Devil In The Waters, Book 3, Chapter 7b (complete)

In the car on the way home, he laughed at her for trying to be a big shot, and she defended herself, not thinking it was as funny as he did.

“But, I wasn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to be . . .”

“Showboat Kimmy,” he called her.

Back at the Monkey House, Quinn’s little one had bounded into the group, pleading to go into the arcade. The arcade was a separate quadrant of the warehouse, with skeet ball, prize claws, and you could buy or win tokens for video games you sat in, or rode on like ninja bikes. It got others wanting to go as well—but the moms were telling them they were supposed to be bouncing, maybe another time for the arcade . . . Because going into the arcade took a different ticket—$12 a head, which included forty tokens, but tokens cost fifty cents apiece after that if you couldn’t win them. There’d been hassled discussion, and it looked like the moms might capitulate, and Meyer was saying he wanted to go too . . . And then Kimmy announced anyone who wanted could go to the arcade, her treat. A very nice and wonderful gesture from one of the kindest women he knew, but . . . 

“Don’t call me that,” Kimmy said.

“Sorry,” he said, then, “Showboat,” as he turned into the plaza where the Good Taste Chinese restaurant was—though they’d ordered combos from their Guyanese menu.

***

When he got back in the car with the stapled bag of food, Kimmy said, “Was it that bad?”

“The arcade?—No, Kimmy,” he said, winding the car out of the parking lot, waiting at the traffic light. “You paid for everybody—what?—seven kids plus that really big kid, Meyer, that’s like, what’s eight times $12?”

“I didn’t pay for Meyer.”

“I think you did. Kimmy, I’m only joking, anyway. I’m trying to be funny. You’re awesome, I mean it. I’m so glad you were there.”

“Was it what you needed?”

He looked her way, Kimmy sitting in the passenger seat, her haircut returned to normal but still wearing her killer suit. His heart swelled watching her. Of course she could tell he needed that. “It was,” he said.

“I just wanted everybody to like me. I was getting a vibe.”

“Oh yeah? I guess I’m the one has to tell you . . .”

“Tell me what?”

“Kimmy, I don’t know how to say this”—building up the drama—“you look like a supermodel the movie company hired to play a Bond girl right now.”

“You’re so goofy.” She laughed.

“I felt ten-feet tall with you there as my wife.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, shaking her head like he was silly.

“Single moms, Kimmy, they see you dressed like that, looking like that, you’ve got this awesome husband everybody likes . . .”—Kimmy chuckled—“. . . dropping a hundred bucks to pay for some fun for their kids is the sweetest thing, but it might be a hundred bucks they don’t have and while I know you’re the kindest person in the world, they might see it different.”

Kimmy sighed, pushed back her hair. “Everybody’s all about resentment these days . . .”

They chatted the few minutes home, and he liked where they were at, so he didn’t mention how her day might’ve been with Devlin down in Hamilton.

***

In the foyer of their apartment, Kimmy stood with her back to him at the tall table under the photo of the Lungshan Temple in Taiwan. He set their bag of food down next to her purse, and she turned her head to the side. His arms went around her, and she leaned against him.

That simple act of affection altered all his brain chemicals, sweeping away the hunger he had despite the delicious grease smell emanating from the bag from Good Taste. The only hunger he felt right now stiffening at his core and his hugging arms tightened, pressing his bulge against Kimmy’s ass. And his wife didn’t squirm, didn’t resist. She caressed his hands.

They were both hungry; Kimmy’d said she was starving, but suddenly it would seem the both of them had different things on their minds.

His hands explored, going underneath her suit jacket and touching her chest and stomach over her shirt. Kimmy’s breaths deepened.

Near her ear, he said, “When I saw you come in tonight I couldn’t believe you were my wife.”

“I must’ve looked a real mess before . . .”

“I know how lucky I am, Kimmy, but now you’re really rubbing it in everybody else’s faces . . .”

She laughed, the laugh trailing to a breathy sigh. Lust in Kimmy’s voice. Were they really going to do this now?

He said, “You look so beautiful tonight, I can’t believe how lucky I am . . .”

“Tell me more,” she whispered, her fingernails lightly scratching his hand over her breast.

He squeezed and could feel the hardness of her nipple under her shirt, under her bra. “You’re so turned on,” he said.

She asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

And the last time she challenged him like this, he’d wilted. Right now his cock was hard and pressing into her, and he was full of ideas, full of all sorts of things he’d love to do to her right now. So he told her. “Bend you over this table and fuck you until you scream.” A thing unlike he’d ever said before.

She chuckled. “Josh-sh,” she said, chuckling right through it. “Not in the hallway . . .”

“Oh? Not in the hallway?” His hand dipped low, touching the front of her skirt. She flinched and grabbed his wrist. “I’m going to bend you over and fuck you against this table.”

“Josh, don’t.”

“Oh, you don’t like that?” he said slyly, digging the hump of his erection into her. He tried to press a hand to the center of her back and guide her forward, but she stiffened and wouldn’t bend.

He said, “We’re going to do it right here.”

“Not here,” she said.

“We’re going to start here, maybe we’ll take a tour of the kitchen before we end up in the bedroom.”

She said, “Just the bedroom.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long, Kimmy,” he said, his hand going down the front of her thigh as he dipped at the knees. When he touched the bottom of her skirt, she jumped, dug her nails into his forearm and tried turning around. He got rough, trying to hold her in place, but she still struggled.

“Josh, don’t . . .”

“I want you so bad . . .”

Her tone had changed, though her words sounded the same: “I want to, Josh, just don’t . . .”

“Don’t what? You asked me—” frustrated now “—what you wanted me to do to you . . .”

“I want to know,” she said, “but . . .”

“But what?” he said, surprised how fragile his feelings were. Thirty seconds ago he was ready to go to town, and now he felt wounded, hit with an arrow and limping off the battlefield. “Did you want to eat first?” he said, his tone sarcastic.

“Come here,” she said, turning around, pressing her ass to the table and slipping her arms around his waist. “Just kiss me.”

“You told me what you . . . You said to tell you . . .”

“I want you, Josh, I do . . .”

He kissed her neck, hands roaming, touching her waist, moving down her thigh again . . . 

She grabbed his hand. “Josh, don’t . . .”

“Don’t what, Kimmy?”

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she whispered.

“Yeah, fine,” he said, stepping back, showing his palms, an incredulous look on his face.

“Josh, don’t be like that.”

He said, “Tell me what you want.”

Her brow crinkled, then softened. “I want you so bad right now. I do.”

“Okay . . .”

“Let me put on that lingerie. I want to be sexy . . .”

“Kimmy, come on,” he said, rolling his head on his neck. “I just told you how sexy you are.”

“Would you just listen to me? I told you I want to put on the lingerie . . .”

While his posture slumped, he lowered his chin and looked at her. “Put on the lingerie,” he said, “I want to see you in it.”

“I want to do this, Josh, just not in the front hall . . .”

“Okay,” he said, “go get the lingerie on. I’ll put this—” he waved at the bag, not thinking of the words “—whatever . . . food in the oven . . .”

She said, “Meet me in the bedroom, okay? —I’m sorry . . .”