Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  “Yes.” It’s not even hard for me to admit it. I am stubborn as hell everywhere else, but in the bedroom, he owns me.

  “Good girl.” His pants come down, followed by his boxers, and finally I get a look at the rock-hard cock I’ve been fantasizing about.

  “You look hungry, Reagan.” He gives me a look of mock confusion. “You want me to go make you a sandwich or something?”

  “Fuck you,” I mumble.

  He grins and sits down on the end of our bed, so we’re face-to-face but several feet apart.

  “Maybe,” he says, wrapping a large palm around his erection. “Or maybe I’ll just get myself off while you watch.”

  His groan is long and deep as he strokes up and down his dick two times. My heart hammers and my core floods with heat as I watch him.

  “No. Jude…no.”

  “I haven’t touched it once other than when I took a piss since I left here,” he says. “I promised you I’d wait till I got back, and…I’m back, right?”

  My chest rises and falls as I breathe hard from the sight of him touching what’s mine. Doing what I’ve been dying to do since the first night he was gone.

  “What can I do?” My voice is high and desperate. “I’ll do anything, Jude, just please stop. Please.”

  His smile is almost feral as he takes his hand away and stands up. “That’s what I like to hear. Complete compliance from my little tiger.”

  He knows I hate it when he calls me that, but damned if letting it pass without muttering an objection doesn’t turn me on. I’m done playing. I need to get off.

  “I missed you so much,” he says, closing the distance between us and bending to kiss me.

  He’s slow and tender, his lips and tongue taking their time getting reacquainted with mine. As soon as he pulls away, I moan with disappointment.

  “I missed you too.”

  “I can tell you were a good girl while I was gone.” He sets a palm on my inner thigh, and I suck in a breath. “Going to bed with a wet pussy every night because I told you to.”

  “Yes,” I breathe. “I did.”

  He traces his fingers up my thigh, and when he slides two of them inside me, I let out a cry of relief and pleasure.

  “Fuck, baby,” he mutters. “Look how wet you are. You need this, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He kisses my neck, his lips finding the spot beneath my ear that drives me wild. Jude is the only man who has ever known my body like this. He catalogues every inch of me, his goal to make every time better than the last. I’m pretty damn lucky he’s mine.

  I move my hips in time with his fingers, and when his fingertips glide over my clit, I moan with abandon.

  I’m so close already. I was on the edge before he even touched me. He pulls his face from my neck and watches my expression as I come so hard I practically scream. Tears are welling in my eyes from the intensity of it as I come down from the high, panting.

  “So fucking hot,” my husband says, kissing me softly. “I was fantasizing about that the whole flight home. Watching you come like that.”

  I feel like I could melt into a puddle of sated satisfaction. I return his kiss, and he cups my face in one hand. Then he bends down to untie my ankles from the chest of drawers.

  “Want me to make dinner now, love?” I ask.

  He turns his intense expression up toward me. “Good one. As soon as these are off, you’re bending your ass over that bed. And don’t expect me to untie your hands until I’m done with you.”

  And just like that, my relaxation unravels and I’m completely turned on again. My husband is finally home. And damn, did I miss him.

  2

  Jude

  “You still haven’t told me about your trip,” Reagan says before slurping her first sip of coffee.

  I continue reading, ignoring Reagan as she stands on the other side of the kitchen island. Even after five years of marriage, talking politics with my wife causes more headaches than anything. The make-up sex afterward is always off the charts, but the days of agony and anger aren’t worth the continual strain on our relationship.

  When I don’t answer right away, she curls her fingers over the top of the newspaper and pushes down. “Hey.”

  I peer up, taking in her messy hair and mascara smudged under her eyes. She’s still as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on her. “Hey,” I say, still trying to avoid anything that’s going to spoil the good mood.

  She tilts her head, narrows her eyes, and slides her coffee mug onto the counter. “I’m not asking as your opponent or campaign manager, I’m asking as your wife.”

  A small smile plays across my lips as I set the newspaper down on the cold granite counter. “You can’t separate the two, love.”

  She leans over the counter, letting my button-down dress shirt fall open and exposing her breasts as she starts to play dirty. “Baby,” she says sweetly, trying to manipulate me. “You know that’s not true. I just want to know about my husband’s trip.” She strokes her fingers down her chest, letting the tips disappear between her cleavage as my eyes follow. “You weren’t very talkative while you were gone. Is there something I should be concerned about?”

  I shake my head, eyes locked on her fabulous tits and wonder if I can distract her with my cock instead of my long itinerary. “What would you have to be concerned about?”

  She traces the swell of her breasts, taunting me more. “Maybe you were with another woman.”

  My gaze snaps to hers as anger zips through my veins. “Don’t be foolish,” I hiss and slide off the stool, stalking around the counter toward her. She turns as soon as I’m behind her and places her hand on my chest as I cage her in. “There’s no one else I want more than you, Reagan. Don’t play head games with me when I don’t want to discuss work.”

  She curls her fingers until her fingernails bite into my skin. “I’m not playing games, Jude.”

  I grab Reagan’s wrists, peeling her hands away from my chest, but I don’t let go. “You know exactly what it’s like when you’re campaigning. There’s no time to even sleep, let alone have an affair. None of this would be an issue if you would’ve just come along with me as I asked.”

  She grunts, trying to pull her wrists away from my grip. “You know I can’t leave my job. I might not be running for governor, but my work is no less important.”

  I move her hands around her back, bringing my face closer to hers. “I never said it was, sweetheart.”

  She twists her lips in anger. She hates when I call her sweetheart. “Jude,” she hisses, pushing her chest against mine as she wiggles in my hold. “Let go of me.”

  “No,” I tell her as I slide my lips along her jaw, moving toward her mouth. “You’re mine. You’re angry for no reason, and I’m not letting you go until we sort this shit out.”

  “I…” She doesn’t get another word out before I cover her mouth with mine, sealing whatever she was going to say inside. Her body sways forward, melting into me as my tongue sweeps inside and tangles with hers.

  Reagan presses her breasts against my chest and rubs her thigh against my dick as she moans. My dick hardens, even though I know she’s playing a game, I can’t stop my reaction. Three weeks away from Reagan was almost unbearable, and just when I was about to hit my breaking point, I came home.

  She whimpers as my mouth leaves her and drifts to her throat, licking the softness where her rapid pulse beats underneath. I release her hands, setting my palms on her hips and tightening my hold. Hunger builds inside me, gnawing at my insides as everything around us seems to disappear. I’m consumed with my wife…with the feel of her body, the smell of her skin, her ragged breathing as I grind my cock against her.

  I think the issue’s dropped because she’s just as lost in the moment as I am. Her hands roam my body, groping my ass roughly through my pants. “What are you hiding?” she says with her head tipped back right as I’m about to lick the top of her breasts.

  I pull back, moving my
mouth away from her skin, and peer down at Reagan. “You have five minutes to ask me questions, and then we’re done talking about my trip.” I growl the words as the anger that had started to dissipate returns full force.

  She licks her lips, and the corner of her mouth turns upward. “Okay, well…”

  I close my eyes, holding back a growl because she always does this shit to me. “Time’s tickin’.”

  “Who did you meet with yesterday? It wasn’t on your itinerary, and I couldn’t reach you when I called.”

  “That’s what this is all about?” I raise an eyebrow, still stalling because she’s asking about the one person I don’t want to discuss with her.

  “Yes.” She raises her chin.

  I rub the tension out of the back of my neck, and my raging hard-on disappears because the battle hasn’t even begun. I know as soon as I say his name, she’s going to go from agitated to pissed off in a heartbeat. There’s no reason to keep stalling. Reagan will find out one way or another once my campaign donors become public. Dragging things out will only make the end result that much worse. “I met with Dominic Marino,” I say, ripping off the Band-Aid quickly and readying myself for the blowback.

  She’s quiet for a moment. Her eyes widen as she stares at me, nostrils flaring as her breathing speeds up when the name I just spat soaks in. “You didn’t,” she whispers before stepping away from me and shaking her head. “Of all the dumb shit you’ve done…”

  My head jerks back at her words. “Dumb shit?” I rarely do dumb shit. Maybe when I was younger and didn’t have so much at stake, I’d dip my toe across the line, looking for trouble. I’m not that guy anymore. As a United States Senator, I can’t risk my entire career or my name on dumb shit, as my lovely wife likes to call my actions.

  “He’s the one person I told you to steer clear of, Jude. What the fuck were you thinking?”

  I lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest as she starts to pace like a caged animal. Keeping my mouth shut, I watch as her arms flail about and she mutters to herself something about me being a fucking idiot, but I let her words slide.

  She spins around on her heels, straightening her arms at her sides. “Say something,” she grinds out with her jaw clenched so tightly only her lips move.

  I stay still, careful not to make any sudden movements because the wild look in her eyes hasn’t disappeared. “I didn’t schedule the dinner, but I had to at least make an appearance.”

  “You should’ve declined. How many times did I tell you…”

  I lift my hand, stopping her from continuing that sentence because there are a few things we need to get straight. “First, I’m your husband, not your employee.”

  She blinks rapidly, and her eyes widen even more, but I start talking before she can.

  “Although I love your input, I do not and will not do as I’m told when it comes to my career.” I shake my head as she opens her mouth. “I let you say your piece about Mr. Marino, but beyond that, it’s my call on whether or not I allow him to contribute to my campaign. When I’m home, I’m home. I don’t want our life to become about work or the campaign. Can you understand all I wanted to do was spend time with my wife and feel like a normal person again?”

  Somehow. I remain calm, not raising my voice for a single word even though I’m so aggravated with my wife and her constant meddling in my career. She treats me like a child, pulling out her daddy card and always explaining to me as if I don’t understand how the seedy part of Chicago politics works.

  Reagan drops her head and lets out a shaky breath. “I do understand, Jude.” She pauses, and I’m hopeful for a moment that the conversation is over. But again, I’m wrong. She raises her head, lifting her chin high, and crosses her arms to match my posture. “But sometimes you need to remember while you were out fighting in a war, I was sitting in my father’s office listening to him cut deals with mobsters.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday.” I run my fingers through my hair and try to keep my voice even. The last thing I want to do is ruin the rest of the time I have left before I have to go back on the road again. “I’ve been in politics long enough to know that if I take his money, I’ll owe him a favor.”

  “You can’t,” she says and takes a step toward me, completely ignoring everything I just said.

  I push off the counter and turn my back to her. I can’t fight with her anymore about this. I can’t jeopardize the entire weekend over something as silly as a single meeting. “I’m done talking about this, Reagan.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks as I grab my keys from the hook near the door.

  “Out,” I grunt with my back to her and my hand on the doorknob.

  “Wait!”

  I hear her footsteps on the tile as the bottom of my shoes touch the landing, but I don’t stop.

  I can’t.

  Fuck. I won’t.

  I love the woman. Hell, I’d lay down my life for hers. I’ve never been crazier about another human being, but lately, we’re like gasoline and fire. The stress of the campaign and the added pressure Reagan continues to put on our marriage by only focusing on my career is weighing me down and killing the dream we gave so much to try to build.

  I stalk down the street, wandering to God knows where. I walk for hours, winding down endless streets in downtown Chicago and ignoring every phone call until I end up at the steps of my old gym.

  When I walk through the door, my old trainer yells, “Jude! What the fuck, man?” and jogs toward me with his hand outstretched. For a moment, I feel normal again. It’s almost like I’m the Marine who just returned from a battle to a warm reception and a kind handshake.

  “So good to see you, Manny.” My smile’s easy as I shake his hand. “Can you fit me in?”

  “Can I fit the future governor of Illinois in?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Don’t be a dick, dude. We always got time for you.”

  “I need a few rounds in the ring. No holds barred.”

  His eyes widen as his hand falls away from mine. “I don’t think…” he says, smashing his hands together in front of him as he glances behind his back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I can go somewhere else,” I tell him with a shrug.

  Manny peers up at me with a wicked smile. “No. No. I’ll just go easy on you. I can’t have that pretty face all messed up for the cameras.” He jabs me playfully in the ribs.

  I laugh at his statement. “I’ll try not to beat you too badly, old man.”

  He straightens at the put-down and puffs out his muscles, trying to make himself look bigger and badder than usual. “Those are fighting words, Titan.”

  “Bring it,” I tell him.

  3

  Reagan

  I don’t pay much attention to what I’m throwing into my suitcase as I pack. Some of the clothes are still in their dry-cleaning bags. I’ll manage a few work outfits out of all this stuff.

  I’m pretty pissed. After three weeks apart, Jude took off on me and won’t answer my calls or texts. I missed him like crazy, playing the role of doting politician’s wife while he campaigned.

  He knows how much I was dreading that fucking interview and photo shoot for a magazine spread about our home life. Even with the cleaning and decorating help his staff hired, I had to make sure everything was just perfect myself. When a photographer is coming into your home, you have to make sure every last thing is on point.

  But I gladly did all of it for him. He’s only home for two days before he hits the campaign trail again, and I’m livid that he fucked me and hardly said two words to me before storming out of here.

  We agreed before we got married that nothing would ever come between us. Not politics, not my father—our marriage comes first.

  But today his fucking ego came first, and I’m not waiting around until he decides to come home.

  I’ve been sidelining my work for months now, focusing on helping Jude instead. And that’s been hard for me, because I’m pass
ionate about my work. I’m the US Congress liaison for the Lancet Foundation, an organization founded two years ago to advocate for bipartisanship.

  Jude and I have become the poster children for crossing party lines to find common ground. As congressional opponents, we should have been enemies. For a while, we kind of were. But I quickly fell for him, seeing that what brought us together was more important than what we disagreed about.

  I didn’t drop out of the race because of our relationship, but rather because the revelation about my father’s secret family made me reevaluate what was really important to me. But I’ve taken lots of hits from women’s groups within the Democratic Party for stepping aside for my man.

  Fuck them. They don’t know me, and they don’t know us.

  I add a couple pairs of heels and my travel makeup bag to the suitcase, zipping it closed. When I pick up my phone, I see a text from Julia, my assistant. She’s booked my flight and arranged for me to be picked up in DC when I arrive late this afternoon.

  I’ve been pushing this trip back for weeks, prioritizing Jude and his campaign. No more.

  After texting Julia back, I send a message to my husband. Going to DC for work.

  My anger starts to subside on the cab ride to the airport. Jude was right for thinking Dominic Marino would cause a blowup between us, but that doesn’t make him right for not telling me about it.

  Dominic Marino buys politicians, plain and simple. He doesn’t care what party they are—I’ve seen people from both sides get in deep with him. He lures them in with his deep pockets and pretense of no-strings friendship, wining and dining them hard. But eventually, he calls in favors, and they’re never legal. He stands for everything Jude and I despise about politics.

  “Where you headin’?” my cab driver asks, brows arched as he looks at me in the rearview mirror.

  “The airport,” I remind him.