Devil In The Waters, Book 7, Chapter 11

Devlin stripped her while they made out on the couch, him between her legs. Her hands went over his muscular arms as her lips moved from his mouth to his neck, tasting the pepper of the whiskey she’d splashed on him. Devlin’s arms outstretched on either side of her, supporting his weight. Then while she kissed his hairy chest, sucked his nipples, handled his hanging penis into huge hardness, he pulled off her head the top she wore and worked at getting her skirt undone. Didn’t even need to undo it: she wore no panties and sometimes while they kissed she could feel the weight of his testicles resting against her hot and wet aperture.

The sunlight came low through Devlin’s oceanfront window, a deep and throbbing orange, like the world was on fire. It fed her lust. The light painted Devlin like the demon he was: all muscle and fire, fireball twinkling in his black gaze. The passion she felt for him rose to a soaring height. No remorse, no guilt, nothing standing in the way of getting the deep satisfaction Devlin delivered. She surrendered to the massive pull of sexual desire she felt for him; a pulsing hot graviton in her coital tensor, ultra-eager lust drawing her devil lover inside her, needing him inside her, wanting with unambiguous desperation the terrible black pleasure Devlin infused.

“Fucking take me,” she growled around his kiss, getting tight grip of the thick hair at the back of his head and looking deep in his eyes. Her knees rose higher and wider, the soles of her feet stroking the small of his back.

Devlin loved to see her passion, was roused by it, his long cock hard and ready and laying heavy on her belly. He drew his hips back, readying himself to penetrate her, their foreheads coming together to touch while they looked in each other’s eyes.

As the first pressure built—the bulky smooth bulge of his engorged cock head spreading her wider, the first taste of his wonderful girth beginning to stretch her—her mouth fell open but she never let her eyes stray from his.

“Yes,” she panted through clenched teeth, showing him a flash of smile before the overwhelm of his extra large size dominated all her attention. “Oh yes.”

Deeper and deeper he sunk and her stomach muscles tightened to a column as that incredible satisfying pleasure of being fulfilled, of being satisfied, flooded her again, spread across the flat expanse between her shoulder blades and flushed up her neck and around her throat.

She took Devlin’s mouth again, this time holding spread hands on his neck and jaw, pushing her tongue in his mouth. The whiskey-wetted muscle of his torso pressed against her, squashed the swollen bulbs of her aching nipples.

The size and shape of his cock was incredible—she chuckled, nonsensical, but thinking how she’d told Amy that fucking Devlin had been no big deal.

Devlin liked her laugh, thought it playful, grabbed her hair, locked his eyes with hers—and, cock still impaled in her belly, he shimmied them both into the corner of the couch, getting her in an almost upright sitting position, the setting sun behind her flooding Devlin’s handsome face, showing off the sexy stubble that peppered his angled jaw, lighting up the steeliness of his eyes, inflaming them, putting light into the dark, illuminating the slivers of steel and gunmetal in the colors of fire. He was so fucking hot. So fucking handsome. So much man; and for brief and terrible trysts like this she could indulge her passions, her darkness, take what Devlin offered and enjoy it for herself. And return whole to her loving husband.

A pillow in the couch corner pushed a comfortable cushion against the small of her back, bowing her tummy forward while her legs draped Devlin’s thighs. The strange angle provided a new and novel point of pleasure-pressure from his cock head strobing deep in her interior wall. So fucking deep. Her nails dug into the hard slabs of his hard shoulders.

“Oh, mm, don’t, oh wow . . .”

Devlin knew her pleasure, could tell from her expression and from her bewildered eyes that they had discovered a wonderful and exquisite positional circumstance.

He rocked her in place, stabilized his knee-stance, a confident smile pushing dimples into his Caribbean weekend scruff cheeks. He knew he had her; knew that what he was giving she wanted. this married woman. His employee. The spouse of some high school dweeb he used to torment.

With a jab of his hips he got her gasping a tight whisk of surprised air. The point his cock head rubbed was something untouched, some secret part of her that itched in a way that had her insides gushing, a mushroom cloud of pleasure blossoming up her spine and spreading out through her mind, hazing the vision of her handsome asshole boss.

“You’re fucking exquisite, Kimmy,” Devlin said. “I don’t think you even have any idea how fucking perfect you are.”

“Right there, mm, right there,” she whispered, her hands working over his wet and hairy chest.

Devlin began a syncopated swing of his hips, rolling them forward and up in short pulses; his heavy testicles beat a sticky rhythm against the insides of her thighs.

They’d barely started and she was going to come. How could he make her come so fast? Down in the BMW she’d thought she’d come up and bang out a quick one, seeing this happening a different way. A way she expected. But they’d taken a turn, an adversarial one, and it seemed they both liked it. A struggle between them. Both of them seeking power and thinking they deserved it over the other.

Devlin was nothing to her. A handsome masculine asshole with a big dick he knew how to use. There was nothing else of value. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, wasn’t kind, offered nothing to her other than physical pleasure. She deserved power over him. Only one thing Devlin understood well was power, how to wield it, how to make it work for him. How to manipulate others through its application.

She wondered: Did Devlin have her cooperating against a friend, an ally—her life partner—sucking up to power (her high-paying job)? It was more humiliating than just betraying her husband.

She was indulging in bad behavior, being manipulated by power.

If she was truly an innocent person—and she was sure she was—then wasn’t she living in a tyranny? How would she ever restore her self-respect?

She knew how, though it would be a parlous gamble.

Now her head lolled rearward, her shoulders rising up to touch her ears, her mouth falling open. Stars twinkled behind her closed eyes and the pulse-waves of pleasure beat against her sexual shoreline. Her nails dragged Devlin’s skin and he leaned closer, hooking a strong hand to close the back of her neck in a tight grip. The more she arched her back, the more pressure built on her tummy where the head of Devlin’s cock deeply probed.

“I’m coming,” she squeaked, feeling small lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

Devlin bit her throat and she came hard, her stomach bouncing, her shoulders twitching, her hands losing their strength and slipping down Devlin’s muscular front. Her legs shook and quivered and she sagged into the couch arm as Devlin’s weight settled on her.

Then he was up, tugging her along with him, one hand on the back of her neck, the other at the small of her back, hugging her to him as he backed off the couch.

She gasped and clutched him, hooked ankles behind his ass, surprised how he could lift her like this. He cradled her when he stood, hands cupping her bottom. His cock was still inside and her weight bouncing in the suspension of his arms got his cock pulsing in and out in tiny bounces that felt absolutely incredible.

Devlin walked her back from the couch, turning so he faced the kitchen. Over his shoulder blazed the view of the setting sun.

“Take me outside,” she said. “Fuck me on the balcony.”

He kissed her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck tighter. At the sliding glass door he thudded a shoulder against the glass and slid it open. He stepped out and the cool evening washed all her hot wet surfaces, chilling them. The cool air touching her in those places—between her legs and under her arms—soared a wild feeling of exposure.

The sky above was shielded by a roof overhang, but as Devlin walked her into the corner of the L-shaped balcony, the deepening night spread wide. He let the small of her back touch the cold metal steel of the balcony’s hand railing, and she draped her arms over the other side, laying back her head. Her hair danced on a sudden breeze. Devlin closed the space between them, sinking deeper inside her, his face looming close and she kissed him.

Then he was gone, bracing her in the metal framework V, her arms over the railing, her legs locked around him. Now he fucked her. Fucked her for real. Her head fell back and she opened her eyes to the blazing sunset showing to her upside down. Darts of light dashed on the wave peaks; birds flew black against the orange to purple sky. Devlin’s flat hand stroked up from her navel, between her breasts, and closed on her throat, not squeezing, only caressing.

The abandon was unreal; floating distant from her confines, from her duty, from her responsibility. Far from her husband, unsafe and base and debauched. If Devlin fucked her harder, more carelessly, she could topple the balcony railing and crash to death on the pool deck seventy feet below.

The abandon had another orgasm swelling up high then washing down her back. She gasped and cried, and the slide of her hands on the metal tube railing grew sweaty. The pleasure was enormous.

She thrashed under Devlin’s pounding, her back squeaking against the railing, her feet bouncing behind him as he gave her long incredible strokes that brought her to the knife edge of an orgasm bigger than the first she had inside on the couch.

Another breeze rose from the shore and swept her hair and rattled the dry palm fronds below. She lashed a hand forward and planted high in the center of Devlin’s hard chest. Not low enough to suggest he should stop or not go so deep, because everything he was doing to her now was perfect. She couldn’t be fucked better.

She came again, came big and hard, and didn’t care how she cried out.

“I love to make you come,” Devlin said. “I’d do this all night long.”

“If I’d let you,” she purred and laughed and the hand on his chest swept higher to grab at his mouth. Devlin sneered and tugged his face away. And kept fucking her, trying to make it hurt. Going deep and hard and rocking her against the metal railing.

If she could tame Devlin she could bring Josh peace. She would make Josh understand his adversary: to think like him is to know him. Josh has to know Devlin better than Devlin knows Josh.

The hard and athletic fucking he gave her now washed her thoughts away. Devlin snatched her up, spun with her, kissed her while he walked her back two strides and planted her back against the smooth stone pillar that held up the roof overhang. She wrapped arms around him again, her hands fanned his muscular back. His forearms hoisted under her knees and she whooped as his cock stabbed deep into her guts. Something felt dislodged or shunted and a knot formed at the back of her throat and the uncomfortable but not displeasing feeling.

“Fuck, you’re so deep.”

“When we get back to Toronto I want a whole fucking night with you. I want you for my own. One night, Kimmy.”

“Take me somewhere good,” she said.

“Cayman’s not good enough?”

“Josh is here,” she said.

Devlin laughed loud, turning his face away for a moment while he did. When he looked back his eyes blazed with something like ardor. That’s when she knew she could take him. Could see his desire and how it intersected across her line and met Josh’s. She kissed him in return, said in his ear, “We can tell him it’s business. Take me somewhere good and treat me right.”

Devlin placed his forehead against hers and locked eyes as his thrust came hard and deep again.

“Take me out and show me off and then fuck me all night like this.”

“Fuck, Kimmy, where have you fucking been all these years?”

“Ajax.”