(Complete) Devil In The Waters, Book 2, Chapter 10

Heads up: Two posted chapters today, so make sure you didn't miss chapter 9 before you begin chapter 10!

When Devlin sat in the driver’s seat, she was on him. “I have to get home to my husband, Devlin.”

“You going to talk to him about work?”

“Not tonight. . . . No, I don’t know. Maybe tonight.”

Devlin nodded, not starting the car yet. He checked his watch, looked her way.

“It’s late,” she said.

“Not that late. What’s Joshy doing tonight?”

“He’s got friends over.”

“Playing magic cards or whatever?”

She laughed. “You’re such a dick.”

He smiled, stared in her eyes. “He probably won’t notice you’re late.”

“Not if you take me back to my car now.”

“I thought you’d be smart enough to grab something good when it’s right in front of you.”

“I am . . .”

He pushed the start on his Roadster and it roared to life, all the gauges lighting up, powerful engine throbbing somewhere ahead of them, muffled but threatening.

She said, “Josh would notice I’m late. Trust me. What would I even tell him?” She’d meant to point out how ridiculous it was to consider going to a hotel, but the words in the air sounded like she’d given an inch of the battlefield, surrendered some of her territory.

“Tell him you went out for a drink.”

She laughed. “With you?”

“How about Amy? Call her. She’ll back you up.”

“I left my phone in my car.”

“Hm,” he nodded. “No one knows where you are.”

In a newscaster’s voice, she said, “Kimmy Waters was last seen in the vicinity of the Jump Start Complex—”

“Nipples pressing out her shirt,” he finished, and put the car in gear.

She startled, looked down, saw indeed the front of her sweater’d been humped out with two large bolts. She crossed her arms, said, “I can’t even believe I’m sitting with you.”

“You’ve been fighting it since fucking high school, Kimmy, it’s frustrating to watch you flummox around, act like you don’t want it.”

She scoffed. “Can’t even believe I’m considering working with you.”

“For me. Under me . . .”

“Trying to scare me off?”

Devlin raced around a slower car, then darted in between two pickups. The Mercedes moved effortlessly, but a sideways glance to the digital readout on his cockpit showed they were doing double the speed limit.

“Kimmy, if I thought you scared so easy, were so timid, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.” He turned right onto Stinson, a four-way, hotels on the left as you neared the highway, but the gym up ahead.

She laughed, said, “Looks like you were too chicken to take me to the Holiday Inn.”

He snapped a look her way, mean, devilish, but also amused. He said, “I can do what I need to do right here in this seat.” His hand came to her side; she watched it settle on her thigh, just above her knee. His hand looked so large on her slender leg.

With both her hands she took hold of his fingers and thumb, removing his grip from her knee, putting his hand back on his side like it was something unclean she’d found in the kitchen, saying, “I wouldn’t do it willingly.”

“I can play it that way,” he said smugly.

She crossed her arms again, covering the showing bulbs of her nipples, both of them smirking as he pulled into the gym complex, her Qashqai parked right up front of the boxy concrete complex (open twenty-four hours and still lively with gym-goers). She said, “Amy’s in England, anyway.”

A quick glance her way, and now he was pulling away from her vehicle, slowly heading into the deep maze of parking outside the complex.

She laughed, said, “You can let me out now. My car’s back there . . .” She thumbed over her shoulder.

Devlin said, “Amy’s still in T.O.; she’s home another week. If Josh asked, she’d tell him she’s in town and you two went out for drinks.”

“That’s stupid,” she said. “And then Amy would know.”

“Does that matter? You’d tell her what we did anyway.”

“Maybe. I might not though . . .”

“Want me to call her?”

She laughed. “So we can go to a hotel room? Get real.”

“Told you, I can do it from this seat,” he said, palming his own thigh and nosing the Roadster into a parking spot at the very back of the lot, facing the passing traffic on Stinson just beyond a grassy barrier planted with young trees.

“With all these people around?” She stiffened her folded arms, a chill tightening her skin, up the back of her neck; her nipples hardened like they would burst. She shivered and it alleviated the discomfort.

Devlin said, “You know I’m not shy. Neither are you.”

She grunted, looking left and right as cars passed ahead of them, beyond the trees, lights on, the early night dark blue. At the party, Devlin’d riled her. Humped himself between her legs and got her wanting him in a way she’d never felt before. Then in the apartment, the same thing. There to apologize, he’d ended up jabbing a hand down her pants and jacking her off. She did nothing to stop him. “What’s the job, anyway?”

He turned her way, drawing in a deep breath, exhaling slow, a somehow strangely sensual sound. “Counsel. Contracts. Travel. Advice. What do you think?”

“What kind of travel?”

“You mean where? China, India, Italy . . . Once a month, maybe more. Can you handle that?”

“And I’d be traveling with you?”

“And others.”

“What about time off?”

“Four weeks a year. Take off somewhere nice, take that scrawny husband of yours. Guy needs a tan.”

“It’d be nice,” she said, eyes out the window, picturing palm trees and beaches.

“I think I just made your life.”

She laughed, scratched at her neck where it was bare at the edge of her sweater. “No, you didn’t.”

“You can have it all, Kimmy. Your husband for whatever reason, a great job that challenges you, makes you worthwhile, an income, travel, vacations . . . It’s hard work with me but it’s fun too. You and I mess around a little and Josh never has to know.”

“You’re hilarious.” Big eye roll for him to see.

“I’m fun, Kimmy. For real. Hey, look at me . . .” She did, one side of his rugged face lit up with the light from the dash of his expensive Roadster, sitting there offering her things she wanted, tempting her with things she shouldn’t have. “Fucking everybody and their cousin messes around. It’s no big deal, you know it. Just a bit of fun, blow off steam, get it a little different. You deserve it.”

She laughed out loud, drew in a long breath, shaking her head, tracing her fingers on her neck. “You ever work so hard for it like this?”

“No,” he laughed along. “You’re worth it. You and I’ve been circling a long time. Yeah, I want it. You made me be honest—and I hate that—I told you what I want.”

She shook her head, like it was disbelief coursing through her, his ridiculous words—practically illicit. If he was going to be her boss he should never be talking like this.

But was it disbelief? This was Devlin at his core. And she was the one sitting here listening to his terrible prompts. Considering the job, actually really wanting it. And that other consideration: maybe she was curious.

He said, “Finish what we started. What Amy and I wanted, what you and I practically did . . . last Monday in your apartment, you didn’t stop me. I watched your face while I did it . . .” His voice had gone low, his patter undulating, almost hypnotic.

She said, “That’s what you want?” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat with a quiet cough.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She regarded him; he watched her intently, looking so large in his small, sexy sports car. “What is?”

“To come. You want to come. Come hard—like the way your husband can’t do.”

“He makes me come, Devlin—God, I can’t believe the things you get me to say . . .”

He shifted in his seat, the rustling of his dress shirt loud as a snapping sail in the confines of the Mercedes. He wore the suit jacket now, unbuttoned and open, light picking off the bend in his belt buckle, getting closer, intent. His hand went over her thigh, just above her knee again, and her eyes lowered to it. That huge hand looked good on her skinny black-clad leg.

She said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m doing what I want—but this time I’m asking you.”

“Asking me . . .?”

“Tug your tights down. Close your eyes. I’m going to bring you off.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, trying to laugh, but her voice breaking, a weird fight or flight thing happening, getting her heart racing and putting a measure of fear in there as well. It felt wild and unsafe trapped in his car like this.

“Tug them down, Kimmy,” he said, his hand rising higher up her thigh, squeezing firm.

She stared at him, challenging him with her eyes, trying to show him that strong expression he said he liked. But it didn’t change the look in his eyes and she wondered if her face wasn’t lit. His sturdy grip shifted higher up her thigh, his fingers nudging the space where her two upper thighs sealed together. She chuckled in her throat, shrugged a shoulder, thumbed out the front of her tights. “Go ahead,” she whispered, eyes on his.

But he didn’t jump right in; eyes locked on hers, he took his time releasing her seatbelt, clicking, pushing it away to retract. Then his hand was under her sweater, going flat on her stomach.

“I can’t wait to see your body,” he said. “You are fucking so beautiful.”

“Yeah?” she whispered, sinking into his leather seat, while his fingertips explored the hardness of her belly, teasing at her navel, driving her mad. With her pants tugged outward, she was desperate now to be touched.

“I want to get you all dressed up, take you out for dinner with clients, take you to Italy, fuck you how you need it . . .”

“I don’t need that,” she gasped.

His hand dragged downward, going way too slow, getting her squirming, knuckles flicking through her pubic hair now. Index finger curling, he stroked the apex of her sex. Even she heard the wet crackle.

“You can’t tell me you don’t need it when your pussy’s begging me to fuck it.”

“You’re so vulgar,” she said, closing her eyes, shifting in her seat, his finger making her crazy.

“I’m a bad man, Kimmy, and you love to hate me.”

“That’s true,” she said in a hiss, squeezing her ass muscles, wishing, hoping he’d put his finger inside her already.

“You told me you don’t want my lips on yours, but you can’t say you don’t want my cock.”

“I don’t,” she whispered in complaint. His fingers stroked and teased, slipping in, breaching her but not going deep; she rolled her hips forward trying to get penetration.

He gave it to her.

Two bundled fingers burrowed into her tight canal and she let out a satisfied groan that showed Devlin she was lying, betraying what she kept hidden. She wanted his cock. She was denying it, but she wanted it.

“Oh, ah, mm God,” she said, squinting, swiveling her hips. “You’re too big, Devlin . . .”

“Guess we’ll never know,” he said, steadily pulsing and caressing his fingers inside her, curling, stroking, touching an insane node on her front wall that had her legs jumping, a weird urge to pee storming through her, just a pretend, a tickle, a parrot miming another bird.

She grunted, gave a soft breathy laugh. “God, what are you doing to me?”

His voice was a gravelly whisper: “Giving you what you need—I love watching you while you get it.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, okay, give it to me,” she gasped, a release, loving hearing her own breathy voice making the request, being honest with him for the first time ever.

He tugged her crotch with his huge hand, hoisting her whole body, bringing her closer, wedging her ass in the corner of her seat, her shoulder touching his chest; the act drove his two large fingers deep inside her enough she let out a warbling wail.

“Yeah, you’re so fucking wet, Kimmy, so fucking wet. I could get inside you when you’re like this . . .”

“No,” she said, frowning. “I can’t do that . . .”

“I’m going to satisfy you in ways you didn’t know possible, Kimmy,” he rumbled, mouth very near her ear. His other hand cupped the back of her head, lowered and stroked her neck. Her chin dipped down; she saw her nipples again, lit in the car’s dash light like two sex beacons under the cotton, casting crescent shadows; saw her thumb hooking out her waistband, Devlin’s large hand shoved under there, under her panties. The sounds of wet suction from her sex drove her crazy; must drive him crazy too.

She whispered, “Are you hard?”

“So fucking hard for you right now, Kimmy, it’s ripping my pants.”

She chuckled, writhed her back against his chest, the center console of his Mercedes digging into the bottom of her ribcage. “Take it out . . .”

“I’ve got my hands full,” he grumbled, one between her legs, the other smoothing over her collar, fingers stroking an aching nipple.

Elbow dug back, she swiveled her forearm to his side, clawed hand finding the hardness of his muscular thigh. Devlin continued to fuck her with his big fingers, the thrusting going smooth and easy from her slickness. Her opening was over-lubricated, her body screaming for reproduction. “Ah, it feels, mm . . .” Her hips pulsed against his thrusts. Her right hand let the yoga pants’ waistband close, and then curled over the back of Devlin’s lusty hand, so large and hard under her palm. She squeezed, rubbed, held his wrist, thumb webbing bumping against his Rolex. “Make me come . . .”