Dirty Heat

by Cairo

  He laughs. “For us? Are you kidding me? Do I look that damn dumb to you, huh, Markisha?”

  “I’m not calling you dumb. All I’m saying is, you’re looking for a problem that isn’t there. Stop letting your imagination get the best of you.”

  “Oh, so now I’m imagining all this, huh? I’m imagining some other man is fucking my wife, huh?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re doing.” I swallow back the pile of lies filling up in the back of my throat. “You know I have this big case. And it’s taking up a lot of my time. We discussed this. You know sometimes I work long hours. It comes with the job.”

  He grunts. “And I’m cool with you working late sometimes. Not practically every damn night.”

  “It’s not every night.”

  “Markisha, give me a break. Over the last few weeks you’ve been coming home late more often than not.”

  I didn’t think your ass noticed.

  “And that I have a problem with, especially when I can’t get ahold of you.”

  “I told you my battery died.”

  He smirks. “Yeah, okay. How convenient.”

  I sigh inwardly. I can tell this is going to be one long, endless night of arguing. And I’m not for it. “Listen, I don’t want to argue. I’m tired. It’s been a long exhausting day. Can we not do this tonight, please?”

  He huffs. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “No, it’s not ‘whatever.’ You know we both agreed that you’d take on most of the household responsibilities with the girls until I made partner.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, okay. And I support your career. And I want you to make partner. But what I don’t support is you forgetting that you’re still a wife and a mother. What I didn’t agree to is, you neglecting your responsibilities to your family. If you want to move like you’re single, then do that. But you can’t live here. I want a wife and a mother to my children. Not a roommate.”

  I blink. Oh. No. The. Hell. He. Didn’t!

  I slam a hand up on my hip. “I haven’t forgotten anything. And I resent you for saying that.”

  “Well, guess what, Markisha? Get over it. I resent you putting more energy into your career than you do your goddamn family.”

  “That isn’t fair. You know—”

  “Yeah, I know. And neither is being neglected by my wife.”

  I swallow. “How have I neglected you, huh? What, because I’m not at your beck and call whenever you want sex? Is that what this is about, huh? You think I’m out cheating because I’m not fucking you every night?”

  He glowers at me. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m thinking, especially when I have to practically beg to make love to you, then you tell me you’re too tired.”

  “I am tired.” Yeah, from getting my back knocked out. “You know I work long hours, and—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively. “Whatever you say. All I know is, someone’s been getting pussy and it hasn’t been me.”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He raises a brow. “Oh, you think this shit’s funny? I’m not being ridiculous. Tell me. When’s the last time we’ve made love, huh?”

  I blink. Swallow hard. Try to remember the last time I’d given Craig some pussy that wasn’t out of pity or guilt, or obligation. I come up short.

  “Yeah, just what I thought. You can’t tell me ’cause you don’t even know. Well, I know the last time I had my dick inside my own wife,” he snaps. “Six damn weeks ago!”

  I blink. “It hasn’t been that long, Craig.”

  “Well, obviously I’m the only one in the room keeping count,” he says snidely. “All I know is, I’m getting tired of playing with my own dick. And I’m exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, again. Take care of your man, Markisha.”

  His comment sounds like an ultimatum. I swallow back my guilt. “Or else what, Craig?”

  Silence.

  I stand in front of the television, blocking his view. Hands planted firmly at my hips. Head tilted. “I asked you a question, Craig. Or else what?”

  He reaches over and turns off the lamp on his nightstand. Then aims the remote at the television and shuts it off, leaving me standing here flabbergasted with the answer to his question hovering in the darkness.

  • • •

  The following afternoon, I’m at the Marriott with no regard for anything Craig implied the night before. Butt-naked on my knees; face down, ass up.

  Charles is in back of me, my ass spread open, his dick slicing into the back of my pussy until I feel dizzy with pleasure.

  “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” I chant, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, yesssss…”

  I know fucking Charles clouds my judgment. That I struggle to separate feelings from sex. Still, I keep fucking him knowing that what we share isn’t love. That it’d never be.

  But the truth is, I. Don’t. Care. Charles touches me, fills me, in ways Craig doesn’t. Every time he fucks me, he fills places that have gone empty and aching over the last several years. What we share isn’t meaningless sex.

  Not to me.

  But it isn’t love, either.

  Or is it?

  No, no, of course not!

  Lust. That’s all it is.

  And…

  Obsession.

  Yes, that’s the only reason I’d be on an extended lunch, in this hotel room—naked, letting another man fuck my pussy to shreds.

  God help me!

  I grunt. “Mmmph…oooh, yes…”

  Charles moves faster, harder. His balls slap up into me. “Goddamn, this motherfucking pussy’s so good!”

  Slap!

  His hand comes down across my ass.

  I groan.

  Slap!

  Again. My ass quivers beneath his hand. The sting and burn causes my flesh to tingle.

  “Yes, baby,” I crane my neck, looking back at him. “Ooh, yes. Slap that ass! Make it hurt, big daddy!”

  Slap!

  “Yeah, you like that shit, huh, bitch?”

  Mercy.

  “Ooh, yes!”

  He yanks me by the back of my hair, ramming his dick in me.

  “Uh! Ooh! Yes, motherfucker, yes! Do it again!”

  Slap!

  I bite down on my bottom lip and grunt as he gives me long, hard plunges that jostle my body. My breasts bounce as he pounds into me. I rock my hips for more of him.

  “Ooh, yes, yes, yes…fuck me. Mmmm…Fuck meeee…”

  Charles thrusts—“I’ma gut this sweet pussy out”—and slaps my ass again. My pussy clenches his thickened shaft. His hips smack against my ass. His dick touches a part of me that hasn’t been touched before as his fingers dig into my waist, then slip down to my hips, gripping as he rapidly pounds deeply into my body, stroking over that magical spot. I grow wetter around his dick. Suck him in. Each stroke flings me perilously closer to climax.

  “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Milk me. I feel you squeezing that dick.” He leans forward and growls in my ear, then nips my earlobe as he reaches under me and finds my aching clit, sticky and swollen. He pinches it. And growls some more.

  My tongue lolls out of my mouth. My eyes roll up in my head. Fire shoots through my entire body.

  “Ooh, get it, get it…yes, yes, yes…mmm…mmm…uh, uh, uh…”

  It’s all too much. The fucking. I squeeze my rolling eyes shut. I can feel all of the blood in my body filling my clit, swelling my cunt. The surge builds and builds and builds and comes from someplace deep as his dick fucks me at a perfect rhythm.

  I am coming harder than I’ve ever come.

  “Ohgod, yessss! Fuck. fuck. Fuck. Oooooh…”

  “You like that? You feel that, this hard dick swelling up inside you…?” he says, between feverish thrusts.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I mewl, feeling every thick, pulsing inch of him. Dizzy with bliss, pleasure ignites through every part of my body as I reach one climax after another.

  Ove
r and over and over.

  “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” is all I chant, my body writhing beneath Charles.

  I give him my pussy. Let it become his possession.

  He fucks me with all his might—

  And then…oooh, oooh…

  Hot scorching cum fills the thin sheath between us.

  Charles bucks his hips, continues stroking into me until his dick shrinks and finally slips out of me, leaving me vacant as he flops over onto the bed, collapsing beside him.

  I fan myself. “Ohmygod, I need a cigarette. And I don’t even smoke.” I stretch and moan, turning to him. “That was so damn good.”

  He gives me a cocky grin, rolling over on his side and kissing me lightly on the lips. “Yeah, I did put it on you.”

  I suck my teeth, punching him playfully in the arm. “Oh, please. What. Ever.”

  “Yeah, okay. You know you can’t get enough of this good dick.”

  Smiling inside, I don’t respond.

  “No need to admit it,” he says smugly. “Your body told me all I need to know.”

  Hot, sweaty, and still breathing heavy, he curls his arms around me and molds his body into mine, pulling me into him, hooking his leg over mines. Nothing else is said. He kisses the top of my head, then strokes through my damp hair until his breathing slows and we are both drifting off to sleep.

  • • •

  Two hours later, Charles and I stroll back into the building that houses the Strathmore, Strauss, Landers & Associates offices and ride the elevator up. I’m floating, and smiling on the inside. All I can think about is the delicious fucking that he delivered. And the sweet pounding of my heart as I climaxed. My pussy is still throbbing. Wanting more.

  I cut my eye at him, imagining being bent over. Right here. Trapped. Him inside me. Fucking me deep.

  He clears his throat, smirking. “You still need that cigarette?”

  I roll my eyes. “Maybe. Or maybeeee,” I say, licking my lips teasingly. “I need something thick. And hard.”

  We stare at each other with hungry eyes and knowing smiles for a long moment until he winks, then drags his gaze away, looking up at the camera.

  Silence lapses between us as the elevator ascends. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, feeling my insides pulsing for more of him.

  Charles straightens his tie, and sniffs. Then sniffs again.

  “I can smell your wet pussy,” he whispers out of the side of his mouth as the doors open. I giggle like a schoolgirl with her first crush, poking my tongue out at him stepping out of the elevator and running right into…

  “Craig!” My cheeks heat with shock. He’s the last person I expected to run into. Here, no less! Craig rarely comes to my office. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t been to my office in almost a year.

  Despite the blood draining from my face, I force a smile and feign excitement. “Ohmygod! This is a surprise.” I fight to keep my voice from quavering. “W-what are you doing here?”

  He kisses me on the cheek. “Surprised?” He smiles. “I thought I’d sneak out of work early and come take my wife out to lunch. But looks like I’m the one who got surprised when I got here and you were already gone.”

  He eyes Charles, and suddenly the air around me thickens, and starts choking me. I feel myself getting lightheaded as I draw in a deep, burning breath.

  “Craig,” I croak, stepping aside as someone steps into the elevator. I hear the doors close behind me. “You remember Charles, don’t you? Charles, you remember Craig, right?”

  “Hey, man,” Charles says, grinning and extending his hand. “Good seeing you.”

  Craig grits his teeth, sizing him up, as the two exchange handshakes. “So you’re the one who’s been keeping her away from home.”

  “And I appreciate you letting me borrow her. Believe, man. She’s always in good hands.”

  The innuendo hangs in the air like a thick blanket.

  Ohmygod! What the hell is he doing?

  Craig’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  God, please don’t let this turn ugly.

  It takes everything in me to keep from hitting the floor.

  Craig assesses the situation looking from me to Charles, then back over at me. I can see the wheels in his head spinning.

  I swallow hard. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a few of the third-year associates as they look over in our direction. Great! Nosey-asses! The last thing I want is to be the center of gossip.

  “I bet she is,” Craig says tersely. “Working all those late nights together…”

  He allows his statement to linger between us.

  “Well, I’d better get going. I have a conference call at three.” Charles looks from me to Craig. “Craig, my man, it was good seeing you again.”

  He extends his hand again. Craig looks at it as if he’s deciding whether or not to leave him hanging. My heart starts pounding.

  He knows.

  And then Craig shakes it. “Likewise.”

  Charles sweeps his gaze to me, clearing his throat. “Markisha, I’ll talk to you about that case later.”

  I nod.

  Craig waits until Charles saunters off and is well out of earshot before saying, “I waited for almost two hours for you. Where were you?”

  “At a meeting at the prosecutors’ office,” I lie.

  He raises a brow. “Really? That’s odd. Because when I called this morning, your receptionist told me your schedule was clear until three.”

  That messy bitch!

  I keep my gaze trained on his. “It was. Until I got a call from the prosecutors’ office.”

  He eyes me warily. “What time did you leave?”

  “Ohmygod, what is this?” I hiss, clenching my teeth. “An inquisition?”

  His jaw tightens. “No. It’s me trying to understand where my wife was for the last two-and-a-half hours.

  He glances at his watch. “I got here at twelve. And you were already gone.” He glowers at me. “So where were you?”

  He knows I’m lying.

  “I told you. A meeting. Then we stopped for lunch.”

  He snorts. “I just bet you did. What did you eat?”

  Dick.

  I glance around the lobby. “Can we not do this here? Please. Let’s go into my office.”

  His nostrils flare. I can tell he’s seething inwardly as he presses the elevator button. “I’m going to pick up our daughters from school. I’ve waited around long enough.”

  I step in to give him a kiss, but he jerks his head back.

  I grapple for words as the elevator opens and he steps inside, his hand pressing the button to take him to the building’s main lobby.

  “I’ll see you when I get home. Okay?”

  “I won’t wait up,” he says, his lips tight as the doors close and his face disappears from view.

  • • •

  “I think Craig knows.”

  I close Charles’ door behind me, moving across the gray-colored carpet in his office. I’m smartly dressed in a brown pencil skirt and pink sleeveless blouse. My six-inch red bottoms make my back arch and my ass pop.

  My nerves have been on edge ever since last night when Craig confronted me while I still had a mouthful of his nut in my mouth. Something I never expected from him. I almost choked. In all the years we’ve been together, he’s never flat-out accused me of—cheating.

  “Are you fucking him?”

  “Am I fucking who?”

  “Charles.”

  “Of course I’m not fucking him! Charles and I are colleagues. And we’re working on this case together so we spend a lot of time together.”

  “Yeah, I just bet the two of you are. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s something going on between the two of you. It’s in my gut.”

  “Well, I don’t care what your gut is telling you. I’m telling you, I’m not screwing him!”

  “For your sake, Markisha, I hope not.”

  The tinge of gu
ilt that elicits all but drowns out the voice in my head that says I should end this affair with Charles before things get messy. But I’m not ready to.

  And, last night—even after I quickly showered, then slipped into bed and eased my hand into the slit of Craig’s boxers, snaking his flaccid dick out and sucking it to life—I tried to rationalize in my head that there was nothing wrong with having the proverbial cake and eating it too.

  He’d lain there, unenthused, unresponsive, unfazed, as I licked and sucked and slid my lips up and down the shaft of his dick. I remained undeterred by his detached disposition, feverishly sucking and gulping and licking and moaning until I’d eventually gotten the best of him and he grunted, groaned and began moving his hips.

  That was my signal to keep laving him with my moist tongue. So I did.

  Craig grunted.

  And I sucked.

  He grunted again.

  And I sucked him deeper.

  Licked him wetter. Sucked him harder. Massaged his balls. Then sucked them. Stroked him. Guilt brought me between his legs. Desperation forced me to give a porn star-worthy performance.

  I sucked and gulped and swallowed Craig deep into my mouth and down my throat until his hand clamped around the back of my head, his hips joining the pulsing rhythm of my mouth and throat.

  Craig growled. His grip around my head tightened. And then he was stabbing up into my mouth, mercilessly jabbing the back of my throat until a thick rope of heated seed flooded the back of my mouth.

  • • •

  I take a deep breath and cough as Charles looks up from the deposition transcript in his hand. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looks at me. “You think your husband knows what?”

  I take one of the two chrome-and-leather chairs in front of his desk and sit, crossing my legs. “About us.”

  He raises a brow, and grins at me. “Exactly what is it you think he knows…about us?”

  I shift in my seat, uncrossing my legs. “You know exactly what I mean. I think he knows I’m cheating on him.”

  “With me?”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, maybe.”

  “Well, which is it?”

  Suddenly, the muscles in the back of my neck tighten. “He doesn’t know for sure. But he suspects it. He flat-out asked me last night if we were fucking.”

  “Okay,” he says calmly. “And what did you tell him?”