The Non-Standard Man Ch. 06

I lowered my head, moved my hand, and sucked his cock in my mouth.

"Yes. Evie, that is so good."

I ran my tongue around the head, and then took as much in as I could.

"Fuck, yes."

Rather than just bob my head on his shaft, I moved my head up and around, twisting around his shaft.

"God, yes. Ah, I've missed that!" He pushed his cock into my mouth further, gripping my hair urging me to go faster.

I gripped his tight balls with one hand, massaging them lightly.

"Ah, that's it. Yes. I'm coming, baby."

With that, Roger shot his cum down my throat.

The car stopped.

"Shit," said Roger, breathing hard, scrambling to pull up his pants.

I quickly snapped my bra in place, buttoned my shirt, and pulled up my pants. I barely got them zipped, when the driver opened the window a crack.

"The Crowne Plaza, ma'am."

"Thanks, pull off the parking lot. I need to finish talking with my husband."

"Yes, ma'am."

I opened a small door in the panel below the window with a bottle of whiskey I kept there.

"I need a drink," I said.

"Baby, you sure know how to make a man happy."

#

We settled Roger into the Crowne Plaza despite his protests.

"I'm still worried about you," he said.

I didn't need Roger to kick up my fears about the illegal robot in my house. I still uncomfortable with what happened this morning.

"I'll have Caroline do a search for a new place for you. In the meantime, don't get kicked out of here."

"Baby," he said.

"Don't 'baby' me, Roger. There is too much water under the bridge to keep it from sinking."

He gave me a peck on the cheek, and with a backwards puppy dog look, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked to the elevator.

I shook my head. In a small corner of my heart, I felt guilty about what I did with Roger in the car because of Andrew. That was silly. He was my husband. Andrew was a 'bot. I shouldn't have conflicted emotions about a man and a thing.

I blamed Roger for my current state of emotional unrest. It is so easy to blame my problems on him. Roger the miscreant, Roger the philanderer, Roger the drunk.

Roger, the born-again husband.

But he was right. I'd gotten myself into a situation with an illegal robot. Nothing good could come of this.

And then I had a thought, and not a pleasant one. I pulled out my phone and called the private investigator.

"Tersa, you did a piss poor job on that report."

"I gave you what I could get in the time frame you requested," she said flatly. "But I was waiting for your call."

"Bitch," I said. Point of fact, Tersa and I went back to our Boston days and were good friends, despite the fact we ran in different circles.

"And I'll have you know I'm still on the clock."

"Whore," I said.

"Sweet talk will get you everything, slut."

"I sure hope so."

Her tone got serious. "What do you want me to focus on?"

"I want to know how Cicily Wells died."

"I've been working on that. People are closed mouthed about it, but from what I can gather she died in her lab. And the whispers are that an Andrew was responsible.