Tap Dancing with the Devil

by Faith Gibson

  I should turn the water off and go make sure everything is in its place. I should call Adam and tell him about the intruder. I should, but I don’t. The stranger’s words about Adam have me hesitant to tell my husband anything. His hands and lips? They have me ready to touch myself. Like I said, brain transplant.

  I can’t believe I’m so calm right now. A strange man who obviously knows things about my husband broke into my home. I wish I knew what he was looking for. I wish I knew what he knows about Adam that I don’t. When he kissed me, he made sure to stay away from where Adam hit me. I’ve never been more tempted to cheat on Adam than I was when the thief made me his offer. Just one night. Why can’t I toss aside my morals and see what it feels like to be the one getting what they need?

  I turn the water off and step into the heat. I slide down until only my head is sticking out. Closing my eyes, I replay every moment of what happened. Every word he whispered. Every caress of his fingers and his lips. God, his lips. The tenderness with which he touched me and the softness of his whiskers are something I’ve never felt before. Never. I circle my aching nipples, tugging at both. That only increases the ache between my legs. I’m used to getting myself off. If it wasn’t for my hand, I would never have an orgasm. I bet the thief would give me an orgasm. Hell, just thinking of his hand getting so close to my pussy had my panties soaked. I could chalk it up to endorphins. I’ve heard that you can get turned on from fear. Is that what happened? Or was my body ready for a hand that wasn’t my own to slip between my folds, delve inside, and bring me to climax?

  When Adam dropped me off, I had wanted nothing more than to come inside, drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine, and forget about my dickhead husband for a while. I never expected to find a stranger sitting in my bedroom. Why would I? Especially one who scared the crap out of me. His size alone is intimidating, but his voice… that deep timbre sent shivers down my spine and to my core. There’s something about him that seems familiar, but I don’t think I could ever forget him if I had met him. His mouth on my neck alone had me ready to strip bare for him. I close my eyes and thrust two fingers inside, finding the spot just past my entrance that always gets me worked up. Keeping my other hand on my nipples, I imagine the stranger is the one stroking my pussy.

  I didn’t miss his hard dick nestled against my back. That should have scared me. His tone when I asked him if he was going to force himself on me did scare me, but his words eased the tension. Believe me, it’s good. Real good. Oh, I have no doubt he’s good. I imagine the feel of his beard scraping against my thighs as he sucks my clit between his teeth. My orgasm comes quick, and I moan out loud. I don’t even have a name to call out as I pretend it’s him giving me pleasure. Satan. No, he may be a devil. A tempter. But he’s not Satan. A man that evil would have taken me against my will, not try to seduce me with tender touches.

  I doubt he expected me to come home so early. I don’t know much about thieves, but I’m pretty sure they study their marks, especially when one of them is a cop. We weren’t supposed to be home for another hour or so. With me surprising him, he didn’t find what he was after. He said as much. I have unfinished business. Why does that excite me instead of scare me? I want to know what he has on Adam. I need to find out if my husband is a crooked cop. I can’t ask anyone else. Maybe Amanda knows and hasn’t told me. I can see Neil being crooked, and if he is, it would make sense Adam is as well.

  Closing my eyes, I try to rationalize the way my body reacted to his touch. Call me a fool, but the thought of him coming back excites me. I want to be his unfinished business.

  Chapter 11

  Cass

  Goddammit, what just happened? I should have had plenty of time to go through the Murdock home, but shit doesn’t always go down the way you plan. When I heard the commotion outside, I didn’t bother to look and see who it was. I never thought the Murdocks wouldn’t be out as late as they were supposed to. I should have been ready for anything. I wasn’t prepared. At all. I sat down in the arm chair across from the bed, waiting for Alexa to make her way to the bedroom she shares with her piece of shit husband. I was already pissed that I haven’t found what I’m looking for, but add to that the fact of how well this motherfucker has done for himself in the last thirteen years, and I was shaking.

  Nothing would have prepared me for the sight of the tattered woman hobbling into the room. Lexie had one high heel in her hand, dancing around trying to get the other off. She and Adam were supposed to be at some police function. It’s the reason she was dressed up. It’s also the reason I chose tonight to search their home. When she leaned against the bed for stability, the moonlight hit her mascara-stained face. That motherfucking bastard.

  I intended to wait her out, because seducing Lexie in her own home isn’t part of the plan, but her sobs continued to get worse, and the pain she was feeling stabbed me in the chest like I was feeling it, too. I’ve already established I don’t deal well with tears, but somehow, this was different. Like a fool, I wanted to comfort her. That’s when shit got real. I should have known my presence would scare her, but I can’t wrap my head around everything that happened from that point until the time I left her sitting on her bed. I tried to remind myself that she’s no different than the other women I’m using, but my brain wasn’t buying it. The fact that Lexie looks a lot like her has nothing to do with the fact that I couldn’t stop my mouth from spewing shit I should never have even been thinking in the first place.

  Instead of admitting to her the reason I broke into her home, I told her what any woman would want to hear, yet by the time the last word left my lips, I was whispering. I meant what I said. Seeing her walk into her room, her mascara smeared from crying, her shoe in her hand, something inside me snaps, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t want to replace her sadness with something better.

  Something about her calls to me. She reminds you of her. No, Lexie is nothing like her. She’s just another married woman I’m using. Liar. Still, I couldn’t stop my lips from straying from her mouth, to her cheek, under her jaw. I sucked at her neck only hard enough to elicit a whimper before I moved on to her shoulder where a thin strap was the only thing holding up the material covering her curvy body. A body I was fighting an unholy internal battle over tasting.

  Taking.

  Fucking.

  When my brain finally kicked in, I remembered the reason I was in her bedroom in the first place, and it wasn’t to seduce Murdock’s wife. Not yet. I went through so many emotions being around Lexie, but the strongest one was want. I fucking want her. I want her for myself. I offered to make her feel good, and she told me no. With her body trembling out of fear, this beautiful creature told me no, even though she was afraid I would take what I wanted anyway. I was ready to walk out the door, but I lost my resolve when I dropped to the floor on my knees in submission. When I stayed on my knees instead of pushing away from her, I knew something was wrong. She is a seductress. I’d come here of my own free will, but with my cheek on her lap, I couldn’t move. That wasn’t part of the plan – her drawing me in, making me wish for things that can never be. I’m the motherfucking devil, and she’s as close to an angel as I’ve met since her.

  I finally managed to remove myself from her room. From the pull she had on me. Now, I’m standing outside her bedroom to make sure she doesn’t call Murdock. Less than a minute later, the water from the bathtub turns on, and I let out the breath I was holding. Fuck, that was close.

  I thought I had plenty of time to look around, but now I don’t want to take a chance that Murdock comes home from wherever he is. I head to his office for one more quick glance. Just as I’m about to give up, I find something that will possibly work. Shoving it in my pocket, I head out the back door, locking it behind me. I snake my way down the block then double back to Violet’s house. I was gone longer than I intended to be, and for some reason, I’m not looking forward to the rest of the night. I need to get my head screwed back on straight, and sinking my dick into Violet will ho
pefully do the trick. I can’t afford to waver from my plan, and Murdock’s wife is definitely not part of my plan. Not in the way I wanted her to be earlier.

  I no sooner sit my ass on the sofa than the front door opens. Violet had a double shift at Jack’s Place today, so I came over earlier to sit with her grandmother. I offered to help out considering it would give me the perfect opportunity to watch the house across the street. Their house is in a nice neighborhood, and Violet has done her best to keep it maintained, but the extra money her grandmother had at one time has gone to sitters. When I asked her why she didn’t put her in a nursing home, Violet started to cry. I don’t deal well with crying women, so I quickly shut that shit down. We don’t discuss it.

  “How is she?” Violet asks instead of saying hello.

  “Asleep.” That’s the good thing about sitting with someone who is heavily medicated. She can’t tell on me if I slip out of the house for a few minutes.

  “Good,” Violet says as she passes by. This thing between us isn’t serious. We both know it’s nothing more than scratching an itch, so there’s no, “Hi, honey. How was your day?” bullshit. I have a job I need her to do, other than keeping my dick happy. A job I’m willing to pay for. If that makes her feel like a whore, I can’t help it, but she didn’t flinch when I told her what I wanted.

  I flip through the channels of the television while Violet changes out of her work uniform and takes a quick shower. If things were different between us, I’d join her. Seeing how I only want one thing from her, I keep my ass planted where it is. When she’s finished washing off the smell of Jack’s Place, she returns to where I am and straddles my lap. She hasn’t bothered with clothes since I’d just strip them off her anyway.

  Violet tried kissing me when we first got together, but I laid out the rules. I attribute kissing with love, and I’m not a loving man. I think back to the soft kiss I placed on Lexie’s mouth, but that was because I wanted something. It had nothing to do with love. Violet has my cock in her hand and is stroking, not taking long to get me fully hard. My dick is making up for lost time, and it doesn’t take much more than the wind blowing to get me stiff. A good-looking, naked woman takes even less effort.

  She already has a condom in her hand, ready to tear into it with her teeth. I pull it away from her and open it myself. No way I’m letting a woman screw up and bite a hole in the rubber that’s keeping me from reproducing. Been there once. Ain’t going back again. Not the hole in the rubber part. But the reproducing. I’m not fit to be a father. If I was…

  I’m barely finished rolling the latex down my prick before Violet’s impaling herself on my hard-as-steel dick. This bitch knows how to ride, so I sit back and let her. Normally I enjoy the show, but tonight I close my eyes, and a different woman invades my mind. One I have no business thinking about.

  I rub my hands up the legs that are spread out over my own until my thumbs meet in the middle, stroking the bare pussy that’s sucking my cock in with each down stroke. I’m not a fan of the hairless mound, but it seems to be what the women are doing these days. At least her tits remind me I’m not fucking a little girl. Violet’s body moves slowly, sensually. If there was music playing I’d swear she was giving me a lap dance. A cock dance. Her lithe body sways as her thighs power her up. Her breasts bob as she relaxes her thighs and slides back down. She keeps her hands to herself for the most part, but every once in a while she gets lost in the moment and slides her fingers through my long hair, pulling.

  It’s not that I don’t like it.

  I do.

  Too much.

  But it’s not her I want touching me and turning me on. Lexie. I pinch her clit roughly to remind her where she is, and she releases her grip. That was another of my rules I let her in on before we ever engaged in fucking. I explained how I’m not going to fall in love. There will be no romance. No soft words or touches. No kissing. This thing between us is getting a nut. Nothing more. She agreed, but sometimes she forgets. Violet’s breathing hitches, her tell that she’s about to get her own nut. I twist both nipples hard enough for her to wince, but it sends her over the edge, her pussy squeezing my dick like a fucking vice. I wait until she’s finished writhing and push her off me, ripping off the condom. “Suck it,” I command. Violet drops to her knees and complies. This way, not only do I get the expertise of her mouth, but there’s nothing to clean up. Besides that, there’s also no risk of her getting pregnant. Have I mentioned I’m not father material?

  I grab a fistful of her curly hair and fuck her face. She takes it like a champ even when I hit the back of her throat. “Coming,” is all the warning I give her before I’m shooting my cum down her throat. She swallows every last drop as I pump my hips with each aftershock. When she pulls off, I work my softening dick back into my jeans, zip up, and stand from the sofa. With a swift slap to her bare ass, I’m out the door.

  Instead of driving away from the house across the street, I foolishly rumble by, searching for lights still on as well as counting the number of vehicles in the drive. No lights. Still one car. As I continue toward home, I allow myself to pretend she said yes.

  Like most nights, Jared is still up when I get home. I know what it’s like to have demons that won’t let you sleep without invading your dreams. The house is dark save the light from the silent television. A half-empty bottle of Jack is resting on one thigh, and a joint is pinched between the fingers of his other hand. Without looking up, he holds out the bottle. Instead of taking it, I sit beside him on the sofa and reach for the joint. Alcohol hasn’t done the trick to calm the thoughts raging through my head, so I figure I’ll try something else.

  I inhale deeply as I would a cigarette and quickly figure out that’s not how it’s done. Smoke fills the air as I cough up a lung. “Easy, Cass,” Jared warns me a little too late.

  “Yeah…” cough, “I get…” cough, “that.” When my throat finally stops heaving, I try it again. This time, I take in a much smaller hit and hold it in. I pass the joint back to my cousin, but he waves me off. Zeus is staring at me with a worried look on his massive face, if dogs can worry.

  “If you’re smoking weed, you obviously need it worse than I do.”

  I know he’s wondering what is going on in my head, but he doesn’t pry. Just like I don’t pry into his business. It doesn’t mean I don’t worry. I do. A lot. Jared’s been through as much hell as I have. He’s just had longer to deal with the fallout. As I take another toke, I wonder how he put the death of his wife and unborn baby behind him. The bottle and the weed tell me maybe he hasn’t. Maybe he’s still going through the motions every day without really feeling. I also have a feeling he’s missing Tally. Not that the little girl could make up for losing his unborn child, but she did make him happy while she was here. The lack of emotion in his eyes on a daily basis is what has me worried. Worried when I look in the mirror and see those same dead eyes staring back at me.

  “I don’t need it. I was curious, is all,” I lie. I don’t like lying to him, but it’s better than hashing out the truth. Not that I know what the truth is exactly. I’m trying to figure that shit out. For the most part, the rage inside fuels my actions. I have a plan in place. A good one. Then I come up against something – someone – who lessens the rage just for a moment. Makes me rethink everything I’m doing. Then I remember the past, and the rage is back. I can’t let anyone get in the way. As I sit and inhale the rest of the joint, my mood is calmer than it’s been in a long fucking time. I can understand why Jared smokes it. I can also say I won’t be smoking it again anytime soon. I don’t want to be calm. I want the rage. I need it. It’s been a part of me for so long, without it, I wouldn’t know who I am.

  “You do know you’re going to have to pass a drug test, don’t you?” Jared asks.

  “Yeah, but I have a week until I go see my PO. I’ll get a kit and take care of it.”

  When the paper is so low that it begins to burn my fingers, I snuff it out in the ashtray Jared placed between us
. With my eyes on the TV screen, I reach for the bottle and take a long pull. I’ve never seen my cousin watch the news with the sound on, and I’ve also never asked him why that is. Doesn’t matter. While I read what is scrolling across the bottom of the screen, I take a couple more pulls from the bottle. When the special report is over, I pass the liquor back and rise from the sofa, heading to my bedroom. It’s not necessary, but I close the door for privacy that Jared gives me without me asking.

  I turn on the laptop and carry it to my bed. While it’s booting up, I remove my clothes and boots and settle my back against the pillows with the computer on my lap. I check for any messages that might have come through during the day. I don’t have my email account set up on my phone in case it’s ever compromised.

  After that’s taken care of, I open the fake social media page I set up. Before I went to prison, the only thing I used a computer for was homework and then police work. Facebook was in its infancy. Hackers were around, but nothing like they are today. Today, if you want to find out about someone, all you have to do is log on to the internet and type in a name. Sure, there are those people, like me, who know how to keep shit private. There are aspects of my life that are out there for someone to find if they want to. Some things are public knowledge. Some things, no matter how badly you wish you could, you just can’t make go away.

  If you want to know what your next door neighbor is cooking for supper, log on to Instagram. Want to know when someone has a new lover? Check Twitter. Want to know when a certain cop’s wife is going to get her hair done? Facebook. I scribble down notes on the pad I keep on the nightstand as I look through the pages of certain individuals. I come to the last name on my list and type it in – Lexie. When the page comes up, I click on it. The profile picture isn’t a selfie like a lot of photos. This one was taken by someone who caught her off guard. While it’s her profile photo, it isn’t necessarily a happy one. There’s a sadness in her emerald eyes. Damn, she’s beautiful. The picture doesn’t do her justice.