He starts asking me questions about the changeover process, Inauguration Day, and more. I pull a chair over from the table and stretch my legs out, more interested in watching him than anything else.
I have a thought and take out my work phone so I can make a note. “We’ll need to get you a phone.”
“Oh, I have my own phone.” He adorably holds his up.
Yes, I know. That word.
Shoot me. “You need an official phone. A work phone. Trust me, you don’t want everyone having your private number. Plus, there’s the issue of, once the senator’s sworn in, doing government work on a private phone.”
“Oh. Is that a worry?”
“Yeah.” I look up from my phone. “Don’t worry—the campaign will pay for it. I’ll arrange it with our IT staff.” In fact, I shoot the head of our IT staff a text right then, so I don’t waste any time tomorrow.
I then also make sure I have his number stored in my contacts, and that he has both of mine, personal and work cells.
I’m keeping an eye on the time but I’m having fun chatting with him. He’s brilliant, even if he’s a total newbie when it comes to politics. He doesn’t need to know a damn thing about politics, because that’s not what he’s been hired to do.
A little before eleven, I pull out my burner phone and text Elliot. It’s our nightly ritual when we can’t be together.
Meaning it’s what I do nearly every night.
Good night, pet. Love you. See you tomorrow.
I’m evil and sadistic but I’m not soulless. I want Elliot to know I’m thinking about him.
Tonight, he immediately texts me back, like he was waiting for me to text.
Love you, too, Master. Miss you.
Well, that’s new. The miss you.
Usually, I only get that when it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other in person.
Hmm.
I opt to press my luck and go fishing.
Miss you, too, pet. Do you want me to come by?
I’m willing to bend my own rule if it finally means a long-overdue breakthrough with this situation. I’m not trying to be rude to Jordan. I’m listening to him, and I think we’re now talking about the place he was interning at, while I’m watching the burner phone’s screen for Elliot’s reply.
Which arrives seconds later.
I don’t want to make you come back out tonight.
That’s not a no. Meaning Elliot’s changed his mind. Either because he’s lonely, or jealous, or both.
Here’s where it might get sticky.
Or, it might jostle Elliot’s fear out of its socket and allow something else to flow in.
I’m not home yet. I can stop by. Just ask me, pet. I don’t have to spend the night.
Please, let him ask me. I’ll want to smack myself if he turns me down, because that’s why I usually don’t ask.
Well-touched stoves, and all that bullshit.
From the length of time it takes him to reply, at least I feel reasonably certain he did think about it for a while.
Please, Master.
I suck in a sharp breath and struggle not to do a damn touchdown dance right there in Jordan’s hotel room.
On my way. Tell detail to expect me.
In that one small way, he’ll be slightly responsible for this meeting tonight. It’s not too much to ask him to send a text to the head of his detail, or to open his damn front door and give the message to the agent standing right outside.
I slide my phone into my pocket and reorient myself to the conversation. Fortunately, Jordan takes that moment to let out a huge yawn, giving me the perfect opening.
“You’ve had a really long day.” I stand. “How about I come pick you up in the morning and take you out to breakfast before we go to the office? Then we can talk some more.”
He’d taken off his glasses and was rubbing his eyes. When he looks up at me and blinks, there’s something sweetly vulnerable about him. It takes everything I have not to lean in and kiss the adorable guy.
“Sure. I’d love that. What time?”
“I’ll be here by eight. Let you sleep in a little your second day here.” I smile. “Don’t get too used to it. We’ll be on a crazy schedule soon enough.”
He laughs. “I still think I’m dreaming. I can’t believe I’m working for the president-elect.”
“Well, believe it.” I reach for my coat.
“Thank you, Leo. For everything today. I really appreciate it. You must think I’m a pain in the ass.”
I pull up short and turn to him. That reminds me too much of Elliot, and it’s something I want to nip in the bud right now. I want him to have confidence in himself.
“I don’t think that at all. You’ve never been to DC before, much less dealt with the federal government like this. This is like being dropped into an alternate universe. I think you’re doing remarkably well, all things considered.”
“That’s very kind of you.” He seats his glasses back on his face and I melt a little. He wears a vulnerable air that makes me want to scoop him into my arms and keep him close and safe.
We’ve already seen where those kinds of feelings have gotten me, right?
“You’ll be kicking butt and taking names soon enough,” I add. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.” That’s absolutely the truth.
He smiles again and I have to will my hard cock to knock it the hell off. “Thanks, Leo.”
He sees me out and I break into a jog as I head for the elevator. I want to get to Elliot’s before he has time to change his mind on me.
I strongly suspect if it wasn’t for Jordan’s presence, he wouldn’t have asked me to come over tonight.
Hey, whatever it fucking takes. I’m not proud.
I mean, isn’t that obvious? I’ve been circling Elliot Woodley for how many years now?
Pride is obviously not a factor.
Fortunately, there’s a small store in the lobby that’s open and has a couple of items I’ll want to have with me. Twenty minutes later, I’m making my way through security at Elliot’s building. Secret Service isn’t happy about his building—and Elliot’s neighbors aren’t happy about the Secret Service presence. There are discussions about moving him to a hotel, or Blair House, for the duration.
To move him to Blair House, though, means President Fullmer needs to approve it, and they’re thinking he’s a little…raw right now. They’re going to give him a few more days, at least, before the Secret Service director puts in the request. It’s customary for the incoming POTUS and VP and their families to spend a couple of days there ahead of the inauguration but that’s still two months off.
They’ll probably approach Fullmer the deficit hawk from the angle that it’ll save the taxpayers money, because infrastructure’s already in place to keep Blair House secure, meaning it’ll make him look good. A last bit of positive PR for him to go out on when it’s likely he’ll get slammed for whatever fricking pardons he scribbles out at the last minute.
And Fullmer is a vain fuck, even this many years later from when I worked with him. Good PR that costs him nothing is good bait to motivate him.
I’d love a chance to tell him to go fuck himself to his face, but I doubt that’ll happen. I sincerely doubt he’d even know who I was.
It’s not worth it to raise a stink.
One good fuck-you to the super is that Secret Service overrode the building’s policy on the elevator, and now we can use it freely.
That might have been my suggestion, but Secret Service does not comment on procedure.
Lucky for me.
I move the items from my computer bag into my pockets during the ride up. I know the agents stationed by the elevator on Elliot’s floor and pause to chat with them for a moment, because it’d look weird if I didn’t.
“Working late tonight?” one of them asks before I turn to head toward his apartment.
I glance back. “Senator Samuels is a taskmaster. She reworked our whole weekend agend
a after he left. I told her I’d get him caught up before I go home.” I smile and shrug. “What are you going to do? I love my job.”
They all laugh, because they know Shae’s rep. It’s rightfully earned.
They also know how much I hated not being able to return to The Shift.
I walk down the hall and knock on his door, nodding to the agent on duty there.
I know him, too.
I know many of these guys. They’re coming up a little long in the tooth but they’re good.
The best.
The Shift.
Elliot opens the door, his Vice President Woodley mask in place. “Leo, hi.” He shakes with me.
“Good evening, Congressman Woodley.”
“Come in. Thanks for coming over so late. I appreciate it.” I know what he’s doing, setting up the act. Making it look real.
I step inside and when he turns to close and lock the door, I’m already setting my bag down. When he turns back to me, I catch him by the front of his throat and shove him against the wall so I can kiss him.
He’s wearing his glasses and I don’t even care that I smudge them as I crush his lips under mine. When I press my body along his, I feel his cock’s hard.
He starts to reach for me. I grab his hand and pin it to the wall with my free hand. I wish he still had his tie on but he’s in a T-shirt and sweats and fuck, that sure makes life easier.
“Who’s my good pet?” I whisper against his lips.
He’s already halfway to subspace. “Me, Master,” he practically moans.
I fist the front of his T-shirt and head toward his bedroom with Elliot scrambling to follow or be dragged. I close the bedroom door behind us and, still leading him by his shirt, I grab the remote for his bedroom TV from his nightstand, turn the TV on, and turn the volume up. Then I shove him onto the bed, hard enough he bounces.
Need tinged with jealousy burns in his eyes as he sits up and watches me kick off my shoes and remove my coat, dropping it to the floor, followed by my blazer. He yanks his T-shirt off over his head, and then we’re stripping fast and furiously.
This’ll be fun.
He finally remembers his glasses after he knocks them askance and they get tossed onto the nightstand. While he’s pulling Duck off, I grab the lube and strip of condoms from my pocket and drop them next to his glasses before I go after him without further preamble.
Tonight, he’s fighting me hard, like his life depends on it. Like he doesn’t have to whisper one word to make me stop.
Like he needs to be beaten and broken, and perhaps he does.
Giving up and giving in is never easy for him. I think, in some ways, he feels like he doesn’t deserve to have anything easy.
I only wish I knew the true reasons why.
We fight, and it doesn’t take me long to pin him several times. Each time I do, I bite him somewhere, the fifth time right along the sit line between his right thigh and ass cheek.
That one does break skin but tonight I still don’t stop.
Because he doesn’t want me to.
He’ll damn sure be thinking of me tomorrow morning, every time he sits down.
After what has to be at least the fifteenth pin, I’ve got him bent over the edge of the bed with his left arm wrenched high along his back. I use my knees to pry his thighs apart and, yeah, I’m hard. I know he is, too, because his cock’s slapped against me a few times already.
I wet my right middle finger and spear him between his asscheeks, making him gasp and whine. It’s not lube, and it’s probably not comfortable. It also takes the fight out of him. A whispered plea crosses his lips.
“Please, Master!”
I don’t release him.
Because that’s not what he’s asking for.
One-handed, I grab the lube, roughly do what I need to do to prep him with two fingers, wipe my hand on the sheet, and then use my teeth to rip one of the condom pouches open.
After I sheath myself, he grunts and shoves back against me when he feels the head of my cock pressing for entrance. Now I can release his arm and hold on to his hips and pound him hard and fast.
This is part of our intricate dance.
What do I wish would happen?
That I could have come here earlier tonight, made love to him, held him, and fallen asleep next to him.
Instead, he’ll wake up alone and sore and hopefully smiling as he examines every mark in the mirror and presses on them with his fingers to feel the echoes of pain.
This is my pet, my boy.
Mine.
I grab a fistful of hair and wrench his head back so I can kiss him again. Thank god we don’t have to go anywhere right now, because we’ll both have swollen lips and red cheeks from kissing and our stubble rasping against each other like sandpaper.
Tonight, I don’t wait for him. Tonight I use him, because it’s what he wants and needs. Even though he’s squirming under me, fucking back against me with every thrust, meeting me stroke for stroke.
Just before my pleasure crests and burst, it’s Jordan’s face that floats into my mind, his sleepy yawn, his sweet eyes, his innocence.
I hate myself a little.
More than a little.
I hate that Elliot can’t simply own us.
I hate feeling like I’m an afterthought in his life until he needs me to be his strength.
I hate that I’m hating all of that, this messy, rumpled, imperfect storm that constantly swirls around us like the Great Red Spot on Jupiter.
Perpetual.
With one last, deep thrust, a grunt escapes me and I fall still inside him and fill the condom. We’re both catching our breath now.
I pull out. “Stay.” I go clean up and return to find him exactly where I left him, his fists tightly clenching the covers. I retrieve my phone from my coat and add it to the nightstand.
Roughly, I roll him over and shove his legs up and back and go down on him. Yep, still hard. And as I look up his body, I see those blue eyes staring down at me, the undone pleasure filling his face as I finish scrambling what little’s left of his brain.
I know he hasn’t come in a week, because he’s under orders not to.
Not without me.
Not without me doing it, or while he’s on the phone with me and I’m giving him instructions.
It’s all I have with him and it’s something I refuse to give up.
That’s why it only takes me a minute to literally suck it out of him, his sharp, tangy taste filling my senses as he gives himself to me and finally falls still.
I stand and scoop him into my arms, turn him lengthways on the bed, and crawl in with him. I already set my phone alarm during the cab ride over.
“One,” I tell him. “I’m staying until one.” I pull him into my arms, position him where I want him, and he doesn’t argue as I twine us together and draw the sheet over us.
He doesn’t argue. “I love you, Master.” He sounds come-drunk and sated.
Now I can nuzzle his hair and deeply inhale his sweet, warm scent. “Love you, too, baby.”
This is what I need.
Him.
I need him.
I close my eyes and think he’s asleep when he speaks. “He’s cute.”
I already know but I play dumb. “Who?”
“Jordan.” A long pause. “The glasses and everything. He’s cute.”
Elliot’s not dumb. He knows I have a type. Not so much a physical type as an intellectual and emotional one: vulnerable and sweet, smart, self-effacing.
“He’s nice, he’s too damned young, and he’s only here for a few weeks.”
“So you already know he’s gay, right?”
I cup his chin and force him to look up so I can slant my lips over his. “Shut up, baby.”
But he’s staring into my eyes. “Did you speak French when you took him there?”
“When I called Pete to ask for a table. And when I ordered for us.”
Finally, he smiles. “Show off.”
>
“Oui.”
His smile fades. “He’s a babe in the woods. A lamb among lions, Leo.”
“He’s an innocent.” I nuzzle my nose against his. “He’ll stay that way. I have one boy who keeps me on my toes. I damn sure don’t need one half my age. What would he want with an old geezer like me?”
“He thinks you’re hot. I saw how he looked at you.”
“Don’t worry, pet. Your territory’s safe.” I kiss him again to distract him, because, like my sister, sometimes he’s as opaque as a glass of spring water. “Go the fuck to sleep, baby.”
I want him to go to sleep. If he can go to sleep with me here, there’s a damned good chance he won’t have a nightmare tonight. Especially after the play and orgasm.
I want to take a nap with him in my arms. If I can’t spend the night, I want what I can get. I need more but I make do.
Elliot needs me.
I’m starting to drift when he speaks again. “Why do you put up with me?”
I wish I had the power to reach inside his soul, rip out the festering seed that I haven’t been able to help eradicate, and allow him to heal once and for all. “Because I love you, Mister Vice President.”
He sighs and snuggles a little closer and finally goes to sleep in my arms.
Why do I put up with him?
Because I can’t imagine not having him in my life.
Because I love him.
Because he needs me, and I’m terrified what would happen to him if he didn’t have me.
Because I damn well know there are others out there who’d scoop him up and use him in bad ways without a thought to how it would destroy him.
Because he’s also an innocent, in his own way.
Because unless he orders me to leave, I know I can never walk away from him.
Because he’s the center of my universe.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 25