Yes, Prime Minister

by Aria Cole

  My heart sped up, beating a bruising tattoo against my rib cage as his words hung in the air between us.

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I could only feel.

  Everything logical in me said to turn and run. I’d only known him a few days, but it’d really been longer than that. So much longer. It’d been weeks. And before that, it’d been months as I’d watched him campaigning nearly every day in my city and on my TV, his life laid bare for every citizen to see.

  He was a good man.

  He was kind, sexy, completely intoxicating. And with his kisses stealing all my sense, I knew there was only one thing I could say. “Yes, Prime Minister.”

  EIGHT

  Bryce

  A riptide of emotion thundered through me, that one word flooding all of my brain cells on repeat: yes, yes, yes.

  I kissed her fiercely, grinding against her, hands locking her hands above her head as we rocked together. I needed to feel her, needed to know this was real, needed to know I’d truly found her and she wouldn’t vanish like a beautiful dream.

  I hooked her thighs with my hands, carrying her across the office to sit front and center at my desk. Exactly where I wanted her from now until forever. “One more thing.”

  She arched one playful eyebrow, her lips that perfectly bruised shade of red serving as a reminder of where I’d been.

  I bent, pressing a thumb to the security pad and waiting for the telltale beep of the safe under my desk unlocking. I fished for the small box, feeling like everything about this moment was right.

  Just like she always told me it would be.

  I paused, a smile stretching my lips as I thought about the woman who’d given this to me, and the woman I was giving it to now.

  “This is the most precious thing I own.” I lifted the lid and pulled the ring from its velvet cushion. “But now you are.”

  Her eyes were riveted on me, already shimmering with liquid.

  “Say yes one more time, and I’ll put this ring on your finger and marry you tomorrow if you’ll let me.”

  One hand covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, her hands trembling before she engaged in a series of quick head nods. “Yes. Yes, again and again, Bryce.”

  I pulled her left hand from her chest, holding it still as I slipped the four-carat emerald on her finger. “You mean everything to me. The entire world could collapse around us, but if I have you by my side, I’ll still die a happy man. I can’t wait to tie you to me,” I finished, sending her a crooked grin.

  She wiped at the tears on her face before I pulled her into my arms, tucking myself between her thighs and kissing away the salt on her cheeks. “Even your tears taste delicious.”

  She sniffed, tucking her nose into my shoulder. “They're happy tears.”

  “Good.” I hummed, sliding a hand between her thighs and slipping a thumb along her panties.

  A slow shudder coursed through her, and my dick turned to steel behind my zipper. “Can we go home now?”

  “Mmm, I’ve got a little work to do right here.” I dropped to my knees, spreading her thighs and pushing the soft fabric of her panties aside. The pretty glistening flesh of her cunt welcomed me. A low groan escaped my throat. I trailed one long lick down the seam of her sweet pussy, the flavor coating my tongue and making me crazed with the need to push into her. Devour her. Make her mine, make her come, claim her beautiful body from the inside out.

  I flicked at the little bud, her hips bucking off the polished gleam of my desk as she struggled to control the small gasps falling from her lips.

  I didn’t give a shit who heard her, let them hear me pleasing my woman. She was my queen, and I’d worship at her throne every day.

  Unable to wait another minute, I stood, pushing my pants down my thighs and sinking myself into her. A soft sigh fell from her lips before her hips matched the rhythm of my own, our bodies surging together in a state of frantic lust.

  I needed her more than I needed air, and I needed her to see that.

  “Oh God, Bryce. Oh God, I think I’m going to—”

  I clamped down on the smooth skin at her neck, tugging as an orgasm spiraled through her body. My own release followed, my come emptying into her, my hands clutching at her ass as we got so high we nearly touched the live wire together. We were invincible. She was mine, and I was certainly hers. We were everything.

  Breaths of air rushed from my body, my lungs fighting to regain oxygen as we came down together. My hands encircled her, cupping her head into my neck as we molded together.

  “I love you so much.” Those words were the only thing on my brain.

  “I love you, Bryce.” One of her fingers darted across the top line of my lips, nearly making my knees buckle. Every goddamn touch from this woman was like my own personal kryptonite.

  “Say it again.” I nipped at her lip, dragging my teeth along it and watching her shudder.

  “I love you so much it hurts to breathe, Bryce Gallagher.”

  “Mmm.” I grinned against her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

  EPILOGUE

  Juliette - Four Years Later

  Bryce’s large palms cupped my protruding belly, our daughter sending him one quick kick and causing a chuckle to cascade through both of us. “You ready to get out of her, little lady?”

  I placed a soft kiss at my husband's neck as we enjoyed a few moments alone before the doors would swing wide open, and we’d be front and center on the steps of the White House in front of the entire press corps.

  The thought alone made my stomach churn. The heartburn didn’t help either. Bryce and I had been busy in four years, our third baby only a few months from making her grand entrance. We’d decided on Julianna. Just close enough to his grand-m?re’s name and mine, but still her own.

  “You feeling okay? I can tell them to wait. We’re lucky the doctor approved this trip, and we don’t want to push it.” My loving husband’s hand cupped my chin and trained my eyes on his.

  “I’m fine. You’re always such a worrywart when I’m pregnant.”

  He shrugged, placing a kiss on my lips. “Can’t help it. I’ve got a vested interest in protecting what’s mine.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I s’pose you do.”

  I grinned, feeling heat radiating down through to my toes that my life had turned out this way.

  It’d been a whirlwind from the beginning, Bryce and me marrying just three months after he’d first slipped that ring on my finger. I hadn’t let him steal me away to the courthouse the next day. I’d wanted to plan some kind of celebration for our families, and we had. An intimate gathering right on the banks of the river, overlooking the prime minister’s cottage and our home. It was magic, every single part of it.

  And now here we were, our third bundle ready to be born during Prime Minister Gallagher's administration.

  Headlines had called us the Canadian Royals from the beginning, comparisons to William and Kate flying.

  I’d laughed off every gossiping one of them, but Bryce had only pulled me closer, murmured against my ear that he loved me, and then very often kissed me until all the oxygen was stolen from my lungs.

  I loved him so much I didn’t even care he could be a little overbearing, especially when he was worried.

  “My mom texted while you were in the meeting,” I said. “The baby’s asleep, but she, Dad, and Pierre are watching. Or, she's trying to make Pierre watch anyway. You know he never understands why you’re on TV and he can't touch you.”

  Bryce’s smile heated my bloodstream, and I was thankful we had at least this one small moment between us before the press’s flashbulbs went off. I couldn't wait to get back to the plane that would shuttle us home to Canada and our kids. Even one night away was too many, but my mom had insisted Bryce and I try to enjoy this one last trip alone before sweet Julianna came.

  Bryce had agreed eagerly. I’d been a little harder to persuade.

  I’d made it my mission to use my positi
on as the prime minister’s wife to shine a light on inner-city poverty, namely in schools and households with families. I’d founded a program, hosted charity dinners and auctions, and even done a few interviews with news stations. I pinched myself often, but Bryce always commented how I came alive under the light of the flashbulbs, that the camera—and the people—loved me.

  It’d taken me a while to adjust, but I soon realized I loved them too.

  Sometimes, I even wondered if this was my calling, talking about the causes and passions I championed, namely the people of our country.

  “I can’t wait to get under this dress.”

  “You’re still a bit of a cad, Bryce Gallagher.”

  His face, with that beautiful, cocky grin that melted my insides every time, turned, just as the new president of the United States entered through the double doors. She patted Bryce on the back, sending him a wide grin before turning to me, eyes simmering with genuine warmth. “I hope to get up to your neck of the woods soon.”

  “We’d love to have you at our home, Mrs. President, as long as you don’t mind the pitter-patter of little feet.” I smiled deeply, pulling my husband a little closer to my side.

  “Sounds lovely, my dear.” The president placed a hand at my shoulder, steering us toward the wide doors that would open to the front lawn and a hundred or more journalists.

  “It’s been great chatting with you, Prime Minister.” The doors opened then, and flashbulbs shot off in every direction. I sailed through the flashes, pretending to enjoy this moment, when all I wanted was a hot bath and my husband’s arms curled around me in bed.

  Bryce shook the hand of the president, one hand still hovering at my back before we all turned to wave to the crowd. Cameras clicked like crazy before security led us to a car waiting to take us to the airport. Bryce helped me in, careful to hold my hand as he did, cameras catching his every move, before he turned, giving the journalists a half wave. That warm, charming grin that the world loved so much split his face.

  He was their golden boy too.

  Wherever he went, Bryce Gallagher charmed the masses.

  He’d charmed the pants right off of me from day one.

  I smiled when he slid into the seat next to me, hand reaching for mine and placing a kiss on my knuckles. “Ready to head north, my beauty?”

  “Ready to be in our bed.”

  “That makes two of us.” He pulled me into his arms, hands covering my body as we were ferried to the airport.

  Everything about my life since I’d met Bryce had been something out of a fairy tale. I couldn’t even fathom what our future might hold.

  “Love you more every day, mama.”

  “Love you so much it hurts to breathe, Bryce,” I whispered the prayer I said to him so many nights.

  SECOND EPILOGUE

  Bryce - eight years later

  “Shh, beautiful. You don’t want the whole neighborhood to know where my hand is, do you?”

  She squirmed, her gorgeous ass shaking as I worked the small plug in a little deeper.

  “I love when you wiggle like that. Does it feel good?”

  “So good. So full.” The soft admission made my dick leak with drops of precome. Twelve years later, and I still couldn’t get enough of my wife.

  “Seeing you like this does things to me, Juliette.” I pushed my dick past the seam of her soaked lips desperate to be buried inside her, the only place I really felt like home. Wherever she was, was where I had to be to breathe. But where I felt at home was connected to her. Sharing our love, breathing it in, and pulling all the pleasure we had to give out of one another.

  We’d had a long ride together, two terms, and she’d been with me through it all.

  Our lives were a lot calmer now. We both worked doggedly for our charities, helping to raise money and awareness for inner-city youth. We’d even co-authored a children’s book featuring characters with the names of each of our five kids. All proceeds had gone to charity, and the kids had even had a hand in charity work. Giving back was big in our family.

  We made a point of doing something amazing every day, and my something amazing at this moment was being buried deep inside the woman who made the stars shine in my universe.

  I sucked at the sweet skin of her bare back, licking the beads of perspiration glistening there as my dick finally reached the limits of her. “Christ, I can feel how tight you are, how full you are.”

  She rocked her hips against mine, the plug buried in her gorgeous ass grinding against my hips with every pass. The little minx liked playing kinky; that’d been a fun part of the last few years. We finally had more time and freedom to explore this side. Living under the media scrutiny wasn’t always easy when you had things like a butt plug being delivered to your doorstep, discreet packaging or not.

  I traced up the soft dip of her spine, swirling my thumb at her clit just as I gently tugged the toy from her ass, letting it fall to the floor before flipping her around in my arms and carrying her to the bed. I caged her down against me, kissing up her sex-dampened body and leaving tiny goose bumps in my wake.

  “So sensitive.” I sank inside her again, enjoying the tiny puffs of air that fell from her lips.

  I thumbed the hard tips of her nipples with my fingers, my other hand cupping at her backside and angling her a little deeper into me. I needed all of her, needed every last drop she had to give, and then I’d pour myself into her and we’d both fall over together.

  Soft whimpers filled the air while my thumb sped between us, her hips bucking as an orgasm rushed through her body. The walls of her tight pussy pulsed around me until my own release ripped through every cell I possessed.

  This was everything.

  She was everything.

  She’d saved me that day she’d agreed to work in my office, and she’d saved me even more the day she’d said yes.

  Our breathing calmed, our lips whispering against each other before I pulled out of her, tucking her under my heavy arm, right where she belonged.

  “That was amazing.” She hummed, a love-drunk smile turning up her sexy lips.

  “Wait till we try the vibrating one.”

  “Vibrating!” she shrieked, slapping at my bare chest. I caught her wrist, pulling her on top of me for another slow kiss.

  “I know you like it kinky, beautiful. I’m just trying to be a doting husband.”

  “You're so full of it.”

  “Is that right?” I slapped her ass, enjoying the squeal I could elicit so quickly. I was a selfish bastard in all things related to her. “We’ve still got another hour before everyone gets home. I could get a lot done in that amount of time.” My fingers trailed around the curve of her breast, her nipple puckering with the sensation.

  “I know exactly how sharp your skills are. You stole my heart in far less time than that.”

  Before I could think, I covered her mouth with mine in a kiss. “There will never come a day where I get enough of you, Juliette.” My fingers trailed across her silky skin. “En sa beaut? g?t ma mort et ma vie.”

  She tipped her head to the side, soaking up the words. “What does it mean?”

  “‘In her beauty resides my death and my life.’” Speaking French to my wife was an instant aphrodisiac. “Should I continue?”

  “Mmm.” She lowered herself onto me, our bodies melding together like long-lost pieces of the same soul. “Yes, Prime Minister.”

  THE END

  Turn the page to read the first few chapters of Stepbrother Anonymous!

  S T E P B R O T H E R

  A N O N Y M O U S

  ARIA COLE

  One

  Hudson

  “Two fingers of top-shelf Scotch,” I murmured at the bartender, anxious for the dark liquid to quiet my head. He poured a few ounces, sliding the glass across the bar with a nod. I tipped the glass of amber amnesia to my lips, the booze easing a little more of the tension out of my shoulders. My neck. Fuck, I’d been wound tight in the weeks before I even
had to make this trip.

  I finished the glass, setting it back on the bar and nodding to the bartender. Another upstate asshole—why did my mother always find herself around these types of people?

  I swear, sometimes she tried to find herself by marrying someone new. This was her fourth wedding, not that I was judging, but she’d picked some real losers before.

  I’d had my fair share of shitty stepdads, so when she’d called a few months ago and told me she was getting married—again—I’d shoved it to the back of my mind.

  If I could have avoided this wedding, I sure as hell would have.

  But she was my mother, despite all the dysfunction, and I wasn’t the kind of man to leave my own mother flapping in the wind.

  Thankfully, she and the new beau weren’t going traditional with a wedding party—I’d been forced to step into a monkey suit at the age of fifteen when she’d married the last one, and I’d fucking hated every minute.

  She was lucky I was here; that was about all the enthusiasm I could muster.

  The bartender replenished my whiskey, nodding at me before tapping on the wooden bar to my left, a grin crossing his face that could only be reserved for a woman. A good-looking one.

  I knew men, and I knew there must be one helluva piece standing next to me.

  I took a sip of my drink, glancing out of the corner of my eye to find a woman next to me, waves of auburn hair falling around her shoulders and eyes so big and wide I nearly swallowed my own tongue.

  “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” She gestured to the glass in my hand.

  A smile spread over my cheeks. “You sure about that? This’ll create a fire in your belly.”

  “Bring it, then.” Her eyes darted up to mine, leveling on me and ripping all the sense from my mind. Ice-blue oceans swirled back at me. I was sure I’d never seen eyes quite that color.