“I have to finish this,” Jameson mumbled. He sat at a table in the suite’s dining room with stacks of policy books spread out in front of him. I even saw a copy of The Art of War hidden under piles of papers. I wondered what Sun Tzu had to say about presidential campaigns.
“Fine,” I huffed, rolling my eyes. I grabbed my small clutch purse from a nearby end table and left the suite. If Jameson didn’t want to take advantage of the fine dining and even finer desserts, that was his choice.
I wandered around the casino floor, its cacophony of ringing bells and flashing lights filling all my senses. Slot machines tempted me, alluring me with their jackpots or pop culture gimmicks, but my money stayed firmly in my wallet.
I approached probably one of the fanciest and most expensive restaurants in the city and politely requested a table for one. The restaurant had a patio that overlooked the cascading fountains dominating the front of the casino.
“Can I sit out there, please?” I requested, pointing toward open patio.
“Of course, Ms. Washington.” I was still getting used to people recognizing me and using my name.
I followed the hostess toward a small table at the edge of the patio. It had a fantastic view of the fountains. I scanned the menu, but nothing tempted me. Or rather, nothing tempted my sweet tooth.
“What are you drinking tonight?” a waiter asked.
“I’ll have a glass of rosé,” I replied. “And could I have the dessert menu?”
The waiter nodded at my request, disappeared, and returned rather quickly with a new menu. I held up a finger, indicating that he should wait. It wouldn’t take me long to figure out which dessert to pick.
“I’ll have the devil’s food cake with strawberries.”
“Excellent choice,” the waiter replied before vanishing again.
I sat quietly, admiring the fountains which entertained the tourists with their choreographed dance show. Tonight’s show featured a number set to a classic rock song by the band Queen. Must have known I was coming.
“Can I join you?” Jameson’s familiar baritone filled the air, sending goose bumps shivering across my bare shoulder.
I nodded my approval and watched as Jameson moved gracefully around the table to sit across from me.
“I’m scared they’re going to pick Garcia,” he said plainly.
“I’m worried about that too, Jameson.”
“I feel like I have to work twice as hard now to prepare for the rest of this campaign. I feel everything slipping away from me.”
I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in my grip. “Jameson, we don’t work if you shut me out. You have to let me do some of the hard work too.”
“Can you blame me for wanting to protect you?” His eyes flicked to my bare shoulder. The thick strap of my dress covered most of the scar, but little pink spider webs still crept out from beneath the fabric. Jameson’s eyes finally met mine, and the look he gave me nearly ripped me in two. This campaign nearly cost us everything, but I was even more determined to win now.
“No, I don’t blame you, but you know that’s not what I want, Jameson. I want to stand next to you, not behind you.”
“Then what do we do?”
I grinned because this is what I craved—equality, partnership. Over the next hour, we talked extensively about Elias Garcia and his brand of centrist politics. We shared devil’s food cake while I played devil’s advocate. Jameson needed to be pushed, and between glasses of rosé, I challenged him.
The restaurant emptied, leaving just us and a few other reticent diners. Who could blame us for not wanting to leave? The restaurant provided us with a secluded, intimate location among the glittering lights of the Las Vegas Strip and the cool breeze of the fountains.
“You seem more relaxed,” I noted. Jameson’s posture was less rigid and his face a bit softer.
“I needed this. I need you.” His eyes darkened to the color of the ocean, and a heat flared to life within them.
I stood and held my hand out to him. “Of course, you do.”
Jameson
After our late-night dessert and strategy session, we returned to our suite. As soon as she stepped foot in the foyer, I pinned her against the wall and devoured her with a searing kiss. My hand grazed the front of her body, caressing the fullness of her breasts until I stopped at the hem of her skirt. My fingers trembled like a nervous teenager as I lifted it and snuck my hand underneath, grazing the front of her lace panties. Georgie was practically dripping.
“I love that I can make you feel this way,” I whispered against her cheek. She tilted her head back slightly, and a low moan escaped her lips when I pressed my fingers firmly against her.
Georgie’s arms wrapped tightly around my neck as she pressed herself against me. My fingers hooked around the waistband of her panties and tugged them until they ripped. The scrap of peach lace fluttered to the floor.
“Jameson,” Georgie gasped.
Without warning, I plunged two fingers into her. She gasped in shock and I sucked in a deep breath. She felt incredible in my hand, a delicious scorching heat that I couldn’t ignore. She writhed against me and I obliged her with short thrusts of my own.
“I want to own every inch of you,” I growled. “And I want you to own every inch of me.”
Something feral in me took over. Georgie gasped as I fucked her with my fingers, buried deep inside the soaking core of her body. She trembled against me, the first sign of her impending orgasm. I groaned, knowing I was close to what I wanted. She latched onto my wrist, holding it in place while my fingers continued their assault. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her breaths turned into short pants.
I held her against the wall, her body trapped while she clawed at my back. I could feel her nails dig into me through the fabric of my shirt. My pursuit of her orgasm was relentless until I had it. Until her screams filled the suite’s foyer and she shuddered, as wave after wave consumed her.
Gently, I extracted my fingers and Georgie slumped against the wall, her body a sweaty, sagging mess. She looked up at me with glassy eyes, and I grinned back at her with satisfaction. I lifted my hand to my mouth and sucked her juices from my fingers. Her eyes widened at the boldness of my act.
“It’s time to take this to the bedroom,” I announced.
“No.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“What did you say?”
“No,” she said more firmly. Her shaking fingers latched onto my belt buckle, and she began to work the leather through the strap. My dick was pressed painfully against the fly of my trousers, and her actions made me eager.
“Tell me what you want.”
Georgie sank to her knees and laid her hands flat on her thighs. She looked up at me, her expression submissive, and her green eyes wide with desire. “I want to please you.”
I ran the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip, opening her mouth just wide enough to slip it inside. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked greedily. My cock hardened and throbbed, waiting for the moment when her lips wrapped around it. I fisted it tightly in my other hand to try to regain some sense of calm while she feasted on my thumb.
When I couldn’t wait a moment longer, I slid my thumb out with a pop and quickly replaced it with what we both craved. I rubbed the tip of my cock along her lips before she opened wide and I plunged inside the warm wetness of her mouth. I used my hands to brace myself against the wall and looked down at the magnificent sight of Georgie’s lips wrapped around my cock.
“Fuck,” I hissed as she took me deeper into her mouth. I banged a fist against the wall because this felt surreal. I didn’t deserve the woman on her knees worshipping my cock with her mouth. I didn’t deserve her love, or anything else she was offering me, but I took it anyway. She made me a man, and I felt like a king when I looked down to see her green eyes filled with wanton desire.
The familiar tightness in my balls let me know I was close. I didn’t want to finish in her mouth. I wan
ted this to last the rest of the night. I stood back slightly and caressed her cheek. She stopped long enough for me to pull back and looked up at me with confusion.
“That’s not how this is going to end, Georgie. Go to the bedroom and strip. I want you lying on the bed, open for me.”
I watched as she slowly got to her feet, then walked away from me, her ass swaying deliciously beneath her skirt. I needed a moment to regain my composure because this dominant man was foreign to me. I always felt a certain level of possessiveness over Georgie, but it intensified after her attack. The urge to lock her up and keep her safe, and control her, would drive a wedge between us, and that’s who I had to tame. Georgie would only allow me to a certain amount of power before she demanded equality.
It was only a moment’s separation, but when I entered the bedroom, I stopped at the threshold, in awe of the gorgeous woman who stood nearly nude at the foot of the bed. Her panties lay in a heap in the foyer, her skirt and blouse now carefully strewn across a stool. She turned to face me just as her bra slipped down her arms. I quickly removed my own clothing, eager to regain our intimate connection.
“Lie back,” I ordered. I approached the bed as Georgie fell back against the mattress, her legs slightly spread. I placed my hands on her thighs and opened her wider. I pressed one knee on the bed and bent forward, inhaling her sweet, musky scent. Instantly, my mouth watered. The sampling I’d had moments ago wasn’t enough; I needed to taste more. I ran my tongue up the length of her. She shivered and whimpered, still sensitive from our little foyer fuck. I nibbled and nipped at her inner thighs between feasting on her pussy. Her fingers delved into my hair as I devoured every inch of her core. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge, to have her body bucking beneath mine.
But I wanted everything from her tonight. I didn’t want her to hold back. So I denied her. I pulled away before she could topple over.
“JAMESON!”
I chuckled. She’d forgive me in a moment.
Kneeling between her spread legs, I commanded her to open her eyes and look at me. “How do you want it, Georgie?”
“Jameson, I don’t want to talk. Please,” she begged.
“Tell me what you want, Georgie, or that’s all you’re going to get.”
She growled in frustration, running her hands through her hair. “Oh my God, Jameson, when did you become such an alpha asshole?”
I leaned over her, my face centimeters from hers. “The moment you were almost taken away from me. Now, tell me what you want, Georgie.”
She swallowed and understanding filled her eyes. “I want you to fuck me,” she whispered.
I sat back on my heels and fisted my cock, stroking it from root to tip, before I dived right in.
I buried myself deeply inside her and then stopped. We rested together, our bodies connected so perfectly that it was hard to tell where I started and she ended. Her hands caressed my cheeks and then lightly skimmed down the column of my throat to my chest. But she didn’t want me to make love to her, not yet. She wanted me to fuck her. Resting wasn’t for the wicked, and tonight, I wanted to be downright evil.
I pulled out slowly, until just the tip of my cock was inside, and then I slammed back inside. Over and over, I punished her with each thrust. My hands pinned her hips to the mattress, and I used her body as leverage to propel myself deeper inside until I heard her whimpers.
“No one will ever take you from me,” I growled through clenched teeth. Sweat poured from every inch of me and dripped on her body until we were both slick with perspiration. Panting, I stopped, my body covering hers completely. I wedged a hand between our two bodies and down between her legs where we connected. I stroked her clit, alternating the pressure between rough and soft.
Animalistic. Primal. Feral. I didn’t recognize the man who was currently fucking the gorgeous woman spread out beneath him. He was a dominant asshole. We made love frequently—sometimes fairly rough—but this? This was different. Emotions bottled deep inside me bubbled to the surface. She could be taken from me, and that would never happen as long as I was alive. I fucked her with my fear.
“Jameson, come back to me,” Georgie breathed out, her hands groping at my face. Shaking my head, I focused on her flushed cheeks and full pout.
“Do you understand me? No one will ever take you from me.”
“Yes, Jameson.” She nodded her head, sending ripples of honey across the stark white sheet. “I’m yours. Completely.”
I gritted my teeth and resumed my pace. I needed release; we needed release. Georgie arched her back and wrapped herself around me tightly. Her body shuddered beneath mine as we both toppled over the edge into the oblivion of bliss.
“I’m yours too,” I whispered across her skin. “Every inch of me belongs to you.”
Georgie
An unsettling feeling deep in the pit of my stomach churned to life, and I stirred awake to find myself alone in bed. I sat up, holding the top sheet up to my naked chest, and blinked the sleep away. Jameson sat at the desk in the suite’s bedroom, his head cradled in his hands. The room was still dark, but I could see night beginning to lose its battle with day through the drapery. I looked back at Jameson, his posture broadcasting defeat, and I knew. The Republicans picked their man. They chose Elias Garcia.
Swinging my legs to the side, I planted my feet and wrapped myself in the sheet. I padded over to where Jameson sat and placed a comforting arm across his back. He sucked in a sharp breath and then swiveled in the chair, his head still hung low. He gripped my hips firmly and placed his head against my stomach.
“I just want to be president. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and now, I feel like it’s slipping away.” He didn’t mean to offend me, and I tried not to take exception to what he said because I knew how he felt about being president. He desired it enough to seek out a woman to pretend to be his fiancée. I still hoped he wanted me just as badly as the White House, though.
I ran my fingers through his inky black hair and then down to his shoulders, where I rested my hands. “You will be, Jameson.”
“How do you know?”
“What is that thing Lewis and Jenkins are constantly reminding us about? Most voters have already made up their minds. You’re just battling it out for the Independents. And that’s why we’re here, in Nevada. That’s why we’ve never stopped campaigning. So we earn every single vote.”
Jameson sat back and looked up at me with smoldering blue eyes. “I love you so fucking much, Georgie.”
“We can beat him. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” I placed reverent kisses on both of his cheeks before brushing his lips lightly with my own.
We returned to bed and curled around each other, watching the hotel suite fill with sunlight. We waited until the last possible moment to climb out of bed and get ready to leave. It was time to leave Nevada and head to the Midwest.
Jameson made great progress during the few campaign stops we made, talking to college students and immigrants. I played the observer during this trip, watching the crowd and gauging their reaction to the pledges he made them. Did they believe him? I wanted to ask them myself, but new fears and anxiety had me thinking twice.
Before Memphis, I wouldn’t hesitate to go out into the crowd and talk to them. I wouldn’t even blink an eye at the Secret Service hovering because the voter was the only thing that mattered. After Memphis, I hesitated to get lost in the crowd and talk with them. My assigned agents were always close, ready to reach out and grab me when the anxiety of being in a crowd would seep between the cracks of my armor and settle. The desire to hear the stories of voters gave me strength, though; I needed to hear what they had to say now. They shared their concerns with me, and I was cognizant of the awesome power they were placing on Jameson’s shoulders. These people, whose lives were vastly different from ours, believed him when he promised them they could stay and build their lives here.
In the Midwest, Jameson would once again offer himself up to
the masses. Our first stop was Minnesota, where DeWayne and Avon would meet us. The plan was to divide and conquer—Avon and I were scheduled to speak at separate events. But that no longer seemed like the right thing to do.
We had ten days. A week to fly through these scheduled campaign events, and then the third and final debate. After the debate, America only had a few days to make up their minds before Election Day. Ten. Days. So much could happen in such a short amount of time.
“Cancel all my events,” I blurted out. Jameson and I sat in the back of an armored SUV with heavily tinted, bulletproof windows. Security became even tighter after the shooting.
“What?” Jameson’s mind was clearly somewhere else. He looked at me with a furrowed brow.
“I want you to call Sean and cancel all my events. We need to stick together.”
“But we have so much ground to cover.”
“That doesn’t matter, Jameson.” It was difficult for me to explain how I felt. I couldn’t just say “woman’s intuition” and leave it at that. “The Republicans want us to split up. They want me to be alone and vulnerable. But if we’ve learned anything during these past few months, it’s that we’re stronger when we’re together. This is when you need to call in every single favor and get your surrogates out there spreading your message. America needs to see that we’re completely united. We might be engaged, but there’s still a chance our relationship might end.”
Jameson shot me a pointed look that said, “Don’t you ever say something like that again.” I held up my hands in surrender.
“We’re not married. There might be some voters who are cautious about voting for a man who was desperate enough to hire a fiancée.” A low growl escaped Jameson’s lips, and I chuckled. “It’ll be a fantastic story to tell our children one day, but you have to admit, you didn’t think everything through before you agreed to that plan.”
It was almost comical to imagine the five of them—Jameson, Sean, DeWayne, Lewis and Jenkins—sitting around a table in a dark office, beating their chests like a bunch of cavemen over this plan. Only a group of men would fail to see all the flaws in the original arrangement, and even I had to admit that my feelings for Jameson blinded me to some of our plan’s weaknesses.
Capitol Promises (The Presidential Promises Duet ) Page 3