Desire (Determination Trilogy 3)

by Lesli Richardson

  “Yes, Sir.” She smiles up at him, and I suppose a lesser man would be jealous about that smile, but I’m not.

  They’re both mine.

  And I love them.

  “Then let’s get our asses to work,” he tells her, spinning her around and delivering a stinging slap to her ass that makes me cackle.

  Before she can respond, Leo appears. “Good morning, President Samuels.” From the smirk he wears, I know he heard at least the smack.

  We’re on the clock.

  “Go get them, baby,” I tell her, and send them off to work.

  I go pour myself another cup of coffee and hope I’m strong enough to keep them pulled together.

  Chapter Ten

  Election Night

  Well, it’s not Florida cursed by bad weather this time—it’s Texas. Ice and rain sweep through the state, and ahead of the bad weather the governor orders polls to stay open later, plus extends the deadline for absentee and provisional ballots to be filed.

  The three of us flew to Florida in the pre-dawn hours so we were the first at the polls, voted, and flew back to DC for the wait at the campaign headquarters until we move to the hotel where the party will be held. The kids will be brought over after school lets out, and if it looks like we’re going to win, they’ll stay with us until we know for certain. If not, Yasmine will take them back to the White House early to distract them and play with them until putting them to bed.

  I wouldn’t say I’m confident, but ever since the morning I gave Shae her “pep talk,” she’s been a different woman.

  Also, that same night of the pep talk, I sat with Kev in Lauren’s office and helped him pack everything, holding him as he cried, and then he spent the night with me and Shae in the residence. Since then, there’s been so much traveling that he really hasn’t had a choice about where he sleeps. He sleeps where he can. Sometimes, it’s on Air Force One during the day and then he’s up all night helping run poll numbers.

  It’s been non-stop trips across the country for Shae, some with me, some without, but with Kev at her side for all of them. She kicks David Ignacio’s ass in the last two debates, including flustering the guy so badly in the final one that even Fox and FNB commentators said he deserved to lose the election if he folded so easily under stress. Then they started ripping GOP leadership that they weren’t able to field a more competent contender.

  By six p.m. Kev finally closes his laptop and we head to the hotel. It’s out of our hands, totally. There’s still three hours on the West Coast, but we’ll know once the East Coast starts reporting. California is ours, without a doubt. Exit polling shows that the GOP voters really didn’t even bother turning out. The last debate pretty much sealed his fate, but no election is over until the votes are counted.

  Ignacio concedes at nine p.m., leaving the kids screaming in joy and Prophet wearing a wide, pleased smile as Shae hugs me. Then she starts laughing as, still hugging her, I walk her backward toward Kev and then grab him, too, smooshing Shae between us and making her laugh as the kids join in, throwing themselves at us in a huge family hug, where we wave in Elliot, Leo, Yasmine, and Hudson and Shawna Harris.

  That’s the picture the next day, a joyful family portrait of all of us hugging and smiling.

  And one of them, captured perfectly, shows me and Kev looking at each other.

  That one’s going on the wall in our bedroom.

  That night, before we go downstairs, we all grab a beverage of some sort and raise our glasses.

  “To Lauren,” Shae says.

  “To Lauren,” we all echo as we take a sip.

  * * * *

  Motherfucking West Virginia.

  What kind of goddamned self-loathing do you have to keep sending Edwin Markos back to Congress?

  I take some small measure of satisfaction knowing it was his smallest margin yet. But with Shae’s election guaranteed, she’s going to spend the next one heavily stumping for whoever the Democratic candidate is in that district. Also, for Susa’s lieutenant governor, Ethan, who will be making his own run at the big G in Florida.

  On January 20th, I have a demand of my own. It’s not just us and the kids and Elliot walking the route—I want Leo and Kev there, too. Leo doesn’t know I caught sight of him leaving Elliot’s office late one night, lips puffy and pink and looking like a man who’d just had fun.

  When I walked down there, Elliot emerged—also looking like a man who’d just had some fun.

  When he saw me, his eyes went wide, and he stammered, but I smiled and placed a finger over my lips and said, “I didn’t see a damn thing.” Then I headed on to Shae’s study.

  We all have secrets. Now the ones weighing on Portia, Priest, and Prophet are a little less smothering, but we don’t want to do anything that would rebound on Elliot in four years. And now we can start looking for the perfect house, too.

  I can fully focus on the kids, on my initiatives as the First Spouse, and on actually enjoying life for a change. Leo and I helped Kev go through Lauren’s townhouse and clean it out. There were more tears, but cleansing ones, this time. Then he put what he wanted in storage, and donated or sold the rest. She’d left her parents two different life insurance policies Kev didn’t realize she had, and they didn’t begrudge she’d left him the house and contents, other than a couple of family items he carefully packed and shipped to them.

  It had, after all, been his house, too, at one point.

  With that off his mind, I see my boy return, sadder in some ways, but healing, as are we all. He still goes to our townhouse a couple of nights a week, but never two nights in a row.

  We’ve started planning our family vacation, and I’m thinking Florida is going to win out. Life is good, and it can only get better.

  Right?

  * * * *

  This May morning, I stare into the mirror as I tie my tie. It’s fighting me tooth and nail today, for some stupid reason. I think I’m on attempt five or six, and it still looks like shit. It’s supposed to be ungodly warm by DC standards, so I’ve made the call to not wear body armor today. I’ll have a short walk from The Beast inside today’s event venue, where I’m giving a speech to businesses about supporting exercise programs in schools to help produce healthier kids who can do better in academics because their entire bodies are being supported.

  First Spouse. Some people still have trouble with that one and call me the First Gentleman.

  I can’t help the snort that escapes me. I’ll never get used to that title, no matter how many times I hear myself referred to as that.

  I’m definitely no gentleman, and I’m sure Kev and Shae would privately agree wholeheartedly with that assessment.

  The First Bastard, perhaps. Or First Sadist.

  Except that would roil more than a few feathers, I’m sure.

  Less than three years left of this bullshit. Then it’ll be Elliot’s turn. I have no doubts he’ll win when he runs, either. Shae’s poll numbers are through the roof, the economy is strong, unemployment numbers are low, and the stock market is purring.

  I’m still futzing with my goddamned tie when I hear a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Come.”

  In the mirror, I watch the door open and Kev pokes his head inside. He quickly steps into the room and closes the door behind him, snapping the lock.

  “Perfect timing,” I say as I turn and point at my collar. “Help me with this goddamned thing, would you?”

  If Kev keeps smirking at me like that, he will get himself bent over the end of my bed and fucked right now. Which will make us late, but totes worth it.

  It’s good to see him smile again. After losing Lauren, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see my boy wear a smile.

  “I thought you had to wear one of these all the time when you were an agent?” He sets the leather portfolio in his hands on the bed and walks over.

  “Don’t make me spank you,” I warn. “You know I will.”

  He actually rolls his fucking eyes at me. “Oooh, noooo,
Sir. Please don’t spank me.” He reaches up to untie my tie.

  “Brat.”

  “Your brat. You should know.” His blue eyes meet mine for a moment, sending my pulse racing and thickening my cock. It’s a rare moment we’re alone in the residence and the kids are in school, so we know we won’t be interrupted.

  Unfortunately, today, we don’t have time to play.

  Behind his glasses, the grey in his eyes stands out against the charcoal in the suit he’s wearing, and picks up the jeweled-tone blue in his tie. I’m so glad I fucking forbid him from wearing those stupid colored contacts. I prefer the glasses. I think it makes him look hotter.

  Then he grabs my shoulder and spins me so I’m facing the mirror again. Turning my collar up, he yanks my tie free and starts fresh. He drapes the tie around my neck and adjusts the lay of it around my shirt collar, but I think that’s an excuse for him to brush his fingers against my neck.

  Not like I mind.

  Then he reaches around me, under my arms, to tie it as he looks into the mirror from over my right shoulder.

  “You’re a little naked today, aren’t you?” he quips, noticing my lack of body armor.

  “It’s hot, and I really don’t need it today.” I stretch my arms back, cupping my hands around him and pulling him against my back, smiling at him in the mirror when I feel his cock is hard, too.

  Maybe that’s enough sadism right there, knowing he’s hard and can’t do anything about it until tonight, once the kids are in bed.

  I wouldn’t want to make us late, now, would I?

  I wiggle my ass against him, though, loving the soft moan breathed in my right ear.

  “That’s mean, Sir,” he mutters.

  “I know.” My smile widens, as does his.

  Sure, this is a delicate balancing act the three of us are performing, a thousand feet in the air with no net, and a crosswind threatening to send us into the abyss.

  I don’t care.

  Worth it.

  Worth it to have him back, worth it to know I’ve played an important part in my country’s history.

  Worth it to know that, after Shae’s served out her second term, we can all retreat to the comfort and safety of a home that’s ours and just live our lives. Shae can do whatever it is she wants to do, with me continuing to provide the perfect alibi for her, Kev will have the cover of being her chief of staff, or personal assistant, or whatever the hell title she wants to use for him, the kids will be teenagers and in high school by then, and the Secret Service will take care of transporting them to and from school and events.

  And then?

  I will finally be able to sleep in most weekends.

  With Kev.

  Because like hell am I going to want to let him out of my sight for a while.

  Kev deftly knots my tie, snugging it up against my throat before smoothing down my collar.

  I release my hold on him so I can turn in his arms and kiss him. A slow kiss, tender, one that’s definitely sadomasochistic because it makes both of us even harder and now we definitely don’t have time to screw around.

  “Love you,” I whisper, which draws a lopsided smirk from him.

  “Going soft on me, Sir?”

  “I mean it.” A wave of…something sweeps through me. I hated feelings like that when I was still on active duty, especially when I worked The Shift. It usually meant something bad would happen.

  I make a mental note to text Shae while we’re en route to the shindig to check on her. She’s giving a speech out in LA this afternoon, and Leo went with her because Kevin’s been bogged down working on budget fight prep. He’s going with me today because the House Speaker will be there as well, and he wants a little time to speak with the guy outside of the Hill.

  Besides, I wanted lunch with Kev. And he’s Shae’s stand-in.

  “Love you, too, Sir.”

  I hug him tightly, closing my eyes and breathing in for a moment. The blessing and the curse of this whole situation is that when we’re in the residence—if the kids aren’t here—we’re guaranteed privacy by dint of my position as First Gentleman.

  First Spouse. What-fucking-ever.

  But that rare privacy comes at a very high price for all three of us.

  “What’s wrong, Chris?”

  I don’t open my eyes. “Right this second? Absolutely nothing, except I don’t have time to do what I really want to do to you.”

  “Beat my ass?” I can hear his smart-assed smile.

  “Make love to you,” I quietly say.

  He draws back just enough to look me in the eyes again as I open mine, but serious Kev is in the house. “What’s wrong?” he asks again.

  “Nothing. Just…” I’m chafing under time restraints today. “Countdown clock in my head,” I admit. “I spent too many damn years without you.”

  He leans in again, his forehead touching mine. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “Only where you tell me to, Sir.”

  Sliding my hands down his back, I cup his ass and squeeze hard before finally releasing him after one more brush of lips against lips. “We need to get moving, I guess. Someone will come looking for us.”

  “You mean looking for you.” He steps away from me and grabs his portfolio.

  I snag my jacket from the hanger and pull it on, taking one last look in the mirror before I turn to follow him.

  I never grow tired of looking at his ass. I don’t understand guys who want to make their partners walk behind them. I’d rather bring up the rear so I can watch their rears. Shae’s perfect posterior is nothing to sneeze at, either.

  It’s also why never allow her to wear slacks around me while she’s in office. Not for official functions, anyway. I have too much fun sliding her skirt up her thighs and running my hands over my shapely property and leaving extra marks there in her soft and pliant flesh.

  I like knowing that, after I’ve marked her, she’s got to park that perfect ass in a chair behind a desk or at a photo op, and she’ll be thinking about me, even if only for that brief moment when ass meets seat.

  Note to self—make Kev wear a butt plug to work tomorrow.

  Just for funsies.

  Chapter Eleven

  We ride through DC streets, and it even fucking looks hot outside. It’s been an unseasonably hot May. Thank god this is an indoor event. My office set it up to be a little bit of a photo opp, people can get pictures of me walking from the motorcade into the front door.

  “By the way, saw that comment you made to Bill Graham at WaPo in that article on your dad’s bill,” I tell him, unable to hold back my grin. “Bet your old man is steamed.” The article actually came out last week, but I didn’t see it until this morning when I was playing catch-up on the toilet with my phone.

  Kev smiles, but it’s the smile of Prophet, the successful political operative. “Well, he’s the one trying to cut VA benefits. If he didn’t want me to call him out on his shitty bill, he shouldn’t have put his name on it as a co-sponsor.”

  I grin. The bill has zero hope of making it out of committee, it’s more some play to a base he thinks he has, but Kev slammed him damned good on it.

  When we arrive in front of the venue, there’s a large crowd, larger than I expected. “Uh, wow. Lots of kids.” In fact, there’s a lot of school-aged kids here today, which is great.

  Including a group not much older than Hudson right up on the barricades, cheering as the cars pull up.

  As I get out, I start to follow my detail, but those kids, man. They look happy to be here, happy to see me.

  “Rope line,” I call out to John, who’s now about ten steps ahead of me. I veer off at a ninety and ignore the swears from my detail. I know Kev’s right behind me, shadowing me, keeping an eye on the time and he can be my bulldog to get me into the building if this takes too long.

  I start to shake hands, take selfies with the kids, working my way through the group of kids. I’m trying to say hi to them, focus on them, ignoring the angry buzzing ar
ound me of agents trying to reconfigure themselves with my last-minute plan change.

  I mean, I know better, don’t leave your detail behind, but also I drilled into these same agents rule one is you keep your eye on the protectee and expect them to veer off.

  Ha. Training refresher. I know I put at least half my guys through this same exact scenario when I was still in and working with them.

  I’m about two-thirds through the rope line when I notice a man push his way forward. But before I can really process what’s going on, Kev has launched himself in front of me and shoving me back, making himself big in front of me—he’s got good form—and screaming as I hear three pops.

  Time doesn’t really slow down.

  Adrenaline dumps into your system and it’s sort of the body’s natural time warp for fight-or-flight instincts to kick in. Senses are heightened, your world shrinks into a tight ball right where you need the focus.

  Kev hits the ground as Jack, one of my agents, gets his hand on the man’s gun, between the hammer and frame, and wrenches it from him.

  I dive on top of Kev and have time to see the blood, see his glasses, where they landed in front of him with blood on them, and—

  Time snaps back into focus.

  “Gun! Gun! Gun! Prophet down! Prophet down!” agents yell as the crowd stampedes and my detail tries to form a cordon around me and Kev.

  I feel agents pulling at me, trying to evac me from the scene, and they actually have me back on my feet until I realize Kev’s eyes are closed and he’s not moving. I fight my agents off and once again drop next to Kev, where three agents are already tending to him.

  “Sir, we have to get you out of here!” John yells.

  I turn on him. “We’re riding with Kev.” I’m already moving, grabbing his glasses from where they fell, now broken and smeared with his blood.

  DCMP officers have swarmed the shooter, and he’s face down, yelling something incoherent as about six officers in full tac gear are sitting on top of him, handcuffing him.

  Fortunately, there’s an ambulance in the motorcade. Medics are already rushing this way with a stretcher as agents grab Kev and carry him toward them. Someone grabbed Kev’s portfolio and shoved it at me. The only thing keeping me out of the ambulance is that the two paramedics in back need room to work.