Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2)

by Hazel Grace

  “She said you needed to get out of your funk.”

  Fucking Emmy.

  “And I’m assuming—” I perk a brow. “—that my funk is you?”

  “I could be, Mr. President. But I came here for something.”

  I hear her, I do, but my brain is locked in on the spot between her thighs and how easy it would be to just throw all my reasoning to keep her away right out that alleged window she said she climbed through.

  She’s the key to my happiness, but I’m the pit of hell to hers. There is no this happening right now.

  “Reagan, I told you no more of this secret shit.”

  She shrugs. “Emmy knows.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want other people to know.”

  “Hence why I climbed through the window.” I roll my eyes. She wouldn’t make it past the grass out in the front yard without getting tackled. “Come here, Governor.”

  I like when she calls me that, more than Yank because it was mine and not a nickname I got when I was hiding behind Chase. It reminds me of when it was truly just her and I. When secrets still loomed overhead but she was the beat of my heart.

  And I was and still am completely hers.

  “For what?” I bring my tumbler to my lips and swallow a large gulp. The worst idea, before calling my Secret Service in here, would be to get any closer to her right now.

  I’m not that big of an idiot—sometimes.

  “To help you undress,” she claims. “We have a game tonight.” She displays her Boston gear by running a hand down her front.

  “You can’t be here,” I repeat. “You know I wish it were different. I’m here, President, and you’re you, the love of my life.”

  “And you owe me a date. You said last year that if we weren’t dating anyone by this time, we’d meet. So, here I am.”

  I sigh. I did say that. The reasoning behind it was, at the time, to finally come clean. Then erased that thought with a hell no and knew I’d bail on that eventually or say that Chase was dating someone.

  But fuck me for a woman remembering everything.

  “I did say that,” I reply.

  “You look unhappy.”

  “I’m not.” I shake my head. “I’m... fortunate to be looking at you right now, Shelton. You’re fucking beautiful.”

  She contributes a feeble grin and hops off the table to stride in my direction, facilitating my body to go on high alert. This woman wields so much power over me that it takes every ounce of my energy to bat it off. She can obliterate any rationality I have and secure whatever she wants or needs.

  “Does that mean I’m your date?”

  Fuck.

  I bob my head. “As long as you sit on one side of the couch and I on the other then yes.”

  “What are the rules?” She beams at me, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

  “Rules?”

  “Can I kiss you right now?”

  Geezus.

  I turn my cheek for her to plant one on me, which she does, taking her sweet time.

  “Feel free to keep the suit on,” she whispers. “So all my ju-ju for Boston can sprinkle throughout the room.”

  “Fat chance.”

  The game starts and nothing happens for the first three innings except the hundred times that I’ve shifted to keep my dick tucked in. When I go to order food and give myself a breather, Reagan demands I sit because I'll miss something. Reluctantly, I do, just to suffer through more of her animatedly yelling at the TV, hands swinging all over the place, jumping around, and me admiring her from the couch.

  She belongs at an actual game, not here with me cooped up in the White House to watch on TV. I hate to admit it, but my jealousy pricks at my brain. She should be with someone who can take her to shit like this and be able to enjoy the atmosphere and ballpark food.

  Em will hear about this when we’re done, but enough is enough. I can’t keep her around me, I can’t keep her safe, I can’t do shit without putting her in some sort of unique and fucked-up scenario that always circles back to me. Begrudgingly, I will have her brother keep her in his care, and I have to fully wipe my hands clean. Maybe decades from now we’ll be ready, but honestly, who am I kidding? She’ll be married with children, and I will be a bachelor with a political career still doing the same bullshit I am now.

  Reagan’s demeanor does a three-sixty when the Sox get their revenge in the fifth, tying the game. The sixth is nerve-racking with the bases loaded by red jerseys, alluding to another episode of Reagan’s pep-talk to the TV like the players can hear her and her ju-ju is going to help them win the game.

  "Let it come across the plate beautifully," she tells their second baseman, Martinez. "He's getting tired." That to my pitcher.

  “He isn’t getting tired,” I retort, gesturing to the flat screen. “The ump is calling bullshit plays.”

  She peers over her shoulder at me, brows knitted together, and I love it.

  I love how she’s so into this game and everything is such a big deal. I mean, it is when the Sox and Yanks play, but I’d take sitting here with her over anything.

  “Your pitcher blows better dick than I do.” An unexpected laugh breaks through my lips as I tuck my chin into my chest and rub one of my temples.

  Her weight suddenly plops down beside me, her body brushing mine and gaining my attention.

  “Wanna place a wager on the game? I remember you wanting me to burn my Boston gear once.”

  I smirk and grab my tumbler of whiskey off the side table. “Was a good idea at the time.”

  “Is that what you want if the Yanks win?”

  “What happened to your side of the couch?” I softly chide. She twists her body to face mine.

  “I like being close to you.”

  I hit her with a dead-on stare. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

  “Speaking of ass,” she muses. “If I win, I want you to fuck mine.” I choke, fist coming up to my chest as I pound on it. Reagan is on me within a second, hitting my back and telling me to cough, but I don’t miss the delight in her tone.

  So this is how it ends. I choke to death after Reagan offers her ass to me.

  Fucking great.

  I finally get my whiskey to go down my throat and my breathing in unsteady inhales, but I’m alive.

  “Too much?” she jeers with an innocent lift of her lips.

  “Geezus, are you trying to fucking kill me?”

  “I was serious.”

  I hit her with an exasperated look. “Absolutely n—”

  “You’re confident in your team, aren’t you?”

  “You’re not a psychiatrist. You can stop with the analyzing and mind-twisting.” She looms closer, brows furrowing.

  “Bet.”

  “I’m not—” I stop when her lips curl—confident, prepared, and dangerous.

  “Yes, you will. Because I get what I want. And you’ve never fucked with a bitch like me.” She bats her eyelashes. “Remember?”

  ♫ Bad Things — Machine Gun Kelly feat Camila Cabello ♫

  Reagan’s thong is wrapped around the bottom of her ass cheeks, and my cock is so hard I think it’s going to pull a muscle. She didn’t ask for foreplay, didn’t kiss me or start to slowly tease me. She just wanted it—my cock—inside her ass.

  Oh, and if you hadn’t guessed yet, the Yankees fucking lost.

  My dick is lubed, which she so conveniently had, and I stroke it.

  This is going to be hard, no pun intended, to not lose my entire shit within a minute or two. And the voices in my head, the rational and the infatuated fill my brain.

  I need to let her go, but she won't let me. She's sinking herself deep and back inside me, and I know that I'm not strong enough to withhold.

  I should be doing what the public expects me to do and mourn my wife. Even though I couldn't stand Demi, that she was evil in her own ways, I shouldn't be about to bury myself balls deep within the woman who drives me insane with lust and insanity.

  “Have you
thought about this before?” she asks me, laid out on her stomach as an offering for me to delve into. The coffee table still has our cups and plates on it, and if we do this, they're going to end up on the floor.

  “Yes,” I mumble while fighting a groan as she backs up, letting the tip of my cock hit where she wants it to be.

  “Hold it still,” she orders before she lets the head of my cock slide slowly into her. It doesn’t go in all the way before she withdrawals slightly then comes back for more.

  I watch her ass ride my cock, each time sinking me deeper inside her tightness.

  I have to think of something else. Literally, anything else, because I’m going to finish before we even start.

  “There we go,” she moans, sliding back and taking me farther. “Mhm...fuck.” God, the sound of her voice when she’s turned on makes my whole body tingle and light on fire.

  I’m way past being on edge.

  I'm about to tell her that I can't do this, but she peers over her shoulder, stunning violet eyes pierce right through my idea and self-confidence.

  “I’m ready...fuck me.”

  "Sox," I growl. "This isn't a good idea." The corners of her lips quirk, devious and fucking sexy as hell.

  "Feels like one." My eyes clench closed because she's not helping. She's making it worse. "You never owned me fully. I want there to be no mistaking that you do after this."

  "I don't own you," I seize. "Not anymore." Her brows furrow, followed by her eyes turning into slits. I already knew this would come up. I'm rejecting her in her eyes, and I'm going to hear her mouth about it, but I'm ready.

  This is for the best.

  I don't want her to be a fucking secret in my back pocket. She deserves to know and learn the world. To have someone she can go out in public with and freely do what she wants.

  I can't do that with her.

  I have a job—a responsibility. She's a liability for anyone who wants to hurt me. Demi fucked that up for me. I could never and would never forgive myself if something transpired and Reagan was hurt. I don't care that she has a brother who's part of some secret organization and has resources that I barely know about. It's not an option.

  It'll never be an option.

  "Then just give me what you owe me," she quips. "I won a bet."

  "Geezus Christ, Reagan," I chide. "You seriously can't want—"

  "Oh I do," she counters, turning her head back around to keep her true feelings from me.

  I hurt her—I always seem to. This time will be no different.

  But it's for her own good, not mine. I'll rip my heart out faster than she can blink a tear. I'll always live with a void. She's strong enough to bypass me.

  Reagan doesn’t wait for me to move, she does it herself. Stretching her tight hole around my bulging cock and taking what she wants. Making me want to lose control like I always do with her.

  She moans in pleasure, and I’m not even halfway inside, remaining as still as I can because once I move, there will be no stopping, and I want to sear some of this to memory because it won’t be a long one.

  Peering down at her luscious ass, my fixation demands that I focus. That we’ll only get this one chance and opportunity to fuck the shit out of her tight ass and come inside.

  Another inch and Reagan is arching her back to take more of me.

  This scene is erotic, something out of a fantasy—one of mine, and it’s as though I don’t live in my body in this moment.

  That this is a vivid dream that I’m going to wake up from with a hard dick and a need to jack off immediately afterward.

  “You’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you?” she chides, burying me deeper in a slow rocking motion.

  “Doing a pretty good job,” I deadpan through a slack jaw. She chuckles off another soft gasp of pleasure.

  “Then enjoy the view. I’m going to swallow this cock and ride it until I get off.” A deep, feral growl resonates from my chest before she takes all of me inside her.

  For a moment, she pauses, letting herself adjust around me and to probably drive me more insane.

  Then she moves, tediously at first before she draws back and thrusts my cock hard inside her.

  “Fuck,” I snap. She answers with a mewl, continuing her torturous movements, riding my cock to her own rhythm while my balls start to harden and build up.

  “Fuck is right,” she replies. “This dick feels so good.”

  “Yeah?” My hands latch on to her hips, her praise feeding into the inner beast that commands I release it. “Are you going to come all over my dick?”

  “Yes,” she breathes then looks over her shoulder. “I’m going to finish all over this thick cock. But you’re not going to.”

  I perk a brow. “Wanna make a bet?”

  “You going to move and fuck me the way you want to?”

  My nostrils flare. “You’re pushing it, Shelton.” Her eyes flick into the direction of her ass even though she can’t see it.

  “I know. It feels amazing and so full.” Something in me snaps to attention and all logic flees from my brain.

  I’m violently thrusting into her, fingers digging into her hips as I make her mine—for the moment. She wants to be fucked so hard she sees stars and shit, I’ll be happy to oblige. If she wants to keep this memory safe for the future, I’ll make sure it’s so good that she comes while just thinking about it.

  “Play with your clit,” I demand. “And tell me how wet you are.” She reaches between her legs, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “Show me.”

  Her fingers appear a second later, glistening with her dampness, and my mouth waters. Then those fingers disappear behind her lips as she licks herself clean.

  “How do you taste?”

  She smirks. “Like sin. And I’ll let you have a taste if you—” I hurl my hips into her. She’s done making demands.

  “I’ll taste you when I’m done fucking you in the ass. And then, since you decided to sneak inside my corridors, I’m going to take that pretty pussy and imprint myself so deep inside you that no other man is going to reach it.”

  She seems to like that answer because she rocks against me. We find a rhythm quickly, our moans mixing together in a symphony that only she and I can make.

  I love this woman.

  Every smart-ass remark, every inch of her body, how she loves to taunt and tease me and revels in how she always wins.

  “Wade,” she gasps. “I’m going to come.”

  “Yes, baby,” I encourage, running my fingertips down her spine. “Give me everything.”

  Reagan’s moans heighten, then she covers her mouth to keep anyone from hearing them.

  I can though, and it only intensifies my need for her. The deep-seated feeling to release my load inside her tight little ass.

  She hurtles herself against me, making sure I don’t miss an inch of being inside her before her body locks up. Seizing her movements, Reagan lets me thrust into her as she rides out her orgasm.

  Bowing her head, a violent shiver runs through her body. “God, Wade...I love when you’re still fucking me after I’ve—” My own frenzy slams into me.

  I detonate to the point where I’m seeing black dots in my vision, and Reagan starts milking me again for every ounce of come that I have.

  When I’m done, she slowly pulls from me before my ass hits my feet, completely spent. Turning to face me, Reagan glows in satisfaction and bliss. Her eyes look more luminescent, skin glowing from the aftermath of her own climax, and she’s the most picturesque thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “I forgot to tell you,” she quips, taking a seat on top of the coffee table. Her toned legs spread, taunting me with the lace of her red thong covering the pussy I haven’t had yet.

  “What?” She watches me with an amused look as I try to catch my breath and don’t bother to hide the fact that I’m staring at what I want to be round two of the evening.

  “I’m your new event planner.”

  My eyes expand bef
ore snapping up to her face. “You’re what?” Another smirk from her lips and she begins to rise, but my hand wraps around her wrist to tug her down to my level. “Reagan.”

  “Yes?” She bats her eyelashes and hunches down in front of me, trying to appear as innocent as a damn saint.

  “No.”

  “No?” She cocks her head to the side. “You don’t want to wear me out every night and stretch—”

  “I don’t want you here.” She frowns, it’s her immediate reaction before my hands cup her face. “Baby...I don’t want you in this world. In this house. It’s full of problems and corrupt men and women. It’ll suck the life out of—”

  “You’re my life.” Her palms reach for each side of my face. “I don’t want to go on with it without you.”

  I shake my head. “You have to. I won’t put you in danger ever again.”

  “But Demi’s—Wade...I love you. There will never be anyone—”

  “There will be,” I grate, my stomach twisting at the thought of someone taking her as I just did. “You don’t belong with me.” She rips herself out of my clutches.

  We’ve done this song and dance before.

  She won’t listen, so I’ll make her. I’ll push her until she’s so tired of my rejecting her that her pride will carry her away.

  “Then you can watch me with someone else.” She ascends to stand, stubbornness and willpower written all over her beautiful features. “Because my new job...is here.”

  I follow her climb, towering over her with a glower fastened to my face. “You’re fired, Shelton.”

  Her eyes slim. “You wouldn’t do such a—”

  “Oh, yes, I would, baby. I’d fire you in an instant before I’d let you sink into the darkness here. I love you so much that I’ll give you up because I won’t watch your light dim out. You own me, body and soul. You have my heart. But I can’t have yours.”

  “You have it.” Her frown softens while her eyes glim up at me with hope shining in them. “It’s already yours. I forgive you for everything. It all doesn’t matter now.”