(Complete) Devil In The Waters, Book 2, Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Eleven at night she woke in Josh’s arms, her back to his chest, the two of them spooned in their bed. It was her stomach growling that roused her. After coming back from the Fox and Dragon they’d kind of fought, and she’d thought they’d skidded their marriage into a slippery patch, but somehow it all ended up okay. They’d skipped dinner to make love three times. If she were to peep over her husband’s sleeping body to the floor beside the bed she would see three tied-off condoms. Whatever had been insinuating into Josh’s sexuality and diminishing his abilities the last while seemed to be corrected.

She didn’t deserve such a warm and caring night of lovemaking after all the lies she told him. Not lies, but half-truths. And, of course, there was the stuff omitted. Black-lined by the government, redacted top-secret stuff. Eyes only, and that was for those deemed to have the right security clearance. Josh did not have the right security clearance. Or was he the enemy? She’d made Josh her adversary by what she did with Devin at the party. Or what she allowed to happen, rather. Now her husband was an opponent she needed to outwit. It was a strange entanglement because what was at stake was how much she loved her adversary. She wanted his feelings spared, and, most importantly, she wanted what was between them preserved and unmarred.

Oh, you mean you want to get away with what happened?

Pretty much, yes.

Only because she loved Josh deeply; had loved him that way since high school. The subterfuge was only necessary because she loved him.

That didn’t make it okay. She knew that.

Without disturbing Josh she circled in his clutch to face him, their dry and naked bodies slipping together like silk. Josh slept peacefully.

One thing was true: she’d expected him to trust her, and because she didn’t want to face for what she was guilty she leaned on his trust. It was laziness. Carelessness. Not careless in the sense that it might damage her ability to get away with what happened. No, it was careless with Josh’s heart.

She thumbed his lip, smiling watching the man she’d known so long at peace. She hoped what she’d told him settled the unease he felt. It had helped her, too.

Now she was a woman with a secret, but one whose marriage was righted on its tracks again, the steam engine that drove it beginning to chug. It would be an awful sliver in her psyche but she would burden it, and from here on, what they had would be cherished and preserved. It would take time. Even while making love with Josh her thoughts had drifted to Devin. It was awful, but Josh had inspired it. Unwittingly, of course, but the act of holding her hands above her head and putting himself inside her while looking in her eyes brought back intense memories.

Before they were interrupted on Tiffany’s grass, Devin had got his cock inside her. Not quite, but almost. Her tightness fought his huge size. It was cheating. Kind of.

It wasn’t her will. But she didn’t resist it. Then Devin came to the home she shared with this loving man whose cheek she cupped, and she let Devin put his fingers inside her. Her heart began to race even thinking about it now. The shame, the awfulness. Devin Stone was a fucking asshole. When this man she hated shoved his big hand in her panties she’d done nothing. Allowed him to finger her.

Fuck, the way he’d made her come had left her devastated. That was her sliver; that was her burden. The thing with Devin ended tonight.

Her thumb traced Josh’s delicate jaw. She kissed the tip of his nose, then backed herself out of the bed. Shorts and a sweatshirt were donned in the dark and she slipped out of the bedroom, phone in the sweatshirt’s pouch, and she padded down the hall to the kitchen.

Devin was done. That was for certain. But the item Josh had presented her in the hall had stirred from her a strange response. One that had hidden in the bushes of her mind, waiting to jump out and punch her when she walked by unsuspecting.

She stopped under the kitchen’s arch and looked at her phone. 11:13. Not too late. She texted.

Kimmy: why’d you leave that business card asshole?

Phone tucked back in the pouch, she brought down a plate, opened the fridge and grabbed baby carrots and some sour cream, cream cheese, and orange juice. From the cupboard she took melba toast. She sat at the island on the kitchen side in the dark and picked at the food, spreading cheese on toast, dipping carrots in sour cream, taking very small sips on her OJ.

Devin Stone was a manipulative bastard. He’d backed her into a corner somehow, here in her own home, had her submitting to him even though she hated him, then he fingers her—another man’s wife—makes her come all over the place. Embarrass herself with a wet sexual deluge between her legs. Leaves her there, legs shaking. But that sneaky prick left a funny little time bomb he must have chuckled about later: His damn business card.

When Josh had presented it to her, she had nothing prepared to say. It had slapped her across the cheek. She spoke absently, seeking a measure of truth to plaster into the crack forming in her story.

I was thinking of going back to work.

Kind of true. But work for Devin? No way. Yet . . . 

Her phone buzzed against her stomach; she put it on the counter and lit it up.

Devin: wanted to make sure you had my number

Fucking asshole. That was a mean and terrible thing to do to her. There was no reason to do that other than to mess with her.

Kimmy: I have your number

Devin left the card because he didn’t care about her marriage. A fling with her was just a big joke to him.

Devin: what’s the big deal?

Kimmy: Josh found it

She cursed him, shaking her head, watching for his response to arrive while she packed the lids back on the dairy tubs. Nothing came, and now she cursed herself for ever engaging with Devin Stone. What would make her want a guy like that in her life? Such a toxic presence, one she’d happily severed from her life after high school. All that shit he’d spun to her in the hallway, how she’d matured the best out of the girls from Dalton, was sleazy privileged white boy talk she saw through before the spinning gold even wove from between his lips.

The phone dinged on the island counter, and she returned.

Devin: I wanted you to think about what I said

She folded her arms, thinking how what he’d said was exactly what a woman like her did want to hear. She was better than those skanks. Once they were all out of high school she always knew it would be apparent.

Kimmy: said about what?

Devin: it’s my business card . . . 

Non-sequiturs, incomplete answers. Like he was testing her. Business card. Business. Okay, he was talking about the job. He’d never even made a formal offer, just a bunch of what-ifs and ragging on her basket business.

Kimmy: if that’s how you run your business what do you think my answer is?

Leaving a card in her hall table was juvenile.

Devin: what was my question?

Now she chuckled, a feeling of satisfaction easing her shoulders.

Kimmy: good night Devin now stay out of my life

She stood by the counter waiting to see what his response would be. No return came.

The counter was cleaned, plate and cutlery loaded into the dishwasher, then she wiped up with a damp cloth. Still no reply. Good.

Phone in her pouch, she padded back to the bedroom and then the bathroom, brushed her teeth, washed her face, then went to the bed quietly, trying not to disturb Josh.

At the bedside her phone buzzed against her stomach again. She opened it.

Devin: see you next Tuesday

Such a fucking asshole. She set her jaw firm, growled a soft sound in her throat and mimed the act of throwing her phone to the floor to smash it to pieces. She set it on the nightstand safely, slipped out of her clothes and crawled back into bed with Josh. She rolled her back to him, shimmied rearward into the warm bed-space against his body. He stirred, and she found his arm and closed it around her.

***

Now the sex was done, the wild and stormy seas calmed, Josh was left in the placid water aftermath of the lust that had overtaken him at the Dragon. He lay in the dark, holding Kimmy against him and contemplating the business card.

Something had registered in his mind, but in the heat of the moment it had gone unchecked. He examined it now: Kimmy acted at first as though she’d never seen the card before.

What did that mean? 

It made sense that Kimmy didn’t know. Devin had put it there for Josh, wasn’t that right? He’d put it there to fuck with Josh later at his whim. Was that the case? But then wouldn’t that mean Devin had indeed been in the apartment?

Or was he missing something?

He’d at first thought Devin was trolling Facebook for photos of their apartment so he could sound familiar with it. That had made a lot of sense. Because Kimmy had not cheated on him; it was impossible. But now he had to consider Devin had been here. Devin or a third party. Did Devin have mutual friends with them?

Shit: Amy.

Amy’d had an on-again off-again love-hate thing with Devin for long stretches all throughout high school. But would Amy hide a business card for Devin or help him in any way? She didn’t stay in touch with Devin since going abroad for university, or uni as she called it, at least it didn’t seem that way at the reunion. A lot of dry unimpressed glances between them, but playful-like, as though there may be something swimming just under the surface. So now he tried to recall the days up to the party. Who had come through the house? He was almost positive Amy hadn’t been here at all, even when he wasn’t here. Karina was for sure. But Karina would never help Devin in a million years.

Thoughts of accomplices was a lost cause. It wasn’t likely to be that elaborate a setup. He’d have to consider now Kimmy lied to him about Devin being here. But she didn’t have sex with him. No, that wasn’t on the table. So what, then? Why would Kimmy lie?

The job thing.

Devin had excited her with the prospect of going back to work, then ramped it up by offering her a high-paying job. Kimmy’s salary was satisfactory where she worked. It was the low end of what you might expect a lawyer of her age and talent, but she went into law to help people, and was compensated for her work in immigration in ways other than money. Did she feel guilty for being interested in money, for being interested in lawyering for the cash? That would be like her. Devin comes by to apologize. He offers her a job. She says no but thinks about it. Later finds out Devin slipped his card in the drawer, Devin one step ahead of everybody. Keeping Kimmy’s mouth shut by making her feel guilty, and all so he could fuck with Josh Waters. But fucking why? What a waste of time.

Devin fucking with him at the party made sense just because of proximity and situation, but continuing to fuck with him in the week after and going to all this effort . . .? How much fun was it to fuck with Josh Waters at the age of twenty-seven . . .? Is this successful and busy guy really playing juvenile games? . . . 

What if Josh Waters wasn’t even the subject of his attention?

Shit, what if Devin just got the hots for Kimmy and the real game he was running was on Kimmy, and this nonsense he was doing with Josh was the added bonus or perhaps some trick of subterfuge, some way of keeping Josh away from the truth about Kimmy? What if Josh wasn’t even the intended target?

That made his scalp tingle at the sheer insidiousness. His heart pounded harder and he snaked arms tighter around Kimmy, kissing the point of her bare shoulder.

If this was about Kimmy, he needed to act. Confront Kimmy, confront Devin, do something . . . 

A small measure of personal pride was keeping his door from fully opening. Devin had come into the tent and showed Josh his dick, said he’d fucked Kimmy, taunted him saying Josh’d asked him to do it. . . . The idea of telling Kimmy that turned his stomach, and, worse, for some reason it made him seem weak, and he hated for Kimmy to see him that way now he was grown. It was the power of the bully. All the things that had been done to him growing up had been kept to himself, too ashamed to ask for help.

Talk about poison: if Kimmy heard that Devin said Josh asked him to fuck her she wouldn’t believe it. But it would be inside her system, coursing through her architectures of knowledge and understanding, and there would be pulses of occasional doubt, lying in bed with him here at night and wondering . . . What if Josh really did ask Devin to fuck her?

Fuck this.

He pulled back the sheet, his mind wrung out and stressed. Kimmy was naked next to him. In the gray dawn light he admired his wife’s lean body, curved like the little spoon, her skin pure and satiny, her hair a tangled nest around her sleeping profile, long hands gently cupped by her cheek. She breathed softly. The sheets were pushed down further, resting at the gentle knob of her knee bone. He caressed her thigh. She didn’t stir. He gently pressed a thumb into the squashy hump of her ass cheek, watched as it sunk into her flesh. Her sex was exposed to him the way her legs were bent. The soft curves of her mound run with a narrow labia lip squiggle, a sparse thatch of her pubic hair allowing the dirty details of his wife’s sexual opening to be seen. He took a lusty chance and brushed the backs of his fingers against the protective layer of her fur, felt her heat there, his stomach pulling tight at the thought of their wonderful night together making love.

There had been something dark at work since the party. It was him who had to shoulder some blame, too. Getting wasted the way he did was irresponsible and disrespectful to Kimmy. It allowed an event to occur that wouldn’t have happened if he’d abstained from too much drink, enjoyed his wife’s company, and made sure she got to bed safe and sound at his side. The thing that had happened was terrible. Kimmy was a tough cookie and she could recover from an incident like that, but what Devin did wasn’t right. Devin Stone had tried to fuck her, of that he was sure. No wonder he slunk into Josh’s tent to gloat. Kimmy had rebuffed Devin in an awkward moment he probably wasn’t used to.

The future was going to contain less Devin Stone and more Kimmy Chang.

He covered her up, kissed her hip, then her shoulder again. When she was under the bedding, he kissed her cheek. Now she stirred. He patted her hand and she tried to squeeze his fingers but he was getting up, wanting her to stay sleeping. He stood watching to make sure she was out again, then got dressed as quiet as he could.

The only thought he would allow of Devin Stone moving forward was the image of the man between Kimmy’s legs, trying to kiss her, Kimmy pinned down, Devin’s huge cock rubbing into her leg. That was an unexpected gift from Devin Stone, probably one the bully would regret giving to him. It frightened him, sure, but it also super-charged him. Put anger in his heart, roused pride, pushed the feeling of being challenged. It put lust in him too, a weird arousal. But that arousal drove home the intense feelings of love he had for his wife. It was the gift of resolve to own his woman. Even now, in the dim morning light he could feel a growing arousal between his legs at the mere caressing of the thought Kimmy felt another man’s erection pressing into her. It made his heart pound with love for her.

The sex they had last night was pure love and care. He’d performed admirably, thank god. He was good to her, he made her happy. They’d shared. It’d been tender. Wonderful.

At the Dragon, they’d worked out the truth; Kimmy had been straightforward and honest with him. He was inspired. They’d skipped dinner so they could stay in bed and touch each other all over. He’d come three times.

Maybe that was the end of whatever badness had occurred at the party. He believed it.

Let it die.

That was the decision. Let it die, move forward.

Watch Kimmy, care for their relationship, look for trouble, leave the players alone, play the game, nurture what he had with Kimmy, support her in whatever she may be going through as she struggled to find meaning in her future; babies or work. But let it die, Josh, old boy. Don’t pump life into something bad and rotten, just be the man Kimmy needs you to be, not some whining complainer who doesn’t trust her, who cries about how mean the other boys are being to him. It was man-up time.

He snapped the waistband of his underwear, eyeing Kimmy still, made his way to the kitchen, pulling out his phone so he could block the number Devin’d texted him from.

Behind him in the bed he’d left his wife sleeping off a wonderful night of sex; naked, satisfied, sleeping. He was going to be her man. But first he needed a big breakfast because he was fucking starving.