Because once Leo knew my limits, he never hesitated to slam me hard against them and then some.
Because he knew how tough I really was.
Both our cocks are leaking all over, we’re grinding on each other, and I finally reach for the nightstand drawer to get a condom and the lube. By default now, I always grab a towel before we come to bed, because I hate having to get up again if we need one.
He sits up, his back against the headboard while I go down on him, running the tip of my tongue around the end of his cock and playing with his foreskin. I think he’s even more sensitive because he’s intact, while Leo and I are both circumcised.
Finally, I rip open the condom pouch, rolling it down his shaft while I kiss him. He’s quickly getting better about when I like to ride him. He still prefers catching, but I think seeing how much I enjoy this has helped him.
He takes the lube from me and I rise onto my knees so he can reach under me and slick me, teasing my hole with his finger as he does. I drape my arms around his neck and kiss him, nipping and sucking on his bottom lip, enjoying the rasp of stubble against my face. I could go a couple of days without shaving and barely look scruffy, but not him. He’d look shaggy as hell.
Probably hot as fuck, too, but with a campaign to run, we can’t try different styles on him now.
He wipes his hands and holds the base of his cock for me while I lower myself onto him. With our lips slanted over each other’s, he swallows every soft moan I make as he breaches me, and I love every perfect thing about him and this. My own cock twitches and jerks, leaking more pre-cum as Elliot’s cock glides across my sweet spot and nearly sends me over the edge.
Once my ass meets his thighs, he leans forward a little, so I can wrap my legs around him.
One hand cups my ass, helping me grind, while he curls the fingers of his other around my erection and squeezes.
Fuuuuck.
My eyes want to fall closed because of the perfection of this, but I also don’t want to miss a second. The way his blue eyes glaze over, looking sweetly needy and greedy, with his body torn between autopilot and perfect obedience to me.
This conflict of his always hits me hard in good ways, reminds me he’s dedicated himself to this, to us.
To me.
I kiss him and cup the nape of his neck with one hand so I can dig my nails in. I rake the nails of my other hand up and down the back of his shoulder, making him moan and tighten his grip on my ass while he strokes my cock. Even in the hottest of times, Elliot still needs a little more than just a good fuck to really enjoy his pleasure.
We slowly make that climb together, our bodies twined around each other. There are easier, faster, more explosive ways to get our nut, but there’s something sweeter and deeper about it like this, and I love it.
I love him.
Losing him isn’t an option. There’s magic surrounding the three of us, that we’ve woven our souls together so thoroughly in such a short amount of time. Like we were once cut from the same cloth and the tapestry’s finally restored, stitched back together.
It’s up to me to make sure those seams are reinforced and hold, I suppose. Because yeah, I do want Leo. I love the damn stalky Dom, and I want him in our lives.
I want him to have his happily ever after with Elliot.
I want my happily ever after with Leo.
Maybe after venting my spleen to him I’ll be able to move past it all.
Right now, I want to focus on my boy.
At this angle, with my weight on him, his cock’s pressed perfectly where it needs to be. Every rock of my hips milks more pre-cum out of me that he slicks along my shaft with his hand.
I’m sooo close. I want to hold back and make this last forever.
He presses his forehead against mine. “Let me feel you, baby. I want it. You know you want to give it to me.”
My eyes slam closed, sparks going off behind them as pleasure twists and snaps free. I throw my head back and he bites the base of my throat, moving, rocking with me while I spill all over his hand. He doesn’t stop stroking me and all I can do is hold on while he chases me, catches up, muffles his groan against my flesh and falls still.
Elliot pulls me against him, burying the non-spooged hand in my hair and rubbing my scalp while I rest my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t make me talk, doesn’t interrupt as I draw shaky breaths and try to remember why I threw Leo out of the house this morning.
Oh, yeah.
I’m angry at him.
“What if I tell him to leave us alone?” I whisper, terrified of his response.
Elliot sadly sighs but doesn’t stop rubbing my head. “I told you, I’m yours, and you’re mine. I can’t be with him if you can’t be with him.” He nuzzles my ear, pressing a kiss there. “You’ve proven to me throughout the years I’ve known you what dedication, what love are. What keeping a promise is. I love him, and I trust him. I know he puts us before himself, even at the expense of himself. Yet you see how broken and fucked up I am and are still willing to walk beside me even when I know you could’ve put your foot down and demanded he marry you, and he would’ve. You’re loyal.”
His voice chokes up. “I saw how angry you were at Dad that day at the farm. When I told them I’m running. I saw pure rage in your eyes, and I nearly proposed to you right then.”
I tip my head back so I can look him in the eyes. “You…did?” I thought I’d hidden it well.
“Yeah.” He sadly smiles. “No one else would’ve noticed. Except maybe Leo. I thought to myself then that if, after everything that happened, you can still love me that much, I am not nearly worthy enough for you, but I’m damn sure not walking away from you.”
We spend a long moment looking into each other’s eyes. I like doing this with him not just because he’s got those gorgeous blue eyes, but also because it helps strengthen our bond when sometimes that’s all we can do because of time or circumstances.
My soul’s already settled things even if my brain wants to extract a little more emotional vengeance first. “I won’t make him leave. I want to work this out with him because I love the fucking idiot. I’ll try to have a talk with him Monday or Tuesday, at the latest.”
He kisses me again. “Thank you, Sir. Do you want me to not text with him?”
I stare into his eyes for another long moment. “No, you can text with him. But I told him no drop-ins without permission from me until we settle this.”
He nods. “Yes, Sir. I’ll back you up.”
“Can you even say no to him?”
He nuzzles noses with me. “Right or wrong, I’ve managed to say no to him for all these years. I think I can say no to him to back you up, Sir.”
We clean up and go to bed, and I don’t resist when Elliot wants to spoon me tonight.
I close my eyes and try not to remember falling asleep with Leo spooning me. Or how good he smelled.
Or how hard his hand gripping the back of my neck made me.
But I refuse to let Elliot down. Leo’s just going to have to deal with that.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
My sleep Friday night is filled with nightmares. I haven’t had nightmares in a while, and those used to be of the night of the club shooting.
I wish. No, these nightmares are worse.
Far worse.
Now I’m haunted by what I saw in the SitRoom and it keeps trying to morph and twist into me watching someone kill Elliot.
Or Leo.
Meaning I’m going to need a lot of fucking coffee.
Apparently, Leo takes my warnings to heart, or he listens to Elliot. I don’t know or care which one, but on Saturday, Leo behaves himself. I don’t see him, or hear from him, even though I let Elliot keep the burner phone and text with Leo at will. I doubt Leo’s in attendance in the crowd at any of the events, because the President is working today and I’m certain Leo’s with her.
Having the pressure off me allows me the space, while Elliot’s speaking to attendees at the events, to
finally devote brain cells to recalling memories of my life with Leo. Mostly because while Elliot’s speaking, I have time to sit back and do nothing but watch and wait.
Until now, thinking about the past is something that’s been too painful to consider.
Something I spent months trying not to think about.
There’s so much I miss about Leo and our life together. Even when there were days we were both so busy we barely saw each other awake for more than a few minutes, at least we could text all the time, or sneak a quick hug or kiss.
I miss that.
I miss being able to go to the movies with him, or grabbing a bite to eat.
I miss going to watch bands play at clubs.
I miss browsing bookstores, and watching him playfully scowl while he buys a hard copy of a book and I grab it on my Kindle.
Stopping by an ice cream shop.
Going out for a bite to eat with friends. Mostly guys from the Secret Service, or people Leo knew from his private security work, but still friends.
All of that done anonymously, without a literal cadre of on-duty Secret Service, and press, and onlookers eagerly watching.
I don’t know how Elliot can stand being on display the way he is, his life tightly controlled and regimented. He could go out and do more things than he does, but he doesn’t. He hates the attention, and even more, he hates the thought that he’s creating an inconvenience for other people.
Honestly? He doesn’t really have any friends.
Guess that’s why he needs me and Leo.
Saturday night, we don’t return home until after midnight. Elliot’s drained and I get him put to bed, where he immediately falls asleep.
With my body too full of caffeine to sleep yet, I walk down to my room and sit on the bed and stare at the picture of me and Leo while I hold my day collar in my hand. It rode in my pocket all day today.
I want to believe in fairy tales. I want to believe in happily ever afters.
I want to believe this can work.
I want to believe it was Leo’s pain, his genuine love for me, that made him act like a fucking dumbass. That Elliot’s right when he tells me Leo thought he was doing what I wanted by letting me go.
I never wanted to hurt Elliot. Not even the times I was aggravated at him for bowing to his fear instead of listening to his heart.
I wanted Leo to be happy. Making Leo happy made me happy.
Elliot makes Leo happy.
And Leo makes Elliot happy.
I left my personal cell here today, on the charger. I unplug it and look at it.
Nothing new from Leo.
No calls, no texts.
This is what I asked for, right?
But what do I really need?
Problem is, I don’t know exactly what it is I need from Leo anymore.
* * * *
Sunday morning is an early one, and I’m dragging because I had nightmares. Both from what I saw in the SitRoom that morning, and nightmares about losing Elliot, or Leo, or both of them.
We’re on the move before dawn, taking Marine Two to a park not far from the venue in Virginia, where the motorcade will be waiting. It’s a little farther than the Secret Service feels comfortable letting Elliot travel the entire distance from DC by motorcade, and it’s way too short to take Air Force Two, hence the helo.
Did I mention Elliot despises helicopter travel?
Understandably, because it reminds him too damn much of what happened to him in the service, but it needs to happen.
Today, he’s having trouble keeping his game face on, from the moment he salutes the Marine manning the steps when we board the helo. I see the tension in his neck, his shoulders, and know if I try to touch him and help, it’ll only make things worse right now, because we have campaign staff flying with us.
And, yeah, I find myself wishing Leo was here to help me keep him calm. Because when we finish here, we’re hopscotching to another event farther south of here in Virginia, and then a third, before we fly back to DC. At least the other two events are being held at airports, so no drive to and from a venue.
When we land in Virginia, I already have the burner out and ready, dialing Leo from the Signal app as we trudge across the damp grass to the awaiting vehicles.
Please, let him answer.
Leo sounds half asleep. “El?”
Relief! “It’s me. Talk to him. Just got off Marine Two and getting in the motorcade. He’s not doing good.” Before Elliot can react, I put the phone in his hand as he ducks inside the vehicle, and then it’s just the two of us in there because I make the campaign staff who flew with us pile into other vehicles.
We have a ten-minute ride. Elliot spends all of them on the phone with Leo. I don’t know what Leo’s saying, because he’s doing most of the talking and Elliot’s responses are mostly, Yes, Sirs.
I try not to pay attention while I go through my e-mail on my work phone.
When Elliot ends the call and hands the phone to me after I give him a wrap-up signal, he looks invigorated.
“Thank you, Sir,” he whispers.
I give him a head tip and he returns it, a playful smile quirking his lips.
Then we’re pulling up outside the arena and it’s game on. Elliot’s mask is now firmly in place as we climb out of the car, and from there it’s organized chaos for the rest of the day.
Even if I didn’t want to reconcile with Leo, this is more proof, right here, that I have to do it for Elliot’s sake.
Doesn’t matter that Elliot said he’d walk away too if I did.
I am going to need Leo as backup. Either for Elliot or for myself, sometimes probably for both of us.
Somehow, I have to make it happen.
* * * *
We’re both exhausted when we return to the residence early Sunday evening. I have no texts or calls from Leo on my personal phone, and I’m not certain how that makes me feel, exactly.
He’s giving me what I wanted, right?
But the last time he did that, I stupidly walked away from him, and he let me.
Yeah, it’s confusing in my head, all right?
I throw together a homemade pizza that’s probably ten times better than any takeout crap and we snuggle together in front of the TV in the den, with Elliot naked and cuffed and collared.
All while I’m trying not to envision what it might be like if it were the three of us, with me also naked and cuffed and collared.
When we retire for the night, I break out my friend the silicone spatula and give Elliot a fast spanking and a handjob, and he’s out like a light.
Honestly? I’m too tired to do more than that.
Yet sleep won’t come. I’m aggravated at myself that I defaulted to the easy solution this morning with Elliot and tagged Leo in instead of trying to figure it out on my own. For this to work, I cannot keep doing that.
I walk down to my room and pick up the cell. After a moment’s contemplation, I text him.
Thank you for talking to him earlier. I appreciate it.
I wait five minutes, but he doesn’t respond. Either his phone’s off, or he’s asleep.
Either way, I’m not going to stand here all night and I’m not taking the phone into the bedroom with me. I don’t want it in there yet. Every time I wake up, I’d be tempted to look at it to see if he’s texted me.
Finally, I set it down and head for the bedroom door when I hear it vibrate on the dresser.
Yeah, this bitch actually runs for it and snatches it off the dresser.
Fucking happy?
Except when I look, my stomach churns, dread filling me.
YW. GD.
This feels…bad.
Wrong.
A terse, crisp reply, and he’s going dark.
The president isn’t traveling, and it’s ten o’clock at night, so I don’t know why Leo’s going dark or using shorthand like that with me.
Maybe he’s angry with me?
My brain starts to unravel the mental thread and sp
ends way too many seconds doing just that before I jerk myself up short.
No. I can’t think like that.
I need to focus on Elliot.
If Leo’s going to be pissy, he’ll have to be pissy by himself. He’s the one who drilled it into my brain over all those years that Elliot’s got to come first.
Well…Elliot’s now coming first. Just because Leo’s shiny toy isn’t available for him to play with at will doesn’t give him the right to…
To what?
I close my eyes for a moment. I’m exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I’m drained.
My brain’s stumbling around in a dark room full of garbage and no lights and I’m barefoot and stubbing my mental toes all over the fricking place. I’m not in a good state of mind.
What I need is to…breathe.
I power the phone off and set it on the dresser. Then I return to the bedroom—locking the door behind me—to slip under the covers with Elliot and pray for sleep.
* * * *
The next morning, it’s tempting to shut off my alarms and call Elliot in late, but that’s not a thing I can do.
Because it’s not like he’s the CEO of a company, or has a substitute teacher he can call in.
Unless he’s really sick—as in call in the White House physician kind of sick—or in so much pain he cannot move, he needs to go to work.
It’s not just because of his job, either. It’s also because of the appearance of fitness for the office. He’s got to work doubly hard to make sure people don’t start casting doubts on his ability to handle the rigors of the job.
After using the bathroom, I detour through my room to grab my personal cell, power it on, and carry it downstairs with me.
No stalker danish and coffee sitting on the counter to greet me, and I feel more than a twinge of disappointment over that.
I spend a few minutes pondering if I should text him good morning or not and finally decide on not.
This is already confusing enough as it is. I need to get our talk over with already.
But we’re just hitting the West Wing entrance—no sign of Leo, and yes, I’m looking—when an officer hustles up to Elliot. “You’re needed in the SitRoom, sir.”
Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2) Page 38