Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  Me: You doing okay, babe?

  Reagan: I’m great. Getting a tan and learning to cook some of my mom’s favorite recipes. How about you? Busy?

  She’s campaigned before, and she has access to my schedule. She has to know I’m working my ass off. And I selfishly wish she wanted to be here with me.

  Me: Yeah, very busy.

  Reagan: How are the new staffers working out?

  Me: Pretty good overall.

  Reagan: You seem distant. Is everything okay?

  I seem distant? She’s the one working on her tan in Florida and not seeming to miss me at all while I’m lying in a hot, coffin-sized bunk with a raging boner.

  I try to cool my resentment. Reagan deserves a break, and she doesn’t spend enough time with her mom.

  Me: I’m okay. Just tired. And missing you.

  Reagan: I miss you too. There’s so much I want to talk to you about. I’ve had a lot of time for thinking about things here.

  Me: Such as?

  Reagan: Nothing I can say right now.

  Fuck. I’ve had it with not being able to have a real conversation with my wife. Not to mention my frustration over not being able to touch her or even lay eyes on her.

  I’m fighting hard in this race, because I want her sacrifices for me to be worth it. I want her to be proud of me. But I don’t want to do it alone.

  Before I proposed to Reagan, I thought long and hard about spending the rest of my life with her. Would I grow restless? Would I miss the freedom of the unmarried life?

  I decided she was worth taking the leap for. Since the moment I laid eyes on her, she’s been the only one for me. And surprisingly, marriage suited me well from the beginning. I’ve never felt restless or in need of space.

  Quite the opposite, actually. I don’t just want my wife with me, I need her. Even if that does make me a selfish asshole. She grounds me and is the only one I can completely let go in front of.

  I type out the words I can’t hold on to anymore.

  Me: I need to see you.

  Reagan: Is everything okay?

  Me: Things are fine, but I need to see you. I’ll fly down there if you don’t want to come here.

  Reagan: It’s not that I don’t want to see you, babe. You know that, right? I’m just trying to get in some quality time with my mom.

  Me: I know. But can you spare one night for me?

  Reagan: Sarcastic much?

  Me: Reagan. When and where? I need a night with my wife.

  Reagan: Okay. Let me ask my mom what her plans are.

  My dick is straining uncomfortably against my fly as I stare at the beige ceiling of the bus. I hate this feeling of not being in control. But my hand isn’t gonna cut it anymore. I need to fuck my wife.

  The three dots that signify she’s writing a text appear on the screen, and I stare at them as I wait.

  Reagan: Saturday night. I can fly home to Chicago. Can you swing a night at our place?

  Me: Yes.

  Reagan: Okay, I’ll text my itinerary so you can pick me up if possible.

  My aggravation grows as I keep reading her messages, which sound the same as what she’d send to any lesser-known acquaintance. My balls look like a fucking Smurf, and she’s cool as a cucumber.

  I fire off a hotheaded message.

  Me: Thanks for the favor. Looking forward to seeing you too.

  Reagan: What’s that supposed to mean?

  Me: You could at least act like you’re excited to see me. It’s been almost two weeks.

  Reagan: Of course, I’m excited to see you. We’re married, though. I didn’t think I had to say that every time I’m going to see you.

  Me: What, married people don’t excite each other anymore?

  Reagan: Jude, you’re being ridiculous.

  Me: And you’re being indifferent.

  Reagan: You’re just looking for a fight.

  Me: No, I’m looking for my wife to give a shit that she hasn’t seen me in two weeks.

  Reagan: You know why I needed to be here. And you’re busy with the campaign.

  Me: Which I thought you wanted to be part of.

  Reagan: I have been part of it. But I’ll be damned if I’ll stand there looking starry-eyed every time you speak just so photographers can take pics of me “standing by my man.”

  Me: Yeah, God forbid.

  Reagan: You’re pissing me off.

  Me: I have to go. I’ve got a thing in 5 min.

  Reagan: Great timing. Sweep in, be a dick, and then sweep out.

  Me: Check my fucking schedule if you think I’m lying.

  Reagan: I’ll talk to you later.

  Me: Thanks for working me into your busy tanning schedule.

  Reagan: Fuck you, Jude.

  I toss my phone onto the thin, lumpy mattress and blow out a breath. I was being a dick, I admit it. But I can only take so much.

  She’s in Florida, apparently not missing me much, and “thinking about things.” I need to lay eyes on her and see that’s she’s still mine in every way.

  Just like I know I married a stubborn hard-ass of a woman, she knows she married a brooding hard ass of a man.

  When I push the curtain aside on the bunk and slide out, I look over and see Tyson and Vanessa sitting at the table.

  Christ. I know I was only texting with Reagan and not talking, but I feel invaded as Vanessa eye-fucks me.

  Campaign life is a grind. The one person I want close is too far away, and everyone else is constantly up my ass.

  * * *

  Somehow, Vanessa’s managing to appear focused on the strategies she’s reviewing with Tyson and me, but I’m pretty sure it’s her toes tracing along my calf under the table and not Tyson’s.

  “Uh…” I clear my throat and move my leg away. “This looks good except I don’t know about moving criticism of the budget to the top of my messaging. Shouldn’t we stay positive with our main talking points?”

  “This is polling as the issue voters are most concerned about,” Vanessa says. “And we can mix in some positive with the negative by talking about fiscal responsibility.”

  I nod. “Okay. Tyson, can we adjust my stump speech before the next stop?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got time.”

  I return to reading the charts in front of me. Within a couple seconds, Vanessa’s bare foot is tracing its way back up my leg.

  “Tyson, can you see if there’s a place nearby to get some highlighters?” she asks. “I meant to pick some up earlier, but I ran out of time.”

  “Uh…” He looks at me, knowing I don’t want him to leave.

  Vanessa looks back and forth between us. “What? Am I missing something?”

  “We’ll be fine without highlighters,” I say. “Let’s finish up.”

  “I don’t see why it’s such a big—”

  I cut her off. “Look, Vanessa. I’m not willing to be left alone with you.”

  She furrows her brow. “Are you serious?”

  I rub my temple. “Yeah. First of all, get your foot off my leg.”

  Her cheeks redden as she slips her foot away.

  “Second of all, I’m a happily married man. If you’re gonna work on my campaign, keep your hands and feet and whatever else to yourself. Understood?”

  Vanessa’s face flushes an even deeper shade of crimson. “I think you misunderstood, Jude.”

  “Were you thinking that was Tyson’s leg, then?”

  She looks away. “I came here to help. I didn’t need this job. I have plenty of others who will hire me in a second.”

  “Leave, then.” I shrug and push away the stack of papers.

  “Is that really what you want?”

  Tyson speaks up. “I think it’s for the best that you go. We’ll pay you the full amount agreed to.”

  Vanessa huffs before sliding out of the booth and leaving without another word. As soon as she’s gone, Tyson and I just look at each other for a few seconds.

  “I’m taking Saturday and Sunday off,�
�� I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “Perfect. We just lost our strategist, the election’s less than a month away, and you’re taking the weekend off.”

  “Yep.” I get up and take a bottle of water from the fridge. “Ready to rewrite my speech?”

  Tyson’s weary sigh is my only answer.

  23

  Reagan

  As soon as I walk in my front door, it hits me how much I’ve missed home. I breathe in the fresh scent of wood from the recent refinishing of the floors on our main level.

  Much as I’d like to curl up on the couch and relax, I need to get ready for Jude’s arrival later. I took an early flight, and he can’t get here until early evening. That gives me a couple hours to get my hair blown out and have all my overgrown areas waxed.

  Tonight will be a reminder of what I wish we could have all the time. Part of me wants to talk to Jude about my feelings, but I’m not ready yet. He’s in the thick of campaigning, and I don’t want to upset him. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’ll have other things in mind when he gets here.

  Our text fighting won’t lessen his sexual appetite for me. If anything, it’ll heighten his desire to put me in my place the only way he can.

  Just the thought makes my knees weaken slightly. None of the men I was with before Jude hold a candle to him in the bedroom. He’s like a drug I can never get enough of.

  I manage not only a trip to my salon but also a stop at a lingerie store for a sheer red bra and panties that lace up in back with a ribbon. I smile as I slip on yoga pants with a hole in one knee and an old campaign shirt of mine from when I was a state rep with a stain on front.

  I’m going to have some fun with Jude tonight. In more than one way.

  “Hey,” he calls out from the front entrance. “You here, babe?”

  “Hi, yeah.” I greet him as I jog down the stairs.

  I get to the living room, and we just look at each other from about ten feet apart for a few seconds, both of us sizing up whether we’re still mad at each other.

  Finally, I see Jude move in my direction, and I move toward him at the same time. We meet, and he wraps me in his arms.

  I close my eyes and bury my face in his neck as he holds me. God, I’ve missed him. The faint, sporty scent of his body wash smells as much like home to me as our newly sanded floors.

  “Apology accepted,” I murmur.

  He grunts in response and pulls back a little, smoothing a few strands of dark hair away from my face before kissing me.

  “I missed my gorgeous, stubborn, cantankerous wife,” he says against my lips.

  My single note of laughter is amused. “And I missed my sexy, moody, horse’s ass husband.”

  “Horse’s ass?” His tone is offended, but his eyes are lit with amusement.

  “That’s what I said.”

  He tightens his hold on my waist and pulls me against him hard, kissing me again.

  “Keep running that mouth, Mrs. Titan. You’ll be using it for other things later.”

  “About that…” I look away, pretending to be uncomfortable.

  “What?” Jude lowers his brows in a serious look.

  “You know…it’s that time of the month, and my period is awful. I’ve got cramps and a headache. I was thinking we could just order in some food, cuddle, and get a great night of sleep? Maybe watch a movie? I already put on my comfy clothes.”

  Jude’s face freezes in an expression that’s half horrified, half nauseated. If I didn’t have to play along, I’d burst out laughing.

  “Are you fucking serious?” He shakes his head slightly.

  “What? You just wanted me to spread my legs? Don’t you want to talk? We haven’t talked in forever.”

  “Yeah, but…” He runs a hand through his dark, slightly rumpled hair. “I was hoping for both.”

  I shrug. “Sorry, babe.”

  “Okay.” He looks up at the ceiling, exasperated, and it’s all I can do not to fall down laughing.

  His erection softens slightly against my thigh. Poor Jude.

  “We fired the new strategy person,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to sit down next to him on the couch.

  “Why?”

  “She was being unprofessional toward me.”

  I furrow my brow and curl my legs up beneath me. “You mean mouthy, or…”

  He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure she wanted to get with me. Tyson fired her a second before I was about to.”

  “Okay.”

  I run my fingertips over his forehead, down his temple, to his stubbled jawline. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on my thigh.

  “I’ve really missed you,” he says.

  “I’ve really missed you, too. I wish you could be down at my mom’s with me. It’s so peaceful there.”

  “Maybe I can come down soon. I need to see that purple bikini in person.”

  I smile and kiss him softly. He leans his head back against the couch, eyes still closed. When I look at his lap and see that his erection is tenting his khakis, I decide I’ve tormented him long enough.

  “Hey, babe?” I say, standing up and grabbing the bottom of my shirt.

  “Hmm?” He lifts up his head and looks at me.

  I pull the shirt off over my head and toss it to the floor, revealing my red bra with lace cups.

  “I was kidding about my period. And the headache. And also the cuddling.”

  Realization dawns on his face, and he shoots up from the couch, catching me around the waist. I squeal as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

  “Not another word, Mrs. Titan. Not one more word from that smart mouth.”

  “Jude!” I shriek, laughing and trying to push the hair out of my face.

  “That was a word,” he says gruffly, smacking my ass so hard I cry out and jump.

  “Mango,” I say playfully. That gets me another hard smack.

  “Apple.” The next smack is so hard it stings. And I like it.

  “Carnivorous,” I say softly, bracing myself.

  Jude spanks my ass as he runs up the stairs, not stopping until he dumps me on the bed. He immediately grabs the waistband of my yoga pants and jerks them off in one second flat.

  My body warms under his hungry gaze. As he unfastens his belt buckle, I get on my knees and turn around, showing him the back of my panties.

  “You like?” I shake my booty a little, and he groans with approval.

  “Fuck, babe. That’s hot.”

  I reach for the ribbon at the small of my back. “Want me to untie it?”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  His pants drop to the floor with a thudding sound.

  “No ropes tonight,” he says in a low tone. “Tonight, you’re gonna be as still and silent as I tell you to, because if you don’t, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing.”

  I give him a sultry smile over my shoulder. “I’ll try.”

  “I mean it. This is the only place I get to own that sassy mouth of yours. Comply, and you get to come. Or…you can try to be a better girl in the morning.”

  I moan softly, my skin hot and my core achy. My body has never responded to anyone or anything the way it does to Jude. I’ve been conditioned by his deep, sexy voice and hard, unyielding body. My husband is not all talk.

  Once his clothes are off, he walks over to the bed and stands at its side, grabbing my hips to move me so I’m kneeling on the bed in front of him, facing away from him and leaving my ass at his mercy.

  I’m expecting a good, hard spanking. My skin tingles in anticipation of it. Instead, he brushes his fingers across my skin gently.

  The unexpected lightness of it sends a shiver down my spine. He slowly caresses every inch of me, reacquainting himself with my body.

  When he gathers my hair into his fist and tugs me into an upright position, I gasp and moan simultaneously.

  Putting a knee on the mattress, he leans in and kisses the back of my neck, his hand still wrapped around my hair. He pulls my head back and kisses
my shoulder, nipping at my skin until I whimper.

  “Not another sound,” he whispers in my ear, “until I give you permission to make one.”

  I exhale deeply as his free hand glides down my bare stomach, his fingers dipping into the waistband of my panties.

  “Mmm…missed me, didn’t you, babe?”

  He slides his fingers across my wet clit, groaning. His warm breath against my neck makes me pant as I force myself not to moan or cry out.

  My back arches as his fingers move in and out of me, nearly sending me over the edge every time they circle my clit. He stops after just a few seconds every time, though, leaving me breathing heavy and silently begging for more.

  Every nerve ending in my body is firing as he takes me to the brink and back over and over. I don’t even consider begging for release, because I know he means what he says about stopping.

  This is the one place I love ceding control; he’s the only person I’ve ever wanted to cede it to.

  “You want a nice hard fuck?” he asks, tugging on the ribbon at the back of my panties. “Just tell me if you do.”

  He’s playing with me. If I say yes, he’ll stop. But damn, is it hard to stay silent right now. I bite my lip and force myself not to speak.

  Jude makes a low sound of amusement as he unties the ribbon and slides the panties down my thighs.

  My skin buzzes with arousal and the hot anticipation of his next move. More spanking? My ass cheeks are still burning from before, but I’m hoping he’s not done.

  It’s the not knowing that nearly undoes me when we’re in bed together and he’s in full control. I never know what his next move will be, but I know I’ll give in to whatever deliciously sweet torture he wants.

  I feel him moving behind me, and I gasp with surprise when he gets on his back and slides his head between my legs. He gives me a devilish wink as I look down at him.

  “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, grabbing my ass and squeezing it until I groan. “Show me how bad you want to come.”

  Oh God.

  I love it when he does this. I don’t deserve this man whose repayment for my teasing is an earth-shattering orgasm. I don’t say so, though. Instead, I sink onto his mouth, my lips parting with pleasure as his warm tongue slides over me.