Dirty Heat (26 page)

“Oooh, yes, yes, yessssssss! Suck that pussy, baby.”

His middle finger slides deep inside my pulsing core, taking me to higher sexual peaks. Nirvana. Mmm. Yes, Lord! Desire loops tight in my belly as his long tongue slides over my clit and his finger furiously strokes my G-spot.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…yes, yes, yes, yes…“

Tingles shoot up my spine. My orgasm is swelling. Charles senses this and pulls his finger out, leaving my vibrating pussy vacant.

I thrust my pelvis. Wind my hips. Beg him.

“Please…”

“Please, what?” He mutters against my weeping sex, looking up at me. He sinks his tongue into my slick folds, and licks upward, lingering over my clit.

My head falls back.

“Oh God…yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Give me the dick. Give me the dick. Mmm. Please.”

His tongue swipes my clit again, then he is sucking it back into his mouth, licking it. Teasing me. Taunting me. Coaxing another orgasm out of me.

And then he is slamming his dick back in.

I shiver and moan, as need zings through my body.

He isn't as long as my husband Craig's dick—God, how goddamn messy it is comparing Charles to Craig while my skirt is hiked up over my hips and my panties pulled to the side—but…mmmph…what Charles lacks in length, he makes up for in girth. And right now he is pounding the shit out of me. Fucking me hard. Fucking me fast. A sweet burn rolls over wet waves of heat as my juices slosh out of me and roll down into the crack of my ass, coating my asshole and pooling onto my desk.

I gasp for air. Scream out. I am drowning in the pleasure. Awash in searing sensations overflowing with sin and lust and burning arousal.

“Ohgod, yes,” I sob. “I-I—”

Charles thrusts himself into me with hard, pounding strokes, lifting my hips off the desk. His fingers dig into my hips, then my ass, cupping my cheeks. Inside me, I feel him swell surprisingly thicker. He's fucking me senseless, ravaging me witless.

The slick walls of my pussy are clenching around his relentless strokes, deep, so very deep. “Oooh, yesssss…”

My body shakes as I absorb his thrusts, and dark pleasure builds up so fierce inside of me that I want to growl and gnash my teeth at him, draw blood.

“Faster, faster. Yes, yes, yes. Harder. Oooh, oooh, oooh. I'm—”

Fire bursts inside me, causing me to scream into Charles' mouth as he fastens his mouth over mine, his hot tongue sweeping the inside of my mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut, reveling in the feel of dick and heat and wetness. The orgasm that floods out of me knocks me breathless.

Charles tenses, his voice going hoarse as he shouts and fucks me, riding into his own budding climax. He quickly pulls out, stepping back and allowing me to take him into my mouth, sucking his thick, white cream deep into my mouth. I gulp him in, swallowing his hot seeds.

Mmmm…

Right down to the very last drop.

•  •  •

“Hey,” I say, crossing into the master suite of my 2,400-square-foot home I share with Craig and our nine-year-old twin daughters, Mia and Tia. My heels sink into the plush mauve-colored carpet.

Craig is standing in the middle of the room drying himself off with a plush burgundy towel. Beads of water slowly cascade down his bare chest. I try not to glance down at his dick. Even soft it's long and plump and thick with veins.

I run a hand along the back of my neck, and swallow back bittersweet memories of how good it used to feel inside of me.

“Hey,” he says back, wrapping the towel around his waist. “Long night. Again.”

“Yeah.” I step out of my heels, then scoop them up. “We'll probably be working late the rest of the month.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says. “Why am I not surprised? Seems like, lately, that's all you do. Work late. You spend more time at the office than you do here.”

Please. Not this again.

He's right, though. The last several weeks, I've been staying later and later at the office
working
as far as he knows. But, the truth is, as you already know, I'm spending every free moment I have time with my legs wide open, with Charles' tongue or his dick fucking the shit out of me.

I run a hand through my short pixie-cut. “I know. Things will slow down once this huge case is over.”

Being a defense attorney and working at one of the largest, most prestigious criminal law offices in the state means getting some of the most difficult criminal cases, like this case I'm assigned to right now.

My clients are a fifty-seven-year-old and twenty-two-year-old, mother-son team. The mother shot and killed her husband of twenty-three years right after sex because he hadn't ejaculated enough sperm to her liking. An argument ensued. She was convinced he was out cheating on her again. And she'd had enough. He slapped her. So instead of calling the police on him, or better yet… leaving him, she waited until he was asleep, then shot him the groin and chest before shooting him in his head. Consequently, she feels justified because he'd had multiple affairs in the past and had already given her genital herpes two years earlier.

Sadly, her son helped her dispose of his father's body by removing his teeth and chopping off his fingertips with a hatchet, then dumping his body over a bridge. Now, while his mother is facing first-degree murder charges, he's facing conspiracy charges, body disposal, and tampering with evidence.

“Let's hope,” he says, skepticism etched in his tone. “Did you eat, yet?”

I'm relieved he doesn't say more, and nod.
Yes. A mouthful of cock and cum.
“Yeah, I ordered a shrimp salad.”

I silently pray he can't smell—not the shrimp, but the lingering juices of my well-fucked pussy. Although I brushed my teeth and freshened up in the women's lounge at the office, I still try to avoid Craig when he reaches for me, hoping he doesn't smell my dirty deeds all over my skin. That he can't smell Charles' nut on my lips. Or the lingering scent of my pussy stained on my fingertips as I played with myself while on my knees sucking Charles' dick.

“I'm exhausted,” I quickly add, hoping he gets the subtle hint—that there'll be no pussy tonight, if I can help it. I give him a quick peck on the lips, something light to appease him…for now, hopefully.

No luck. He pulls me into his arms, pressing himself into me. I
fight to keep from tensing up. He licks his lips. Stares me in the eyes. “Hopefully not
too
exhausted for your husband. I need some loving.
Bad.”

It isn't a request.

Shit. So much for subtleties! How the hell am I going to get out of fucking him tonight? I can't use the cramp lie, again. And I can't tell him it's that time of the month because he knows my cycle, eerily better than me.

I give him another kiss on the lips in order to pacify him. But he tightens his grip around my waist and I can feel his dick slowly coming alive as he grinds himself into me. His right hand slides down to my ass. He cups it. Squeezes it.

“I'm serious. I want my dick inside you…tonight.”

I swallow. “Craig, please.” I am pinned by his gaze. He stares at me, pupils dilated with want. And need. And hunger. His lids grow heavy, his breathing less controlled. I feel his dick pulsing behind his towel, the long, heavy length of it straining for release. There was a time when my pussy would clench for it. “I need to unwind a bit. Let me go shower, first.”

As if burned by my response, his hand leaves my ass, and he loosens his grip on me. I step out of his embrace, dodging another kiss, and his demand.

But, just as I think I am free, he grabs my arm, pulling me back into him. “You don't need to shower.” He nuzzles my neck. “You still smell sexy to me.” His tongue trails along the back of my ear, then along the column of my neck.

Ohgodohgodohgod…
no!

I swallow the lump in the back of my throat. Suddenly I am feeling sick. Why does he have to be…so goddamn loving all the time? Why can't he simply be a fucking asshole? A dirty, lying, cheating-ass bastard like so many other men I know? Why does he have to want me so, badly?

Why does he have to make me feel so, so…goddamn dirty?

Because you are!

A filthy bitch!

Your whoring-ass doesn't deserve a man like him.

But why can't I have the best of both worlds?

Craig doesn't have to ever know.

Bitch, listen to yourself! You can't because it isn't right!

Who am I hurting if he never finds out?

Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.

Eventually he'll find out.

And when he does…?

“You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right?” I hear Craig say, slicing into the monologue going on inside my head.

I blink. Force myself to look up at him. Then take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

I wish I could justify my cheating as payback for Craig having stepped out on me, first. I want so badly to blame it on him. But I can't. Unlike most women, I haven't shared their pain of infidelity. I don't know what it's like catching my husband cheating on me, or lying to me.

Yet, here I am. Doing the exact same thing to him.

His gaze flicks over my face.

I inhale. Exhale. “I know.” I shift my eyes from his stare. His big, thick hands go up to my breasts, fondling them over my blouse. And then his fingers are plucking my buttons open.

Halfway down, I grab his hands. “Let me go shower.”

He shakes his head, pulling from my grasp. “No. Not tonight.”

“But—”

“Not another word. Shower after.”

Panic flames in my blood.
Oh dear God…he knows!

I look up into his brown eyes, fringed by thick dark lashes. If I
deny him tonight, I am certain this will turn into a fight. Evolve into a long night of tossing and turning, or me retreating to the guest bedroom.

“Craig, please…”

He drops his towel, revealing his nakedness, his dick springing to life. “I shouldn't have to keep begging for my wife.”

He's right. He shouldn't have to. So I acquiesce. Giving in to his want, this time. It doesn't take long before he opens my blouse and slides it off my shoulders. My breath catches as the garment flutters to the floor. My bra unsnaps. It, too, drops to the floor as my breasts swing freely. And then Craig is dipping his head down to kiss and nibble at my shoulder.

He growls low in his throat. “I want you.”

Bitch, give him some quick pussy and be done with it. It's the least your cheating-ass can do.

With that, he sweeps me up off my feet, slinging me over his broad shoulders. Manhandling me in a way he hasn't in years. He palms my ass as he makes his way over to our king-size bed.

I find myself frantically squeezing my pelvic muscles together; hoping, praying, my pussy has snapped back enough to conceal having had another man's dick fucking me not less than an hour ago. I am thankful that Craig's dick is much bigger than Charles'.

He won't notice.

He lays me on my back on our bed. Spreads open my legs. And tells me he's going to lick my pussy until I cream all over his tongue.

Ohgodno!

He presses his nose into my panties. Sniffs. Then licks my sex, the throb of my clit, over the thin layer of fabric. I am so relieved I put on a fresh pair of panties before leaving the office. He sucks and licks and nibbles at my clit, then licks my slit over the lace, wetting it with his tongue.

Craig glances up at me. Says, “I can't wait to feel your wet pussy all over my dick. It's been too long, baby.” He licks over my panties again. His hazy gaze still on mine. “I can't wait to taste your juices, and hear you moan. You wanna moan for your man, baby…?” He licks again, his eyes remaining locked on mine as his tongue swirls, slyly and sensually, over my panties, soaking them.

I gasp, turning my head, unable to bear looking at him any longer. Seeing his desire for me burning in his eyes is too much. A moan surges out of me, in spite of myself. Reflexively, my hips rock as my pussy responds to his slow, teasing strokes.

Craig pulls my wet panties to the side. Stares at my pussy, studies it. Then runs the tip of his tongue over my lips. The thought that he might possibly be able to taste Charles—or smell him—inside me while tasting me frightens and arouses me.

His tongue, long, soft, wide, and wet, plunges in, completely buried inside, his nose smashed up against my mons. One hand reaches up and pinches my right nipple, while he eases a finger inside my cunt, wriggling it alongside his tongue as if he's searching for some buried secret.

Ohgod, no! Yes, yes, yes…mmmm…

He licks from the base of my slit, all the way up—slowly, to my clit, curling his tongue. His tongue flutters over every inch of my sex. One finger turns into two fingers, his mouth suctioned over my clit, his tongue swirling over it, stroking it as his fingers probe deeply inside of me.

Oooh, Charles, baby…yes, yes…lick that pussy…

Craig's fingertips sweep over my cervix, causing me to cry out. Ohgod! How dare he make me feel so good! How dare my body defy what's going on in my head!

My eyes flutter close, and when they slowly open, they're unfocused, rolling back.

I blink. Try to zoom in on the sight before me. My husband's face smeared in my juices, but—
God help me
—all I can see is Charles.

•  •  •

“You filthy whore,” my BFF Sonji jeers, biting into a lobster croquette. “You're still fucking that fine-ass lawyer?”

Sonji and I are out having drinks at the Mojito Lounge in Elizabeth. And I've spent the last forty-minutes sharing what's being going on since the last time I saw her, about three weeks ago. She's the only person I trust with my secrets. Not only did we attend law school together at Columbia, she and I have been friends for close to twenty years. She was also my maid of honor at my wedding, and is the godmother to my daughters, so we share a very close bond.