Dirty Heat

by Cairo

  “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.

  “Ssh. Bitch, will you keep quiet,” I hiss back. “And, yes. I’m still seeing him.”

  She wags a finger at me, raising a brow and licking crumbs from her lips. “Uh, correction, heifer. You’re fucking him. Seeing him would mean you were dating him. And we both know that’s not happening because you’re married. And, if my memory serves me correctly, so is he, no?”

  I roll my eyes. “Seeing, fucking…same difference. And, yes,” I lower my voice, “he’s married.”

  “Scandalous.” She shakes her head. “The dick must be good.”

  “Girrrl, I can’t lie.” I close my eyes, clutching my chest.

  She laughs. “Girl, sounds like that man has you strung out. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  With a dismissive wave of my hand, I say, “Please. I’m having fun. No strings. No stress. Just lots of sex.”

  She considers me for a second, then says, “And what about Craig?”

  I shrug. “What about him?”

  She tilts her head, twisting her lips. “Bitch, don’t sit there and play coy with me. You know what I mean.”

  I sigh. “I’m not happy with him. But I don’t think I’m ready to leave my marriage, either.”

  She raises a brow. “Well, how long do you expect to keep fucking Mister Good Dick?”

  “For as long as I can,” I say sheepishly.

  “And when Craig finds out, then what?”

  I shake my head, sighing. “I haven’t thought that far out. Right now, I’m simply going with the flow.” I meet her questioning gaze. “And, you mean, if, Craig finds out, which isn’t going to happen because I’m not going to tell him. And I know Charles isn’t about to come knocking on my door with a confession. So that leaves only one other person. You.”

  “Girl, bye. My lips are sealed. I love Craig and all. But my loyalties lie with you, boo. Still…” She pauses as she reaches for her third glass of Chardonnay. She takes a slow sip, eyeing me over the rim.

  “Still, what?”

  “This wine tastes good, though.”

  I laugh, balling up a napkin and tossing it at her. “Screw you, heifer.”

  “Mmph. No thanks. Someone else already has that position.”

  “I can’t stand you.”

  She smiles. “Lies. But seriously, Kisha; you need to let Craig go if you’re not happy with him. You know he doesn’t deserve this.”

  I frown. “Why does it feel like you’re on his side?”

  “I’m not on his side. I’m not on anyone’s side. All I’m saying is, you and I both know you have a good man. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes right now? I’d hate to see you throw it all away for a piece of dick that isn’t even yours.”

  “I know, I know. You’re right.” I shift in my seat. “But I’m not ready to let go. Not yet. That man has me doing things I haven’t even done with Craig.”

  She smirks. “You’re such a slut.”

  “Only at the office, boo. Only at the office.”

  We both crack up laughing.

  “So when do I get to meet this sexy sidepiece?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact,” I say, a smile easing over my glossed lips. “What are you doing next Thursday evening? His wife is going out of town for a few days, so we’re going to spend the night together in the city.”

  She blinks. Blinks again. “What?” she shrieks in disbelief. She repeats what I’ve said, then shakes her head. “Oh, heifer, now I know you are really out of control.”

  I smirk, placing my glass up to my lips and taking a sip. “I’m simply living on the edge a little.”

  She reaches over and grabs my hand. “Kisha, girl, I love you. But this shit you’re doing is dead wrong. No judgment. Do you. But…” she squeezes my hand, “you do know there’s the possibility that this won’t end pretty?”

  I gulp down the rest of my drink, then slowly say, “I know.”

  • • •

  “Hey,” I say, walking into the bedroom. It’s been a week since Sonji’s cryptic warning, but that hasn’t kept me from being with Charles every chance I can. In fact, we’ve been going at it hot and heavy. Sexing all through our firm’s building. My office, his office, in the conference room, the copier room, the file room, even at the receptionists’ desk—wherever, we’ve been fucking, fucking, fucking.

  Tonight, he ate my pussy in the backseat of his SUV, then I kindly returned the favor—stretching out my jaws and sucking him whole until he exploded his hot load down my throat—before sliding into my own vehicle, and heading home.

  Craig is sitting up in bed, bare-chested, holding the TV’s remote in his hand flipping through channels. “Where you been?” His slanted brown eyes never leave the forty-six-inch flat-screen mounted on the wall.

  “At the office,” I say calmly, slipping out of my heels, then sliding my skirt down over my hips.

  He peels his eyes away from the television, just long enough to shoot me a look of disbelief that screams, “You lying bitch!”

  He frowns. “This late? It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

  “I know. I should have called you. With this big trial coming up, there are so many loose ends and still a lot to do to prepare. I honestly loss track of time.”

  He looks away. The muscles in his jaw tighten. “I called you three times. And left you two messages.” Suddenly his voice is clipped and it’s clear he isn’t happy that I hadn’t returned any of his calls.

  “I didn’t get them,” I say, quickly moving about the room, removing my blouse, then my bra.

&
nbsp; Truth is, I’d turned my phone off.

  He tsks. “Well, I texted you. But I guess you didn’t get that, either, huh?” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

  Technically, no. “I didn’t,” I lie, crossing in front of the TV to get to our bathroom. I stop at the foot of the bed and look at him. “My phone died. And I forgot to bring my charger with me.”

  Craig tilts his head. I know he doesn’t believe me. I walk over toward him, lean in and attempt to kiss him. But my lips only graze the side of his cheek when he jerks his head back.

  He grits his teeth.

  I sigh. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  His mouth twitches suspiciously. “Who is he?”

  What the…?

  I whirl around to stare at him. “Excuse me?”

  He narrows his eyes. “I asked you who’s the motherfucker you’re cheating on me with?”

  Deny, deny, deny…

  “Ohmygod. Where is this coming from? I can’t believe you’d think, let alone ask, some mess like that,” I wail defensively. “There is no motherfucker I’m cheating on you with.”

  He grunts his response.

  I plant a hand up on my hip. Give him a defiant stare. Feign insult. “I’m not cheating on you, Craig.”

  “Oh, really?” He stares at me, hard. His tone drips with accusation. “That’s what you say. But your actions are starting to make you look real suspect.”

  I snort. “And what exactly does that mean?”

  He frowns. “It means exactly what I said. You’re standing there telling me you’re not cheating…”

  “I’m not cheating on you.”

  “Yeah, okay. But your actions have me thinking something totally different.”

  “And what exactly is it that you’re thinking?” I ask, bracing myself for what’s to come.

  “You drop the girls off at school in the morning, then don’t walk back up in here until close to eight, nine o’clock most nights. While I’m home playing Mister Mom to our daughters, you’re out doing God knows what. So you tell me what it is I should be thinking.”

  “I’m working,” I say indignantly. And fucking! “That’s what the hell I’m doing. And you should be thinking that everything I do, I’m doing for us. Nothing else.”