Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  This always leads to a fast, hard orgasm. I circle my hips, the sensation building steadily. I’m panting as I grab the headboard and hold on, riding him as he tongue-fucks me and sucks on my clit.

  I come undone in the most exquisite way, tears burning my eyes as I cry out his name, and his fingertips sink into my ass cheeks.

  It’s all I can do to tumble off of him and lie back. He gives me a sexy grin, his face gleaming with my juices.

  “I hope you’re about to fuck me,” I say breathlessly.

  “Thought I’d let you recover a minute first.”

  “Now,” I say softly. “Please.”

  He gets to his knees and pushes my thighs back, groaning hard as he thrusts all the way inside me. It’s pure heaven, watching his expression of bliss as he pumps himself in and out of my soaked, satisfied pussy.

  When he starts to slow down, knowing it’ll take me longer to come the second time, I shake my head. “Don’t stop, baby. Give me everything. I want it right now.”

  His expression twists with pleasure as he continues, holding on to my legs as he plows into me again and again. Nothing compares to the feeling of having him buried deep inside me, my body promising him a powerful release.

  When his already dark eyes turn into coal, I know he’s seconds away. He locks his gaze with mine and groans loudly with his final deep thrust, holding himself inside me as he comes.

  The tension and worry are erased from his face as he exhales deeply and leans down to kiss me. Only I get to do that to this beautiful man. I may cause some of his moods, but I can also cure them like no one else.

  I cradle his cheeks in my hand and kiss him gently. It’s moments like this when the depth of my love for him almost scares me. It’s an abyss I can’t control my fall into.

  He’s worth the fall, though. For him, I’d fall ten thousand times. It’ll be hard to return to my mom’s tomorrow, but I still feel like that’s where I’m supposed to be right now.

  24

  Jude

  I turn up the volume on the Bob Marley song playing on my Yukon’s stereo. Life is good, and not just because I’m driving myself around in my own vehicle for the first time in a while.

  I’ve had my phone powered down since right before I walked in the door to see Reagan yesterday. We both remained cut off from the rest of the world until I dropped her off at the airport an hour ago.

  I hated to say goodbye to her again, but our time together rejuvenated me. It reminded me that we’re just apart temporarily, and I only have to keep campaigning for another two weeks.

  Win or lose, I’m ready to move on with my life. I need more time with Reagan. I also need more moments like this one, where I can breathe and think and be by myself.

  Having a driver is practical when I’m campaigning, and if I win the election, I suppose I’ll have one all the time. But driving my own car and listening to my own music isn’t something I’m willing to give up completely.

  Reagan and I have talked about driving the coast of California in a convertible, not making any plans and just stopping where and when we feel the urge. I’m ready to take that trip with her.

  The rally I’m attending is in Winnetka, and I deliberately park at the back of the conference center’s parking lot to give myself a few extra minutes of alone time.

  I’m approaching the building’s entrance when Tyson comes rushing up to me. His hair is going in a hundred directions, which means he’s been running his hands through it like he does when he’s nervous.

  “Where have you been?” He throws his arms out at his sides, eyes wide with judgment.

  “I told you I was taking time off,” I remind him.

  “Yeah, but you haven’t even been responding to texts.”

  I shrug. “Because I was off, man. Completely off. But I’m back now. What’s up?”

  He leans in to speak by my ear.

  “Don’t show any reaction to what I’m about to say. The photographers are watching, and I know they want to get a shot of you reacting, so don’t do it.”

  I nod and he continues.

  “Jessica Culbertson’s rep called me. They’re holding a news conference in an hour to announce that she was paid off by a radical left-wing supporter to make up the story about you. She feels guilt now and wants to give the money back.”

  “Guilt?” I murmur skeptically.

  “This is basically her begging us not to sue her.”

  I nod again and turn to speak into Tyson’s ear. “At least it’s before the election. This should give us a boost.”

  “Yeah, I expect it will. I’ve already drafted a response for you.”

  He passes me a paper, and I read it. It’s diplomatic, thanking Miss Culbertson for doing the right thing and urging my opponent to focus on the issues that matter to voters.

  My face is impassive as I pass it back to Tyson. “Looks good. Thanks, man.”

  “Let’s not leak this.” He gives me a serious look. “Don’t even hint at it in your remarks.”

  “I’ll stick to this script, don’t worry.”

  “And Jude—be careful. No shit-eating grins about anything whatsoever. The photographers can turn that around on us.”

  “Got it.”

  He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You ready to go in?”

  I take my phone out of my pocket and turn it on. “Hang on. I need to let my wife know.”

  “Don’t. It may not be secure.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t care. If the news conference is in an hour, no one can do anything with this anyway. I have to let Reagan know.”

  As my phone comes to life, messages from Tyson start popping up on my screen.

  “Christ, man. Forty-one texts?” I scowl at him.

  “You weren’t responding.”

  “I don’t get how sending more texts would make anyone respond.”

  I type out a message to Reagan: Good news, babe. The truth about the allegations against me will be coming out in an hour.

  Her plane is in the air right now, but I want her to see this message as soon as she turns her phone back on.

  I’m beyond relieved. Whether or not I become the next governor of my state, the truth is being told. My integrity means more to me than any elected office.

  I’m on point for the rally and all my other stops of the day. Between my night with Reagan and the bombshell news conference that the allegations against me are false, I’m back at the top of my game.

  After dinner with some big donors, I take off my tie and dress shirt and lie back on my hotel bed to call Reagan.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hey, babe. How was your flight?”

  “Good. How was the rally?”

  “Crowded.” I stand up to get a bottle of water from the mini fridge. “Did you watch the press conference?”

  “I did. I’m so happy for you, Jude.”

  “For us.”

  She sighs softly into the phone. I get that skin-prickling sense that something is wrong again.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah…I wish we weren’t back to cryptic conversations, though.”

  I unscrew the cap from my water and take a long sip. “Babe, if there’s something you need to say to me, say it. I’m not worried about anything between us being used against me, and if it is, I’ll handle it.”

  After a long pause, she says, “At the airport earlier, it was hard for me to leave you.”

  “It was hard for me too. We don’t have to be apart, Ray. Come be with me. I want you here.”

  “It would look like I only came back because of the news conference.”

  “Since when do we give a shit what things look like? You and me, that’s all that matters.”

  “I know, I just…I don’t know, Jude.”

  “Whatever it is, just say it. I know you’ve had something on your mind, and it’s driving me fucking nuts that you won’t tell me what.”

  My heart pounds harder as I wait for her to spe
ak. We don’t keep secrets from each other, and it makes me uneasy that she’s been holding out on me.

  “My mom and I have been talking a lot,” she finally says. “And she…she doesn’t want this life for me.”

  “What life?”

  “The life of a politician’s wife.”

  I rub my eyes, which are aching with fatigue from the long day. “But you married a politician five years ago. Why does she suddenly feel this way?”

  “I think she just didn’t want to say anything. And the governor’s race has shone a brighter spotlight on us than before.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed, leaning my elbows on my knees. “I get why she feels that way, after what happened to her. But how do you feel?”

  “I feel…” She pauses, seeming to think about it. “Like finding myself with no job and no job offer was the best thing that could have happened to me. I’ve had a lot of quiet time down here. Time to think and relax and just…be. It’s made me realize how long I’ve been running in circles, never feeling like I’m doing enough.”

  “I can understand that. Babe, if you want to take time away from working, or never go back at all, I’m good with that. I just want you to be happy.”

  She sighs softly, making me think of last night. God, the sound of her heavy breathing as she tried not to make a sound drove me wild.

  “I know. All this stuff with my mom has made me realize that life goes at the same speed whether you’re taking time to appreciate the small things or not.”

  Her hidden messages are making me nervous. I stand up and pace over to the window in my room.

  “Babe, what do you want? You don’t need to explain why or anything, just tell me, bottom line—what do you want?”

  “I want a quieter life. With you. I want to take vacations and shop for groceries together and watch football games every weekend during the season. I want to have babies, and I want us to raise them together. I want you to walk in the door every evening and go to bed with me every night.”

  I’m taken aback. For a few seconds, I can’t think of anything to say. This is so unlike my driven, ambitious wife.

  “Why didn’t you say anything last night?” I ask her. “We could’ve talked about this.

  There’s a smile in her voice as she says, “We were kind of focused on other stuff.”

  “You should’ve said something. Why do I feel like you were scared to tell me all this?”

  She exhales deeply. “Because what I want, I can’t have.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jude.” Her voice is edged with irritation. “You know why. If you win this race, you’ll be working your ass off every day. We’ll have security details. It’s the opposite of what I’m talking about. I want you to stop being everyone’s champion and just be…mine.”

  I nod, even though she can’t see me. I can’t get over my shock at what she’s saying. I’ve been asking her to start a family with me for three years now, and she’s finally saying she wants to. But she’s right—as governor, I can’t give her the simple life she wants.

  “I need some time to think about things,” I say, quickly adding, “but I don’t mean us. I mean the rest of it. I love you and plan to be with you until I’m an old, grouchy bastard.”

  She laughs softly. “I’m not asking you to drop out of the race, baby. You’ve worked too hard for it. I’m just telling you why I need to be here right now. I just have to resign myself to what I have instead of what I wish I had.”

  What I wish I had. Her words are like a knife to my chest. When I promised that her happiness would be my life’s goal on our wedding day, I meant it. And the thing she wants is so easy—more of me. More of us.

  But she’s right. I won’t make empty promises about date nights and vacations after the election. Being the governor is a demanding job. I’ll always make time for her, but not the way she’s telling me she wants.

  I won’t be able to make myself unrecognizable in a crowd. I can’t say I’ll walk in the door at dinnertime every evening.

  “Let me think on things, okay?” I say.

  “Okay. But, Jude—I think it’s me who needs to do the thinking.”

  “What do you mean?” My blood pumps hot and fast. “Don’t say you’re thinking about not being with me, because that’s not an option.”

  “I don’t know what I’m thinking about, honestly. I’m still processing all of this.”

  I sigh heavily. “Your timing couldn’t be worse. I’m two weeks out from the election, in a dead heat, and now I have to wonder if my wife’s leaving me or not.”

  “Jude.”

  “Reagan.”

  “I’m not going anywhere right now, okay?”

  I scowl. “I feel so much better, thanks.”

  “Let’s sleep on things and talk tomorrow.”

  I mutter a goodnight and hang up. She might be able to sleep tonight, but I sure as hell won’t.

  25

  Reagan

  Jude strides across the stage and shakes hands with Gloria Rush, the Democratic candidate for governor. I feel a tug in my chest. His confident smile and his polished, dark suit with a red tie remind me of days gone by.

  I just watched his final pre-election debate on my laptop. I’m sitting on the bed in my mom’s guest room, legs crossed, wearing a gray tank top and jean shorts.

  I should be wearing something much nicer right now. I should be backstage at the debate, about to hug my husband and congratulate him on crushing that debate.

  He was strong but compassionate; optimistic but realistic. The debate showcased all his best qualities.

  I noticed the fatigue on his face, though. The slight purple circles under his eyes that aren’t usually there. And my stomach dropped with guilt from knowing it was my fault.

  The broadcast switches to analysts doing post-debate coverage, and I close the cover to my laptop, grab my phone, and send Jude a text.

  You were amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.

  My pride in him is only matched by my disappointment in myself. I’ve been thinking nonstop about things, and I’ve found some clarity that makes me wish I never would have told Jude what I did.

  I put him in an impossible situation. Made him feel like he has to choose his career or our marriage, and he’s right—I did it at the worst possible time.

  Never did I expect to find myself out of a job. That, and my mom’s unexpected cancer scare, left me feeling unmoored for the second time in my life.

  The first time was after learning about my father’s affair and secret family. That bombshell made me realize I wasn’t pursuing a career in politics for myself, but for my father. And in an instant, he became someone I no longer cared about impressing. I realized who he was to me—a hero who sacrificed time with his family to make others’ lives better—was just a façade.

  I’d been working behind the scenes in politics since, and it wasn’t until Andrea Matisse offered me a job that I even considered doing anything else.

  I walked into my mom’s kitchen and opened the freezer, going right for the Cherry Garcia. Sitting down on a counter barstool, I opened it and mined a good first bite while considering my situation.

  What do I have if I no longer have my career? Who am I if I’m not a tenacious, can-do advocate for bipartisanship.

  I’m Reagan Titan. Wife. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Hopefully one day, mother. I love the beach. I make amazing chocolate chip cookies. I never tire of cheesy 90s movies. I’m kind of a whiz at trivia. I’m a champion for women’s rights. And I’m wound inextricably with the man who is my best friend, lover, and life partner.

  I don’t know where the next chapter of my life will take me. But I know Jude will be in that chapter, as he will be in every chapter after.

  Do I yearn to be a governor’s wife? Not especially. But I’m deeply in love with a man who stands a great chance of becoming a governor in twelve days.

  My mom comes into the kitchen, her hair wrapped in a towel and a white bathro
be secured around her waist. She grabs a spoon from a kitchen drawer and sits down next to me, silently sharing my ice cream. We’re getting close to the bottom before I finally speak.

  “It’s hard for me not to know what direction I want to go,” I say softly.

  “Focus on what you do know.”

  “I love Jude. I want to be there for him—whatever that means. He stands in Sephora with me for as long as it takes me to pick out what I want, and he never complains. He rubs my back and lets me be irrational when I have PMS. He’s my person, you know?” My voice breaks with emotion on the last part.

  “You’re his person too.”

  “I should’ve been there tonight. I let him down, and I didn’t even have a good reason.”

  She puts an arm around me. “I shouldn’t have said what I did to you. It doesn’t matter what life I want for you—it matters what life you want for yourself.”

  “I want him. I wish we could have more time together than we do, and a simpler life, but Jude…he needs to do this work. He does it for veterans and people who need jobs. And he’s good at it. He listens to people and then does his best to make decisions that are best for everyone. He’s honest.”

  “We need more like him.”

  I look down at the empty ice cream container. “I need to go be with my husband. I owe him twelve days of the hardest campaigning I’ve ever done.”

  “I owe you an apology, Reagan. Jude is not like your father. Your life with him is not the same as my life with your father. I want you two to make your own decisions, and it warms my heart to see how much you love each other.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She hugs me close. “Better go book that flight.”

  I nod and head to the bedroom to do just that. I hope Jude can forgive his normally decisive, headstrong wife for being flaky and unsupportive these last few days.

  26

  Jude

  My campaign bus smells like coffee and unshowered bodies. It’s been rank for the past few days as we all bust our asses heading into the homestretch.