Devil In The Waters, Book 3, Chapter 23 (complete)

First thing she noticed when her eyes opened was the color of the nighttime sky. Or the lack of color. All that purple had drained, leaving only blackness lit from below by orangey harbor-front lights. Night sky meant nighttime, meant it was late . . . A domino-collapsing series of thoughts that had her heart jumping, momentarily unsure of where she was, but knowing something was terribly wrong. Her mind pinpointed a deep dread: The knowledge she had done something terrible that had to be hidden from Josh. It was late. Very late . . . 

She shot up, reality beginning to percolate: she was in bed with another man, in a hotel room, the Royal York, way downtown, more than an hour from home probably, and she better get going . . . 

Her voice: “What time is it?”

Devlin’s voice from somewhere: “Hmm?”

“Oh shit,” she said, aware of an allover ache through her body. Though not a bad one, a stretched out feeling like she’d gone through a grueling yoga class. Naked, she slipped off the bed, putting her feet on the soft carpet runner, heaving off then and lurching to find her phone.

Once up though, a surprising reality swooned, waiting for her. Her legs were boneless. Useless. And as quickly as she’d stood at the side of the bed, she collapsed onto her hands and knees. Somewhere, Devlin chuckled. She groaned, put her hand between her thighs and cupped it over her beaten pussy. Her hamstrings were gone. Like she didn’t have any, and her ass muscles, too, nothing there, no muscle, just a bowl of Jell-O.

But she didn’t hurt, at least not badly, and now for some reason she found her situation funny. She chuckled, raising upright, hand out and holding on to a bench at bedside, walking forward then on her knees, lunging to hook her hands on the arm of the nearest chair.

Devlin’s low and calm voice from somewhere: “Somebody got fucked.”

“Yeah,” she gasped, chuckling still, but with a renewed sense of urgency asking: “What time is it?”

There was a pause as she knee-walked across the carpet now, between the sofa where he fingered her and the chair where she’d left her purse. Once she had hands hooked in her purse, she dragged it into her seated lap, and searched for her phone.

Devlin said, “A couple minutes after nine.”

Sure enough, when she swiped awake her phone, she saw it was 9:05 in the evening.

“Crap,” she muttered, put her cheek in her palm. She could tell by looking at the blackness of her phone no text had come in. Josh hadn’t been pondering her whereabouts, and she didn’t know if that was good or bad.

She looked back to the bed now, saw that Devlin had been laying next to her. He was naked, one long leg crossed over the other. The table lamp was on, and he held his phone on his stomach, flicking through with his thumbs, that bloated penis laying on his leg, deflated now, arousal satisfied—it had deposited its excitement deep in her belly.

“Oh my God, I gotta get home . . .”

“It’s only nine,” he said without looking up.

“It’s late,” she said, pushed her purse down to the floor, used the reduced strength of her arms to get herself sitting in the chair. She flicked open her phone, opened up a text message with Josh.

Kimmy: meeting done, on my way home right now

She sent it off, rested her elbows on her knees, and her cheeks in her palms. She wouldn’t be home until after ten o’clock. The meeting she told Josh about was at six. What kind of business meeting takes three hours?

She breathed heavy a moment, feeling that regret weighing on her back. The awful thing she’d done.

Then it occurred to her to use Find My Phone, see where Josh was. A hopeful thought. Maybe he was out seeing a superhero movie with Steve or Meyer and wasn’t even thinking about her. With the app open, she waited and waited, finally saw that his dot was in the vicinity of their apartment. He was at home. Nine o’clock, at home without his wife—was he fuming mad? Was he maybe playing video games and not thinking about her? . . . She looked at the message she’d just sent: no return text came. She said, “I have to get in the shower.”

Devlin was sitting up now, putting his phone down on the bedside table. He strode from bedside around the sofa, coming her way. She admired the way the light played on his muscular body, and that roguish look on his face. A twinkling meanness in his eye, but a mirthful slant to his mouth. And then she watched the way his big floppy penis bounced off from thigh to thigh. How could one man be so sexual? How could he have everything?

He came to her with hands out as she rested her phone across her naked thighs, then put her hands in his. His penis dangled before her eyes, and she couldn’t look away. A thing so unlike how she knew a penis to be. So large and masculine and wondrous. Seeing it up close and flaccid sparked a strange hurt in her stomach, a twist of desire urging her to inspire hardness in it, bring the magnificent thing to life.

He said, “Relax, Kimmy. Take deep breaths.”

“I’m fine, I just have to get home.”

“It’s only nine o’clock.”

“Josh doesn’t know where I am . . .”

But he did. She’d told him she’d be at the Royal York. Thinking when she told him, there was no way she would ever end up in a hotel room with Devlin Stone—not after Josh expressed how Devlin had affected him when they were younger.

Now she frowned, a worrisome thought making its way through her. She’d just used Find My Phone to locate Josh. What if Josh had done the same to her in the past weeks? She’d never even considered it. But what would Josh have seen tonight? He would’ve seen that she’d been at the Royal York the whole time, just like she’d said she’d be. And yet that was terrible . . . 

She let her hands slip from Devlin’s, grabbed her phone and dropped it in her purse. She said, “Would you help me up? I have to get in the shower.”

Devlin helped her to stand, and her inability to keep herself upright had her chuckling again. Devlin, too. But she was steadier now, wouldn’t fall again. He said, “You’re not having a shower.”

“I am. I stink.”

Devlin still held her hands, looking down on her. “Go home like that.”

“I can’t go home like this,” she said, shaking her head at the ridiculousness.

“Imagine if you could get away with it.” He let one of her hands go and moved aside for her to pass. He said, “You want me to walk you? Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine,” she chuckled, took a few tentative steps. She wasn’t woozy, not dizzy, she wasn’t going to fall—and the more steps she took, the more her legs remembered how to walk. Made it to the couch, holding onto it, she hobbled around, heading to the bathroom, bracing herself on the wall.

Behind her, Devlin said, “Don’t shower, Kimmy, and when you come out, come out with a robe.”

“Okay,” she agreed, but knowing she was going to shower, and not caring why he wanted her to wear a robe.

In the bathroom, she flicked on the lights and locked the door behind her.

There she was, Kimmy Chang in the mirror. And she didn’t hate what she saw, even though she knew what that woman was guilty of. One time. One time she cheated. One time to get the thing she’d missed, and to maybe get a taste of the kind of wild, dramatic life you saw in movies.

While she felt like she’d been hit by a truck, the woman in the mirror looked quite good. Naked except for a garter belt with dangling straps, hair a mess, but there was a gleam in her drowsy eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, enlivened. Sure, she looked a little sleepy, and her posture could be better, but she put her hands on the counter, and got closer to her reflection and looked in her eyes to see what a person could read there. She touched her face, looked at her self from side to side. There was nothing that would show. Nothing on her face that said she was a terrible cheating wife.

She levered on the shower, and it was glancing back to her reflection she saw the first evidence. Shit.

A handprint on her ass cheek. Not completely legible, but since she knew that Devlin had smacked her there, she could make out what looked like the blurry thumb and two fingers on her haunch. She checked the other side, then the insides of her thighs. No bruises. No marks.

While the shower got to hotter temperature, she carefully lowered herself to sit on the toilet. Her ass cheeks hurt against the seat. She groaned, put her hand over her stomach, and as the anger of approaching urination came, a fiery sensation laced the yoke of her vagina. She jolted and hissed as she began to pee what felt like flaming turpentine. Her knees clapped together, and her urine sputtered in the toilet. She pressed a hand flat on her stomach and grimaced, trying to reduce the firehose release of her bladder to softer tinkling, tightening all her muscles to relieve the burden between her legs. It took a minute to evacuate her bladder, and in the end, she was left panting. Her upper lip went clammy, and her brow had sweated. She chuckled, leaving her forearms over knees. Devlin had destroyed her. She had just had the absolute most stellar sexual experience of her life. Nothing like that had ever happened before. She’d never had orgasms like that, ever. One after the other. Multi-orgasmic, she’d read once. Though she had orgasms with Josh, it had never been chains of them like what had happened tonight. And when he’d fucked her so deep, he’d touched something inside her—literally touched it, physically not spiritually—he’d found a sex button she didn’t even know about. And that button sent off nuclear fireworks of ecstasy.

Now she sat looking across as steam began to billow against the glass walls of the luxury suite’s shower. A certain thrill returned. A feeling of being somebody else. But that somebody else was already inside her. A facet of her personality, reflecting light from the darkness. And that angle on her psyche was connected deep with her sexuality. And it wasn’t devious. It felt more powerful than cunning. Because she liked how it felt. Liked to feel that connection from lust to badness to power. A triumvirate of sexual independence. What she’d done tonight emboldened her, and the deviousness was only to preserve the feelings of the man she loved. She was in Devlin Stone’s suite at the Royal York. He was paying her an enormous sum of money to utilize those trained parts of her mind and intelligence for profit. She was part of an elite machine. And she liked everything about who she was.

Toilet flushed, she used the countertop to get herself standing, finding her sea legs now, able to walk across the tiled floor and shut down the shower. Stuck her head in, felt the warmth of the steam, and knew it was a much better idea to get in there to soak herself, to clean off the filth of what she’d done. But she didn’t. Instead, she plucked from the hook on the back of the door a fresh white terrycloth robe, unfastened her garter belt, put on the robe and tied it at the waist. She checked her reflection, but didn’t smile. Put a hand on her stomach, thinking how another man had injected his semen inside her, knees weakening at the thought of Josh smiling at her, not knowing another man’s evidence swam deep in her guts. Then she shut off the light, returned to the lounge. She would shower before she left—the reality was impossible, and she would never go through with it. Tightening the robe’s belt as she limped through the lounge, she groaned in complaint: “I think you mangled my urethra—”

They weren’t alone.

Devlin sat on a padded chair in the corner, his suit on, no tie—but on the closer side of the bed, a young woman in her early twenties prepared items on the mattress. Long hair tied back in a bun, she wore latex gloves and a white smock with black pants. And while she made no note of what Kimmy’d just said, her hands mimed through unproductive motions and her face held the expression of someone trying to show no reaction—because she absolutely heard what Kimmy’d just said.

Her heart jumped and a whack of shame went across her front; she pivoted, moved to the bathroom door where she wouldn’t be seen by the girl, and leaned on the wall. Heat blazed her cheeks and collar and the tips of her ears. “Oh my God,” she sighed into her hands, heart thudding in her chest. Then she gathered herself, tightened her robe, and re-emerged.

Devlin sat, legs open, phone face down on a thigh, smiling, obviously enjoying her embarrassment.

She said lightly, “What’s going on?”

Devlin said, “Ellie’s here for you,” nodding his chin to the young blond girl.

Ellie bowed and nodded her head, saying softly, “Pleased to meet you,” her blue latex hands coming together at her waist, squeaking fingers intertwining. The girl was beautiful, no makeup, but seemed timid. And her cheeks had gone red too. She wore a gold nameplate on her smock with her name on it.

“Here for what?”

Devlin rose, then sat on the far side of the bed, patting it like he wanted her to lay down. “Recharge your batteries. Get you on your feet again”

“Recharge my . . .?”

Ellie said, “It’s a wellness protocol,” all smiles, blinking her sweet blue Bambi eyes.

At the foot of the bed there was an opened black neoprene sling, and inside the sling there were loops that cinched vials and needles. Next to the sling was a zippered-open briefcase with plastic packets of clear fluid, like IV bags.

Devlin patted the bed saying, “Lay down. You never had a hydration IV?”

“No,” she said cynically—because no one had hydration IVs. “An IV? For what?”

“Hydration,” he said, still patting for her to join him. She turned, scooped the robe under her naked butt and sat on the edge of the bed. Ellie stepped back to give her space. Devlin continued: “Put you back on your feet in no time. Send you home with a skip in your step.”

She doubted that. Skipping might take a few days. What she wanted to ask was if this was some sex thing. Was Ellie some kind of sex worker? But the girl, while pretty, looked the opposite of a sex worker: all innocence and sweetness and customer service, and a crisp uniform. Also a medical professionalism.

“This is for real?”

Devlin said, “Babe, lay back, put your head on the pillow,” and he rested his hand on her thigh, palm on the terry robe. It was a very familiar action and done in the presence of another party. This young girl now party to her infidelity.

And at that thought her eyes drifted low, looking where Ellie was looking. There was a gap high in the opening of her robe, showing off the naked interior of her thighs—but that’s not at what she looked. Devlin’s left hand rested on her thigh, her left hand on her other thigh. Ellie saw her wedding rings and also saw that Devlin had no wedding band. The girl wanted to check if her patients were married. And no, they weren’t. And yes, it was obvious. They’d been fucking. Shit, her stockings were on the floor, her high-heeled shoes, her bra; the sheets were mussed, Devlin was already dressed. And, oh God, that awful thing she’d said coming out of the bathroom thinking they were alone . . . 

She inexplicably rested her hand over Devlin’s hand. Devlin was obviously playing a game, pretending they were a couple for the girl’s sake—even though it was obvious she was here for a tryst. She said to Devlin, “You’re not having one . . . babe?” It was fun to show him she could play along, not get bowled by his bad behavior. He’d throttled her during sex, took control and dominated her, and now she had to scrape back respect.

“I’ve got to run,” he said, squeezing her thigh, her hand riding on his flexing tendons.

“You do?” It took effort, but she hid the natural disappointment from her voice. What did it matter if he left?—she had to get home to Josh.

“Yeah, I’ve got—”

“I’ve got to get home, anyway,” she said, matter-of-fact.

Devlin regarded her profile, and she looked his way, caught him admiring her, an honest look of satisfaction on his face.

She said, “What?”

No words as an answer. Instead he moved his face toward hers, his hand taking her chin. He gave her a slow and soft kiss, and she let him.

When it broke, she licked her lips, tightened the flaps of her robe on her thighs.

Devlin said, “Ellie—give her a B12 shot, too. Bring her back to life. She’s depleted.”

She rolled her eyes, hoping Ellie saw her resilience, and watched as Devlin backed off the bed and straightened his suit. Both women watched him, and holy hell was he hot. A pride swelled her, another woman witnessing the kind of man who was interested in her, who had her in his bed—Ellie probably thinking wow, who was this Asian woman, and how can I be her?

Devlin adjusted his cuffs at the sleeve hem of his suit jacket, saying, “Kimmy, how we doing with the guys from Xiu Wu Chemical?”

“I talked to them this morning, they sent the paperwork, I read it over. It looks straightforward.”

“What about those Czechs?”

“Which ones?”

“The ones making claims against us.”

“Oh. They’re Czech but they’re Canadian—and they’re out of their minds. I filed against them. Vexatious lawsuits. I’ll diminish them, and if they ever get us in court, they’ll embarrass themselves.”

Devlin made a prideful grumbling sound that thrilled her unexpectedly. “You drive me crazy, Kimmy.” Then to Ellie: “You believe this woman?” Ellie smiled wide but unknowing, trying to be polite, stepping back as Devlin came around her side of the bed.

It was fun, the two of them engaging in some post-coital banter that showed she wasn’t a prostitute or something, some bimbo. Both of them putting on a bit of theater for this young woman who would probably be texting her friends the minute she packed up her gear and exited the suite. Ellie’d tell her friends about the sexy cheating couple in the luxury suite, tell them how hot the businessman was in his suit . . . and what would she say of the Asian lawyer in his bed?—would she be described as pretty or would she be castigated for cheating on her husband? She didn’t care, but for some reason the idea of being the subject of exciting gossip was exhilarating and she’d love to overhear the conversation. Hoped Ellie’d tell her friends the Asian woman had good taste in men and shoes.

Devlin dipped low at bedside, put a hand on her waist as he got near. He said, “And you’re going to keep our secret?”

“Secret?”

His hand moved from her waist to rest below the knot on her robe, just below her navel. The deep wet secret. The ejaculation he’d hidden in her body where Josh wouldn’t find it. A dirty taunt because her husband’s penis wasn’t long enough to find where her lover reached. It was juvenile and malicious, but something about the pretend cruelty was arousing and it didn’t displease her though it really should. In fact, she could feel a blush strike up on her cheeks, and she chuckled. “No way,” she said.

“You didn’t shower.”

“No.”

Devlin chuckled now, looking in her eyes. He said, “You drive me fucking wild.” Then to Ellie, “Excuse my language.”

She didn’t register Ellie’s reaction because her eyes still engaged Devlin’s eyes and now his lips moved toward hers for a kiss. And though she’d put up a rule about not kissing him (because she didn’t really like Devlin), she’d already kissed him while they fucked, and she wouldn’t embarrass him needlessly in front of Ellie, not while they were all getting along so well and the drama had played out nicely, so she accepted his lips with her own. His hand stroked her stomach to her waist, and their kiss lingered. She wouldn’t give him her tongue, but she held their mouths locked, and touched his neck.

Then he let her go, stood, readjusted his jacket. He said, “Maybe I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

“You in Kingston or Toronto?”

“Don’t know yet. If I’m here, we’ll do lunch.”

“Sounds good.”

“Ellie,” he said to the patient nurse, “Take care of my girl. She’s the best lawyer I know.”

“Yes, sir,” Ellie said, nervously wringing her hands and still smiling.

Then before turning to leave, he said, “Say hi to Josh for me,” smirking.

“Bye, Devlin,” she said and watched him walk out through the lounge, then heard the suite’s door open and close.

Ellie was right to business: “So the Hydration IV is packed with electrolytes and antioxidants,” unpacking from her case expandable poles that she figured would be the stand that would hold up the IV bag, “and it’s loaded with all the daily mineral levels you need for—”

She interrupted: “How long does it take?”

Ellie stopped, paused with two poles, ready to insert one into the other. “Oh, it won’t be long.”

All business now too, she said, “Good, I need to get home to my husband.”