“So am I,” I say quietly, unable to stop myself from rocking my hips against him and feeling his thickness against me; “And I’m on the pill.” This is utterly insane and totally reckless, and nothing I could picture myself doing in a million years, but that’s just how he makes me feel. It’s like he has this sort of power over me, and yet the fact that he’s willing to take the same leap with me speaks to the power I have over him; it’s a power we have with together, and it’s the last assurance I need.
“Fuck me, Hudson.” I whisper into his lips; “Fuck me like we’re the last two people on Earth.” I slide back onto him, gasping as I feel his head begin to slide into me.
“Fuck, Reagan.” He groans, and I’m whimpering as he slowly fills me entirely with his impressive length. His hands hold me tightly by the waist as he rocks in deeply, pulling me further and further down onto him until I moan as I feel myself press tight against his body. He feels incredible inside of me, filling me like I’ve never felt before, and when he grunts, I can feel the throbbing twitch of his pulse deep inside. His hands clutch at my ass, grinding himself against me and hitting that secret spot inside as we just rock like that for a second.
“Holy shit, Reagan, you feel fucking incredible.” He slides his fingers into my hair and grabs a handful of it, using his hold to pull me to his lips.
“Just you, and just me; nothing separating us,” I moan into his mouth.
We begin to rock together like that, me straddling his lap right there in the car as he plunges me up and down his length. We moan together, our breath and our tongues mingling as his hard muscled arms hold me tight and rock me against him. He yanks my head back by the hair, making me cry out with pain and pleasure as his lips nip and suck at the sensitive skin along my collarbone. I rock on him, my nipples dragging over his chest and my clit grinding into his pubic bone as we move faster and faster together and I feel myself begin to tumble over the edge.
“I’m- I’m going to- Oh fuck, Hudson, I’m-”
“Oh fuck me too,” He growls, biting my earlobe and rocking deep into me; “Come for me, Reagan, come all over my big cock.” The thought of Hudson coming with me, bare and totally unprotected inside of me has me clawing at the edges of my sanity as I begin to fall. He grinds up into me one last time, and it’s like a bomb going off. I scream his name, my fingers clawing at his biceps and his shoulders as the whole world shatters around me. He’s hugging me to him tightly as he roars out my name, and then I can feel him throbbing within me as he lets go and just fills me with his hot cum.
We stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms and in each other’s heat in the steamy-windowed darkness of the car. There’s so much I want to say in that moment, and then later when we drive home in grinning silence, or even after that back at his penthouse when I curl up to him in his bed, but I just don’t know how. I can give a million wordy speeches to crowds of cheers or jeers, or cameras broadcasting my face and my words to televisions across the country, and it’s effortlessly without a second thought in the world. So why is it when it comes to saying three words to the one man I’m dying to say them too, I suddenly feel like I’ve come down with stage fright?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
P R E S E N T
“Oh my God, you’re terrible!” I grin as she squirms in my arms, fighting but not really fighting me as I kiss up the side of her neck.
“Hudson!” She hisses, before a low moan escapes her lips and she closes her eyes as I nibble at her earlobe; “I’m on stage for the speech in like ten minutes!” She moans again, her hands running up my arms and clutching at my shoulders; “We should really start timing these shenanigans for when I’m not about to walk in front of a bunch of TV cameras looking like I just rolled around bed with someone.”
In fairness, we do this other than when she’s about to walk out for a speech or a debate or something too; all the fucking time in fact. But the fact that I want her all the time, and the fact that neither of us can keep our hands off each other means that here we are in situations just like this with my hand creeping up under her blouse, and her hand stroking my cock through my pants.
“Yeah, but you love our shenanigans.” I growl into her ear, making her giggle before my fingers on her nipple makes her gasp.
“Well, yeah, but - oh fuck, right there.” I grin as my lips center around that magic switch of a spot I’ve found at the base of her neck, right where it slopes into her collarbone. Her hand starts to fumble at my belt-buckle, and then she’s pushing her hand inside and wrapping her fingers around my cock.
“Hell of a protest you’re putting on here, Red.” I groan into her neck, letting my own hand slip down to her skirt. I slide my hand up under it, and suddenly pull away to stare at her with shocked amusement; “Is little Miss Reagan Archer not wearing panties?”
She blushes, but it’s more of a hungry look than anything embarrassed; “I want you in the car ride home, after,” She purrs quietly in a way that makes my cock throb in her hand; “I thought I’d make that easier.”
“Jesus who are you, woman, and what have you done with sweet little Reagan?” I grin, moving down to kiss her as I slide my fingers into her wetness.
“I think it’s what you do to sweet little Reagan,” she husks sexily into my mouth, and I growl.
I push her back against the desk, sliding her up onto it and pushing between her thighs. She’s moaning and pulling my cock out of my fly, and I’m teasing against her opening. We’re kissing and gasping, and so into the moment that neither of us hear the door to her prep-room open, and it’s not until we hear it slam and Donald’s bellowing yell that we spring apart like we’ve just been shocked with a current. Reagan’s sliding off the desk and smoothing her skirt, her face bright red, and I’m stuffing my cock into my pants as I look at fucking Donald over my shoulder.
“Oh now this is fucking perfect isn’t it!” His face is bright red and puffing mad, and as I turn around to face him, he narrows his eyes at me; “Yeah, we’ve got big trouble now, Hudson.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
P R E S E N T
There’s a ringing in my ears as I look around the room in slow-motion; like in the movies after some kind of explosions. But I suppose you could say a bomb has just gone off here too. Donald is sputtering something, and slowly, as the pulsing ring in my ears dies away, his shrieking words hit me.
“Oh now this is fucking perfect now isn’t it?” His face is contorted as he shakes his head, wagging his finger at me like I’m some misbehaving child; “First you go off script, and then you’re back here slumming it with this piece of trash! You’re going to ruin this whole thing for me, Reagan!”
I narrow my eyes at him; “For you, Donald? I’m sorry, remind me who’s campaign-”
“Oh, save it, honey. Do you know how many hands of trust fund brats I’ve held through first round elections? You think you’re special just because you’re playing kissy-face with this washout?” Hudson’s face goes dark, but Donald barrels right along; “I set things up with Chet, who tests very well with our voter base, and you’re going to ruin that with this schmuck! Jesus Christ, Reagan, why can’t you just follow the plans I fucking tell you to follow?!”
“Maybe because you work for her, and maybe because your plans suck, that’s why.” Hudson growls, taking a step towards him.
Donald fumes as he whirls on Hudson; “You stay the hell out of this! I don’t need one of William Archer’s stupid little fucking pet projects stepping on my toes here. He should have left you in whatever third world pocket he found you in and let you rot; hell, he should have stayed there himself.”
I can feel the rage explode out of me; “You do not talk about him OR my father like that, asshole!”
Donald whirls on me, his face red and puffing as he shoves a piece of paper into my hands; “We’re going to fix this right now. Read this when you go out there, and say only this. I swear to God, you are not going to ruin this for me you spoiled little bitch!”
Hudson’s fist is already drawn back when he steps forward, but before he even gets close, I slap Donald hard across the face.
He gasps and sputters, holding the red mark on his cheek and gaping at me; “Oh, now you’re going to regret that! I’m calling my attorney!”
“Be my guest,” I spit out; “Oh and, Donald, I think it might go without saying, but you’re fired.”
He sneers at me; “Read my contract, babe; you can’t fire me mid-run.”
Fuck.
Hudson does step forward then, right in Donald’s face, and he glowering down on the smaller man; “And if the campaign can’t pay you?”
“Excuse me?” Donald huffs, taking a wary step back from Hudson.
“I said what if they can’t pay you. If the campaign goes broke, are you prepared to work for free?”
He sputters; “What? No, of course not! It’s ridiculous to think that I’d be willing to stick around this spoiled little brat without-”
“Excellent.” Hudson nods curtly, cutting him off. He takes his cell phone out and begins to type something before he turns to me. “Ms. Archer?” He winks at me with a big shit-eating grin on his face; “Romantic fraternization between political and private enterprise is unfortunately grounds for contractual liquidation under your agreement with our company.” His back is to Donald, and only I can see as he winks again and sticks his tongue out at me; “So, on behalf of Archer Holdings, I regret to inform you that we’ll be revoking your campaign funding, effective immediately.” He turns back to Donald; “I’d recommend not cashing your check this week; it’s going to bounce.”
Donald’s face goes a bright shade of crimson, and he opens his mouth as if to say something though words seem to fail him in that moment. He sputters something unintelligible out his piggy mouth before he whirls around and stomps out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
P R E S E N T
“You know as soon as he quits, I’m making sure the funds hit your campaign again, right?”
Reagan’s cheeks are flushed when she looks up at me; “Holy shit, I mean; wow.” She laughs nervously and then with more feeling, like she’s just shrugged a weight off her shoulders; “I should not have done that. I mean I really should not have done that! He’s probably going to try and sue you know.”
I grin; “I’m willing to bet he doesn’t know that quitting before his contract finishes voids it entirely, so fuck him; I’ll have your father’s lawyers eat him alive.”
She’s staring at me with stars in her eyes and her whole face smiling, and I can’t help but smile right back; that’s just the effect she has on me; “Hudson, I l-”
The door bursts open and a harried and winded looking campaign intern with a clipboard barges into the room; “Ms. Archer! You need to follow me right now; you’re on stage in three minutes!”
Well shit, hows that for perfect timing,
She nods at the kid but whirls back to me; “Will you watch it?”
“Oh, what is it we’re here for? Some sort of telethon? Are you raising money for PBS?” I grin at her as she makes a face at me; “I was actually thinking about heading across the street to that bar and catching the rest of the game or something.”
She rolls her eyes; “Hudson, you are the most infuriati-”
“Reagan,” I grab her hand and squeeze it. There’s so much I want to tell her; so much I need to tell her. But she’s about to go on fucking television for this speech, so instead I just wink at her; “Of course I’ll watch it.”
And I do, and it’s incredible; she’s incredible.
There’s none of Donald’s bullshit middle of the road crap this time; she speaks the truth and she speaks from the heart. She talks about corruption and government kickbacks, and the lack of oversight. She names names, and calls people out right there on television, and it’s fucking amazing. She’s bold and she’s fearless, and once they pull their jaws off the ground, the people there go fucking nuts.
“Ms. Archer!” A woman with a microphone calls out from the crowd of screaming reporters as Reagan prepares to take questions; “You really just came out swinging in that speech, which isn’t quite a side of you we’ve seen yet. You’re already ahead in the polls; what brought this on?”
Reagan smiles and nods her head; “Because a dear friend recently taught me that the things you care about are the things worth fighting to be heard about.”
There are a million more questions, but one guy towards the front is screaming louder than the rest; “Ms. Archer! Ms. Archer! We’re hearing reports from your very own campaign manager about some sort of alleged illicit relationship between yourself and an employee of Archer Holdings, your primary campaign financier. Some sort of ex-Army guy?”
The screaming crowd of journalists actually goes quiet, hanging on the silence as Reagan’s face freezes, and I feel my whole heart skip a beat. But then she’s turning to look right at me in the wings off-stage, and she’s grinning that perfect smile that just slays me every time. She nods at me, her eyes sparkling, and then she’s beckoning to me, and waving me on stage. I give her a quizzical look, but she rolls her eyes and beckons me again before turning back to the gathered reporters again with a smirk on her face; “He’s a Marine, actually, and I wouldn’t exactly call being in love an ‘illicit affair’.”
I’m staring at her like we’re both crazy as I walk on the stage, right into the limelight and the camera flashes and the screaming questions. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Archer?” I murmur as the crowd of reporters begin to scream and hurl questions at us.
She grins; “Which part?”
“Both?”
She grabs my tie and pulls me close; “Definitely,” she whispers, and then she’s pulling me into a kiss right there in front of everyone. This is literally the polar opposite of blending in, but as I scoop her into my arms, I feel the whole world slip away anyways, because that what she does to me. And right there in that moment, I know I’m ready for whatever the fuck comes next because I’ve got her, and for the first time in forever, I feel whole.
We kiss for what feels like an hour but is probably more like ten glorious seconds with the million flashbulbs going off around us, before she pulls back and grins at me.
“Sorry, I probably should have mentioned it before that I love you.”
I shrug and grin at her; “Oh, do you? Yeah I never would have picked up on tha-”
She laughs and punches my arm before I pull her right back into me; “Hey Princess,” I murmur, kissing her again; “I love you too, you know.”
And right there, nothing else matter in the whole fucking universe but her.
Chapter Thirty
P A S T
I take my time getting ready. As I’m pulling my pants on, or tucking in my shirt, or tying the double windsor knot in my tie, it’s like I’m suiting up my armor to head into battle. I can feel my nerves jangling like live-wires inside of me, my pulse skipping around like a broken record as I finish getting ready; finish getting prepared for this.
I’ve had a million conversations with her over the last few years. I’ve written her letters that I’ve burned instead of sending, had conversations with the memory of her late into the night when I’m alone and sleepless with my thoughts. Hell, I’ve played out this very meeting a hundred different ways in my head since I decided I was going. But none of it has me prepared to see her again. But the nervousness and the jangling nerves is like an elevated, surreal feeling that’s better than any booze.
It was Bryce who heard about the chain store pulling funding after her comments about raising the minimum wage, and while I’ve weighed how she’s going to react to this a dozen different ways since then, I know this is the only way. I believe in her, and not just because I know William did, but because if believing in her and her campaign is believing in myself and maybe my ability to become normal someday.
I finger the bullet in my pocket, staring down my reflection in the mirror. I straight
en my tie once more, along with a straying bit of hair, before I take a deep breath. This is it. It’s time to go meet Reagan Archer for the first time in five years, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m actually excited about what might come at me next.
P R E S E N T
Two weeks later, after the media circus has sort of died down about the “Young Senatorial candidate and the billionaire Marine,” Hudson and I are back at my father’s house, sitting on the terrace off the library; our terrace. We’re sipping iced tea, and with my hands held in his, and he tells me everything; all of it. He tells me about the horrors of war, and the village in Afghanistan. He tells me about addiction and demons, and being on the run, and their stint as mercenaries in Africa. I start to tear up when he tells me about getting shot - both times -, but it’s when he looks me straight in the eye and tells me that my father was the best thing that ever happened to him for saving them from all of that, that I just start to cry.
Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance Page 45