Devil's Trick, Devil's Treat: His
Wrong devil, right darkness. He took what wasn't his in that alley, then discovered she'd done the same.
He stood at the kitchen bar, the bass of the party pulsing up through his feet. Glass icy in his grip, mind drunk on her scent and the taste of promise still lingering on his lips. Behind him, a body pressed in, warm, familiar as memory, masked in the same flickering red velvet as his wife. Her hands slid around his waist, bold as sin. One sliding lower to cup him through his slacks, the other stealing a drink from before...