Terese took a step toward the door, to leave, but that image of her, in Blair’s dress, being welcomed into bed by Brian, wouldn’t go away. She wen... down the hall to check him out. He had slipped out of his jeans and shirt, and was laying on top of the covers, in his boxers. The front of his shorts was impressively tented. She returned to the den, standing still, gazing indecisively at Blair’s dress. In her mind she could see Blair, comfortable on the couch, sleeping soundly. She found a light. Angel bit her lip as he slowly pulled away, letting the cool air send chills through her now wet breasts. Rich looped his fingers in the edge of Angel boyshorts and tugged them down her legs and off her ankles. He then positioned himself between her legs, bending her knees as he slid his hands up her soft legs. Angel tensed, expecting him to push himself up into her. She looked across the room at the dresser, focusing her attention there. But the thrust never came. She glanced back at Rich. He. More

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