheads shouldn't wear red. I completely disagree with that statement. I reached out and put a hand on the jut just above her hip. The fabric felt like butter beneath my palm.

"This is," I licked my lips. "Very nice."

"It's comfortable," she said.

She put her leg up right beside me. The dress floated dangerously back to reveal bare thigh. I was suddenly eye to crotch. I was filled with the sudden urge to see if the carpet matched the drapes.

Disgusting phrase, I know, but that's all I could think about.

"J," Molly whispered. She had never called me just 'J' before. At first it was Mr. McLean, then it was Alex, then it had turned to AJ, and now...

She leaned down and I brought my hand that wasn't on her hip to the back of her head. I arched forward and pressed my lips to hers.

I'm glad that I'm not as rational as some other people I know. Like Kev and Howie. If I had stopped for a moment I probably would have thought of the ramifications of kissing another woman in the bed Ro and I had shared. This in itself felt like cheating, but coupled with the fact that our wedding anniversary would have been in two weeks...

Luckily, my brain doesn't work that way. I only have three modes: 'Loveable dad Alex,' 'Hard-working, foul-mouthed musician,' and 'Tiger.' My level was turned so sharply to 'Tiger' that I didn't know if there was going to be any coming back.

Molly's mouth was warm and inviting. After I had my fill of her lips, I pushed in to explore the inside. Her tongue curled around mine without hesitation. It looked like if I was going to battle, she was going to be right there along for the ride.

I began a slow slide back on the bed. My hand that had come to rest above her hip slid around and grabbed her ass. I used that as leverage to pull her up alongside me before wrapping my arms around her.

As our breathing became faster and heavier, I allowed my eyes to open just a crack. As I did, I found another reason to love the dress. It was so low cut that I saw the top of the bra and the subsequent spillage of boob. My hands fell from her sides. She reached out to me, but I took her wrists in my grasp and placed them into the softness of the pillows. Her eyes widened; I felt her whole body lift and arch against mine.

"I have one question," I said breathlessly. I don't think my mind could have handled more than one thought.

"What?" she gasped.

"Can I be Mr. Wonderful?" I asked.

I didn't get a verbal answer, but she pulled me back into a mind-blowing kiss and her warm thighs pressed against me.

I took that as a yes.

I let go of her hands and it was like I had unleashed a panther. I felt sharp nails ride up my back as my shirt disappeared. I had barely gotten her skirt hiked up above her waist when she rolled over and began to work at the buckle on my pants. Little wet spitcurls clung to her hairline and her chest rose and fell heavily.

"The dress..." I managed to get out. Every time I would reach, she would turn to get another notch on my belt undone. I was wishing I had just changed to boxers. I would have already been naked by now.

"Dress?" she said. Her hands paused right over my erection. With one swift motion she flung it over her head. I don't know where it landed, nor did I care.

She returned back to the belt and got it undone. My eyes fluttered closed as her fingers worked over the taunt zipper.

There has to be something animalistic about being undressed by a woman. Especially a drop-dead gorgeous woman. I arched up and helped kick the jeans on the floor. Impatiently, I did the boxers myself. I heard her breath catch. A rush of male satisfaction flowed through my body. I reached out and pulled her down on top of me. My fingers went to her bra clasp. I had already given it the unclasp test in the store. It was off in seconds. The panties were soon to follow.

"I don't know if I remember how this works," Molly whispered right next to my lips. Her hands pressed into my chest.

"It's like riding a bike," I whispered back. She smiled. Her hands snaked down my stomach and lower still.

"Fuuuucccckkk," I moaned. The hands of hundreds of women had touched my junk, but I don't think it had ever felt so good. There was something about the way she cut her nails and the angle...it was all too much math for me, but damn, it felt good.

"Let's see if I remember," she said softly.

And boy, did she remember. To go back to the bike analogy, if Molly was a cyclist I would say she could quality for the Tour de France with her eyes closed. That woman was brimming with so much kinky that she overflowed.

By the time we fell into a sweaty heap on top of the covers my entire body was numb.

I was in love.