“I’ll see what we can do.”
“I can coordinate with Beth.”
I frown. It’s not Beth’s job to organize a family dinner, beyond getting me a catering menu. “I can handle it.”
“She won’t mind.”
“But I do. And I’d like to discuss it with Ellie first. She may want to invite her parents and have preferences of her own, remember.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. And if she wants to get in touch with me…”
“One thing at a time?”
“Right.” She turns on a tap in the background. “I’ll let you get back to your day, darling. This was a good chat.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too. Tell Ellie I can’t wait to meet her. And that I don’t bite.”
I hang up, and thirty seconds later Beth knocks at the door with my lunch, and two memos to read on human rights violations in refugee camps. Back to work.
45
Ellie
A week after Gavin tells me about his mother’s phone call, I’m sitting outside his office with takeout sushi and two extra-large iced green teas.
Beth smiles at me from behind her desk. “He won’t be long.”
I don’t mind waiting. I don’t have any other plans between now and when he finishes work for the day. I had an unexpected day off because my building at the university had a boiler mishap. I didn’t even know buildings still used boilers for heating, and even though it’s mid-September, it’s still warm and there’s a gorgeous end-of-summery feeling outside, so nobody is complaining about being kicked out of our offices for the day.
Gavin’s flying home to Vancouver for a few days before heading to Asia for a five day trade mission. If the schedule stays as planned, he’ll get back five hours after I fly to Colorado for a conference. It’ll be nearly two weeks until we see each other again, and since our relationship has become public fodder, there’s no such thing as sexting, not even in code. We have tonight and part of tomorrow together and that’s it. We might get some brief phone calls if the time zone gods cooperate.
So when he asked me to stop by with lunch, I leapt at the opportunity to have a little more quality time, even if it means getting dangerously close to the Ottawa press corps.
I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop with drama about us dating. Maybe it won’t, but that feels too good to be true.
His door swings open, and there he is. Dark suit, light blue shirt, grey tie today. His hair is looking uncharacteristically rumpled, and my fingers itch to smooth it out. Or maybe mess it up further. Alternating back and forth sounds like a swell plan.
I’ll do that while he eats.
“Ellie,” he says, his voice rich and warm and just for me in the middle of an otherwise busy day.
I stand and give him a private smile as I lift the lunch bag in the air. “Delivery.”
“What did you bring?”
“Sushi.” I hand him the tray with our iced green teas and glide past him, close enough to breathe in his subtle cologne on my way by.
“Delicious.”
Yes, yes he is.
This is my second time in his office since we fucked on his couch, but I still suddenly feel overheated, like the walls are saying we know what you did in here.
But I also feel a little giddy, like yeah, I know what I did in here.
This is why I needed to quit. Because he makes me reckless and crazy.
He closes the door behind me as I set the sushi on his desk. I twist around just in time to see him flick the lock.
Oh. Hello, Prime Minister.
He grins at me, lazy and confident, like he knows he can get me to do anything he wants, even though his assistant is on the other side of the door.
You’ll have to be quiet, Ms. Montague.
I’ll do my best, Sir.
There will be consequences if you’re not…
“What are you thinking about?” He stops in front of me and undoes his suit jacket.
I drop my gaze to the growing erection pressing against the front of his suit trousers. “Exactly what you might imagine I’m thinking of.”
“In the middle of the day?” His voice is full of censure, and I turn around, cheeks flaming.
“Of course not. That would be—”
He crowds against me. “Completely inappropriate.”
“Yes.” I rock back against him, shameless in my want for him. “We’ve been here before. It didn’t end well.”
“You’ve already quit, Ms. Montague.”
I lick my lips. “Maybe I want my job back. Maybe I’d do anything you want to make that happen.”
He groans and squeezes my hips, my waist, pressing me flat against his desk before giving me a slow, teasing swat on my bottom.
Then he walks around the desk and settles in his chair. “Lunch?”
I pout. “That was mean.”
“I’m hungry.” But his eyes are bright and his eyelids heavy. I can read him like a book. He doesn’t want to cross the line.
And he wants to cross it so much it hurts.
I peel myself off his desk and sit myself slowly in the chair across from him. Every inch the prim secretary.
“Salmon roll?”
“Please.” His lips quirk as he watches me plate up a few pieces of sushi for him, then help myself.
“So the boiler went, eh?”
I nod. “Afternoon off. Wheee!”
“What else are you going to do today?”
“Sasha wants to go shopping.”
“Fun.”
I make a noncommittal noise. “Maybe fun. Maybe exhausting. Could go either way. This is definitely the highlight of my day.”
“Mine, too.”
We finish eating as we talk about our upcoming trips, then he gestures for me to come around the desk. “Come here, Sprite.”
I walk around to him, my heart hammering in my chest, the nervous thump reverberating into my throat and down my arms.
He stands up and pulls me into his arms. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Same,” I whisper, pressing up onto my toes as he kisses me softly, then harder as he moves me back, pushing me against the decorative wooden shutters that cover the windows behind his desk.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asks when we break apart. He rubs his knuckles against my cheek, along my jaw, and I tip my head back, giving him free access to my neck and the v-neck of my blouse below.
“Anything you want.”
“The last two times we’ve done things in here, you’ve left in a huff.”
“The first time you huffed. The second time…I was scared.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t feel scared, that’s for sure.”
“What do you want to do?” His eyes are so bright up close, they take my breath away.
That’s a very good question. I reach between us and find the hard length of his cock straining against his dress pants. I palm the rigid thickness and close my fingers around him. The solid weight of him in my hand makes me wet. “I want this,” I whisper.
“It’s yours.”
“In my mouth?”
His eyes flash. “You first.”
“Do we have time for that?”
“Ellie.”
“What?”
“We always have time for you to come.”
Oh. Good answer. I squirm as he hikes up my skirt and yanks my panties aside.
He teases my slit with one hand as he strokes my neck with the other. “So wet for me already, Sprite. Dirty girl.”
“I was thinking about blowing you.”
“Good. I want your mouth on me. Take me deep as you can and swallow all my come.”
I whimper, already worked up.
“Look at you. Hard little clit, begging to be spanked. Wet little pussy, desperate for a finger.”
“Or two…”
“Or three?” He runs his mouth along my jaw, his lips finding my earlobe. “Are you going t
o come on my hand so I can lick it off while you get on your knees for me, Sprite?”
“Yes, Sir.” I twist my hips, welcoming his fingers deep inside me.
“Good…” He sinks his teeth into my earlobe as he rolls his thumb over my clit. I buck against his hand. He does it again and my thighs start shaking. He exhales against my neck, grazes his teeth against the skin there, then licks me.
Long. Slow. Totally dirty.
I come hard, my thighs locking his fingers inside my pussy as I grind my clit against his thumb. I fuck his hand like it’s my own personal sex toy, and when I sag back against the shutters, he does exactly what he promised he would do.
He slides his fingers out of me and starts licking them.
My legs aren’t doing a great job of holding me up anyway, so I sink to my knees and wrestle with his belt and his zipper, until his cock is in my hands, in my mouth and the quiet sound of his groans fills the space around me.
His scent floods my senses and I greedily taste him all over, tugging him deeper into my mouth. He finishes the half-done job of getting his belt out of the way, then leans over me, flexing his hips as I open wide for him.
“Ellie. Look at you. Yes, swallow me. Oh, babe, you’re so good at that.”
I look up at him and try to see myself through his eyes. Lips stretched wide, cheeks flushed, skirt still rucked up around my hips. I’m his dirty, dirty girl—and I like it.
He grunts and smacks his hand above my head. His hips jack forward and I breathe through my nose as my lips make it almost all the way down to where my fingers circle the base of his cock.
His eyes are closed now, but he reaches down with his free hand and strokes my cheek. “Take me deeper.”
I bob again, slicking him up, then take a deep breath and slide him in as deep as he can go. The head nudges the back of my throat and my stomach clenches, but then I swallow and it’s fine.
I can’t breathe really, but it’s fine, because he’s thick and hot in my mouth and I can’t get enough of his taste on my tongue, his hand in my hair, that press against the back of my head.
He pulls back and I inhale, then he fucks forward again, using my mouth now at will, and I swallow with each pump. Yes, give it to me, yes, yes…
“Fuck,” he bites out, hitting his hand against the wall with a crack as the first spurt of come shoots across my tongue. I slide forward, burying my nose against his taut abs as I swallow the rest, neat as can be.
Can’t make a mess with that, because I’m pretty sure we just damaged something else in pursuit of our depraved chemistry.
Once I’ve got him tucked away, I glance up. One of those wood shutters has a pair of cracks in it, approximately the same width apart as the prime minister’s hand. “Oh, no…”
Gavin just grins down at me. Of course he doesn’t care. He just got the world’s dirtiest blow job. “Don’t worry about it.”
“We really can’t do this again. Next time it’s going to be something irreplaceable.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He exhales roughly, his sigh turning into a laugh as he pokes at the most damaged slat. “Well, at least this can be repaired.”
“What are you going to put on the work order?”
“Definitely not, ‘damage caused by significant reaction to PM’s girlfriend deep throating him’.”
“No. Definitely not.” I wink as I hold out my hand, and he helps me up.
“You kind of want me to put that down, don’t you?”
“Well, significant reaction…that’s something for me to be proud of.”
“I’m not sharing your talents in that regard with anyone. But you should be proud. You have a talented mouth and a wicked tongue, and dirty mind that keeps me on my toes.”
“On your toes and banging your fist against the shutters.” I give him a wide-eyed look as a thought occurs to me. “Think that’s the first time they’ve been a sex casualty?”
“I’m not thinking about the sex lives of my predecessors in this office.”
“I am.”
“That’s my dirty girl. Come here, Sprite.” He sits back in his chair and pats his thighs.
I crawl into his lap and he kisses me softly, deeply, tasting himself on my lips and tongue.
He groans and buries his face in my hair when we finally break apart. “I need to get back to work.”
“Thank you for lunch,” I whisper.
“You brought me—ah.” He clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”
“A little memory to keep us both warm while we’re travelling.”
“And when you’re back, we can start the countdown to Thanksgiving and our parents meeting.” His arms tighten around me. “Or we could run away to Bora Bora.”
“That’s a plan.” I slide off his lap and touch my fingertips to his lips. “I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Love you.” He grins at me as he pulls himself closer to his desk again. “I’ll be home by seven.”
46
Gavin
The entire time I was in Japan, I had this quiet hope that somehow I’d be able to touch down in Toronto and surprise Ellie for her layover there on her way to Denver. We’re two ships passing in the night, or in this case, two airplanes not quite passing in the late afternoon, because I’m stuck in Vancouver.
We landed here to pick up my Defence Minister, but when the pilots went through the pre-flight checklist, a warning light wouldn’t go off.
So now we’re in the first class lounge at the Vancouver airport, waiting for my plane to get fixed, and Ellie’s taking off from Ottawa to Toronto, where she’ll be for two hours before flying to Denver for her conference.
I send her a text that she’ll get when she lands.
BJ: Love you. Knock ‘em dead at the conference. You’re the smartest social behaviour expert in the entire world.
It’s schmaltzy, but whatever, it’s the truth as I see it.
Four days later, I’m more excited than a kid in a candy shop because Ellie’s coming home. She had an amazing conference and when I talked to her this morning as she was boarding her flight in Colorado to come home, she was pinging off the walls with all her plans and new contacts.
Yesterday, I went and picked out a diamond solitaire ring. Common sense tells me I should wait a while before I ask her to marry me. Common sense can get fucked.
I love her, more and more each day. She brings me joy, and I want to make her my wife. Provided she doesn’t think I’m totally insane for moving quickly, we can tell our families at Thanksgiving.
I stick my head out the door of my office. I’ve been bouncing in and out all morning as things occur to me, so Beth doesn’t even look up this time.
“Did I tell you that I’m expecting a courier package?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You mean the not-so-subtle secret order from a jewellery store?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you told me yesterday when you went on your secret mission that you’d be getting something couriered ‘sooner than later’, quote-unquote. And mentioned it this morning on your way in.”
“Good.”
“Stew’s pacing in the hallway, FYI.”
“In his usual way or a weird way?”
“Kind of a weird way.”
I stalk off in that direction and find my Chief of Staff furiously stabbing at his phone, his face tomato red.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
He doesn’t respond.
“Stew?”
He swears under his breath and jerks his head up. “Gavin. Yes. I need a minute in private with you.”
I point him toward my office. As soon as the door shuts, Stew looks at me and says, “There’s a video of you.”
“Did someone catch me littering? I’m sure it was an accident.”
“Gavin.” He snaps my name harshly and I pull up short. “There’s a sex tape.”
Blood roars through my ears. I stare at him, rage firing all the nerve endings in my arms. My hands curl into f
ists as I process what he’s just said. “How the hell…”
We’ve been so careful. There aren’t any cameras in my residence or my office.
I raise my hand and point my index finger at Stew. “Who has it? I want them arrested.” He doesn’t blink, and I hear myself getting louder. “This is an invasion of privacy.”
“It’s not you and Ellie.” He holds out his phone. “I don’t know who leaked it, but this is going to hit the news channels in ten minutes.”
“What?”
“The video. It’s you. But it’s not Ellie.”
47
Ellie
I get off the plane in Toronto and make my way to the concourse level to transfer to my flight to Ottawa. My flight was packed, and so is the hallway. I can’t even get over to the wall and pull out my phone, not that I really have time for that anyway. My connection time got shortened to just under an hour this morning, so I need to hustle.
I convinced Gavin I didn’t need a bodyguard for this trip, so I’m all by myself, which is kind of nice. Outside of Ottawa, I still feel mostly anonymous, and at the conference in Colorado, I was just Ellie. Academics don’t give two figs about who I’m dating.
The Starbucks line is insanely long, so I keep motoring and stop at the main concourse intersection to figure out what gate I’m boarding at. The screen keeps flipping too fast, and I do a slow three-sixty, looking for another departures screen, when an almost as large screen changes from a commercial to a breaking news alert from the station.
It’s a video of Gavin, and at first I’m not sure what I’m looking at, because it’s obviously him, but he’s young. And…naked.
Well, not naked. He’s wearing jeans, but they’re unbuttoned, and the camera is shaky, so it looks like he’s naked.
White, cold, clammy panic slides up my chest and slithers around my neck. Strokes my face.
My boyfriend is having sex on TV. My boyfriend—Prime Minister—is…
That’s a sex tape.
And Gavin’s holding what looks like a crop. My throat is suddenly dry and I start coughing, but I can’t stop staring at the screen.
Prime Minister (Frisky Beavers #1) Page 28