by Hazel Grace
Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do in this current predicament, again, if the tables were turned.
With the way things are going now, I’d probably book us a flight to a deserted island so we could disappear from the world. The selfish tendencies in me will never fade, I can curb them, but I’m a fucking politician—all we want is more.
More power.
More to reign over.
More to own.
And I want all of that with this alpha female who will fight me ‘till her dying day, and that’s all I want. Fights, arguments, laughing, and love.
Yeah...I want that last word with her.
If I was being honest with myself, I want to marry this woman. My actions speak louder than words, after all, and I can’t seem to keep a straight thought without it involving her—against, under, or next to me for the rest of my life.
“So I have to take it out,” Reagan conveys. “And then, I get to...choose what happens next?”
I nod, digging my fingertips into the palms of my hands because I want to rip her black tank top off and shove my cock in her mouth for tormenting me on purpose right now.
But I gave her the option so…fuck me.
Finding the hole to my boxers, she carefully removes my dick, still rubbing the shaft torturously up and down. Her eyes stare at it like it’s a rare museum piece, and it twitches in her grasp, which exhibits a smile off her face.
“Will you lift my shirt up for me?” She bats her eyelashes at me. “I can’t do it.”
I growl, turning up the edges of her shirt as I pull it over her chest and to her neck. Her tits spring free from the fabric, and I want them between my lips. I want to make her sigh in relief that I’m here to give her anything she wants.
Reagan leans up, using her stomach muscles, and spits on the valley between her breasts. And, before I’m able to conjure a thought, she’s urging me closer with my dick, using the inside of her arms to press her tits together.
Holy fuck.
“You want me to fuck your tits?” I practically choke out.
“For just a minute,” she deadpans. Immediately, I start thrusting my dick between her soft mounds, watching her nipples pucker as she bites her bottom lip. “Does that feel good?”
I nod.
“Tell me.”
Bossy little asshole.
“It feels amazing.”
“Hold them tighter,” she commands. Grasping onto her bust, I let my thumb brush her nipples while I grip my dick tighter between her tits.
“Shit,” I growl, grinding my cock into the wetness she created and the smoothness of her breast. Reagan places her arms above her head again, letting me take full control of how I want to fuck her.
If I keep going at the pace I’m at, I’m going to come when all I want to do is be deep inside her. Where I can fuck everything that happened between us out of our heads for a few minutes.
But I’m going to let her decide if that’s what she wants because, right now, I’m surprised she’s letting me do anything remotely close to this.
And I knew I wasn't the only one fighting this attraction.
She feels it as much as I do. I just want Reagan to understand everything.
That she’s not just a quick fuck. That I don’t just lust for her and nothing more. I crave her presence and the ambiance that she procures through my whole entire being. She’s nirvana to me because heaven is just a place where saints and sinners who repent enough go to.
Reagan is the only place I want to reside in.
“You’re not allowed to come,” Reagan demands, arching her back so that I can get closer to her, if that’s even possible.
I clench my jaw. “Not sure if that’s viable.”
“Do you have a condom?” I shake my head because, well, the closest thing I thought I was going to be retrieving from her was a verbal beating, maybe another slap to the face.
“Have you fucked your wife lately?” That’s when my inner demon comes out, my hand latching onto her jaw. Leaning closer, her violet eyes narrow in on me.
She’s not scared, not even close, but fuck me she should be. Of my life, my obsession for her, the way I want to possess her.
She should be fucking terrified.
“I don’t have a wife,” I seethe. “Not in my head, my heart, and definitely not in my soul. The woman I said my vows to—she died or committed suicide—not sure which. She fucked my father, as well as a bunch of other unfortunate souls, shoved drugs at my sister, and killed one of them. She might write my last name behind hers, but I sure as fuck don’t lay awake at night wondering where she is and who she’s fucked over last. Quite the opposite—I think of you. All the time.”
Reagan’s face searches mine for lies—she won’t find them.
Those aren’t even half of my truths. The things I’ve done under the influence of Demi were events I could never take back. No amount of atoning will get me to feel better about them, no amount of prayers or Hail Mary’s would take them away.
Reagan’s hands grip my shirt. “She...did all that?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t...divorce her because she’d ruin your chances of becoming what you always wanted to be.”
I release a heavy breath off a nod.
My hands roam freely down her body, hitting her hip bone and yanking down her shorts. When my lips are within her reach, she presses hers into mine. It doesn’t take long for us to find our rhythm again, with our kissing or anything else.
This might sound horrible, but I want to trap her like I did in the contract. I need more time. I crave a life with her and in an unhealthy way.
“I’m going to fuck you,” I mutter against her lips. “I’m done with this teasing bullshit.”
She doesn’t counter my statement, and I move off her frame to slip the rest of the clothing off her toned legs.
Positioning myself between them, she peers up at me, and I can’t read her, don’t know what she wants, so I flatten my mouth against her jawline.
“Talk to me…please.”
“Fuck me,” she whispers in my ear.
Her sentiment corkscrews my heart as I arrange myself above her.
Slowly, I push inside her body as her legs wrap around my hips, keeping me close, which only fuels my fervor for this woman.
She wants me.
I want her.
Shit happened and I’m going to make this right. Whatever she needs is hers, I’d move heaven and Earth for her if she so wished it.
Reagan arches her back, taking me deeper as she lets out a satisfied sigh. It gives me the perfect angle to lapse one of her nipples.
Love, such a complicated yet simple feeling. You either know or you don’t, feel it or ignore it. Accept it or demolish it.
I’ve accepted it.
“God, you feel so good,” she moans, looking me dead in the eyes with her hues of purple. “I definitely would’ve stayed for the dick.”
I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.
Demi never wanted me, I don’t think there was ever a moment that she actually loved me either. It was all about the money, future power, and the black cloud she wanted to hang over myself and my family.
“Anything else you would’ve stayed for?” I press. “Maybe my good looks?”
“I could’ve used a paper bag,” she counters then gasps when I heave my cock deeper inside her.
“Yeah?”
“Untie my hands.”
I press my lips into the corner of her lips again. “I like you like this. The bullheaded woman within my grasps.” I reach down to brush her clit. “To touch wherever I want.”
“You just want to tease me.”
“I want you to remember.”
“Depends how hard you fuck me.”
I circle the nerve endings that make her go wild as I continue to push myself in and out of her at a leisurely pace.
I want her begging for me, my self-esteem needs it. I feel as though I’m so far gone
that I’m imagining what I want from her in my head.
“Is that all you want?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “I just want to forget.” I pull myself out of her and push my body downward so that my face is near her pussy.
“You’re not going to forget me, Shelton. I demand it.”
Her legs clamp around my shoulders, slightly shaking in response from the loss of us being joined together.
Licking one of her pussy lips, I let the tip of my tongue barely brush her center.
“I’ll kill someone if I find you with another man.” She scoffs in response to that. Thing is, I can be as headstrong and stubborn as her. “Try me.”
“Wade,” she begins before being cut off when I graze her clit. “I can’t be with—” Another lick and she’s writhing off the bed.
We can talk about it—except it’s not going to be with me inside her.
This is a time for her to figure it out, and I’m not going to push her, but I’m not going to fucking share her either. I can’t make her not see other men.
Will I be jealous?—Absolutely.
Will I want to strangle the dude she’s with?—You can bet your ass.
But I insist to keep some of my fucking pride intact because, without it, I’ll turn into that man eight years ago who never saw the light of day and drank himself into a coma each and every night.
“Wade…” Both of her hands twisting and yanking my hair to come up for air.
To come up for her.
It’s not happening until I hear what I want to hear and she knows it. She’s aware of the words I need her to say.
“Is it possible to think that I could live just off you, Miss Shelton? You taste like sin and rapture, something I could get highly addicted to.”
Who the hell am I kidding, I already am.
“You should...come up here and show me…” Her breathing is heavy—close. She’s seconds away from breaking apart underneath me and she will—without me.
“I’m good with being just like everyone else,” I lie, compressing my lips around her clit. “As you put it...just another fuck.”
Her thighs tremble around my head, craving more than what I’m giving her, but it’s enough to make her come—just not how she wants to.
“You made your point.” I smirk.
Foolish woman.
“Did I though?”
She gasps as I insert two fingers then mercilessly pump within her.
“Crystal...clear.”
Still haven’t heard the words, baby.
And if she wants to be high-handed with her own pride, we’ll see who out does who on this one.
I continue my torture—to the both of us because my cock is rock-hard and ready to spill my come all over her beautiful body. But I know what I got myself into with Reagan, and sometimes, it’s going to take some sacrifices to get what I want.
Reagan cries out to God then clamps her thighs around my head. “Please fuck me.”
“I want to, however, I’m not privy to sharing. But I will selfishly eat this pussy until you scream and wake the house up.”
She comes then—hard, all over my tongue, squeezing me to her as though she’ll die from falling back down to reality.
When she comes to the point of speaking again, I’m already at her side, pulling her to me as I kiss her forehead.
“What about you?” she mutters into my chest.
“I can wait.”
Forever.
♫ Why — Shawn Mendes ♫
I don’t know what day it is, haven’t eaten in probably two, and I’m exhausted. Even if I wanted to, I haven’t spoken to Reagan in over a week. It makes it look as though I’m truly respecting her wishes when, in reality, I would’ve texted her already if time allowed.
Instead, I’m swamped with conference calls and interviews. I’ve had lunch and dinner meetings with politicians, where I barely touched my food because I needed everything to go off without a hitch, and I was too busy being interrogated.
The presidency is within my grasp, I can feel the shit.
Sitting in my office for the first time in over seventy-two hours, I ignore another phone call from Demi. I have emails to attend to, a calendar to blow through, and fuck knows what else right now.
A soft knock rasps on my door, opening afterward to reveal Em on the other side.
“Hey,” she greets softly. “Didn’t think you’d be in until later this evening.”
I motion for her to come in. “Got done with my lunch early, Mayor Chestin’s cat had to have emergency surgery or something—” I wave my hand in the air. “—I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Start,” she chides softly, taking a seat in front of me. “You’ll need to remember names and want to build—”
“Rapport, I know. Just—” I look over my desk that is buried in folders, paperwork, and things I don’t want to read over. “—overwhelmed right now.”
“And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She crosses her legs and hits me with a knowing glance. “We need to shave some of your schedule down.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like a zombie. You have bags under your eyes, and you look ten pounds lighter.”
I raise a finger. “One more month to go and they start voting for who will be the Democratic candidate. I can’t stop now.”
“You might not be alive then,” she retorts. “Wade, we need to slow down a little.”
I shrug, opening up my email. “Then slow down.”
“I mean you. I want you to slow down.”
“Do you want me to take a day off or something? Because I’ll do that, but it’s back to work afterward.”
“I would like for you to take more, but I know how you are.”
“Done.” I peer over the top of my laptop. “Anything else?”
“One more thing. It’s about Reagan.” That pulls me right out of my emails.
“What about her?”
“Her contract is up at the end of March, I want to renew it.”
I nod. So the fuck do I. “Have you spoken to her about it?”
“A little but then she blows me off.” My stomach twists at Reagan still thinking about the possibility of not working with me anymore. That she won’t be striding through my office in her fuck-me dresses and taunting me with every single one of her curves.
“I can speak with her,” I offer, forcing myself to get back to work.
“She’s actually here—outside at my desk. She had a few ideas for you to close out the final run at the Democrats and to help the public see who you are.”
“Send her in,” I order as nonchalantly as I can. “I’d love to hear them, but I only have five minutes.” Em stands and saunters out of the room, bringing in the woman who possesses every bit of my attention every time she’s in the room.
“Good afternoon, Governor,” she hails, taking my next breath as she leads the way into my office with Emmy behind her.
The top of her dress is solid black while the bottom is pink pleated floral. She looks like a godsend. A perfect part of my week that has been a shit-show of nothing but work, business, and no sleep.
And fuck everyone, I want this woman right now on top of my desk so I can ask her the burning question that’s been incinerated in my brain for over a week.
“Good afternoon, Miss Shelton,” I acknowledge back, watching her take a seat in front of me.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve thought of some things to—”
“New ideas are always welcome,” I voice, closing down my laptop and folding my hands together. “What did you have in mind?”
She glances over at Em before saying, “Interviews with children.”
One of my brows rises. “With children?”
“The future of America,” Em chimes in. “You’re a role model, to teach children to never give up on their dreams and to work hard.”
“No other politician has done it,” Reagan states. “It’s different—un
ique even. It would show that children’s views mean as much as adults do.”
She’s right, it’s innovative and creative, but I’m not sure how much of a push it would cause for me. But the way her violet eyes glimmer at me with confidence—I cave.
“Sounds like a good idea, when do I start?” Her eyes widen then look back at Em to make sure she heard me right. My assistant shares the same owl-eyed look, staring at me as though I’ve lost my damn mind.
I have—Reagan holds my sanity.
“We can start next week,” Em finally says. “I can take a look at the schedule and figure out when.”
“Sounds good, if you could just update mine and I’ll sync it.”
“Absolutely.”
“Any other ideas, Miss Shelton?” She brings her attention back to me, still looking a little taken back.
“Uh...yeah. Hosting a ‘fun day’ for children. The carnival event went well a few weeks ago, it raised millions of dollars for the children’s hospital, but they weren’t present. I’d like to plan an event like that...for you. With the children from the hospital attending. I think it’d be fun.”
That’d be great if you don’t ignore me at that one too.
“I’m on board with that as well,” I say instead.
“Then we better get started,” Em announces. “I’ll do the invitations, Reagan, do you need help with the vendors or anything?” Her eyes stay locked on me, entranced, and my cock hardens at her staring at me like that.
Memories of fucking her in my penthouse flood my brain. I go into that room every chance I get to just relive it while I jack off to the recollections of her moans and how hard she came down against my lips.
“I got it,” she finally answers back.
I pry my eyes from her and look at Em. “Go out of state for this one. I want money from everywhere—for the kids.”
For Reagan.
“Absolutely,” she replies, waiting for Reagan to follow her out.
“I’d like to have a word with Miss Shelton if you don’t mind, Em.” She nods, thinking I’m going to talk about the contract.
I should, I want her here after the end of March, but I just want to talk to her for a moment before having to let her go.