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“Yeah, that’s it. Play with my wet pussy. Get it nice and ready for this fat dick.”
“Yes. Yes. Ooh, I want you to put your tongue in my pussy. I want to feel your hot breath on my clit. Then in your mouth…”
“Yeah, baby. You have some sweet pussy.”
I moan. Two fingers become three, fucking urgently into me. I rest a foot up on the ledge, opening myself more, welcoming the greedy thrusts of my fingers.
I am so overwhelmed with desire. I want Charles so badly. I want his dick. His tongue. His fingers.
In me.
All over me.
Again and again and again.
I moan. I writhe. My outer pussy lips stretch open. They are so slick, filling the air with my sweet musk.
“Come for me,” Charles demands, his voice husky and low.
Losing myself in the wet sounds of my pussy and the guttural groans on the other end of the phone, I cry out in ecstasy; forgetting Craig is on the other side of the door sound asleep.
I arch my back. And come in a rushing wave of pleasure.
• • •
Two nights later, I’m down in our entertainment room telling Craig that I have to fly out of town at the end of the week to interview three potential witnesses in this upcoming murder trial I am assigned to. It’s part fact, part fiction. I am going out of town, just not to interview witnesses.
Craig is watching a soccer game on the ninety-inch flat-screen. It’s been weeks since I’ve been down here. I look around the room. Then back at Craig. He doesn’t respond when I tell him this. Doesn’t even look over at me.
I frown. “Did you hear me?”
Eyes glued to the TV, he grunts. “Yeah. I heard you. Who else is traveling with you?”
The least this bastard could do is look at me!
“Two other attorneys,” I say casually.
He nods. “Mmm. Charles going?” Finally, he looks over at me, his eyes searching mine.
I don’t blink. “No.” The lie rolls off my tongue so freely that I almost believe it myself. “He’ll be handling things on this end. Why?”
“Just asking.” He goes back to watching television.
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that bull crap, Craig. Sounds like a fishing expedition to me.”
He swings his head around, giving me a look of disbelief filled with suspicion that I almost cringe. “Should it be?”
I huff. “No, it shouldn’t be. If there’s something you want to know, Craig. Ask.”
He tsks. “Right. And you’ll give me the truth.”
With a defiant look, I plant a hand on my hip. “Of course I will. I have no reason to lie to you, Craig. And I’m getting a little tired of you insinuating that I do. It’s starting to make me wonder what it is you’ve been lying about.”
He narrows his eyes at the challenge, seemingly unmoved by what I’ve tossed at him. “Have you?”
“Have I what? Lied to you?” I tilt my head. “Have you?”
No,” he scoffs. “I have no reason to lie to you. And I’ve given you no reason to think otherwise. You, on the other hand…”
