The Politician - A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Connie Black

  She didn’t go for my BS, and went on asking a couple of questions. I got serious and down to business and gave her honest answers. Each time I’d answer a question, she licked her lips and flicked her hair. My cock grew painful trapped inside my pants, feeling heated anticipation. It demanded to be released. But I couldn’t do it here in the office.

  After a few minutes, inside my mind I gave into my urges and resolved to fuck this woman. I started coaxing her to meet me for dinner. I wanted to take our interaction to a less formal setting so we could really start getting to know each other. To my surprise she agreed.

  By the time she left I felt like she was filled with anger. The poor little lefty woman was pissed, mad because I was trying to fuck her, right in my own office. She probably knew deep inside she’d have to take the dick inside her of the most hated politician. Without even a kiss or buying her dinner. You could see the fear, or was it rage, building up inside her eyes as I whispered in her ear.

  But I really didn’t give a shit what she thought. My number one goal was to get my cock wet and she was going to do it for me. The fact that I’d have to overcome her anger made it even more exciting.

  Chapter 3 – Diana

  As I exit the building I can’t seem to wipe the thought of Kyle Swanson out of my mind.

  What is it about him?

  Is it because he’s rich? His well-muscled body? It can’t be any of these things. Normally any man that would talk to me like that had already lost the game. But I felt myself getting drawn closer to Swanson with every breath. A giddy excitement took over as I thought about meeting him again later that night.

  Maybe it was because he was so driven. It was crazy enough that he was running five different corporations simultaneously, but why on earth did he want to become a Senator? I mean we’ve all got ideas about how to run the country, but Swanson seemed consumed by it. It was like an irresistible force was pulling him up into more and more power.

  My reaction was completely irrational. The man sexually harasses me. It goes against the grain of everything I believe in as a professional woman. And yet, here I am giddy, wanting him. I began reviewing all the reasons it could be again. Was it his power? His money? His good looks? His drive? His energy? Maybe it was all those things. Whatever it was despite the way he talked he made me feel like a woman.

  This was all too crazy. I’m a professional, a journalist.

  Oh I hate the term feminist, it conjures up images of someone with a chip on their shoulder that almost, or actually does, hate men. That’s not me, but I’m a professional and expect to be treated like one, and treated fairly. So why am I getting all wound up over this man, excited about seeing him again in a few hours? Walking along it seems like the force of gravity has been cut in half. Every step is light, and I’m practically skipping like a child towards the parking garage.

  I get to my car and try to gather my thoughts. Sitting there for a few minutes I do some deep breathing exercises and the rational part of my mind takes over. The man was clearly a jerk. I had to keep that in mind, remember his reputation, how he talked about women on television and how he talked to me.

  My nerves finally began to relax, enough that I could drive on out of here.

  ***

  My pulse accelerated as I began searching for a motel. I didn’t want to spend all night with Swanson having dinner down here, drinking wine while having to drive home on I-5. And I needed my own place to stay the night in case he suggested I join him at his house – something I wasn’t ready to do yet despite my undeniable attraction.

  The more I drove, the more Swanson kept haunting me, like a tiger stalking its prey. His pale blue eyes were penetrating, causing a weakness within me that was impossible to fight. Despite all the feelings of hostility I had for him before meeting him, and the disgust I felt at his crude language, every time our eyes met the more I wanted to submit to him.

  I shake my head violently trying to get him off my mind.

  I’d seen Swanson on TV many times, but meeting him in person, and alone like that, caused a heat in my body. He radiated power and dominance from his core, and for the first time in years I was around someone that made me feel like a woman.

  I had a lot of dates with hot looking guys. Some even leading to relationships that would last six months or a year. But they were all boys trapped in the bodies of men, and the relationships would always fizzle. Great sex for awhile, and some fun times but not much beyond that. They’d rather play video games or watch the latest TV series than do anything grown up men would do. I don’t know why I met so many of these types, maybe that’s all there is available these days.

  But with Swanson it was different. Sure I disagreed with him on a lot of issues. And he had a leg up that most people didn’t have, being born into some wealth. But this guy had real power, and he was using it to do something. He employed 70,000 people and was running for a high government office. As far as I could tell, there’d be no stopping him either.

  Taking a deep breath I grip the steering wheel even harder, trying to get his image out of my mind and find a reasonably priced motel near this restaurant he owns. Unfortunately it’s close to the harbor and so I’m probably not going to find anything cheap. And the traffic sucks.

  I start thinking I should probably quit this job. This man is suddenly on my mind constantly and I’m feeling a level of anticipation about our future meeting that makes my higher self more than uncomfortable.

  So what if he wins the Senate race. He’s likely to anyway. I should just go get a quiet job writing articles for an architecture or home decorating website and forget all this.

  And then I feel haunted again, drawn in by those blue eyes.

  After pulling over and searching on my phone, I finally found a Motel 6 nearby with an available room. So I headed over there and got settled in.

  Chapter 4 – Diana

  I arrived at the restaurant, a few minutes late – on purpose. Janet had told me being late pisses Swanson off so much he might refuse to speak to me again if I did something like that. And that’s what I was hoping. The more I thought about him throughout the afternoon, the more I realized I had to get myself out of this situation. I’d write one column for the website based on our discussions so far and let someone else take over. I needed to get away from this man.

  I did my best not too look attractive. I threw on a plaid shirt and blue jeans, and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. No makeup. Let Mr. Sexy see the dark circles under my eyes. It probably made me look older and less attractive. And I was not going to show skin like I had earlier.

  I figured this would pour some water on the fire.

  The hostess comes up and says Swanson is late because of a meeting, but she’ll take me back. The restaurant is packed – its right on the harbor and there are tons of tourists here enjoying the idea of eating seafood right on the ocean. She takes me all the way back to a secluded room – one side is all glass looking out on the water which is right there – motions for me to sit down and gives me a menu. The only lights in the room are the candles on the table. Its definitely romantic.

  “Your waiter will be Henri, he should be here in just a few minutes.”

  I thank her and she walks out. You can still here the crowd in the main dining room but it feels completely private. The only intrusion will be from the waiter.

  For a few minutes I get lost going over the menu. When I look up by pulse quickened. Swanson was standing there in the doorway just staring at me. His gaze made me feel like I was naked, exposed.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “I just got here, but, well I have to admit I was taken aback by how beautiful you look.”

  A flush came over me and I glanced down at the menu. He walks in and sits down.

  “Well what do you think? I saw that this place was for sale, and I had to have it. I eat here once a week. It’s going to be one thing I really miss when I have to spend so much time in Washington.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah, its lovely,” I say, feeling relieved that we’re having some normal conversation. He almost seems human now.

  The waiter comes in with a bottle of wine. Kyle looks at me and smiles. “Diana, I hope your OK with a Chateau Lafite Rothschild. Its $1,200 a bottle.”

  “Good Lord Kyle, You don’t need to be wasting your best wines on me. I’m a journalist who graduated from Cal State.”

  “No I insist,” he says, starting to laugh. “Not to brag, but when you’re a billionaire a $1,200 bottle of wine, well its like it costs a penny.”

  Yeah sure Kyle, don’t brag. Henri goes ahead and opens the bottle. Kyle immediately starts swigging it down. Oh boy, wonder what he’s like when he gets tipsy. I remind myself that we’re in a public location.

  “So I imagine you have some more questions for me. We didn’t get through much material at the office.”

  “Yes that’s true.” I leaned into him staring straight into his eyes. “What are you going to do with yourself, if you lose this race?”

  I had become more interested in what made the man tick than I was in his boring policy details.

  He laughs and looks out the window out over the water, “Well that’s easy Ms. Bates, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing now, having the time of my life buying up San Diego.”

  Strange – suddenly he’s calling me Ms. Bates.

  “Why do you want to be Senator? Tell me what really drives you.”

  “Ms. Bates, what drives you? Why did you become a journalist, and why are you focused on politics?”

  I looked straight into his eyes and gritted my teeth. “Are we here to talk about me? I don’t think so.”

  The question had made him uncomfortable. He was deflecting. I started sensing some kind of insecurity.

  “I’ll try again.”

  Just then Henri pops in, wanting to take our order. Kyle seemed relieved that my efforts to press him had been interrupted. Henri stayed a few minutes and we were joking and laughing a bit, and by the time he left I had lost track.

  I finished a glass of wine and was feeling a little light headed and relaxed. I decided to do some more digging.

  “Tell me about yourself. Where does Kyle Swanson come from. Who is he?”

  He leaned back in his chair and paused. “Where do I begin? My parents were Australian, but had always wanted to live in the states. They immigrated here before I was born, that was about five years later. Over that time they discovered they really had a knack for doing business, and started the hotel chain. You know the one today that has 150 hotels, at least one location in every single state.”

  “By the time I was 11 or 12, they had built up three different businesses that were all worth millions. I guess I inherited that multi-tasking ability from my dad. You know I own five companies right? Be sure to put that in your article.”

  “Sure thing Kyle,” I was sensing the insecurity again. He was too easy with emphasizing accomplishments. There was something wrong.

  “Well let’s see, they sent me off to boarding school when I turned 14. All the way to Connecticut.”

  “What was that like,” I chimed in. I noticed he avoided eye contact the entire time he was talking about growing up.

  “Well to be honest, I hated my parents for doing it. Sending me all the way across the country? I protested about losing all my friends and said I wanted to stay in southern California. They shot back, ‘KYLE, YOU’RE THE SON OF WEALTHY PARENTS, AND YOU NEED TO MAKE FRIENDS FROM SIMILAR BACKGROUNDS.’ They had this idea that I had to make ‘connections” in the world of the 1%. We didn’t call it that back then but that’s what it was. The idea was that you go to a boarding school with other rich kids, the ones who are going to be lawyers, CEOs, Senators.”

  “Yes, Senators,” I shot back.

  He fell silent. “How did you feel about this?”

  “Diana I already told you how I felt. I hated my parents for doing it. And I hated all four years I was there. It was almost like being a prisoner of war. I avoided making too many friends. But then I went to Yale for college that was nearby. I graduated number one in my class at Yale you know.”

  “Of course Kyle, everyone knows you graduated top of your class.” I winked, “But I’ll mention it again in the article, just to make sure nobody misses that.”

  “So you went to Harvard didn’t you?”

  “Tell me Diana, why did you become a journalist?”

  I shook my head. “Like I told you, this isn’t about me. We’ll leave that for another time.”

  He reaches out and grabs my hand as my heart soars. “I knew we’d have more than one date.”

  “This isn’t a date,” I tell him. “Strictly business.”

  We both burst out laughing and he pours some more wine.

  Chapter 5 – Kyle

  As I’m watching Diana slowly take bites of succulent lobster, with the fork slowly pulling out her mouth, my cock hardens. It was mesmerizing watching her eat, and I imagine what else she could do with that mouth.

  I decided to eat some of my own food. I wasn’t really hungry but it would take my mind off of seeing my cock in her mouth – if only for a second.

  “So come on Diana, tell me why you got into political journalism.”

  She looks up at me again. She’d told me twice already this wasn’t up for discussion, but she was pissing me off, digging into my past. She smelled blood was ready to pounce on anything – any weakness, lack of fitness for office, I displayed. We were getting along great but I sure as hell didn’t trust her when it came to writing her columns.

  “Oh I don’t know, I guess I had an idealism when I got out of college. I didn’t want to go into politics myself, but I wanted to as they say ‘change the world’. I figured journalism was the next best thing.”

  Figures. An idealistic left wing bitch.

  “So, have you ever had a job in the real world?”

  She shot back at me in disbelief, furrowing her brow. “The real world, Mr. Swanson? Excuse me?”

  “You know, the world of business. The people that create all this,” I said waving my fork around.

  Her eyes became piercing daggers.

  “Well, journalism is real. How would anybody know what’s going on if it weren’t for us? Seems like a strange way to put it. Kind of judgmental, Mr. Swanson”

  I didn’t like the way she was calling me Mr. Swanson. “Kyle, call me Kyle. But you’re right, it was too judgmental, and I apologize.”

  A wave of relief came over her face. I got up and walked over to the door, and closed it.

  “Kyle, what are you doing?”

  “I just thought we should have a little more privacy.”

  Now its about 8:30, getting dark outside. The lit candles and open window here mean people across the harbor could see us fucking if I take her right now. I don’t fucking care. My cock is aching with desire. I walk behind her and start massaging her shoulders.

  “Mmmm,” she can’t help herself and starts moaning. I lean down and move her hair away gently, and kiss her on the nape of the neck.

  “You know what I want more than anything, Diana?”

  “What’s that Kyle?” She says in a deep voice.

  “To fuck you, right here.”

  “That’s crazy Kyle. We’re in a restaurant.”

  I moved my head to the right and nibbled on her ear. In a husky, low voice, I tell her “Yeah, but I own it, and can do whatever the fuck I want in this restaurant.”

  She pulled away from me. Her words are heavy, as she tries to discourage me. “Look Kyle, I’m a journalist. A professional, and my job is to cover your campaign. We can’t have that kind of relationship, because my readers will suspect bias.”

  Her voice quaked as she barked her pronouncements from on high. I knew her pussy ached as much as my cock. I longed to feel her heat, and plunge my cock deep inside as far as it would go.

  She turned back around and I slid my hand down her stomach, down to her jeans. I moved it over the
front of her crotch area, just gently rubbing. She starts moaning deeply. Even through her jeans, I can feel the radiant heat.

  I unbutton her jeans. She isn’t wearing any belt, so I start to unzip them. Even in the candlelight I notice her cheeks flush as I slip my hand underneath her panties. When my fingers get down to her clit, she quivers as if receiving an electric shock. I hear her speak again in that heavy voice.

  Kyle.

  This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all day. I pull my hand out and pull the chair –with her in it, away from the table and into a dark corner away from the candlelight. Then I go around to the front and pull off her undone jeans.