Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  This is one way I can’t get what I need. I miss the structure and protocols Leo and I had. I miss knowing my Sir was looking out for me. I miss our text check-ins.

  At least we could text each other’s personal cells. We didn’t have to take the ridiculous precautions Elliot and Leo do. No anonymous burners and Signal apps. We only had to avoid attention, not conceal our trails.

  We never mentioned Elliot by name. If he was referred to, it was as p.

  Pet, duh.

  I turn the TV on, find a show I like to watch, and we eat a relaxing dinner.

  This is the first time I’ve sat and had a home-cooked dinner with someone since leaving Leo. We used to cook dinner together a couple of times a week, on average. Or breakfast, depending on our schedules.

  His voice sounds so soft, I almost miss Elliot’s comment when he speaks. “This is very good, Sir. Thank you.”

  I reach over and stroke his thigh. “You’re welcome, boy. I’m glad you like it. I enjoy cooking.” I’m almost certain he’s going to have another emotional breakdown like he did on the plane, but he doesn’t.

  He takes a deep, cleansing breath and slowly lets it out. “If you’ll carry the dishes to the kitchen, Sir, I’ll wash them. Or, I can put Duck back on and do it.”

  I reach over and stroke his hair. “Thank you, boy. I’ll take them to the kitchen. Don’t put Duck on until just before we’re ready to head upstairs.”

  Elliot looks into my eyes and smiles. “Yes, Sir.”

  Another of those zings bounces through me as our gazes lock. Fuck me, am I in love with him already? Or was I always this crazy about him, and now I’m finally feeling like it’s reciprocated?

  That’s nothing I need to sort out tonight.

  We shower together, then snuggle in bed while he reads and I watch TV. Back to feeling surreal. Two naked subby guys with glasses, one sitting up and watching TV with the other leaning against him and reading briefing material in a binder.

  Oh, and the one with the briefing material is the vice president of the United States.

  Yeah, I wouldn’t believe it, either, if it wasn’t my life.

  Once he’s earned his reward, because I don’t want to keep us up too late tonight, I let him climb facedown across my lap for a quick spanking with a dense silicone spatula I found in the kitchen. Saves my hand and lets me smack him harder and longer, without as much effort.

  He’s happy with it.

  Then I roll him onto his back, climb on him, and we sixty-nine.

  I’m not ready to start withholding orgasms from him. If he gets too cranky with me on the campaign trail, I might use that for behavior modification. Tease and denial.

  For now, I want to enjoy this, and him.

  One last check of the burner after Elliot’s already softly snoring shows that Leo still hasn’t responded.

  Goddammit.

  He wants to play that game, he won’t like the outcome. It’ll hurt like hell, but I’ll keep Elliot away from him, if I have to. Including ordering Elliot to discontinue that routine with Leo.

  Maybe this is what Leo really wants, for both of us to walk away so he doesn’t have to do the dirty work of asking us to go.

  If that’s the case?

  He’d better be careful what he wishes for.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Late Sunday morning, I leave Elliot immersed in a trade and tariff policy briefing with staff, which will take a while. He has a defense spending briefing immediately after, and then a climate briefing. He’ll be busy for the next couple of hours.

  That means I have time to run errands.

  I’ve already done my research and found two stores I want to hit to cross items off the top of my list, in addition to other stops I need to make.

  The first is a New Age shop that also sells jewelry. There, I immediately lay eyes on the perfect chainmail bracelet for Elliot. It’s made from stainless steel links and it resembles my old one very closely.

  I find myself wanting to jiggle my right hand, to shake a bracelet that’s no longer there. Briefly, I think about going to Leo’s after all, to root through his dresser and look for my bracelet, to see if he kept it.

  Then again, maybe he didn’t.

  Maybe I don’t want to know that.

  He still hasn’t replied to Elliot’s texts. I didn’t let Elliot text him this morning.

  #ratbastard

  #twocanplaythisgame

  Yet I practically feel my bracelet on my right wrist, a phantom limb pain.

  The urge is so strong that I also buy a second one, which is a different weave than the one I bought for Elliot, but the same size stainless steel links and about the same weight. If they’d had two exactly alike, I would have bought both of them. Unfortunately, they didn’t. These two are closest in appearance.

  I move my watch from my left wrist to my right and put the bracelet on my left. Elliot will wear his on his right. Left for the Sir, right for the sub.

  Left leads, right receives.

  Stop number two also produces pay dirt. The adult store is on the pricey end, but they have more in stock than just the discount, cheap-ass sex toys you can find anywhere. They don’t have fancy, custom collar sets, but they do have a nice matching set of a collar and wrist and ankle cuffs, made from soft, supple black leather, with no embellishments.

  They’ll do for now, until I can order a custom set. While I’m there, I stock up on condoms and lube.

  Then I cruise by a hardware store, where I purchase several snap clips, a couple of bundles of paracord, and a box of nitrile gloves.

  Next…

  I have the cab wait for me at the next stop. I finger the keys in my pocket as I walk up to the main door at the storage facility and punch in the access code.

  The door slides open.

  I quickly make my way inside the building, to the climate-controlled storage unit. My hands shake as I fit the key into the padlock, my heart skipping a beat as I turn the key and it easily opens.

  Wiping away tears, I remove the lock and open the door.

  Literally looks exactly the way it did the day I closed the door and snapped the lock shut on it six months earlier. As if Leo hasn’t been here since then.

  It’s nearly enough to take my knees out.

  After locking up, I hurry back to the cab and return to the residence. When the agent on duty in the gatehouse looks in the bags to check my purchases, he pauses before giving me an arched eyebrow.

  No one else is close enough to hear me. “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” I softly warn. “The vice president is entitled to his privacy.”

  He nods. “Yes, sir, Mr. Walsh. Thank you.” He returns the bags to me.

  Elliot would have died of mortification had he been there. Then again, if Elliot was holding the bags and taking them inside, they wouldn’t have searched them.

  Elliot will have to get over it. The Secret Service damn well knows Leo’s more than just friends with Elliot. They aren’t idiots, and they haven’t spilled Elliot’s tea in six years. They’re not about to start now.

  Before I head up the walk, I pause and turn. I remember this agent. “You’re second in charge for the vice president’s detail, correct?”

  He nods. “Yes, sir.”

  “Leo Cruz.”

  He nods again, his expression more guarded. “Yes, sir? What about him?”

  “You know I’m friends with him, correct?”

  “I remember you frequently visited here with Mr. Cruz, yes, sir. Weren’t you living together?”

  “Yeah. Have you or anyone on the detail had contact with Leo since I returned to DC?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, sir. I believe he’s on the travel roster with President Samuels.”

  “Please pass the word that if Leo should contact anyone on Elliot’s detail before the president returns from her trip, no one is to tell him about me being here.”

  His brow furrows. “Sir?”

  “It’s a personal matter that doesn’
t have anything to do with the vice president,” I lie. “I want to be the one to personally tell Leo that I’m back, and see the look on his face when I do. We want to surprise him. If I have to, I’ll get Vice President Woodley to make it a direct order.”

  “Not necessary, sir. I’ll let everyone know.”

  “Thanks.” With that bit of mischief managed, I head inside. I timed things perfectly, because the aides are still gathered around the large, formal dining room table with Elliot.

  Distracted.

  I head upstairs to the bedroom, put away my purchases, and then organize our laundry for the valet to handle. I also rig the paracord and snap clips, securing them to the bedframe and running the cord under the mattress, where it’s all easily hidden from sight. But I can now hook Elliot spread-eagled while he’s wearing the cuffs.

  Sort of.

  I think the ankle cuffs are long enough I can buckle the left one around his calf, just below his knee. If not, I’ll come up with something. Leo never used to hook Elliot’s ankle cuff to restraints like that, but I will.

  Again with the whole this is us deal. No one’s ever accused me of not being creative.

  Once that task’s complete, I use my official tablet and log into the system to find out where POTUS is.

  Busy with meetings today in Ottawa, but nothing being held out in the Arctic tundra where Wi-Fi hasn’t been invented yet.

  Meaning Leo Fucking Cruz is really starting to piss me off for not responding to Elliot’s texts.

  Between Elliot’s meetings with staff, I fix him lunch and sit him down at the dining room table to eat. Today, he’s wearing jeans and a button-up light blue Oxford shirt, no tie, his sleeves rolled below his elbows. I take his right hand in mine and, without fanfare, I fasten the bracelet around his wrist. Then I place my left wrist next to his, so he can see.

  “Right for sub, left for Sir.” A frisson ripples through me as time merges, past and present, and I think about the night of Shae’s first inauguration, when Leo collared me. “They didn’t have matchies, or I would have bought us identical ones.” I bring his wrist to my lips and kiss his bracelet, then hold his hand tucked against my chest the way Leo did that night so many years ago. “Do you want to be my boy?”

  His breath hitches. “Yes, Sir. I want to be your boy.” I don’t make him ask to wear my day collar, because I say sending a Secret Service detail after me in Tallahassee speaks to his determination and implies consent on his part.

  “You keep that on, unless I tell you to take it off. We’re a matched set now, right?”

  The hint of a smile curves his handsome lips. “Yes, Sir. Matched set. Can’t separate a matched set.”

  My heart flutters. “Damn right, you can’t.” I lean in and kiss him. “Good boy. Eat your lunch. You’ve got about twenty minutes before your next meeting.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  I leave him alone with his food and the prep materials he’s reading. He doesn’t need me hovering and making him nervous. He’s good at the job part of his job.

  It’s all the other shit he needs help with.

  Meanwhile, I get online with my tablet and make arrangements of my own. On Wednesday, Elliot will be in the White House all day, and I can catch a flight first thing in the morning from Dulles to Tallahassee, and be back in DC by eight that evening.

  I book it, even though I hate spending the money.

  By the time Elliot’s done working for the day, I’ve already arranged movers and a pod to be at my apartment on Wednesday, reserved a rental car, ordered moving supplies, and will be completely moved out of my apartment and storage unit before I return to the airport.

  I won’t even take my personal cell.

  #pettybitch

  If Elliot needs me, he can call me on my work phone from his desk or official cell phone.

  I am his body man, after all.

  After changing into sweats and a T-shirt, I bring his robe, walker, and the new leather collar downstairs, where I position everything in the den before I call him in from the dining room.

  His gaze immediately falls on the collar in my hand.

  I snap my fingers and point at the floor in front of me. Without hesitation, Elliot moves into position and drops to the floor. There, I buckle the collar around his throat and rest my hand on top of his head. A shudder washes through him and he leans in, pressing his forehead against my thigh.

  “Good boy,” I whisper. “Strip, take Duck off, use the walker, and come join me in the kitchen.”

  I leave the room without a look back. Tonight, I won’t put the cuffs on him downstairs. I don’t expect any more staff to show up this evening, but I can quickly get the collar off him if we’re interrupted. Until I have his anxiety under control, I’ll limit the use of the cuffs to the bedroom.

  Five minutes later, I hear him enter the kitchen behind me, where I’m standing at the stove. I snap my fingers and point to the throw rug, which is positioned where I had it last night.

  Seconds later, he’s there, leaning in and kissing the tops of my feet.

  Didn’t ask him to do that but it’s a nice touch. “Good boy.”

  Like last night, we talk while I cook. Midway through, I drop my plans on him. “You have to be in the White House all day Wednesday. I’m going to take an early flight to Tallahassee, handle emptying my apartment, storage unit, and moving, and then I’ll fly home late Wednesday night. Unless something extraordinary happens, I want you to wait at the White House until I come get you. I’ll take care of ordering your lunch and dinner, and you will eat them there.”

  I glance down to find him wide-eyed. “But, Sir, I told you I’d pay your moving costs.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Can’t let you risk that. Comes under the heading of gifts, and you don’t need to get mired at a debate trying to explain something like that. When Kev returns, I’ll find out from him what I need to do to set up a written agreement like they have with him, so we’re in the clear.” I offer him a smile. “I’ll take it out of your hide in trade.”

  Except that’s still fear I read in his eyes. “You…you’re coming back though, Sir?”

  I nudge his leg with my toes, gently scratching him. “Told you that you’re not getting rid of me now. I won’t have time or anonymity to do it after you declare, and I don’t want to keep paying rent on a place I’m not living in. You can call me on my work phone while I’m gone. I’m not disappearing. If I finish earlier than I planned, I’ll change my flight if I can and return early.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I hate that he looks afraid. “I’m not even taking luggage, just my laptop and carryon.”

  He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor.

  “Hey.”

  He looks up.

  I force a little steel into my tone. “Do you think I’d collar you to me and then walk away from you?”

  He takes a deep breath. “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  I bend over and kiss him, hooking my finger through the D-ring in the front of his leather collar. “Besides, wait until you see the surprise I have waiting for you upstairs, baby.”

  His nostrils flare. “Surprise?”

  I smile. “Oooh, yes.”

  I head upstairs, softly humming to myself as I get everything ready. I suspect it won’t take him long to join me.

  That’s when I catch sight of the burner. I’m halfway tempted to toss it in the garbage, except I look at it.

  Leo’s finally responded.

  I’m really sorry, pet. I’ve been busy and I didn’t realize the phone wasn’t working on the network. I had to wait to hook up to secure Wi-Fi at the hotel. All your messages came in at once. I’ll make sure I check in more often, when I have a secure connection. Love you.

  Is that bullshit, or is that the truth?

  Who knows?

  But I’ve read the message, and I know Leo has their Signal apps set up to show a message has been read.

  They’re also set to auto-delete thirty minutes
after they’ve been read, so I snap a screenshot for Elliot to see later.

  I hear Elliot downstairs moving around with his walker, meaning he’s about to put on Duck and come upstairs.

  So, what does this petty bitch do?

  I shut off the phone, of course.

  I don’t want Elliot reading that tonight. I want him focused on me.

  On us.

  I’ll tell him about it later.

  After I’ve rocked his fucking world.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Elliot’s eyes widen when I show him the bed’s new hardware.

  Also, his cock starts to inflate again.

  Excellent.

  I pull him in for a kiss and remove the collar. “Shower, then fun.”

  Probably our fastest shower ever. I tease and stroke him, play with his ass—and let him play with mine—until we’re both about to start fucking right there.

  Except I want him on the bed.

  I want him helpless and begging for me.

  I won’t be his second—I’ve patiently spent six years in second place.

  Time for me to be first, for a change.

  Tonight’s music is light rock, a different Pandora station than before, run through my tablet. I set up my Bluetooth speaker and it turns out his old one died. A replacement has already been added to my shopping list.

  Fastening the collar and cuffs on him, I find that no, the second ankle cuff isn’t big enough to go around his calf. I’ll have to get a strap with Velcro on it, or something to use around his upper calf, something easy to put in place and remove.

  Meanwhile, I use leftover paracord to tie a basic harness around his knee and calf and improvise with that. Yes, I paid attention when Leo tied me up. I learned a few basics.

  Elliot’s got a little bit of a wild look in his eyes as he lies there restrained and exposed, his rigid cock fully erect and already leaking.

  Straddling him on the bed, I lightly rake my nails over his pecs. “Who’s my good boy?”

  “Me, Sir!” He tugs on his wrists, remembers he’s restrained, and his cock twitches even more.

  Score one for guessing right about this. I can’t overpower him, but I can restrain him.