by Alice Ward
She surrendered to me at once.
She leaned over, parting her legs, guiding my cock to her entrance. I thrust into her with no hesitation as she pressed her palms against the shower wall. The steam from the shower swirled around us as I fucked her from behind, slow, steady, her body rocking back and forth to meet me.
“God, Cameron,” she moaned, and I was surprised at how comfortable she was with my name, considering this was only the second time she’d used it. I was also surprised by how much I loved hearing it come from her mouth when she was lost in the throes of passion. “Please don’t stop.”
I didn’t. Not until we’d both come. But even then, I wanted more. I’d wanted to fuck this need away, but I still hadn’t had enough.
I needed more.
When we retreated to the bed, still damp with water and soap, we laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms. The dull thrumming of the bass downstairs died away, and a strange silence ensued. Soon, I’d have to go to get ready for a golf tournament with my father in Ardmore. After that, dinner with the Dryden family at the country club. And deal with more Bernadette shit.
Fuck.
I closed my eyes, intent on savoring this moment. Intent on savoring Cassandra for as long as I could. I’d wait until the absolute last moment to leave her. Fuck that it was likely getting late and the sun was coming up. Fuck if I missed the opening of the tournament. Fuck my father. Fuck it all.
“So,” I said to her, wiping a stray lock of damp hair from her face as she pressed her naked body against mine. “It appears you are not entirely uninterested in politics.”
She rolled over and looked at me. “Well. Maybe I am a little interested.”
“So you do know about the toad.”
A grin spread across her face. “That was a totally asshat move.”
“Asshat?” I played the word over in my head, laughing softly. “That’s a new one. I don’t think I’ve ever been called that.”
“I’m sure you have been called it. Just not to your face.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks,” I said, giving her a little shove. “But the truth is… and what the media refuses to share is that the remaining land in that district is swampland, and so that breed of toad is not in any imminent danger. That was the only parcel of town that would support the building of the development. Unfortunately, it’s in the middle of the swamplands, but it’s really the only choice for this project. It would bring a thousand jobs to a district that’s been seeing a lot of suffering since the sugar plant closed down a decade ago. Half the people there are on welfare, and none of them are complaining. They want this development to happen.”
“I didn’t know about the sugar plant,” she said quietly. “So, you’re not killing toads?”
I laughed. “Not today. Actually, not ever. The swampland that surrounds the plot of land is unbuildable and will survive, and the toads will have their home. We hired an EPA conservationist to measure the effects and make sure our yellow-horned friends weren’t being impacted. Unfortunately, none of that seemed to leak into the news outlets you’ve been reading.”
“Seriously?” She propped herself up onto her elbow. “You’re quite attractive when you talk about your yellow-horned friends.”
My balls contracted. “And what are you going to do about it?”
She reached under the sheets and found my cock. Under her touch, it had already begun to harden. I heaved in a breath as she climbed on top of me, sinking down onto me without hesitation, as if she belonged there. I pushed my back up against the headboard and held her to me, intent on remembering this awesome sensation of being buried inside her. The one picture window in the room, though covered in heavy drapes, was outlined in white, signaling that the dark was fading to day. In another hour, I’d have to let her go, and she would no longer be mine.
One more time, I thought. If this is our last time together, make it good.
It was good. In fact, it just kept getting better.
And it was far from enough to quell my need.
She hadn’t wanted to tell me her name, or anything about herself because she knew this wasn’t real. Now, she’d happily go off, fuck men like the Joker jerk deliberately, unabashedly. Maybe I’d come to this club a year from now and find her naked and wriggling on the bar while someone poured hot oil on her. Maybe I’d find her on a leash, being fucked on stage.
And I couldn’t fucking bear that thought.
When I lifted her off me, I realized that despite knowing her body so intimately, I knew nothing else of this woman, other than that she leaned liberal, and she’d never stayed in a fancy hotel before. Holding her close, I said, “Tell me something about yourself. Something personal.”
She lay down flat on her back and looked over at me, confused. “Why does it matter?”
I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at her intently. “Because I want to know.”
She thought for a moment. “I have three older brothers. We used to play cops and robbers when I was a kid. I was always the cop. When I was six, they tied me to a tree and left me there for two hours because they went inside to play video games and forgot me.”
I had to smile at that. “So, you’re close then?”
“Well, not then. But they came around. They live all over the country. The closest one is in Maine. They’re all attorneys. Like my p—” She stopped quickly, like she was afraid she’d said too much, but I filled in the blank. Like my parents.
“Do you aspire to be an attorney also?”
She shook her head. Then she repeated, “Why does it matter?”
Because I’m not ready to let you go yet. “I’m just curious,” I said, “because, my mysterious goddess, now I know more about your family than I do about you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not very good at arguing.”
I laughed and touched the skin on the side of her hip, watching it rise with goosebumps. Every part of her only begged to be touched, again and again. “I beg to differ.”
She laughed and said, “But some attorneys are so heartless. Take for example… you. Right? You were one before you decided to run for office?”
I took a pillow and swatted her with it. She blocked the hit and threw it back at me.
“I am an attorney, yes. I was Philadelphia’s Assistant D.A. for three years out of law school, but now I work as private counsel for my father’s firm, specializing in commercial and real estate law.” I took her hand and put it flush against my chest. “But what’s that? A beating heart?”
She felt for a moment and nodded, looking just like my father — less than impressed. My father thought I should at least be running for U.S. Congress by now, and had suggested it, but the Senate election wouldn’t be until the following year, and when the state seat became vacant this term, it only made sense to make the move. But the difference was, I’d lost interest in proving myself to my father years ago. Now, I seriously felt like I was the right man for the job on my own merits, not just my family’s.
“Do you like it?”
I stared at her. No one had ever asked me that before. “It doesn’t matter whether I do or I don’t. It’s what I have to do.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“No. It isn’t a no.” I gave it some thought. “It’s like any job. There are many aspects about it I like. I like playing a part in shaping the world into a better place. I like helping people. But there’s a lot of bureaucratic bullshit. And you’re right. Some people are driven by greed.” I stopped when I realized I’d started this line of questioning to find out more about her, and instead, she’d turned the tables and put the focus on me. “Do you realize you know just about everything about me, and I know practically nothing about you?”
She sighed. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?”
She shrugged. “Around here.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She was being deliberately vague. “Grew
up here?”
She nodded. “Around here.”
It was damn near infuriating. I ventured my next question. “What do you do for a living?”
“A little of this, a little of that.” She smiled. I scowled in return. Now I knew she was toying with me.
“Are you still in school? How old are you, anyway?”
She gave me a shocked expression and patted her heart. “Weren’t you ever told that you’re not supposed to ask a lady that?”
I ran a finger down the smooth skin of her inner arm, and pushed it away from her chest, then paused to touch her nipple, which hardened at once. “You don’t strike me as being of the age where asking would be inappropriate.” When she didn’t answer my question, I laughed. “Please tell me you’re legal.”
“Very funny.”
“All right. Then let me guess.” I stroked my chin as I appraised her. “Twenty-six?”
She shook her head.
“Older or younger?”
She pointed down.
“Twenty-four?”
She pointed down again.
“Twenty-three?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she sat up quickly, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached over the side for her clothes.
“Ah. Twenty-three.” I was happy to claim victory on that, albeit a small one. “I have the feeling that getting to know your name will drive me completely batshit.”
She didn’t seem to find the humor in that. Instead, she pressed her lips together and lifted her clothes onto the bed. She pushed her arms through the straps of her bra and fastened it behind her. “What does it matter, Cameron? What does who I am, or what I like, or what my family is like really matter?”
“It matters to me. In this moment, it matters.”
“I have news for you,” she said, turning to look at me. “This moment is over.”
She was right. Now, the sunlight was slashing through the blinds. It was the moment I’d been dreading. The end.
“But it doesn’t have to be.” I forced away the thoughts of real life. Of my father, of my family’s expectations, of my political career. “You have to go away with me.”
She whirled around on the bed, and a crease appeared on the bridge of her nose. “What?”
“Next Saturday. I have it clear. I’ll call you and we’ll—”
I stopped because she was already shaking her head. A thought dawned on me, one that I couldn’t take. She didn’t want to see me again. She wanted to disappear, and with the few details I had of her life, I’d never see her again.
“Listen to me,” I said, reaching for her.
“No, you listen,” she said, pulling away. “You can’t call me.”
Of course she didn’t want me to have her number. Cassandra was a mystery and wanted to stay a mystery.
Desperation crept in, threatening to overtake me. “But you’ll meet me?”
She nodded slowly.
Thank god. “Two o’clock, Saturday. Any place you want. Just tell me, and I’ll be there.”
She inhaled sharply, and I thought she might say no. But then she said quietly, “At the Temple Welcome Center. Twelfth and Montgomery.”
“Yes. Two o’clock.” I repeated it because I needed to make sure she knew it. “Bring an overnight bag. With as little clothing as possible, because you won’t need it. You’ll be there?”
She nodded back at me, sitting on the edge of the bed still mostly naked, a small smile appearing on her face. “Though I still think you’re a conservative piece of shit.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, tree-hugger.” I wrapped an arm around her and easily pulled her back to the bed. My cock twinged as I wrestled on top of her, kissing her long and deep, and I only wished I had the time to be inside her again.
But not now. There would be another time, thank god. Right now, I needed that next time, like I needed air to breathe.
We dressed after that, donning our outfits, our masks, and as I did, a feeling of guilt seeped in, mingling with the glee from knowing I’d see her again. If I kept prolonging this, it would make it all the harder to call it quits. But part of me thought she’d already become a major vein to my heart, and cutting her loose would mean bleeding to death.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Brooke
I awoke on Sunday morning to a strange text.
It was from a blocked number. If you want your dirt on Cameron Brice, I can help you. Text me back.
Dirt? That was the last thing I could think about. Though I was mildly curious about who sent the text, I was more concerned about my state of physical health. Turning onto my back, I stared at the ceiling and tested each one of my muscles. Oh, hell, I was sorer than I’d been yesterday. Deliciously sore. Thoroughly fucked.
Saturday had been a wash. In addition to my limbs feeling like I’d run a marathon, I’d been tired, so tired that though I’d planned to follow Cameron to the golf tournament, I ended up missing it entirely. I’d heard he was a skilled golfer and wanted to see if his being with me had had any effect on his game. I’d resorted to googling the results online, but couldn’t find much, other than a Facebook picture from someone who’d been there. In it, Cameron was crouching in the background, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him, in what almost looked like prayer, wearing a navy-blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a sun visor. On its own, I’d have thought the visor kind of dorky, but of course, Cameron pulled it off. The shirt bared his tanned, muscular forearms and showed off his thick shoulders in a way the suits never did. He had a set of expensive-looking clubs propped beside him. He looked intent on the game, fresh, not spoiled by lack of sleep at all.
It’d made me practically desperate for next Saturday. Thank god he’d wanted to see me again.
Still, I couldn’t help thinking that one of these days would be our last. It had to happen. I was reminded of that fact on Saturday afternoon. Once the tournament was done, I ended up catching up with his limo and following him to a dinner with his family and mannequin bitch-woman, hands curling into fists every time they touched, which thankfully wasn’t often.
My finger hovered over delete, and the screen changed to a call coming in from my mother.
“How’s my little girl?” my mother singsonged through the phone when I picked up. “What’ve you been up to this weekend?”
I gave as cheerful a greeting as I could muster, thinking of exactly what I’d done last night and shuddering in embarrassment.
My targets had gone to a swanky country club at the golf course, and I’d actually crouched in the bushes outside the place, watching them. The thing was, it really had nothing to do with getting dirt, unless you counted the dirt I had gotten all over my boots, which had been sinking into the freshly watered garden.
I’d become The Other Woman. At least I thought I was, although I hadn’t found any evidence that Cameron and Barbie were in a committed relationship. They seemed friendly enough, and he was polite with her, buttering her damn roll and shit like that. But he didn’t seem happy. When he smiled at her, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
But like I’d said to him over and over again Friday night… did it matter? The answer: No. It didn’t matter if he was happier with me, or if the sex was better with me, or if he connected better to me. Men like him belonged with women like her. Part of me had kept asking him that question, hoping that he’d admit that, yes, it did matter, because he was falling for me and didn’t care what the world dictated. He wanted me. Not just for one night of hot sex. Forever.
Fat chance.
“Nothing really,” I finally said to my mom. “Boring weekend.”
“You need to get up and get yourself social, hon,” she said, imparting that useful mom advice that was meant to help but always seemed to make me feel worse. “Get yourself a beau. What about that nice Michael?”
A beau? Oh, god. I groaned. “Mom. That was a year ago. And he’s now across the country, remember?”
“Oh,
well. I always thought he was nice.”
Nice. Mike had been the quintessential college slob, the sex wasn’t all that great, and he’d moved to Alaska after graduation. Not to mention, meeting Cameron had completely honed my perspective of what a real man should be. Now, Mike was the very equivalent of chopped liver. I doubted I’d even look at someone like him now. Not that I could tell that to my mother. “He was fine,” I admitted. “But we didn’t work out. Anyway, I’ve been going out a little. I went out with Kiera last week for dinner.”
“Oh, good! How’s that assignment you’re doing? For her dad?”
I climbed out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror. I could have easily used an extra ten hours of sleep. I looked haggard, my skin jaundiced and sickly. “Oh. It’s going. Um. Just fine.”
“FBI, here you come, right?” Of course, she’d always wanted me to follow in her footsteps, but she’d been so proud of my dream too. Any dream that allowed me to help repair injustices, she thought worthwhile. “I’m sure you’re finding loads on that man. He’s such a snake, that boy. Makes me utterly sick, just looking at him and his simpering smile on the television set. I want to punch him. You must know the feeling. Hopefully, you haven’t acted on it yet though.”
I sucked in a breath, thinking of the sinful feelings I had acted on. “I—” I started, not knowing where this was headed. I’d probably have given her convulsions if she’d seen me at that sex club. But at the sex club with Cameron Brice? I’d always had a close relationship with my parents, but if one thing would cause me to be disowned, that was it. “I’ve met him. He’s not horrible.”
“Tell that to the toads,” she said, sounding disgusted.
“Actually,” I said, launching into the same speech Cameron had given me, but sounding a whole lot more rambly. “The plot of land for the development will not affect the toads. The builder hired a conservationist to ensure the toads were safe. And—”
“That’s political doubletalk meant to confuse you,” my mother said in her normal didactic way. “The conservationist is clearly on the dole. Simply building in that area, bringing large diggers and construction equipment in, will jeopardize the swampland. Independent experts have confirmed that.”