Devil In The Waters, Book 5, Chapter 13 (complete)

An hour before lunch, he was outside Harjeet Bhatt’s office waiting for his boss to get off the phone so he could ask about getting Friday off. It had been a weird morning where he was still flying high on the weird trip his wife’d taken him on last night. All that dirty talk Kimmy’d been cool with indulging had done some weird things to his mind and he couldn’t shake them this morning. Got a full-on boner in the shower this morning reliving the time he’d spent with her under the water’s stream, where she’d continued to milk his new weird kink, talking about Devlin while they had sex. It was time to stop wondering what the fuck it was all about and just embrace it. It surely turned him on. How long would this kink continue to work for him?—who knew. He’d once gone through a phase where he’d got super-hot for feet, but these days any of those old videos probably wouldn’t work their same magic like they did when he’d hunted them down. Embrace it and enjoy it. Hell, look: Maybe Dream Devlin and his dirty words were really his own kink talking to his drunken mind, the whole escapade brought about by having his worst nightmare brought back into his life that night at Tiffany’s party. Some shadow-sliver-self whispered some dirty deep secrets in his own ear, and he’d made sense of it by calculating a dream where the devil himself had come into his tent and said take a hold of my giant dick and then smell your hand . . . It was almost a relief. But it wasn’t. No, it wasn’t at all. Because of the text. The text had reminded him of his request. The text was real. The text did not arrive into a drunken mind.

And then at the worst time possible, this realization provoked the stirring of an erection.

If he had this weird kink, then who was to say he hadn’t told Devlin when he was ripped out of his mind? Devlin’d texted him he was doing what Josh asked. So if the kink was real, the idea he’d asked this of Devlin was less outrageous. Far more possible. And much, much worse: the possibility Dream Devlin was the real Devlin. Coming into his tent and saying it was done, showing him his huge cock and getting him to put his hand on it. For so long he’d convinced himself it wasn’t real, too far-fetched . . . Now his cock thundered with blood and became a full-blood hard-on that throbbed with urgency. The humiliation of it all. A man fucks your wife at a party because you said it would be hot, then shows you the proof, your wife’s sticky smell clinging to his big cock.

Harjeet was off the phone now, laughing about something, tidying his desk, aware that Josh was outside the window wall, but not here with an appointment. Just popping by. Or not. Maybe just passing . . . 

Another thing he’d been plagued by this morning was a sick but thrilling pleasure derived from the awful pictures Kimmy painted with her words—words he’d chastised her for. The idea she’d go with Devlin to the Caribbean, go with him and wonder what his bulge would look like in his swimwear, and the most terrifying thrill of all: that she knew Devlin’s big cock would get hard for her.

It was this thought he’d thumbed over and over, hating that it excited him. The longer he put off asking for a three-day weekend, the more he could enjoy this sinful dread that swirled his core. All morning, in accompaniment to reliving Kimmy’s words, he’d entertained the idea of Kimmy going to the Caribbean with Devlin, and him staying at home. The absolute blackness that wrapped him was like suppurating pleasure. He wouldn’t let that happen, but still . . . 

He waved to Harjeet and passed along the front of his boss’s office without stopping. At the end of the hall, he turned right and headed for the bathroom. It was empty, thankfully, and he headed to the furthest stall, locked himself in and collapsed on the toilet. Pants unzipped, he pulled out his throbbing and traitorous erection. He thumbed it forward, examined it, judged the scale of his hand in comparison and thought more about what Kimmy’d seen bulging out Devlin’s pants. The idea was thrilling and he had to stop being angry about it. What seemed for sure now was that this arousing idea of Kimmy with Devlin existed in his head. Maybe Devlin put it there or maybe he’d divulged it drunkenly to Devlin. Either way, he had to emerge from Kimmy’s shadow and face Devlin. And he’d already proved he could do it—aided a little by liquid courage, he’d faced the demon of his youth and looked him in the eye. Had even defied Devlin’s confident gaze by tossing out the conjecture over who really ran Stone Brokerage. That took a set of balls he didn’t know he had.

In his pocket was a card with Devlin’s phone number and he would call Devlin. Call him, meet him, and find out what was real and what wasn’t. Maybe Devlin had never been in his tent, but he sure as hell had sent a text, and that text had said he’d fucked Kimmy.

A month ago, the slipperiest mention of that idea could have wrecked him. Devastated him. The enormity of it had prevented him from doing the right thing. So afraid it was true, so afraid of Devlin, he’d cowered and shushed it all away, shushed it out of existence. But no more. The arousal he felt and Kimmy’s acceptance of that arousal gave him confidence to face down the biggest bully in his life. Devlin’d taunted him with the greatest and most frightening threat: I fucked your wife. Only he hadn’t. He’d relied on Josh’s own insecurities and fears to do the bullying work on his own. And, damn it, it’d worked. But not anymore. He’d look Devlin in the eye and if Devlin had the guts to say it to his face, say I fucked Kimmy, he would say to Devlin: “No, you didn’t.”

For now, though, he’d indulge a little longer in his dark fantasy. He stroked his cock, stroked it to get rid of an unfortunate mid-workday boner. It had to be done, and while it had to be done, it was lunchtime on Wednesday and he still didn’t have Friday off yet. So while he stroked with his pulsing pre-come, he closed his eyes and thought of Kimmy on the beach, husband Josh all the way back in Ajax, and she’s turning, turning to see her boss coming down from the hotel and joining her on the hot sand. She’s smiling to him, waving, wearing a tiny black bikini. And her eyes are lowering, going down between Devlin’s legs. It wasn’t like her at all, but that damn husband of hers put it in her head. And now she was biting her lips because sure enough, Devlin couldn’t wear Speedos. Couldn’t, but was, anyway. And the enormous heap of man-flesh between his legs bulged the fabric comically, and Kimmy wondered what it would look like free of that spandex confinement. That’s right, his wife wondered if he was circumcised, wondered how many inches it was. Maybe later she’d measure it. Put a ruler on that shower room monster and laugh. Yeah, it was enormous, but Josh was right, no one was twelve inches. Twelve inches or not, she would think, it sure was a lot of cock for one man to have and maybe she’d like to try . . . 

And then he came, a bright but awful image behind his eyes of Kimmy and Devlin close together in some imaginary Cayman hotel bathroom, and she’s awestruck by Devlin’s naked cock, but oh-so-happy he’s getting hard for her . . . 

***

In an effort to restrict the wounding by his massive impalement, she had two hands thrust between her legs, his huge cock running through their grip. She was on her back on the bed of what would be Devlin's new apartment, fifteen minutes from her office. Skirt pulled up to her waist, legs wrapped around his strong hips, expensive shoes locked behind his back. Her suit coat was open, shirt unbuttoned, her bra tugged to one side, Devlin thumbing an exposed hard and rubbery nipple. He fucked her while her two hands prevented him from going too deep. For now.

Devlin kissed and bit her neck, and she bit on his earlobe. He smelled amazing. Firewood, leather, spice, and soap. His cock was enormous in her hands, and what he could get inside her was still satisfying. She let one hand go, fingered her own clitoris, let him get deeper. She gasped as his huge cock head spread her deep. She squeezed the base of his cock, and Devlin growled.

“You need this cock?”

“So big, so good . . .”

“Kimmy likes it—”

“Deep,” she finished for him.

“Like this?” He curled his hips forward, gaining an inch in her interior.

“Oh God,” she sighed, slowly releasing her grip on his cock, now hefting the impressive weight of his dangling balls. She kneaded them, played with them, and Devlin got even deeper.

“I love it deep,” she whispered in his ear.

“You’re the hottest fuck in the world, Kimmy Chang—”

“Deeper,” she whispered, letting his balls go and her hands sliding up his sides, under his soft dress shirt and feeling his hot muscle. He’d undone his pants, and they sagged below his round ass. His feet were on the floor at the foot of the bed—two executives fucking in the middle of the work day.

Devlin gave her what she requested, sliding do deep she could feel those big sticky balls resting in the crack of her ass. The bulb end of him nudged apart her deepest folds, and she knew to arch her back so he wouldn’t prod her cervix.

He whispered: “That good?”

“Incredible,” she told him, “don’t move, just . . .”

She gasped now as Devlin began pulse-flexing his dick, that fat cock head throbbing inside her like a pleasure-beacon. She chuckled at the insane gratification, eyes closing, lashes fluttering.

His hips rocked, his cock not thrusting, just rolling against her, getting her pelvis swaying as his huge size claimed her completely. Each roll around brought white blobs of light in the blackness of her shut eyes. “You’re so fucking big, baby . . .”

“That’s it, call me baby,” he said, chuckling and growling.

“Yeah, you like that, baby,” she whispered, “like fucking me with your huge cock?”

“I love you getting something your husband can’t give you.”

“He can’t fuck me like you do,” she said, hands going up higher, palming his strong hard chest. “You fuck me so good, so deep.” Her eyes met his, registered the effect of her words, giving her lover with deadly accuracy the thing that made his dick hardest. Devlin scowled, a mixture of lust and menace, hearing the thing that drove his sex-engine and now he began to fuck her. She gasped and moaned and squeaked, whimpering for him: “Oh, easy, baby, oh, baby, you’re so big . . .”

That was when she saw a pale shadow cross the wall opposite the open bedroom door and knew one Betsy Shapiro was spying on her client and her client’s lawyer fucking on the bed in the apartment she hoped the guy would take.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, “Josh can’t please this pussy . . .”

“Only you, baby, this is our bed . . .”

“Our bed,” he agreed in a low animal rumble.

“Fuck me, baby, fuck me like I can’t get at home.”

This drove Devlin wild, and he responded with male aggression, claiming her hard and deep, hoisting up her pelvis and manhandling her. Her hair spread across the bed, her bun coming undone, her jacket bunching up behind her neck. He supported the small of her back and fucked her expertly, his thumbs pressing into her flat stomach. Her back was arched, and a knot pressed out her tummy with each thrust of his cock. Devlin was so hard, his cock speared out her flesh. She palmed the knot, moaning, whimpering again, saying, “oh, Devlin, you fuck me so good, I love that big cock,” the outrageous knowledge that someone spied on them spurring on the dirtiest talk. Hoping Betsy had a hand down her skirt and was jacking herself, maybe wondering how big this guy’s cock was, given his hot-ass lawyer’s profane evocations.

For the first time, she seriously lamented not engaging in that threesome with Amy and Devlin—or at least had watched like Betsy surely was. But thoughts of Amy and Amy’s honesty tugged her away from where she wanted to be—so she chased off the thoughts, re-engaged with Devlin, tugging his tie to bring his mouth closer so they could kiss.

What made Devlin tick wasn’t much different than what made Josh tick. And the truth was, she got off on being the device between them, the thing—the sexual being—that completely dominated their erotic thoughts. Their master. When she was bad, she was powerful.

She growled near Devlin’s ear: “Come inside me, baby, I want to feel your wet all day long, will you make me wet, baby? Make me wet with your come . . .”

Devlin made a low growling animal sound, his jaw setting firm. He looked in her eyes, and she could see a measure of amazement there. Maybe a miscalculation that needed correction, his dominant male mind looking to engage in a war of wills. He said, “You’re too good to be true, Kimmy . . .”

She whispered, “Betsy’s watching us.”

Devlin chuckled and drew back, eyes still studying her as she writhed under him, giving him a face that told him she needed his cock. He took her skinny knee and tossed her legs onto one side of him, withdrew his cock, brought her to her hands and knees and walked her widdershins. When she looked up, she could see why: a mirror on a stand near the bedside. She said to his reflection over her shoulder: “We’re going to watch ourselves fuck twice a week,” then bit her lower lip.

Devlin’s face was stone-serious with sexual intent and he grabbed his cock and shoved it inside her, making her squawk.

“Fuck me doggy, baby,” she panted, bucking herself back into his thrusts. “Oh, fuck me good . . .”

With her skirt up, her long bare legs were knee-pointed on the bed, her hair hung in tangles, some locks still tucked into the remnants of her bun. her jacket was open, her shirt open, and one nipple budded over the curled-over edge of her black bra. Her face showed demanding lust that surprised even her. Devlin was behind her, on the bed now on his knees, his hands gripping her waist, his handsome face pinched and angry as he fucked her hard.

“Ah, you’re so big—mm, I’m hardly ready for you again.” The words were meant for Devlin but they were beginning to take their toll on her, and now she could feel a new flux of her pussy’s wet squelching around Devlin’s girth. She made a squeaky gasp that almost sounded like a laugh, responding impishly to the flatulent sound his thick cock made with her gushing wet. “Ah, God, I’m so wet,” she gasped and tossed her hair around.

It wasn’t long before the presence of mind she had to holler out insanely dirty things for Devlin and Betsy’s benefit faded and soon the intense deep-dick pleasure of Devlin’s fucking consumed her forward-mind. Her breathy panting became real, her moans and cries genuine. When she grew quiet, Devlin grew dominant.

“You take it deep, Kimmy,” he growled.

“Uh-huh,” she gasped.

“And you didn’t think it’d fit.”

“It fuh-fits,” she gasped. The bed rattled against the drywall and now she had an image of Betsy with her back against the wall, fingering herself, listening to a woman get the fucking of a lifetime.

“No one’s ever fucked my cock better.” One hand spread on her lower back, sliding under her shirt and jacket then and gripping the back of her neck. “So fucking deep, so fucking tight.”

“Mm, fuck me, oh fuck me . . .”

The fucking and thrashing continued, Devlin with his neck in her grip, holding her in place for his deep impalement. All she wanted right now was his come. She’d come twice already. little flutters and kicks, but what her belly craved was to be filled with a gallon of his hot load. When she knew he was close, she rolled her bottom against his thrusts, gripped hold of the bedding and growled and cried like a bitch animal being mated. it drove Devlin crazy and she could feel his thrust hitch, could feel his cock twitching inside her.

“Josh can’t do me like this, baby, Josh can’t give me what I need . . .”

“Fuckin’ . . .”

“Only you, I need what you have—I need it so bad, so deep . . .”

He grunted, “You need a man.” His voice was tight and he was on the very edge of losing it. The swell built inside her as well.

“Give it to me—I won’t have it for days, and I need it, Devlin, I need it, mm, I need it so bad . . .”

At last he exploded. Dick thrusting deep and flexing, his cock head swelling in her guts till it felt twice as big. The knowledge that his seed was being blasted inside her—beyond her cervix—set her off as well and her pussy began to quiver around Devlin’s stretch. Soon she was flooding the bed. She could hear the patter of her wet on the bedding between her knees. Devlin growled and roared and tried to plunge deeper but he’d bumped his pubic pad against her tailbone. he thumbed her anus as he still ejaculated and she squirted around him.

They collapsed together on the bed, him on top of her. She could feel the sticky sweat of her skin against her clothing and wondered what the shower pressure in the apartment’s bathroom would be like and if she should buy wooden hangers for her jackets.

He lay heavily on her panting against her back, his orgasm as big as hers. That was an orgasm she delivered. That was her work. 

“Fuck, Chang,” he said at last, exhausted, exhaling, lifting off her with one arm, his other hand withdrawing his cock from her. It made a liquid gushing sound and she could feel wet spilling through her pubic hair. She chuckled and got on her elbows. Devlin slapped her ass and fell back, laying at her side, his huge wet cock laying up on his stomach, bowed over his dress shirt and making a dark stain on the fabric. She leaned to one side, reached and ran her fingers up its belly, then touched her lip. “Wow,” she said, then peeped over her shoulder toward the open bedroom door, wondering if Betsy had tip-toed out or was stuck in the hall now in the quiet aftermath expecting she would get caught eavesdropping.

For Betsy’s sake she returned to face Devlin saying, “I guess you’re going to take it.”

“The apartment?”

“It’s perfect,” she said.

“Fucking perfect,” Devlin said, looking up at the ceiling. The his head rolled her way. “What got into you?”

“What do you mean?” She gave him a coy smile, tucking her chin down.

He went to his side to face her, his cock swinging down to point straight into the bedding. “That dirty talk . . .”

“You like it?”

“You’re into this.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “For now.”

He nodded. She could tell from the sag of his posture that he was enervated. And it made her proud to turn the tables on him. He said, “You don’t look like you can take what I’ve got—the way you’re built—but, Kimmy, I swear you are the hottest fuck ever.”

She tried to keep emotion from her face, not give away her thoughts to her adversary, but his words had her scalp tingling. She shrugged the shoulder again. No big deal. Said, “I was just really horny.”

“You definitely wanted it,” he said.

She opened her hips and rolled to a side, facing him now. With one high heel planted in the bed, she winged open a leg and fiddled with her pubic hair. Devlin’s eyes were mesmerized, watching her play with herself. Now that she’d rolled away, her copious wet was visible on the pristine wet of the bedding. She chuckled, said, “I had no idea I was that horny.”

His eyes moved up to hers and he studied her. She showed him nothing. Then she smiled and asked him, “Do you like fucking me?—or do you like fucking Josh Waters’ wife?”

His pupils flared. She’d sprung it on him and hadn’t even known she was going to do it. But the questions even you didn’t expect were the best ones at finding the truth. Devlin struggled, and she knew he was reassessing how to deal with her. Once he figured it, his confident smile returned. “What’s the difference?”

Now she took her pussy wet and moved to touch his lips, stroking his good-looking mouth with the product of their fucking.

He kept his eyes on hers, gripped her small wrist in his big hand and held it firmly. He made a grumbling sound in his chest, smiling still. He said, “You’re a wild horse, Kimmy.”

She raised her chin, looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I am.”

He chuckled, cocked his head. “But I’m still going to break you.”