Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  My breath catches in my throat as I read the words. He’s coming here. Tonight. Jude Titan isn’t a man who chases or begs, but he swallowed his pride and decided to come here to set things right.

  My lips quirk into a smile as I remember a conversation we had on our wedding night.

  “Let’s never go to bed angry with each other, Jude.” I was straddling his lap on our hotel bed, looking down into his dark, intense eyes.

  “We go to bed angry with each other all the time, love. Then we get up the next morning and have makeup sex.”

  “I know, but now that we’re married…I think we should try to always work out our problems before going to sleep.”

  He laughed heartily at that. “We’ll be up till sunrise some nights if we do that.”

  “That’s not true.” I poked him in the ribs. “We just have to agree that some things aren’t worth fighting over.”

  Jude’s expression turned serious. “I fell in love with you because you’re a fighter, Ray. You’re passionate and strong and tireless. Never change.”

  “I don’t plan to. I’m talking about you backing down so we never go to bed pissed at each other.”

  He flipped me onto my back in an instant, leaving me staring up at him breathlessly. “You think your husband is a man who backs down?”

  “Not really. But maybe, if properly motivated…” I grinned and bit my lip.

  “Oh, you don’t even know, do you?” He arched his brows in question, grinning back at me. “Nothing motivates me like our fights do. You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who can put me in my place.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  He scoffed. “I put you in your place a lot more often.”

  When I opened my mouth to protest, he silenced me with a long, slow kiss. I savored the feel of his weight on top of me, his hands pinning my wrists to the mattress.

  When he pulled his lips from mine, he murmured, “I’m never giving up our makeup sex.”

  “Ma’am?”

  I look up and see our server standing next to the table. He gestures at the Amex in my hand.

  “Would you like me to take care of your check?”

  “Oh.” I shake my head, returning to the now. “Yes, thanks.”

  I pass him the card. Andre returns to the table just as the server is walking away.

  “Oh, hey, I was gonna get that,” he says, giving me a look.

  Liar. I’ve had half a dozen lunches or dinners with him, and every time, he goes to the bathroom when it’s time for the check to come and then pretends he planned on paying it.

  “No, it’s my turn.” I wave a hand and smile.

  Andre returns my smile, probably feeling chivalrous. “So, how’s Jude doing? Looks like Tyson’s running him ragged.” He sits back down across from me.

  “They’re very busy, but it’s good. Jude’s got the endurance for campaigning.”

  “Probably not as much fun as when he ran against you, though.” Andre quirks a grin at me.

  “But now his former opponent is on his team.”

  Andre shakes his head. “I still don’t know how you guys do it. You must have some interesting dinnertime conversations.”

  “Always. But I can honestly say that being married to Jude has made me a better person. I see things differently now.”

  “You guys have one side of your bedroom painted red and the other side blue, though, right?” Andre teases.

  Our server returns with our check, and I thank him and open the folder to sign.

  “Honestly?” I smile at Andre across the table. “Our bedroom is gray and purple. Gray because things are never black or white, and purple because that’s what you get when you mix red and blue. Those are our two favorite colors.”

  Andre cocks his brows in surprise. “Really? That strapping, tattooed, muscled, gun-toting Republican likes purple? I might have to leak this to the papers, Mrs. Titan.”

  I laugh at the comment from the man who got his start on my father’s staff. “Jude’s not ashamed. He mentions it at campaign rallies. We’re all about bipartisanship and compromise. Team Purple.”

  Andre stands, extending his hand to me for a handshake. “The Lancet Foundation is lucky to have you. Let me know how my caucus can help this quarter. You know you have our full support.”

  “Wonderful, thank you.”

  “Tell your husband I said hello.”

  “I will.”

  We head for the restaurant’s exit, making small talk as I wait for my Uber. As soon as it pulls up, I say goodbye to Andre and slide into the sedan.

  My heart pounds with anticipation. Jude might be in my room right now. Even after all these years, nothing gets me going like the way he looks at me when I walk into a room. His gaze is always dark and loaded with desire. I’ve never seen him look at any other woman that way.

  I shouldn’t have left like I did, though I’m not sure I’m ready to admit it. And if I know my husband as well as I think I do, he intends to make me pay for it in my hotel room tonight.

  He puts up with my defiance outside the bedroom, though it drives him crazy at times. But when the bedroom door closes, he’s in complete control of me.

  Though he knows I like it, I’m not sure he knows just how much. My stomach is spinning with excitement and anticipation over the thought of his hands on me.

  Touching me.

  Teasing me.

  Owning me.

  We never gave up our makeup sex. We just redefined it.

  6

  Jude

  I sleep on the plane, getting a few hours of shut-eye before touching down in DC. Tyson had a shit fit when I told him I was leaving for a bit, and he tried to stop me, even though he knew he couldn’t. No events on the schedule until tomorrow night, and at the moment, there was nothing more important than my marriage.

  Julia, Reagan’s assistant, came through. Not only did she give me the name and location of her hotel, she had my name added to the reservation, so I could swipe a key from the front desk. When I opened the door, Reagan wasn’t in there, probably busy talking up some politician over dinner, but she knew I’d be waiting.

  I make myself comfortable, kicking off my shoes and loosening my tie before stretching out across the bed. Staring at the door, I wait for what seems like hours, but is only minutes before Reagan walks in.

  “Jude,” she says, dropping her purse to the floor and walking quickly in my direction.

  I slide down, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and wrap my arms around her waist. “I’ve missed you,” I tell her as I press my face against her stomach and inhale her scent. I slip my hand underneath her shirt, resting my hand on the small of her back as I peer up into her blue eyes. “I’m sorry I left like that.”

  Reagan tangles her fingers in my hair and smiles down at me. “I’m sorry for everything too. I shouldn’t have been so pissed and pushy.”

  I laugh, shaking my head as my hand slides down her back and cups her ass. “You don’t know how not to be pushy. It’s in your nature.”

  She sighs and leans forward, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is soft and gentler than I expect after everything that’s happened in the last forty-eight hours. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Jude,” she whispers as she stares into my eyes.

  I cup her cheek in my hand, peering up at her with my other hand still resting on her ass. “I don’t want to fight either, love. I’ve been greedy with your time, and you need to focus on your work more.”

  We stay like that, staring at each other without saying another word for a few seconds. The air in the room is thick as I slide the zipper on her skirt down slowly, letting the metal catch on every tooth, building the anticipation. Reagan and I are always explosive in the bedroom. It’s the one place we never argue.

  She steps out of her skirt as soon as the material hits the carpet. My breath hitches at the sight of my favorite black lace panties, and my cock hardens. “Were you expecting company?” I ask, looping my finger u
nder the edge of the delicate material resting on her hip and raise an eyebrow.

  “No.” She raises her chin. “I wanted to feel sexy tonight. I needed to feel more like myself to get through this meeting.”

  “Who was the lucky person?” I’m jealous when I shouldn’t be. Whoever she met with didn’t see what she had on underneath her clothes, but I still didn’t like it.

  “Andre.”

  Every ounce of jealousy or annoyance I have disappears at the mention of his name. He’s the last man in the world I have to worry about. Reagan can barely stand his presence, and even on our worse day, he doesn’t stand a chance of seeing her panties.

  “I don’t like it,” I say, because no matter what she says, she likes when I’m a little jealous. She likes when I remind her she’s mine, proving to her there’s no one else in the world who does it for me except her.

  She steps backward, biting her lip and hiding her small smile as her fingers work the buttons of her blouse. Her eyes are on me as she pushes open her blouse, shrugging the silk material over her shoulders and fully exposing her breasts. I reach out, needing to touch her, but she steps back and out of my grasp.

  “Not yet,” she says and shakes her head, playing a game that I don’t like nor have the patience for.

  I lunge forward, grabbing her around the waist and toss her on the bed, ready to devour my wife for the first time in days. “Stop playing games, baby.” I crawl next to her, settling half my weight on top of her as I cup her breast in one hand.

  She laughs, knowing exactly what she’s doing, but it dies quickly when my thumb toys with her nipple. “Jude,” she almost stutters, and her hips rise off the bed.

  I brush her hair away from her shoulder and press my lips to her neck, kissing the one spot I know drives her wild. She turns her head, giving me access to every inch of her soft skin. I breathe her in, becoming drunk on her scent and the feel of her flesh against me. She moans as I pinch her nipple between my fingertips through the lace material of her bra.

  “Mine,” I remind her, speaking the words as I nibble on the curve of her neck before sinking my teeth into her skin just enough to make her quiver.

  “Always,” she breathes, spreading her legs farther as my hand slides down her stomach.

  I cup her pussy in the palm of my hand, holding her core as my lips move to her mouth. “Forever,” I reply before crashing my lips down on hers.

  I devour her moans, stealing her breath with my kiss. Our tongues tangle, moving together in perfect harmony as my need builds and my cock grows. Keeping our mouths fused together, I climb between her legs and work the zipper of my pants. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about what I want to do to Reagan. I need to be inside her. Deep inside her. I need to feel every inch of her body which I know is mine.

  Once my pants are down, I thrust my hard cock inside her, driving her body up the bed with the force. She clutches my biceps, hanging on as I pound into her. Over and over again, panting and moaning as I fuck her like I’ve never fucked her before. This isn’t about love. Only need consumes me and drives me forward.

  She bows her back off the bed, pushing her breasts closer to my face. Sealing my lips around her nipple, I rock into her as my orgasm builds. She quakes beneath me, gasping for air. Every ounce of anger and frustration pours out of me, lessening with each stroke until the orgasm crashes over me.

  She shudders beneath me, spiraling down the same path of ecstasy and clawing at my skin. I collapse on top of her, resting my forehead on hers. “I love you,” I tell her, gasping for air. “More than life itself.”

  She pulls my face down, cupping my cheeks in her hands and steals what breath I have left with a kiss.

  * * *

  We spent the entire morning in bed. Something we haven’t done in months. We needed time to recharge, and the only way to do that was shutting out the world. We turned off our phones, unplugged the television, and took the hotel phone off the hook. No one and nothing is going to disturb our limited time together.

  Reagan grabs me around the waist and pulls me back in the bed. She kisses the spot between my shoulder blades and rests her hands on my stomach. “I hate that you have to leave already.”

  I hang my head, wishing more than anything I could stay longer, but we both know it’s not possible. I lay my hand over hers, caressing the soft skin with my thumb. “Join me,” I say before lifting her fingers to my mouth and peppering them with kisses. “When you leave here, come and be on the trail with me.”

  Reagan rests her head on my back and sighs. “I don’t know, Jude. I’m not sure how healthy that would be for your campaign or our marriage.”

  “Think about it. I want you with me when you can be.” Turning in her arms, I kiss her softly, staring at her as I do. “I always want you at my side,” I say as I pull away.

  “Tyson would have a fit.” She laughs.

  I climb to my feet and stare down at my naked wife as she sits with her legs tucked under her. “He could use a little excitement. I don’t need an answer now, Reagan, but I want you to know I want you with me.”

  “Always,” she says with a smile before pushing herself up to come face-to-face with me. “Let me wrap up my business here, and maybe I’ll find you tomorrow.”

  Walking away from her gets a little bit harder each time, but I tell myself it’s for the best. We both agree that, in the end, the time apart will be worth it to secure the governor’s mansion. But right now, with the toll it’s taking on our marriage, I hope I win and it’s not all for nothing.

  Losing at this point isn’t an option.

  7

  Reagan

  The next day is packed with impromptu meetings, and I don’t get a chance to send Jude a text longer than a few words until right before dinner.

  Me: Sorry, babe. Crazy day. Getting a lot done, though. And I somehow landed a lunch with Andrea Matisse! Love you.

  Andrea Matisse is a billionaire philanthropist who rarely takes meetings with lobbyists or politicians. She donates generously to the causes she believes in, but it’s well-known she doesn’t like being asked for money. I’ll have to tread carefully with her so she doesn’t think I’m fishing for a contribution for my husband.

  I almost didn’t even try to get a meeting with her since no one is ever successful, and I knew it would be a waste of time. But then Jude reminded me that the only way to guarantee I never meet her is to not even ask. And now that I get to meet her in a few days, it’s not her money I’m interested in. I just have a thousand questions I’m burning to ask her about life, love, and how she juggles it all.

  Andrea and her husband Olivier are famously polar opposite. He’s a French investment banker from a wealthy family, and she’s a shrewd, self-made fashion magnate. He’s laid-back and conservative. She’s bold and fearless. I’m especially interested in anything she may have to say about what makes their marriage work so well. It’s well known they’re deeply in love.

  A text back from Jude makes me smile.

  Jude: That’s my girl. Proud of you, baby. When’s the lunch?

  Me: Thursday or Friday. Her assistant won’t have her travel itinerary finalized until Wednesday.

  Jude: Damn.

  Me: What?

  Jude: I was hoping you’d be here with me by then. I understand, though. You can’t miss an opportunity like that.

  Me: How’s your day going?

  Jude: Good. Going to dinner with some donors in 45 min.

  Me: Who?

  Jude: The Branch brothers.

  Me: Ah, nice. They’re a sure thing, love.

  Jude: Yep. I can just relax and have a few drinks and a good steak. Should be fun. Wish you were coming with, though.

  Me: I know. Me too.

  Jude: Talk to your boss yet about being able to work from the road?

  Me: No, didn’t get a chance.

  Jude: Do it tomorrow if you can. I really want you here with me. We can have a Chicago staffer keep up with everything at the house,
so don’t worry about that.

  Me: I’ll do my best, babe.

  Jude: Have to get in the shower. Call me later.

  Me: When will your dinner be done?

  Jude: It doesn’t matter if it’s done. I’ll step out to take your call.

  Me: Okay. I love you.

  Jude: Love you too.

  I tuck my phone back into my bag and close the door to my small office so I can get some work done. During the day, people are constantly in and out of here, often sitting down to talk. I like it since I don’t get to be in this office much, but it’s hard to get much done. I’ll use this evening to return emails and make a few phone calls.

  Since Jude came to see me, I’m feeling grounded again. When things are off with us, things are off in every other area of my life, too. Before I met him, my foundation came from within myself. But now, our marriage is my emotional foundation. He’s so much more than just my lover and partner. Jude is my best friend. The yin to my yang. The first person I want to talk to, whether it’s about something good or bad.

  I notice a growling in my stomach when the sun starts to set, so I order some vegetable fried rice from a Chinese place that delivers and keep powering through until it arrives.

  When I finally get to eat, I curl up in the small armchair in the corner of my office, trying to clear my mind of all the things I still want to get done tonight. This job is unending. There’s always another connection to be made, another meeting to set up. I like that, but at times, it overwhelms me.

  When my bosses hired me for this job, they told me to work at my own pace. Jude scoffed at that when I told him and said they knew damned well I only have one pace—full speed ahead. But I love a challenge, and I’m passionate about bipartisanship. I’m quite lucky to have fallen into a job that works so well, considering I’m a former Democratic state rep who’s married to a Republican senator. I thought the political world might consider me a woman without a country when word hit that Jude and I were together and I was dropping out of the Senate race.