Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  I knock again, this time with a little more force. Even though it’s one in the morning, I know without a doubt she's still up. If I know her, she's probably going through the lineup of every congressman and senator, making a line chart of who she might be able to recruit to change their vote on the upcoming bill.

  Inching closer to the door, I tilt my head, angling my ear closer. The soft padding of her feet against the carpet pushes me back a step, not wanting to be in her face the second she opens the door.

  An inch gap appears between the door and the frame, a cautious hazel eye peering around only to relax the second it lands on me.

  “Trouble,” she says with a resigned sigh. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were someone here to kill me or something.”

  I arch a dark brow. “Would someone here to assassinate you knock?”

  “Maybe. Could be their ploy to get me out of the security of my room.”

  I stifle a laugh but can't stop a full smile from crawling up my lips. “Let me in, Mess.”

  The door swings open, leaving just enough space for me to squeeze through. A single light gives the room a soft glow from the nightstand. As I suspected, the bed is still made, and her laptop and iPad are on the floor beside the chair in the far corner.

  “Working late?” I ask over my shoulder as I move deeper into the bedroom.

  “Always, you know that. Can't get anything done sleeping.” I watch as she folds back into the chair, tosses a thick blanket over her bare legs, and leans against the high back, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Honestly?” I sigh. “I don't know. All I know is I had to come over. I needed to see you after tonight.”

  “Don't you dare say that,” she chides. “You don't have the right to say you needed to see me. You tabled us and any right you have of stopping by in the middle of the night.”

  “I know.” I massage the bridge of my nose. Fuck, I'm tired. Worrying about her, staying away, pretending we're nothing more than friends has taken its toll these past few months. “Doesn't change the fact that I needed to see you. Everything is still there, Randi, you know that. It fucking kills me to keep my hands off you every time we're together.” Her eyes widen. “I've done my best to seem impartial, but alone, like this, when it’s just you and me and the night… I want….” Turning from her imploring gaze, I run a hand through my dark hair and tug the ends.

  “You want what, Trey?”

  “I want you,” I whisper. “I can't stop wanting you.” Turning to look over my shoulder, I say, “Wanting you to only be mine.”

  She shakes her head, biting back a smile. “I am yours. Have been since you ran me the most expensive bubble bath ever after the debate. I don't want anyone else. I'm not attracted to anyone else. Haven't you noticed what you do to me?”

  This time it’s me shaking my head.

  “I want you, only you, touching me. It's your hands, your fingers I crave. No one else. Hell, I can barely stand to be touched for longer than ten seconds by anyone else.”

  “Who else has touched you?” I growl, swiveling around to face her straight on. Stalking across the room, I pause directly in front of the chair, my shins touching the soft cushion. “Tell me.”

  “No one,” she whispers on a soft breath. “That’s what I'm trying to tell you. You're different, Trey, in every way. And I only want you. I only crave you.”

  Forgetting the millions of reasons why we can't be together, I fall to my knees, putting us at eye level. My fingers delve into her thick brown hair and curl into a tight fist. Her breath hitches at the sharp tug pulling her lips an inch from mine.

  “Say it again. Say that you're mine.” The darkness from earlier spreads through my body, demanding I take her, reminding her of whose she is.

  “I'm yours, Trouble.”

  With a desire-filled groan, I seal my lips to hers. She parts them, giving me access to tangle my tongue with hers. My fingers tighten, tilting her head and elongating her slim neck. Skimming along her soft jaw, I suck and nip at the skin beneath her ear.

  “This cannot get out,” I whisper against her skin.

  “Won't T know you're here?” Her breathy voice, the soft moan at the end, urges me lower.

  “We'll tell him. Fuck, I don't care right now.” Releasing her hair, I tuck both hands beneath her arms. Standing, I take her with me. Immediately her legs wrap around my waist, the front of her terry cloth robe parting as her hands cup the back of my neck. The sweet scent of her wet center hits my nose, hardening my cock. Her hips flex, pressing her damp heat against my jeans and grinds.

  A feral growl pushes past my lips. My fingers make quick work of the sash barely holding the robe together, allowing the white material to slide from her shoulders and fall to the floor. Leaning back, I take in her disheveled hair and bright eyes before trailing down to her perky breasts and lower to the teasing center that’s sealed right over my dick, so desperate for release.

  “I need a condom,” I mutter, relaxing my fingers from where they're squeezing her round ass cheeks.

  The shake of her head pulls my attention back up.

  “I'm on birth control,” she says, her focus on my lips. “I started last fall and didn't stop, you know, just in case….” A single shoulder lifts in a shrug. “I'm good if you are.”

  The wall trembles at the impact of her back slamming against it. Her quick gasp pulls me back, worry etching my features.

  “More,” she begs.

  Mess likes it rough. I smirk down at the brunette vixen, mind spinning with all the things we can do.

  “You want this?” I grunt as I flex my hips, pressing hard against her core. She cries out, but I smother the noise with my palm pressed to her lips. “Quiet, baby. Be a good girl and I'll give you what you want.”

  Fuck, this isn't going to last long.

  Releasing my tight grip on her right ass cheek, I tap her thighs, signaling for her to loosen her strong hold around my waist.

  Her soft body slides down mine. A finger on her shoulder, I press down, urging her to keep going until she's on her knees in front of me. Wide hazel eyes gaze up, her tongue sliding along her lower lip in anticipation.

  “You want it?” I nod to my dick that's tenting the front of my dark jeans. Gripping myself through the thick denim, I give it a squeeze. “Then get it.”

  Immediately her fingers fly up to the waistband and fumble with the button. I hiss when the teeth of the zipper slide apart as the tease of a woman slowly pulls it down. I smack my palms against the wall, bracing myself at the slide of the pad of her thumb across the already slick head.

  Warmth engulfs my length, sliding up and down as her mouth suctions from tip to base. Eyes closed, focusing on every sensation, I relax my neck and dangle my head between my shoulder blades.

  Peeling my palm from the cool wall, I slide it around the back of her head, urging her deeper, faster.

  My balls draw up tight. Fuck, I'm a pussy if I can't last thirty seconds of a damn blowjob.

  I yank her head back by her hair, releasing my cock from her lips with a soft pop.

  “Up,” I command, shoving my jeans the rest of the way down my thighs while simultaneously toeing off my shoes. Ripping my dark long-sleeve T-shirt over my head, I toss it behind me before stepping out of my pooled jeans. The moment she's standing, I fall to my knees in front of her and bury my nose between her thighs, inhaling deep. My dick bounces in the air, eager for his turn. The wall rattles when she falls against it. Applying pressure on the insides of her ankles, I urge her legs farther apart. Fingers on her hip bones, I slide both thumbs between her swollen lips, spreading her wide.

  “Fuck, I think I love you,” I mutter as I lean forward, licking her dripping pussy.

  “Me or my vagina?”

  “Both.” Sucking her little nub between my lips, I easily slide a finger inside her wet entrance. “Look at how wet you are for me, baby.” Staring up at her, I flatten my tongue, licking her from my
finger to her clit. Her eyes shutter closed as her fingers push into my hair, pressing my face harder to her center.

  “Greedy.” I chuckle, adding another finger.

  “More,” she gasps, tightening her hold on my head.

  With one more lick, I tug both fingers out only to pop them into my awaiting open mouth. I stand, and she tips her head back to maintain the eye contact.

  “Sweetest pussy I've ever tasted,” I say around my fingers with a smile, then push them between her lips, urging her to take a taste. Eyelids fluttering closed, she sucks on them, drawing my fingers deeper into her mouth. My dick throbs, precum trickling down the sides.

  Gripping underneath her right knee, I hook her leg around my waist and slam into her.

  Teeth sink into my knuckles, breath hissing past her parted lips. I pull my fingers free to wrap the other leg around me.

  “Harder,” she urges, meeting my thrusts.

  The soft flesh of her ass dimples between my fingers, no doubt leaving bruises behind.

  Harsh inhales, the slapping of skin, and moans of pleasure fill the large bedroom as the scent of sex permeates the air. Her tight walls spasm just as she cries out, her head smacking the wall as her eyes slam shut. I watch in utter fascination as pleasure rolls through her body, her mouth gaping, breaths shallow and fast.

  Tension builds in my sac. Gripping tight, I slam into her, swirling my hips to grind against her sensitive clit. Again, Randi cries out as her walls squeeze me mercilessly. With a curse I plunge deep, molding her back to the wall as I find my release. Sweat drips down my chest, slicking the places our bodies touch.

  “You're mine, Randi Sawyer.”

  “Yours, Trey Benson. Only yours.”

  Chapter Six

  Randi

  April

  I don’t conceal my awe as I take in the scenery out the tinted window. Munich, Germany, is far more breathtaking than I could’ve imagined, and we've only been driving for five minutes. Twisting along the limo’s seat, I grip the door handle and press my nose against the cold glass.

  “Sit back, ma'am,” Trey chastises from the opposite bench seat. “It's just the interstate.”

  “A foreign interstate,” I say over my shoulder, still gazing at the strange landscape. “First time here in Germany, remember?” Sighing, I relax back against the seat, smile so wide a dull ache spreads. “I know I'm here for the summit and I have to do work—”

  “You mean focus on climate change and how it will affect future generations.”

  I stick out my tongue and roll my eyes. “Exactly. Anyway, I still get to see a country I've never seen before. So don't judge me if I get a little excited about the things you seem to think are so mundane.”

  Cutting my eyes away from the rolling landscape, I see him give a stiff nod in return before shifting his intense focus back to Todd. My inspecting gaze trails from the huge gun strapped across Trey’s chest down to the tactical pants and black military style boots. Sucks that we haven't had any time alone the past couple months. One night a month isn't cutting it for me, but traveling and fighting tooth and nail to convince every congressman and senator to stop the bill from passing hasn't left much time for us.

  “What’s with the outfit?” I ask, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him. I get we're in a different country, but this is a bit extreme, in my opinion. It's not like I'm the president or anything.

  I shift my gaze to Todd, who's sitting a little too close, a scowl on his face as he swipes across the screen of his iPad.

  A hint of a smirk tugs at Trey's lips before he shuts it down. “There was some chatter surrounding the summit. We wanted the extra security inside the limo just in case.”

  “In case of what?” I ask, brows raised.

  “Have you seen this?” Todd asks, sliding the iPad onto my lap. Trey's shoulders stiffen, his eyes flicking from mine to Todd’s hand now resting on my knee. “The Russian President is requesting a meeting with you tonight.”

  I narrow my eyes at Trey’s huffed heavy breath as he cracks his neck. What the hell is wrong with him?

  Keeping a cautious eye on Trey, I grip the iPad between both hands and bring the screen a little closer. “What the hell?” I grumble.

  “He's here.”

  I whip my head to face Todd. “He's here? As in Munich?”

  He nods and points to the screen. “Yes. The Russian president wants a meeting. Tonight.”

  “A meeting.”

  “With you. Tonight. Keep up, Miss Sawyer.”

  “Watch it,” Trey grunts, menace lacing his tone.

  I hold out a hand, pausing their intense stare down. “I understood what you were saying, Todd. Why me though? Why now? Unless he's tried this with past VPs.”

  Todd shakes his head and slides the thin wire-frame glasses off his nose to rub both eyes. “It’s unprecedented.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with me—my background in particular,” I muse, shifting my focus back out the window.

  “Likely,” Todd says. “It would be a great time to use emotions to get him back in the US's good graces.”

  I hold a tight breath. Slowly, each inch a calculated shift, I face Todd straight on. “And why is that, Mr. Secretary?”

  “Because you’re a woman. The first woman vice president.”

  “So,” I start, my tone even, hiding the rising fury building in my veins, “what you're insinuating is he believes I'll be kinder, more understanding because I'm a woman. That I'll let my emotions get the better of my sound judgment because I have a vagina instead of a fucking dick.”

  A bit of me rejoices at the slight tremor in his shoulders, at the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “It's a theory.”

  “You're an idiot,” I say with a huff. “For thinking that and voicing it. I highly doubt the Russian president is as ignorant as you as to how women work, thank fuck. He's playing at something else if he wants to meet with me.” I lay my head back against the leather headrest. “And honestly, I think it's a bad idea to meet with him. If he wants to talk, then he should've requested a formal meeting before today. No, something else is going on.”

  “Agreed,” Trey pipes up.

  “Not your place, Agent,” Todd snaps.

  “Watch it,” I snap right back. “He and this team have been with me since the primary. Do not talk to them like that. They are mine and know how I process shit. In fact”—I flick my angry eyes to Trey—“he needs his own transportation for the rest of the summit and on future travels.”

  Trey purses his lips.

  “Randi—”

  I hold out a hand to Todd. “We need to have our heads on straight at these things. We're about to meet with several of the most influential leaders in the world. I'm not wasting my time arguing with you.”

  “We don't have the manpower to split you two up all the time,” Trey cuts in. “That would leave gaps in the security detail. Too risky.”

  I roll my eyes before pinning them on Todd. “Fine. But next trip I want my own fucking limo.”

  Trey’s head dips, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he messes with the big-ass gun. “Understood, ma'am.”

  “How do we respond to this request?” Todd asks like a pouting toddler.

  “Tell him we'd love to meet; however, we're unavailable until after the summit.”

  “That's not very diplomatic.”

  “Neither was his last-minute meeting invite,” I retort. “It must be some kind of power play. Trying to test me, see how far I'm willing to bend. If I don't put my foot down now, he'll think I'm just at his beck and call anytime he needs me. No, this is the right move. We tell him thanks but no thanks, and if he is serious about meeting, then he needs to make an appropriate meeting request for a future date.”

  Yep, this is the right move.

  I hope.

  * * *

  The mattress molds under my stomach and chest as I flop face-first onto the bed with an exhausted whimper. I thought yesterday wa
s a long day with the flying and meetings, but man, was I wrong. A full day of listening to men bicker back and forth, not getting anything accomplished, and I'm thoroughly spent.

  With the varying viewpoints on climate change and the effects everyone seems to be monitoring, with a wide range of results, the group fought on a solution. By the end of the summit tomorrow, I'm sure we'll be right back where we were before, all of us doing our own damn thing while blaming everyone else for pollution.

  Ice clinks beside my ear, drawing my attention. Slowly I peel the down comforter from my face. My lips pull into a small, pursed-lipped smile at the sight of a dark liquid-filled highball glass dangling in front of my face.

  “We need to talk.”

  My ears perk at the determination in Trey's tone. My arms tremble, barely strong enough to hold my weight as I push both palms against the bed. Flopping to my back, I gingerly take the sweaty glass from him and press up onto my elbows to take a sip.

  The soft burn down my throat eases some of the tension from my shoulders and neck. Jack Daniel’s. My favorite.

  They love me.

  “Did you guys pack me a bottle?” I ask around the crystal lip.

  “We did.” His features tighten with a grimace. Lifting his right shoulder, he brushes at his ear. “Grem would like the record to show it was his idea.”

  I nod in appreciation. The decorative material slides beneath my slacks as I scoot up the bed to rest against the modern-style metal headboard. “Thank you, Grem,” I shout for him to either hear through the mic or on the other side of the bedroom wall. “It's exactly what I need. Except—”

  “Don’t even think about asking, Mess. I cannot sneak you out of here for a smoke.”

  My lower lip juts out in a dramatic pout. “Fine.” After another couple sips, the effects of whiskey's magic elixir take hold, heat coursing through my veins before settling in my belly and warming my core. “What did you need to talk about?”

  Peeking one eye open, I watch Trey as he tugs his earpiece out and does something with the cuff of his dress shirt. Today he's back in the normal secret service getup. I’m honestly not sure which I prefer more.