Dirty Heat (29 page)

“It's too late. He already is.”

“Then you need to spend some time putting his mind to rest.” He slides his gaze up the length of my legs. “We have a good thing going, baby. I'd hate for you to mess it up.”

I sigh, uncrossing my legs, then crossing them at the ankles. “I'll handle it.”

He lowers his voice. “Good. Because I'd hate not being inside you, feeling my dick sliding in and out of that wet pussy.”

Thoughts racing, salacious and wild, I nearly swallow my tongue. Before I can open my mouth to speak, he adds, “I got one place in your life, Counselor. And that's between your legs.”

My pussy clenches.

Damn him!

He licks his lips. “My dick's hard.”

Ignoring how my pulse quickens, I shift in my seat. “I don't need to hear that right now.”

He gives me an amused look. A slow lazy grin eases over his handsome face. “It's the truth, love. Tell me you don't want this dick inside of you.”

I press my legs together, and bite my bottom lip to stifle a groan.

“You know I do,” I admit in a shaky voice, my insides purring with want.

He nods. “And right now, I want you underneath my desk sucking my balls while I stroke this dick.”

My mouth starts to water. I feel myself melting as my pussy slowly heats.

The man is a terribly delicious distraction. One I know I am unable to resist.

I take two sharp breaths. Try to keep myself planted in my seat. And swallow. My wicked craving to crawl under Charles' desk and oblige him is stronger than I imagined. And that frightens, and thrills, me.

Charles looks at the clock. “Listen. I have a briefing in ten minutes, then I have this motion to file before heading out to a meeting at the DA's office.” He rises and rounds the desk, sauntering toward
me. The imprint of his dick bulges in his pants, causing my mouth to water. He glances over his shoulder, then leans in and licks my neck. “Keep your tracks covered, love. So we can keep fucking.”

•  •  •

There was nothing more Charles needed to say to me. I knew what I had to do. The message was loud and clear: If you want this dick, then handle your position at home. Which is why I haven't stayed late or given Charles any after-hours office pussy in the last few days. Still, I've made time to suck his dick before heading home—don't judge me. I still needed a taste—but that's it. Instead, I've been going home and fucking Craig's brains out, while thinking about Charles.

Seeing him at the office or in court looking scrumptious, then
not
having him inside my pussy for the last few days has been driving me insane.

All I keep hearing is,
“Keep your tracks covered, love. So we can keep fucking.”

So that's what I've been doing. Covering my tracks. Fucking Craig, begrudgingly.

Sadly, I've come to realize I want Charles' dick
and
my life with Craig. And I don't see why I can't have them both. I don't want to let go of my side dick. And I'm not ready to let go of my husband. I thought I might be. But I'm not. Maybe it's me settling. Maybe it's me simply being selfish. Maybe it's being a little bit of both. All I know is, I want my daughters to grow up in a home with both their parents, like I did. And I want to keep getting that good dick. So to ensure that happens, I'm willing to do whatever I have to, even if it means pretending to want sex with my husband.

“Stop.”

I don't let Craig's words deter me. I nibble on his earlobe, then
brush my mouth against the sensitive part of his neck. I smooth my palm down his bare chest and abdomen.

“I'm serious, Markisha,” he says huskily. “You can't just use sex to smooth things over.”

“I'm not,” I whisper, blocking out visions of Charles. “I want you.” I lick his neck. “I need you.”

He grunts. “Since when?”

I don't answer. I climb up on top of him instead. Center my pussy over his crotch, then grind into him over his boxers until his dick responds to the friction, thickening and straining in his underwear. He gives into his own want. Raises his hips, slides down his underwear, and slips himself into me, getting lost inside the warmth of my pussy.

And for the rest of the week, I fuck my husband with reckless abandon while thoughts of my lover run rampant in my head.

•  •  •

Two a.m., my phone buzzes. I lift my head from my pillow, glancing over at Craig. He's snoring lightly, his back to me. I reach for my cell, then glance over at Craig again, before punching in my passcode. It's a text from Charles.

Slowly easing out of bed, I tiptoe into the bathroom, phone gripped tightly in my hand, then quietly shut the door behind me and lock it before walking over and sitting on the edge of the sunken tub.

I open the text message.
I want that pussy!

I grin. Text back:
Y aren't u in bed?

Can't sleep. Dick aching

Ooh. Poor baby. Wish I could suck u to sleep

Damn. Me 2

I lick my lips at the memory of being up on my desk, my ass
marinating in a puddle of my own juices as he fucked me. Marsha Ambrosius' song “So Good” plays in my head as I dip my hand between my legs, surprised at how wet and hungry I am.

My cell buzzes again.

Where's ya hubby?

Asleep

My finger hooks inside my panties, grazing my slick lips, then slowly circles over my clit.

U give him sum pussy?

Unfortunately

Good. U miss this dick?

Toes curling, an audible gasp rolls out of me as two fingers slink into my pussy, and my walls clench around them. I'm so wet and juicy. Horny beyond belief.

With one hand, I text back,
Yes!

WYD?

Playing w/myself

Shit. Can u talk?

Yes

Call me

He doesn't have to ask twice. I spring to my feet, quickly double-check the door to make sure it's locked, then call him. He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey.” His voice is low and husky and thick with desire.

I pinch my right nipple, then my left.

“I wanna put my dick in you.”

I moan low as my hand dips back between my legs. “Mmm, yes…” An audible gasp escapes me as I slide my finger inside a rippling sea of heat. “My pussy's so wet.” My fingers push in and out of my moist, sticky cunt. “Mmm. I wish you could see me playing in it. It's so hot.”

He hisses in a breath. “Fuck. I'ma fuck the shit out of you.”

“Mmmm. Yes. Fuck me.” I close my eyes and imagine his hard dick. Imagine the feel, the taste, the thrusts. Imagine the way my walls clench around it, milking it, sucking it in. Imagine his hands roaming all over my body, caressing my breasts, spreading over my ass, pulling me open.

I remove my fingers from my juicy cunt. Pinch my clit, then sink my fingers back in. “Ooh. Yes. Fuck me hard.”

“Yeah, that's it. Play with my wet pussy. Get it nice and ready for this fat dick.”

“Yes. Yes. Ooh, I want you to put your tongue in my pussy. I want to feel your hot breath on my clit. Then in your mouth…”

“Yeah, baby. You have some sweet pussy.”

I moan. Two fingers become three, fucking urgently into me. I rest a foot up on the ledge, opening myself more, welcoming the greedy thrusts of my fingers.

I am so overwhelmed with desire. I want Charles so badly. I want his dick. His tongue. His fingers.

In me.

All over me.

Again and again and again.

I moan. I writhe. My outer pussy lips stretch open. They are so slick, filling the air with my sweet musk.

“Come for me,” Charles demands, his voice husky and low.

Losing myself in the wet sounds of my pussy and the guttural groans on the other end of the phone, I cry out in ecstasy; forgetting Craig is on the other side of the door sound asleep.

I arch my back. And come in a rushing wave of pleasure.

•  •  •

Two nights later, I'm down in our entertainment room telling Craig that I have to fly out of town at the end of the week to interview three potential witnesses in this upcoming murder trial I am assigned to. It's part fact, part fiction. I am going out of town, just not to interview witnesses.

Craig is watching a soccer game on the ninety-inch flat-screen. It's been weeks since I've been down here. I look around the room. Then back at Craig. He doesn't respond when I tell him this. Doesn't even look over at me.

I frown. “Did you hear me?”

Eyes glued to the TV, he grunts. “Yeah. I heard you. Who else is traveling with you?”

The least this bastard could do is look at me!

“Two other attorneys,” I say casually.

He nods. “Mmm. Charles going?” Finally, he looks over at me, his eyes searching mine.

I don't blink. “No.” The lie rolls off my tongue so freely that I almost believe it myself. “He'll be handling things on this end. Why?”

“Just asking.” He goes back to watching television.

I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, come on. Don't give me that bull crap, Craig. Sounds like a fishing expedition to me.”

He swings his head around, giving me a look of disbelief filled with suspicion that I almost cringe. “Should it be?”

I huff. “No, it shouldn't be. If there's something you want to know, Craig. Ask.”

He tsks. “Right. And you'll give me the truth.”

With a defiant look, I plant a hand on my hip. “Of course I will. I have no reason to lie to you, Craig. And I'm getting a little tired of you insinuating that I do. It's starting to make me wonder what it is
you've
been lying about.”

He narrows his eyes at the challenge, seemingly unmoved by what I've tossed at him. “Have you?”

“Have I what? Lied to you?” I tilt my head. “Have you?”

No,” he scoffs. “I have no reason to
lie
to you. And I've given you no reason to think otherwise. You, on the other hand…”

Yeah, bitch! Take that!

I scowl. “Are you serious? You have
no
reason to be concerned about Charles. There is
nothing
going on with us.”

Dammit! Shit! That comes out without thought. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Craig narrows his eyes. “Who said anything about
Charles?
Or that I was concerned about
him?”

My stomach lurches as I sputter out, “So you're concerned about
me?”

“Your words, not mine.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Then there's a moment of silence. “Craig. You need to get out of your head and stop letting your own guilty conscience get the best of you. Your paranoia is getting tiresome. And I refuse to stand here and let you accuse me of things I'm not doing.”

“If you say so.”

He says nothing more. Simply stares at me, brows raised.

Between gritted teeth, I say, “Fuck—you.”

He nods. Turns his attention back to the game, placing his hands in back of his head. Then has the audacity to ask, “Am I getting some pussy tonight?”

Hell no!

With a vicious curse, I storm off, leaving a trail of anger behind me.

•  •  •

“So, you ready for three days of nonstop fucking,” Charles murmurs as he tickles that sensitive spot between my thighs and pussy. In two more days we'll be leaving for a three-day rendezvous to Santa Monica. Something in the back of my head, though, tells me that I should be home, instead of here tonight. But the way Charles' hands feel on me has me casting off whatever feelings of foreboding I have looming over me.

I arch my back, and moan. “Mmm…yes, yes…oh, baby, yes. I can't wait.” His fingers trail up and down my skin. The sensation causes my thigh muscles to tighten. I stretch them open as wide apart as I can.