by Amy Faye
She wondered if he'd ever tried it but didn't want to be the first to speak. The entire SUV was silent, and she kept her hands in her lap and tried not to think too hard about anything other than how her son was doing.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice was low and hoarse and she sounded all kinds of wrong.
"What for?" Paul looked at her, confused. As if he hadn't realized that she'd been in trouble at all.
"For the ride home," she said. "And, you know… just… everything. I know that you didn't have to do all this, and I just wanted you to know that I do appreciate it."
"You're welcome, I guess. It's no trouble at all. I don't even really think you need to thank me."
She shook her head. "I do, because if I don't, I think I'm going to go crazy."
"Crazy?"
"I can't stop thinking. Just, about… everything."
The thought occurred to her an instant after the words left her mouth that she'd always had one sure-fire way of forgetting about everything that was bothering her. It wasn't the sort of thing that she thought bore repeating, but that thought wormed its way into her head, deeper and deeper as they drove.
There certainly was quite a bit of space. She'd made do before, with Paul himself, in the back of cars much smaller than this one. In positions much less comfortable than it would no-doubt be laying there. She tried to push the thought away but it came back more fiercely. She pinched her thighs together, like the old joke about aspirin birth control.
If she'd had tighter knees before, then she wouldn't have ever had any of the trouble that had come to her. That trouble had gotten her Tim, though, and that was the single best part of her life. The one thing that she refused to do without.
So maybe mistakes weren't so bad. She found her knees getting looser as the thought ran through her mind. "Come here," she purred.
Paul raised an eyebrow and pushed a button on the separator between front and back, raising a privacy shield, and then he slid across the car.
"Lara, it's two in the morning."
"Are you saying you're not interested?"
She pressed a kiss against his lips and he didn't pull away.
"I'm always interested," he answered. "But are you sure you don't want to rest?"
"Fuck rest," she answered. She pushed his hand up her skirt and it didn't take long before he got the idea, moving and touching and caressing and making a very good little job of it.
"I don't know if this is a very good idea," he said, but his teeth scraped against her skin and the resulting warmth that spread in her belly, the feeling of pleasure that threatened to completely overwhelm whatever thoughts she might have otherwise had, told her otherwise.
"Paul?" She rubbed her hands on the rapidly-forming bulge at the front of his trousers. He grunted a 'hm?' "I know you're very smart, but right now I'm not using you as an idea man. I've got my own ideas."
"Oh yeah?" He rubbed his thumb along the top of her pussy, teasing the hardened nub at the top and driving her a little bit past wild.
"Yeah."
"Mind sharing?"
"I need you to get on your knees, and we'll figure it out from there."
As it turned out, Paul didn't need much instruction beyond that. She lifted his hips a little ways and then her pantyhose were pulling over her ass and down her legs, exposing her skin to the climate-controlled cool air in the back of that SUV.
Paul's lips traced a line up her thigh, each kiss burning like he was the one with the fever, but she knew that there was more to it than just body heat. Her gut started to twist and she wanted him to move faster. Silently she sent as many psychic instructions to get to it, to dig in and lick her god damned pussy.
If he got the messages he ignored them. He traced that same line down her opposite thigh, the opposite direction of where she wanted. Her toes were already starting to curl in anticipation but he made her wait there, her legs propped up on the seat opposite her and everything about her body tenser and waiting for him to loosen her up, to give her what she needed.
"You smell good," he told her, and for a lurching moment she wanted to slap him. Instead she grabbed his head and pushed it where she wanted him to go. He didn't waste any more time digging in, tasting her. His tongue traced lines and shapes around her, each little movement sending fire up her spine, twisting up her insides a little more until they were as tight as piano-wire and any little movement felt as if it might send her over the edge.
He didn't stop to admire her coming to the end of her rope. Instead, he moved more roughly, his tongue exploring even as his fingers moved to make sure that nothing was ever left without attention for too long. The tightness of building orgasm finally reached a breaking point and she snapped and let out a scream as her legs, previously hanging over his shoulders, tightened around his neck and pulled him in tight, pulled his mouth in closer to her core.
Her body rode his face, regardless of what he did, as the orgasm started to fade. She laid her head back against the headrest and took a deep breath, the car smelling like her sex and she wondered if that was all they were going to do. She was ready for so much more, and if she knew Paul at all, he wasn't exactly going to be hesitating to accommodate her, either.
Her body relaxed and she let his head go. He pulled away, but his hands didn't. They kept playing, kept teasing, kept moving and wriggling inside her, finding all the right places. The fire in her gut started to rekindle itself even after she thought that he'd doused the whole thing. Her hips moved before she even knew what she was doing to meet him, rolling so that his hand would touch her in the right spots over and over again. And then, all at once, she could feel that she was starting to get close again, starting to build again to another orgasm on the horizon.
It was only then that he finally pulled away, sat back on the opposite bench seat and looked at her. She must have been quite a spectacle sitting there, skirt pushed up to her waist and pantyhose around her ankles, but God did she feel good. And the way that he was looking at her, she guessed that he wasn't planning on being quite finished with her just yet.
She forced herself forward and settled onto his lap, her weight distributed between his legs.
"Is there something you wanted in return, Mr. Senator?"
He pressed a kiss against her jaw and took one full breast in his hand and she knew that he had some ideas.
29
Paul's body hummed with arousal, and the woman who was going to deal with it sat on his lap, almost fully dressed. That was going to have to change.
He had some practice undressing women, and her clothes were not so unusual that he had trouble figuring this one out, either. A thin, little zipper pull between his fingers and he worked it down. He allowed a finger to drag behind, touching her skin as it was revealed. His body started to tighten in anticipation, his hardness nestled between her thighs and getting harder with every second.
"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he growled. The smile on her face seemed to suggest that maybe she had some idea of what she was doing to him after all. The zipper reached the bottom of its track and she started to pull the garment forward and off, revealing a black bra. It stood off against her pale skin attractively, but where he was sitting in that moment, it was little more than in the way.
Again, one handed, he moved to twist with his fingers and the clasp came apart in his fingers easily. She let that slip from her shoulders as well, revealing her breasts.
They were surprisingly perfect, he thought. For a woman her age, they were almost impossibly nice. For a mother? He'd found himself a little miracle for himself in the world. He pressed his lips against those breasts, enjoying the taste of her skin and the soft feeling under his lips.
Lana's fingers played in his hair as he worshiped her breasts, kissing and sucking gently on one and then the other, and then back to the first again in a constant pattern. His hand found its way up under her dress again and explored there a little bit. She was still wet, and her lips clung to his fingers as he moved th
em inside her. He could already nearly feel those lips around his cock, the way that they would grip his shaft and try to milk him for every drop of his seed.
"God," he whispered, softly. She spread her knees a little bit and gave him more room to play, more room to explore. His fingers made a scissoring motion, enjoying the sensation of her walls trying to squeeze down and hold him still, prevent him from doing anything but moving into her deeper. "You feel good."
Lara pressed her lips into the top of his head and slipped away. Her dress, no longer resting in her lap, fell to the floor, leaving her in little more than a pool of her pantyhose and her shoes. She set back and slipped those off as well, leaving herself dressed in nothing at all. His jaw tightened automatically and he tried to loosen it again but all that he managed to do was make a loud 'click' sound inside of his jaw.
"Get on your knees," he gasped. His stomach twisted up and his cock was desperate for something. Something that he knew Lara was more than happy to provide. She did as she was told, slipping down onto her knees.
He didn't wait around for her to work the buckle on his belt; he did it for her, releasing his cock from the confines of his trousers. Her eyes seemed to widen and then she swallowed it whole without at any point being in the intermediate spaces. She hit her knees and then his cock was in her mouth an instant later, the warmth and wetness that enveloped him sending his eyes shooting shut.
"Jesus," he said. Then she sucked harder and he let out an uncharacteristic moan. "You were looking forward to this, weren't you?"
She took his cock out of her mouth and looked up at him, making sure that he was watching as she rubbed it on her cheek. "I want you to use me, Paul. Fuck me like I'm just some hole."
His eyes drifted shut. Lara always had known just what to say, and words certainly hadn't failed her this time, either.
"Then shut up and suck my cock, bitch," he said. In case the point wasn't driven home enough he took a fistful of her hair and guided her mouth back around his cock, moving her head in time with his hips until he could feel the tip dipping into the back of her throat.
She choked on his cock softly but when he pulled her off long enough to get air she just pulled herself back on. He didn't make that mistake a second time, moving her head in time with whatever he wanted. It took a moment to get her out of his head, to think of her as any other woman, but once he did it was easy.
His cock rammed down her throat, threateningly close to orgasm at any moment. He pulled her off and she tried to pull herself off again. He slapped her. "You want to be treated like a whore? Then obey me like a whore."
Her eyes fluttered shut in something that must have been very close to arousal. "Lay down," he growled, and she did. He lined himself up between her thighs and entered her. Her hips made a solid grip for his hands and he made liberal use of them as he moved, hard and rough. It wasn't lovemaking, they were doing. He had never been particularly gentle with any of his lovers.
Lara was no exception, and never had been, but this was something else entirely. He didn't need it to be something long and drawn out. He didn't need it to be anything at all, as long as he got what he wanted out of it. That was what she'd asked him for and he wasn't for a moment afraid to deliver.
"You fucking like that, don't you?"
She moaned and reached out for him. Paul reached forward and pressed one hand down on her throat. She clutched at it, but once she finally had a grip she made no move to pull him away. If anything she pulled him down on her harder.
He used that grip on her neck to pull against, to thrust harder. He could feel himself deep inside, her pussy tightening and spasming with every thrust. Her eyes were shut and she was making a list of every curse word he'd ever heard.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, yes, fuck me you fucking bastard."
He obliged. He could feel the edge approaching rapidly, and for an instant he couldn't decide whether or not to pull out. But if she wanted something violent, if she wanted something passionate, if she wanted more than he had given her before, then there was no real choice.
He let out a primal yell and thrust again, his hips moving as quickly as he could move them his knees threatening to slip from underneath her hips as he drove his cock into her again and again. The end was in sight, now, but he didn't hesitate for a moment.
His hips met hers in rough, powerful strokes and she let out a little yelp as he put all of his weight down on her neck, not thinking for a second about anything but how to get deeper inside when he spent himself.
He thrust in, grunting and panting, and finally when he couldn't take it any more he let himself finish. His cock spasmed hard, shooting rope after rope of thick, potent cum inside her. He didn't know if she was protected in any way, and the truth was that he didn't care.
She was his, and she'd always been his. Even when he was away, even when she'd left him, she was his, and now she was going to learn it the only way he knew how to teach.
He loosened his grip around her throat and noted with a vague sense of self-satisfaction the red hand-shaped mark that he left behind. He leaned down, his cock still inside her, still most of the way hard, and thrust one more time for good measure as it softened, pulling her nipple between his lips and enjoying the way that she moved up to meet his lips, to press herself more fully into his mouth and meet him with her body.
"That was good," he said finally as he pulled out. His fingers moved to her pussy, teasing it even as he knew that nothing would come of it. "I'm not going to let you go ever again, if it's going to be like that every time."
30
Being surrounded by people she didn't know was starting to feel normal to Lara, which seemed strange and wrong in a thousand new ways every day. What wasn't usual was to have those strangers sending her texts. Telling her to call them.
How could they have gotten her number, even? She shivered. She tried to keep herself out of the spotlight, and for the most part Lara felt like she succeeded. Nobody knew her name unless she told it to someone. Or, sometimes, Tim told them. She didn't introduce herself to many people. Nobody who wasn't on the plane with them. There was no reason to.
Of course, that didn't mean her face wasn't on the cover of several tabloids, she knew. There was a lot of talk, and yes, some of it was certainly true. That didn't mean that they knew her name. So far she'd been able to avoid that. There was no doubt that the news crews currently had interns, likely unpaid, looking through enrollment records of every law school in the greater Salt Lake City area from 2004 to 2008 to see if they could find a face that matched those pictures, as well.
She let out a breath and clicked the red button on her phone. It was probably a telemarketer. She was letting the entire situation get to her, and it wasn't becoming. If that call had come two weeks ago, she'd have thought nothing of it and hung up before she gave it a second thought.
The fact that she was on the trail with Paul, though, was making her cagey. Cagier than she needed to be, that much was for sure. She rubbed her face hard and turned to the complimentary coffee maker in the hotel room. It was cheap and it barely made enough for her alone, only two or three cups full.
But it got the job done, and on the road she couldn't be picky. Whatever the hotel had, that was what she would simply need to make do with. No other way around it.
She took a breath and looked out the window, letting her foul mood color the lights outside. Two days, they'd been here. Two days of antibiotics, two days of doctors. Two days of doctors' bills. Oh, Paul would pick them up. She knew that.
But what if he hadn't been there? What if she'd been alone? That would have meant overtime, and a lot of it. Far, far more than two days' worth. Two days that she couldn't spend with Tim because she had to spend her money.
It was ironic that so many people who were desperate for money had no children. They married, maybe, or maybe they didn't; but they never had children. And for what reason?
Because they were hungry for money.
It w
as easy to understand why a parent would be desperate. Why they would want money so bad they'd be willing to do anything to do it. But when you've got only yourself to look out for? No such thing. She frowned and rubbed her head. Drink your coffee, she told herself. Drink your coffee and get your head on straight.
Her phone rang again. It made an awful buzzing noise, where it rested on the table. She looked down at it again sourly. The same number. So it wasn't a telemarketer. They never called twice. It was a waste of their time.
She pressed the red button again to cancel the call. She didn't need any kind of attention on her at all, and giving them the time of day was only going to make whoever it was more interested. Once she let them in, they were in. She didn't get to change her mind any more.
Lara took a deep breath, faced away from the balcony and drank deeply. The coffee wasn't hot any more; it was only warm, and she finished the cup in one easy mouthful.
She had places to be. Places more important than her hotel room. She had to go see Tim. Maybe he had made a recovery or maybe he hadn't. But she couldn't stay away and she couldn't stand not knowing.
A man was waiting outside her door, black suit, earpiece, the whole dig. "Miss Beech," he said. The Secret Service that seemed to be around them all constantly were consummate professionals. If he had any qualms about watching his boss's booty call then he didn't show it. She appreciated that because it could have been very awkward for everyone involved. But he didn't make it any worse than it had to be.
"Is it alright if I go to the hospital?"
He shook his head. "No problem at all, ma'am. We'll take you to a car."
They did so. There were three cars in the fleet, it seemed, no matter where they went they had three cars, nearly identical in every way. She couldn't see many changes in the ones that weren't Paul's specifically; they looked to her much like they must have looked out of the factory.
That didn't mean they were actually similar to the cars that she could buy, of course. She knew that much. There was a very, very good chance that there were changes made under the hood. Probably bullet-proofed, with a more-powerful engine to handle the extra weight. She couldn't imagine what kind of gas mileage they got, but it couldn't have been good.