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He eyes me warily. “What time did you leave?”
“Ohmygod, what is this?” I hiss, clenching my teeth. “An inquisition?”
His jaw tightens. “No. It’s me trying to understand where my wife was for the last two-and-a-half hours.
He glances at his watch. “I got here at twelve. And you were already gone.” He glowers at me. “So where were you?”
He knows I’m lying.
“I told you. A meeting. Then we stopped for lunch.”
He snorts. “I just bet you did. What did you eat?”
Dick.
I glance around the lobby. “Can we not do this here? Please. Let’s go into my office.”
His nostrils flare. I can tell he’s seething inwardly as he presses the elevator button. “I’m going to pick up our daughters from school. I’ve waited around long enough.”
I step in to give him a kiss, but he jerks his head back.
I grapple for words as the elevator opens and he steps inside, his hand pressing the button to take him to the building’s main lobby.
“I’ll see you when I get home. Okay?”
“I won’t wait up,” he says, his lips tight as the doors close and his face disappears from view.
• • •
“I think Craig knows.”
I close Charles’ door behind me, moving across the gray-colored carpet in his office. I’m smartly dressed in a brown pencil skirt and pink sleeveless blouse. My six-inch red bottoms make my back arch and my ass pop.
My nerves have been on edge ever since last night when Craig confronted me while I still had a mouthful of his nut in my mouth. Something I never expected from him. I almost choked. In all the years we’ve been together, he’s never flat-out accused me of—cheating.
“Are you fucking him?”
“Am I fucking who?”
“Charles.”
“Of course I’m not fucking him! Charles and I are colleagues. And we’re working on this case together so we spend a lot of time together.”
“Yeah, I just bet the two of you are. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s something going on between the two of you. It’s in my gut.”
“Well, I don’t care what your gut is telling you. I’m telling you, I’m not screwing him!”
“For your sake, Markisha, I hope not.”
The tinge of gu
ilt that elicits all but drowns out the voice in my head that says I should end this affair with Charles before things get messy. But I’m not ready to.
And, last night—even after I quickly showered, then slipped into bed and eased my hand into the slit of Craig’s boxers, snaking his flaccid dick out and sucking it to life—I tried to rationalize in my head that there was nothing wrong with having the proverbial cake and eating it too.
He’d lain there, unenthused, unresponsive, unfazed, as I licked and sucked and slid my lips up and down the shaft of his dick. I remained undeterred by his detached disposition, feverishly sucking and gulping and licking and moaning until I’d eventually gotten the best of him and he grunted, groaned and began moving his hips.
That was my signal to keep laving him with my moist tongue. So I did.
