Dirty Heat (27 page)

“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.

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.”

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.