The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn)

by Cecilia London

  “That’s different,” he said.

  It was actually exactly the same, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. “Fine,” Caroline said. “But I get to do a response piece if Murdock drags out that speech I made. Agreed?”

  Jack glowered at her. “No.”

  They’d had their fair share of discussions about his opponent and his slimy ways. Jack was trying to protect her but Caroline found his reticence frustrating. With her approval ratings at an all-time high, any appearance, any ad, any speech she made on his behalf could only gain him support.

  “I want to help,” she said.

  “I don’t want to throw you out there that way.”

  She could try a different approach. Catching flies with honey or something along those lines. Caroline kissed his cheek, brushing her lips toward his ear. “Come on, Monty,” she whispered, rubbing against his thigh. “Don’t be such a meanie.”

  He stifled a groan. “I don’t like when you play this game.”

  She bit his neck. “You mean, the game where I always get what I want?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “That one.”

  “I do like that game.”

  Jack ran his fingers through her hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

  “I won’t.” She slipped her hand under his shirt. “Everyone loves me. You said so yourself.”

  He let out a hard breath when she raked her fingernails down his chest. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?”

  His hand was teasing her thigh, which pretty much gave her the answer she wanted. “A little.”

  Caroline pulled it up and kissed his palm. “I told you I can handle Murdock. He can’t be allowed to get away with shit. Not this time.”

  “I love you,” Jack said. “I don’t want you to get dragged into this mess because of him.”

  “I know how much you love me,” she said. “I can feel it when you’re near me. But part of me wonders if you can truly be happy if you don’t win this thing. So I want to do whatever I can to help. Including appearing on your behalf in whatever capacity I can.”

  Jack kissed her. “You make me happy. There are other parts of my existence that keep me occupied or entertained or mildly fulfilled, but none of that matters if you’re not with me. I don’t need to be elected governor to have a good life.”

  She leaned into his shoulder. “I can’t help it if sometimes I don’t think I’m enough. I’m sorry I’m so insecure,” she whispered.

  “Don’t be,” he said. “I have my own insecurities to juggle. Why do you think I have such a giant ego?”

  Caroline shifted in his lap. Her handiwork appeared to have had the desired effect if the bulge in his boxers was any indication. “There may be a few legitimate reasons for that.”

  Jack laughed. “Oh, really?”

  “Really.” She glanced at the nearly empty pizza box and his abandoned plate. “Are you finished eating?”

  He kissed her at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of her favorite spots. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Caroline bit her lip. “Oh, Jack. Don’t be that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “If you say something like ‘I’m hungry for love,’ I’m going to lock myself in the study for the rest of the night.”

  Jack laughed again. “I’d never be that lame. You don’t like it when I try to seduce you?”

  “I love it,” Caroline said. “And you’re pretty good at avoiding the trite stuff.”

  “I am, but I’m positively perfect at the nasty stuff.” Jack nuzzled her hair. “What do you say I suck your clit for a couple of hours while you practice calling me Mr. Governor?”

  Caroline pulled back to look at him and he was grinning. “You’re messing with me,” she said. “Right?”

  “Maybe.” He slid one hand inside the top of the fuzzy blue robe, the other lightly tickling the back of her neck.

  She shivered. “Your hand is cold.”

  Jack smiled, his fingers teasing their way down her chest. “I can think of a place I can put it to warm it up.”

  Caroline moaned softly as he massaged her breast. “Filthy old man.”

  “Good girls get rewarded,” he whispered, leaning over to tongue her nipple. “Naughty girls get spanked.”

  She desperately wanted to know where he was going with that statement. “I never know which role I prefer,” she murmured.

  He brought his head up, giving her a rascally grin. “I do.”

  “Maybe you should tell me.”

  Jack loosened the knot on the robe, pulling her around until her back was to him. “I favor actions over words,” he said, opening the robe and running a hand down her abdomen. He swept her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

  “I never do. Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

  Caroline spread them, just a little. Just to see what kind of mood he was in.

  Jack bit her earlobe. “You can do better than that,” he scolded, palming her thighs and pulling them apart, a little rougher than necessary.

  He kept his fingers wrapped around her flesh as she squirmed against him. There would be marks in the morning. The thought turned her on, seeing his handprints on her body like that. Pulling on her nylons and attaching them to her garters, wondering if the bruises would be visible through the sheer material. Having him watch her as she crossed the House floor or when they walked across the Capitol grounds to go to lunch.

  Would he be thinking about it too? Of this moment, of those secrets hidden under her skirt? Would he want her to show them to him the instant they were alone? Would she have to keep the garters on or would he want her naked? The possibilities were endless and the mere contemplation of them caused her to let out a soft moan.

  Jack loosened his grip. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

  He had no fucking idea. Her senses were already on high alert. “You’ve done everything.”

  He trailed his fingers toward her clit. “I could do more.”

  Caroline scratched her nails over the back of his hand, urging him on. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  She liked the way the evening was heading. “Please touch me.”

  “I was going to do that anyway, but I’m so very glad you asked.” Jack wrapped one arm around her neck, pulling her to him. “Okay?” he asked.

  She curled her fingers around the arm at her throat. “Keep going,” she said, leaning back so that her cheek brushed his.

  He glided a finger inside her. “I like when you let me play this game. We’ve never come up with a name for it, though. I think we should call it ‘How Many Times Can We Make Caroline Come?’”

  She gritted her teeth. “That wasn’t the game I was thinking of.”

  “How about ‘Fucking Your Wife On The Dining Room Table’?”

  “Closer,” she whispered.

  He curled the finger up, hitting that secret spot that only he’d been able to find. “Oh, yes. Why don’t we play ‘Let Jack Do Whatever He Wants’?”

  She let out a soft moan. “That’s the one.”

  He tightened his grip around her neck. “You like that game?”

  She rubbed her palm against the hand at her pussy. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. He moved beyond her g-spot and stroked her clit again.

  He always did it like that. Teasing and tantalizing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Until she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. But she kept playing. She struggled against him but he held firm.

  “You hate that you can’t move,” he whispered. “You hate it and you love it. Because you know I’ll always be there. My hands, my lips, my voice, my cock…they’ll all be there. You’ll never break free of me, Caroline. Never.”

  It terrified her when he said things like that, because she knew they were true. Her response scared her even more. “I don’t want to,” she said softl
y.

  He pressed a finger inside her again, which meant he was going to take his time. “I know,” he said. “You’d miss this too much, wouldn’t you?”

  Jack loved his games, no matter which one was being played. Trying to make her talk while doing all the things that made talking nearly impossible.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Why?”

  Oh, that fucker. “I can’t-”

  “Tell me,” he whispered. “It turns me on.”

  She wriggled on his lap. A futile effort since the arm around her neck was pressed against her throat.

  “None of that,” he said, sliding his fingers up to her clit. “Be good.”

  “Jack-”

  “Be a good girl and behave or I won’t make you come.”

  “You’re lying.”

  His fingers stilled. “Tell me. Or I’ll stop touching you.”

  Words. She needed words to say before she bit her tongue off and lost the ability to speak. “Because you make me feel good,” she gasped.

  He bit her shoulder and stroked her clit again. “You can do better than that. Use that vocabulary, baby. Tell me what I do to you.”

  He loved this part of the game. Ordering her around. Forcing her to do what he knew she secretly wanted. Waiting until that last moment when he could send her over that huge precipice into oblivion.

  “Tell me,” he repeated. “Don’t make me punish you.”

  She was half tempted to see exactly what kind of punishment he was contemplating but she was almost certain it would involve orgasm denial. They’d never gone down that road before and she didn’t want to travel it now. “You – oh, God-”

  “I’d prefer that you call me Jack,” he said.

  She grabbed onto the bathrobe hanging from her shoulders, curling her hands into fists. Maybe that would help her focus. “You do everything I want. Everything I need.”

  “Like this?” he asked, sliding his fingers back and forth.

  “Yes.” She wanted to tell him to ease back and tone down the game because she was embarrassingly close to begging and pleading. “Please, Jack-”

  He seemed to sense her mood. “Calm down,” he whispered. “Let yourself feel it. Enjoy it. Focus on your pleasure, not your pain.”

  She whimpered softly and he withdrew his hand, giving her a minute to catch her breath.

  “That’s enough talking,” he said, raising his hand up to her mouth as he sped up.

  Caroline was close…so close…and she writhed against him as he made her come again and again, but she never felt compelled to tell him to stop. Not that she was able to speak. He’d made sure of that. She knew how to signal him to slow down and had no desire to do so. They might not have another night like this for a while. She kept her hands balled into fists, clutching the terrycloth until her sweaty palms slipped free of the bathrobe and she almost lost her balance.

  Jack quickly brought both arms around her waist. “I think that’s enough.” He kissed the back of her head and rubbed her shoulders as she came down. “Turn around.”

  It took her a minute. Her legs were shaky. But she didn’t want to hesitate. Not as long as he had that tone in his voice. As soon as she spun around he pushed the bathrobe off her shoulders and onto the floor.

  “Sexy,” he murmured, cupping her breasts. His gaze met hers. “Unzip my pants.”

  She still couldn’t catch her breath. “You’re a bossy fucker. Jesus Christ. Give me a second.”

  He swatted her ass. “Behave,” he said. “It’s my turn.”

  Maybe he’d spank her later if she asked nicely. Caroline grabbed the waistband of his khakis. “I don’t know why you’re wearing these anyway. Sweatpants would have been much more practical. You can’t ever dress down, can you?”

  He thrust his hips up as she pulled his cock out of his boxers. “You like the zipper anyway.”

  She stood up on shaky legs and sank onto him, smiling when he groaned. “You like being inside me better.”

  He just grunted, and she moved against him. The grunt evolved into a low moan.

  “I think you should have to talk while I’m getting you off,” she said. “Fair is fair.”

  Jack held her steady and thrust up from the chair again. “You like it better when I concentrate.”

  She tugged at his hair, locking eyes with him. He continued to move inside her, not smiling, not speaking. Just staring at her, his hands firmly gripping her waist.

  “I love you,” she mouthed.

  The silent phrase hung in the air. It was all he needed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and took them to the floor, increasing his pace. The spell was broken when he buried his face in her hair and held her down on the carpet. She wasn’t about to argue for a different position. He fucked her hard, panting and swearing and biting and licking, until he brought his head up when it was over.

  “Damn, woman,” he whispered. “You always make dinner interesting.”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Shut up and cuddle with me.”

  Jack rolled onto his back and Caroline laid her head on his shoulder, smiling as he started to stroke her hair. He’d want to go again soon. It would be a small miracle if they made it upstairs before that happened.

  “I’ll never break free of you either,” he said softly. “You know that, don’t you? You’ve got my heart in a vise, Caroline. Promise me you’ll never exploit that.”

  An unusual moment of post-coital vulnerability. He rarely got introspective in bed, or during or after sex. She knew that was why he dragged them both to the floor. Her declaration of love had the ability to break him open in a way he was trying to keep under control. Even if she hadn’t actually said the words out loud, he had to chase them away with his cock buried inside her.

  He’d made so many promises to her. Opened himself up day by day, with so far to go. And she knew he’d get there. So many promises, so many gifts, so many assurances. He meant every single one. Surely she could keep one lowly little promise to him.

  “I won’t,” she said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Safe House

  Caroline woke up with a start and bit her pillow to hold back her sobs. There was an arm around her waist. Oh God, there was someone in her bed. A man. She had a man in her bed. A man who was holding her. A man who’d tried to kiss her, who liked her. Who wanted her even though she didn’t want him. Gabe.

  She told herself to be quiet. Tears were the physical manifestation of her cowardice, and any noise that came along with them was proof of her inability to control her emotions. Maybe he wouldn’t hear her, wouldn’t call attention to it.

  Were the sweet memories better than the nightmares? None of them helped her feel better. All they did was deepen her grief. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the dream, but all she saw was Jack’s face. His eyes, his lips, every beautiful piece of him.

  She couldn’t wake Gabe up. Couldn’t kick him out. Had to keep it all inside. Had to make the moment pass. The biting didn’t work so she threw off the covers and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She crouched down on the floor, rocking back and forth with her head in her hands. What had she done? She’d considered cheating on her husband. She hadn’t done anything to act on it, but what the fuck had she been thinking?

  Caroline tugged at her hair. No, it wouldn’t have been cheating. You couldn’t be unfaithful to the dead. You could dishonor their memory, though. She’d waited and waited for so long after Nicky died, but with Jack? The instant she had the opportunity she’d invited another man into her room, knowing damn well that he wanted to do much more than tuck her in. Another merry widow moving along without a care in the world.

  Widow. She hated that word. It made her feel old. It didn’t roll off the tongue in any manner that could be considered complimentary. It inspired pity, dread, and that special state of awkwardness that never fully went away, particularly when said widow was young. It sounded so permanent and awful. She’d bare
ly even used that word when Nicky died. Why would she use it now? She was a two-time loser. Couldn’t hold onto a relationship to save her life when she was younger, now fated to outlive each of her husbands and disrespect them at every turn. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway?

  You’re Caroline. Caroline Gerard.

  She didn’t want to be Caroline. Ever again. She wanted to forget Caroline ever existed. Forget her marriages, forget her children, forget her friends.

  You’re Diana. Diana Pascal.

  The fuck she was. Like that was an acceptable alternative. A passport and a fake ID didn’t mean shit, not really.

  Then who are you?

  Diana was strong where Caroline was weak. Diana could use a man for sex and not feel guilty about it, could lie and cheat and steal and realize that it didn’t matter, not in the long run. Diana was no coward, couldn’t be played for a fool. Didn’t get caught up in guilt or remorse. Diana would chew Caroline up and spit her back out and feel nothing but triumph. And Caroline wanted to be her. Dreadfully so. But she hadn’t managed it. Yet another thing at which she’d failed.

  She stood up and wiped her eyes before heading down the hall and crawling back into bed. Gabe didn’t stir. She had to try harder. Try to block out everything that reminded her of the life she used to have. Every detail, every facet, every bit of hope she’d ever had.

  Diana. Her name was Diana. Because Caroline was dead.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Safe House

  Caroline pulled the blanket up to her chin. It didn’t matter that she was covered in sweat and hot as hell. She could smell it. The Fed. It fucking lived in her pores and no matter what she did, she couldn’t escape it. No shower, no scrub, no nothing could rid her of the rotting stench of the place.

  It had happened again. That nightmare. The one that was almost as bad as the ones she had about Jenny. And she had no one to blame but herself. Because she couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. About any of them.

  “He’s dead. All of them are dead. Your family. Your friends. That kike Goldman, that dyke you hung around with, and that whiny bitch who took your seat. All because of you. Was it worth it?”