by Cassia Leo
His hands slid down my waist and over my hips. He tugged the skirt of my dress up and I had a moment of panic as his hand glided up my thigh.
“No panties?” he remarked. “I like that.”
Jack was the one who suggested no panties. That was the “carefree” part of the outfit.
Chase’s right hand slid over my cheeks as his left hand reached for a folded napkin on the table. “Put your hands behind your back,” he whispered. I obliged and he immediately tied the napkin around my wrists.
“Why?” I asked, my voice breathy with anticipation. “Why me?”
A low chuckle issued from his throat. “Do you really need to ask?” he replied, his breath hot in my ear. After a moment with no response from me, he sighed. “You really have no idea how beautiful and composed you are?”
I was feeling less composed by the second.
He tightened the napkin he’d tied around my wrists and I let out a soft moan. “You didn’t question me when I cut our little encounter short last night,” he said, his lips right next to my ear. “Discretion is very important to me. You might say it’s the most important thing.” He flicked his tongue out and my clit throbbed painfully as he traced the shell of my ear with it. “What is your answer, Miss Jacobs?”
He turned me around so I was facing him, then he grasped both my arms and forced me to sit in my chair. Kneeling down on one knee, he propped my legs on his shoulders as his tongue explored my slick nether regions. The pleasure burst through my center all the way to my limbs and I tossed my head back. His finger curled inside me, stroking my G-spot as his tongue caressed my bud with increased urgency. My hips bucked uncontrollably as he brought me to the brink of orgasm and stopped.
Chapter 4
“What’s wrong?” I asked breathily.
He raised his eyebrows. “What is your answer? Can I welcome you to the campaign?”
“Oh, god!” I thought, as I pulsated with a need for him to finish me off. This wasn’t fair.
Then I considered his offer. With my debts paid off and the salary he was offering, plus the car, I wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not this director thought I was ten pounds overweight or that casting director thought my face was not symmetrical enough. So much of my daily worries would disappear with a single word. What about the issue of his wife? Would she know? Did she already know?
“I don’t know,” I said before his blue eyes could sway me toward a premature yes.
He smiled as stood up, untied the napkin around my wrists, and helped me push in my chair just before the waiter arrived. My insides were aching to have him inside me, but we would have to wait.
The waiter placed two plates laden with steaming, seared tuna and vibrant, grilled vegetables on the table. The smell was intoxicating.
“Dig in. You’re going to need your strength later when I attempt to convince you.”
I gobbled up my food as fast as I could without making a mess or looking like a complete pig. When I was done, I patted my mouth with my napkin and took a sip of water, nearly spilling the drink on myself as something prodded its way between my legs. I glanced up at Chase as I set down my glass. His expression was intense as he fondled me with his foot.
“Are you ready?” he asked and I nodded frantically. “Good. Stand up.”
As I stood from the table, he also stood and swiped all the plates off the table, sending a bowl of raspberries careening off the side of the cliff to the rocks below. My heart raced as he glided across the distance between us. He grasped my arms and turned me so I faced the now barren tabletop.
He pulled my dress up and over my head and tossed it onto the tiled floor. I felt completely exposed worrying if our waiter or the kitchen staff were watching from beyond the tinted glass wall separating us from the interior dining space.
“Bend over,” he ordered me, and I did as he demanded.
My breasts pressed against the cool glass tabletop as he leaned against me, his weight pressing my belly against the glass as his tongue explored the folds of my ear. He entered me as he bit down on my shoulder and I gasped loudly.
“You’re going to accept,” he grunted, his arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled me closer so he could plunge even deeper. “Aren’t you?”
His other hand reached around and caressed my clit, alternating between a soft and an urgent touch. I screamed with pleasure and my cries echoed over the cliffs. My body quaked, my legs turning to jelly, as he brought me to orgasm, but he wasn’t finished.
He pulled out of me and continued to rub my nub as he aimed to make me come again. I was almost there when his finger slid back and eased between my ass cheeks. He massaged and stroked gently until his thumb slid into the hole and I panted with bliss. He pulled out his finger and my juices slowly guided his cock into the place no man had ever gone.
“Oh, my god!” I screamed. “Yes!”
He licked my neck as he pounded into me. “Is that ‘yes’ for me?”
The table shook beneath us as he hammered into me over and over again. The warm sensation of an inevitable orgasm spread through me.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”
His warmth filled me as he came inside me and collapsed onto my back. My breasts squeaked against the glass tabletop as he kissed my neck, still buried deep inside me.
Does he want to go again? I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.
Just as this thought crossed my mind, he pulled out. I turned to face him, feeling utterly exposed with the ocean breeze accentuating the wetness on my neck and between my legs.
“I’ll take you home so you can pack a bag. We’re hitting the trail tomorrow,” he said, as he zipped up his pants and tucked his polo back into his jeans. He picked up my dress and handed it to me.
“What about your wife?” I asked. I had to ask. If I was going to accompany him on the campaign trail, I had to know if I was risking my name and dress size being plastered across the covers of tabloid magazines.
His eyes bore into me, probably trying to figure out the subtext beneath my question. “My wife and I haven’t so much as breathed on each other the entire time we’ve been married. My wife has been in love with another man since before she met me, rather, before she was hired by my campaign manager.”
I began to wonder why such a handsome, powerful man had to hire a wife and an escort. Then I realized it probably had to do with the fact that you can buy silence. After all, he did say discretion was the most important thing.
“Don’t let all those questions brewing inside your mind stand in the way of the opportunity of a lifetime,” he said, as he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’m not going to be the president forever.”
Part 2
Disclosure
Chapter 1
Carrying on a secret affair with the most popular politician in America was tricky at best. At its worst, my affair with presidential candidate Chase Underwood was a racing nightmare of primping and prepping for one publicity event after another. At its best, our affair was the naughtiest, most pleasurable relationship I’d ever been in.
Relationship.
Chase’s word, not mine. The word was plastered all over the nondisclosure agreement he had presented to me last night, right after giving me multiple orgasms with his talented tongue.
“That’s not fair,” I had said, as he insisted I read aloud sections fifteen through nineteen while he lightly kissed every inch of my body. “‘Number fifteen: Recipient shall submit to Candidate’s requests, whether related to the Campaign or sexual in nature, in a timely manner; preferably, as soon as such request is made.’” I paused and reread the sentence to myself to make sure I had read it correctly. “What is this?” I asked, as he kissed the inside of my knee.
The hotel lamp cast a soft, golden glow over his brown hair and reflected brilliantly off the few gray hairs he refused to dye.
“I just want to make sure we’re clear on the terms of this relationship,” he
said, his lips moving lightly over my knee to the top of my thigh. “Keep reading.”
He slid his hand over my abdomen until he reached my breast. My back arched and fingers clenched tightly around the sheets of our hotel bed as I held the contract in my other hand.
I swallowed my pleasure and continued. “‘Number sixteen: Recipient shall submit to regular mental, physical, and dental health examinations. Recipient shall also maintain her physical and mental health through regular exercise, healthy diet, therapeutic spa treatments, and, if necessary, regular sessions with a clinical therapist.’” I stopped reading and Chase chuckled, as if he knew what I was about to say. “Therapy?”
“Come now, Larissa. I see a therapist. I’m not implying you need one, but the campaign is stressful when running at full tilt. I want you to know if you need to talk to anyone, other than me, I can provide that. All my staffers get full health benefits.”
“Of course, they do. What would the press think if you didn’t provide your employees health care when you’re out there stumping for single-payer?”
“You’ve been doing your homework.” He kissed my hipbone, sending a shiver through me that stiffened my nipples. “Keep reading. I love listening to your voice.”
“‘Number seventeen: Recipient shall address Candidate respectfully at all times; in public as ‘Sir’ and in private as ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. President’.’” My mouth went slack with shock. “In private? Are you kidding?”
His tongue traced a ring around my nipple and the cool air in the hotel room made my entire body shiver.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Larissa.” His erection brushed my thigh as he slithered up and kissed my collarbone. “You’re being a very bad girl.”
“Don’t you mean I’m being a very bad recipient?”
“Don’t make me bring out my paddle.”
Something about this sentence threw me over the edge. “Put it in,” I murmured.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Put it in, please… Mr. President.”
He slid into me and I moaned as I tossed the contract to the floor.
“Say it again.”
“Mr. President,” I said, relishing the feel of the word on my tongue as I wrapped my legs around his hips. “Faster, please, Mr. President.”
***
The air inside the private jet was too warm and smelled too strongly of leather and French roast coffee. Three days spent with Chase and I already knew his favorite brand of coffee, his shoe size, and the password to his Facebook profile. He gave me a long list of his internet passwords, which I would be using to check his emails, Tweet for him, and post status updates on his behalf. I had gone from rookie escort to Senior Personal Assistant to the future president of the United States in less than a week.
I kept going over the five extra clauses tacked onto my nondisclosure agreement in my head and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. The last clause in the NDA was obviously the most important.
19. Recipient agrees all aspects of her relationship with Candidate, whether related to Campaign or sexual in nature, must be kept confidential, unless Agreement is declared null and void by Candidate. In the event of the Candidate’s untimely death, Recipient shall remain bound by this Agreement for a period not less than seven years.
Chase came back to our cabin after his chat with the pilot, adjusting his tie and looking very pleased with himself. “The pilot says we have nothing but clear skies ahead of us. Maryland, here we come.”
He sat in the seat next to me and immediately pulled out his iPhone to check his emails.
“I can do that,” I said, pulling out the new iPhone he purchased for me two days ago.
He smiled at me as he tucked his phone into his coat pocket and leaned toward me. “You can do that…?”
“I can do that, Sir,” I murmured, as he kissed the corner of my mouth.
He planted a soft kiss on the tip of my nose and sat back. “Fasten your seat belt, Larissa. I’m a strong believer in the old adage safety first.”
I’ll bet you are. After all, that was the whole point of the NDA, wasn’t it?
My heart hammered as the plane roared down the runway. I hated airplanes. As soon as we were at cruising altitude, Chase removed his seat belt then reached over and undid mine.
“Come with me.”
I followed him through a locked door toward the rear of the plane. We passed through a cabin where twelve staffers sat in equally luxurious accommodations.
As we passed, Chase squeezed the shoulder of a young fellow with curly hair hunched over a computer. “Don’t work so hard, Isa. Relax a little or you’ll scare off the young ladies.”
Isa grinned sheepishly. “Just checking the latest polls, Sir.”
“Larissa, this is Heather Rodin,” Chase said, as we came to the back of the cabin where a mousy girl was busy typing a message into her phone. “Heather works for the Times. She’s doing a feature on my visit to Maryland. I told her she could speak to you tomorrow, after you’ve become more acquainted with my staff and the campaign. I thought you two should meet before we land and they whisk us all off to separate hotel rooms.”
Heather cocked her eyebrow as she held out her hand to me. Her hand was tiny and a bit clammy. “Nice to meet you, Larissa. I look forward to speaking with the newest, closest member of Chase’s campaign.”
“Likewise. Pleasure meeting you, Heather. By the way, I love your shoes. I have a pair just like those in the nude color. Had to leave them at home to conserve space in my luggage. You have great taste.”
Heather smirked at my compliment as I turned to follow Chase back to our private cabin. As soon as he closed and locked the door, he cast a sly grin in my direction.
“Very smooth complimenting the reporter. Thank you.”
“Thank my acting coach.”
“I already did thank your acting coach.”
“Shut up!” I said, playfully punching him in the arm.
He laughed as he took a seat on the leather sofa and began loosening his tie. “Truth be told, Heather is something of a thorn in my side. She contacted my publicist yesterday at the last minute and we couldn’t really say no after that big speech about transparency last week.”
I took a seat next to him and reached across to help him with his tie. “She seems a bit nosy and suspicious, if you ask me. I mean, what makes her think I’m the closest member of your campaign? I think Teddy qualifies for that position.”
Teddy Holt was Chase’s bullish campaign manager, known for making staffers weep with his quick abrasive wit and impossible deadlines. He was already in Maryland waiting for us. Just the thought of meeting him today made me want to cry.
Chase pulled me onto his lap as I slipped his tie off. “Right now, I think you’re much more qualified for that position.”
He kissed me hard as he clutched my hair, which was newly cut and dyed at Chase’s request—to appear less like the girl in the Black Tie Escorts catalogue, I presumed.
“Are you wearing panties?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he replied, as he slid me off his lap. “Now bend over so I can show you what will happen if I ever catch you wearing panties with a skirt.”
18. Recipient shall be subject to occasional light physical punishment from Candidate. Punishment will be issued with Recipient’s safety in mind and may include, but is not limited to, spanking, whipping, choking, and application of physical restraints. Should such punishment become too much for Recipient to handle, Recipient agrees to use safe words. Recipient will use the safe word “yellow” when punishment should slow down or ease up. Recipient will use the word “red” when punishment should stop immediately.
I bent over the sofa with my feet planted firmly on the floor. He yanked my skirt up, exposing my cheeks. The first two spankings were light and I could feel my labia becoming slick with anticipation. The third smack stung quite a bit.
“More?”<
br />
“Yes, Sir.”
“Later,” he said, as he bent over me and kissed the sensitive spot behind my ear. He turned me around so I fell back onto the sofa then he spread my legs and gazed at me hungrily. “Now it’s time to reward you for being such a fast learner.”
Chapter 2
The flight landed in Maryland ahead of schedule, which gave me less time than I wanted to fix my hair and makeup after my romp with Chase. The ride to the hotel was awkward. His driver, George, had to take a later flight out of L.A. due to personal issues. We had to take a government-issued motorcade to the hotel, which had to be swept for explosives four times. Inside the car, we had to keep our interactions strictly business.
I kept glancing across the leather seat of the limousine at Chase’s perfectly shined shoes, his soft manicured hands, his strong shoulders, and that freshly shaven chiseled face. I wanted to tell him how desirable he looked. I wanted him to tell me how beautiful I looked. I never felt more beautiful.
From the stylish haircut and mani-pedi to the expensive designer clothes Chase’s stylist handpicked for me, I looked like a different person. I looked like the person I had always dreamed of becoming since I left Florida to make it in Hollywood. I should be ecstatic, but something felt off and I knew exactly what it was.
Mrs. Katherine Underwood.
Chase’s wife was still his wife and, even if Chase and my old roommate—and the tabloids—claimed they had never been intimate together, I found this hard to believe when I looked at pictures of them kissing on the lips and holding hands. Maybe Chase was just a better actor than I was, but I couldn’t imagine pretending to be in love with someone.
“Katherine will be flying in tomorrow,” Chase said, breaking the silence in the limo and delivering a painful jolt to my heart. “Please set up a reminder to have George pick her up at the airstrip at 10:30.”