“Let’s eat and speak.” He pulled her to a table that was out of the way, private. Because, of course, it was so hard to find privacy in an empty restaurant.
As soon as they sat the waiter brought out a bottle of wine, opening it table side and allowing Roger to taste it. He nodded his affirmation and the waiter poured quickly, effortlessly, and left them. She lifted the glass to taste; it was exquisite. He was pulling out all the stops.
“Why didn’t you cancel my lunch?” Roger sipped his wine and sat back, waiting.
Paige took a long sip of wine, relishing it’s smooth feel in her mouth while giving herself time to think. She’d been a very good liar as a journalist, but Roger wasn’t someone she wanted to lie to.
You wouldn’t have to if he’d just let you help.
“You needed to meet with them. Appearances are important. How did the lunch go?”
The waiter brought out her favorite appetizer, a duck prosciutto. She didn’t touch it, waiting for Roger.
“You know how I feel about ‘appearances.’ I don’t like turning my job into a performance act.”
“It isn’t just a performance act, Roger, and you know it! You want bipartisan work to actually happen? It means you need to be seen making an effort to meet with the other team. I’m not your dad, trying to manipulate you, but I am your aide and before that I was one of your advisors, your speech writer, and your PR rep. I’ve worked with you from every angle on this, and I’m telling you that sometimes you have to suck it up and eat a fucking lunch with people.”
She was too mad and she knew it. Overreacting was a sure-fire way to let someone know you’re defensive, and people who are too defensive have something to hide.
He sat, silent for a moment. Eventually he fixed a bit of the duck, dipping it in some balsamic vinegar, and handing it to her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The food never made it into her stunned mouth. “What?”
He shrugged, smiling, suddenly relaxed. “I’m sorry. And the lunch was helpful. They reinforced what I knew all along, which is they offered favors and cronyism and all the stuff my father said ‘makes things happen.’ I said no to that, but we did discuss some possible changes that might keep everyone happy. So thanks… for not canceling.”
Paige smiled and she nodded, but it was too easy. The problem with having worked with Roger for his whole campaign, for having written for him and done PR for him and slept with him was she knew him. Better than he probably knew. He was handsome, and genuine-- and tenacious. He didn’t back down. And very much like his brother, Dallas, he liked control.
They ate and laughed. The waiter had brought out lobster ravioli and it was to die for, the buttery sweetness of the lobster melting in her mouth. It was a bizarre evening, and it was delightful. As she sipped on her coffee after, her stomach full and her face aching from so many laughs, Paige felt her defenses going down. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe Roger had truly forgiven her.
“So, what did you do for lunch today?” He was licking the chocolate from his dessert spoon in a way that made her pussy ache and tingle.
Nope, she wasn’t forgiven. Or at least, he hadn’t forgotten. “Just grabbed a deli sandwich.” She sipped from her mug again, watching him over the lip. His face darkened, for a brief moment, his eyes shrewd and stormy.
“For an hour?”
“It was a nice day out and I wanted to stretch my legs. Unlike some people, I didn’t have time for a morning run.”
The waiter appeared silently to begin clearing their final dishes but Roger waved him away, stating loudly, “Leave us alone for a while.”
The other shoe was about to fall and Paige knew it.
“You’re lying to me, Paige.” His voice, so low it should have been sexy, made her chest clench in fear. “This whole night you’ve been hiding something. The last aide who hid something from me shot herself in my kitchen after trying to shoot me.”
She placed the mug down and started to scoot out from her chair. Faster than she anticipated, Roger was out of his chair and behind hers, his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from getting up. Paige held her breath, scared. She’d never seen Roger like this.
“Don’t lie to me, Paige. Where were you at lunch?” His hands lightened and his fingertips began to trail over her shoulders and the nape of her neck. It was sensual and it was terrifying.
She shut her eyes, chewing her lip. The worst part was, she wanted to tell him the truth. But he’d been shutting her out, even though she had been helpful in unraveling Ellen’s betrayal. If she let him in now… he would probably just shut her out again.
“I was out, Roger.”
He pulled her up and swung her around, shoving her against the table. The glasses and silverware rattled from the force. Roger pressed against her, all man and power, his arms caging her in, forcing her to lean back. She was off balance and he smirked, a dangerous glint in his blue eyes.
Tell me.”
“No.”
Chapter Four
He lifted a hand up and began to slowly peel the strap of her dress down her arm. She’d been naked in front of him dozens of times, but this somehow felt more intimate and exposed. She inhaled sharply.
“Why are you keeping secrets from me?” The strap fell loose on her arm. He began to remove the other one.
“Why are you keeping secrets from me?” She fired back. Hold on to your anger, Paige, hold on to it. She tried to, she did, but this new side of Roger, the one that was dangerous and raw, was consuming her ability to think straight. All she wanted was to be possessed by him.
“I’m not,” he whispered as he nibbled on her ear, making her moan, her legs spreading so he could press closer.
“Then what are you and Dallas doing about ‘S?’” He hesitated before reaching behind and unzipping her dress.
“You don’t need to worry about that.” His fingers began to spread the silk at the back, slowly unwrapping her dress. In a moment, her breasts would be exposed.
Quickly she reached behind her, clasping the fabric and stopping him. Everything about this was unfair. It was unfair that he’d used her favorite restaurant against her, lulling her into a sense of security. Unfair that he thought he should know all of her business while sharing none of his with her. And perversely unfair that he was using her body against her.
Paige had never been so hot in her life. Every inch of her was screaming, aching to discover the deviant depths this new Roger was willing to go to. The rational part of her, shrinking by the second, realized she was seeing a glimpse of what Ellen had hinted at. He was too good at this seduction for it to be his first time.
She tried to straighten, to push him off of her. “Senator, we are in the middle of a public place.” Her tone was business, but she couldn’t keep the husky desire from her voice.
“I told you. Every table, every hour, all night.” He yanked her off of the table and grabbed the tablecloth, yanking hard. It pulled off, all of the remnants of their meal: the glasses, the silverware, the plates, came crashing to the floors. Shards flew and wine puddled at their feet, but Senator Roger Taylor didn’t stop there. He whipped Paige around and she found herself leaned over the table, her face pressed into the dark wood.
Roger yanked her dress down, her breasts exposed against the chilly table, her nipples so rock hard they were painful. Her pussy ignited, her arousal flooding her panties.
“Where’d you go, Paige?” He lifted the hem of her dress and it was bunched around her middle, padding her hips from the edge of the table. His fingers hooked in her panties and yanked them down. Cool air licked at her wet slit and she groaned, unable to help herself.
“Fuck you, Senator.” Her rage was tangled with her pleasure, heightening it, making her mad with desire and mad with need and just mad at him, at understanding how much of himself he’d kept hidden from her.
His hand swatted down on her ass, hard. The slap rang through the restaurant, echoing, and her face burned just as hot
as her ass cheeks knowing the staff could hear exactly what was happening. “Why won’t you tell me?” There was an edge to his voice and she knew it was pain mixed with frustration. The nerve of him! Before she could retort, he spanked her again. It was harder than the first and the pain flared over her backside.
“Roger, what are you--”
Smack. Again. And again. Until his hand was a torrent on her bottom, the stinging pain blooming through her, rushing in her veins like blood, rushing toward her aching clit which seemed to throb and swell with each spank. Her grunts and cries echoed through the restaurant.
When Paige wasn’t sure if she was going to come or collapse from the pain, the spanking ceased. Instead, Roger’s hand began to lightly smooth the sensitive skin, with his fingertips leaving tingly trails.
It was more a response than intentional, but she wiggled her bottom, thanking him for his gentle touch. When she sighed, she heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Roger?” Her voice was sleepy, the endorphins from the pain dulling her senses, making her feel dream-like and wanting.
No reply came. Instead he stood, long enough that she twisted to see his face. Her own was twisted with desire and confusion--why had he stopped?
Their eyes met. His were burning, simply burning, and her heart skipped a beat.
Finally, he whispered, “You weren’t supposed to see this side of me.” He was feral and never had she wanted someone so much.
Weren’t supposed to see this side of him? Didn’t he get that this was the sexiest thing that had happened to her, maybe ever? “I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?” She challenged.
Oh, his face… that beautiful, handsome face filled with remorse even as his hand dropped to his zipper, trembling as he pulled his cock, heavy and erect, out. He pushed her back down and kicked her legs open, positioning himself at her sopping entrance.
The gentle Roger who woke her up with lovemaking was gone. A ruthless Roger thrust into her, hard. She yelped, suddenly filled, and his hand knotted into her hair. Roger proceeded to take her on the table, pistoning in and out of her. Her dress softened the slam of the table on her hips, but he was slamming her so hard the table began to move.
Her orgasm began to build in her, threatening to crest with every pump of his hips. He wasn’t done, though, He yanked her head back. It was awkward, painful, and it allowed him to completely control their fucking. She mewled, craving more, not realizing how much she yearned to match him, depraved act for depraved act.
As if he sensed this in her, his other hand wrapped across her throat, his fingers resting lightly on her trachea. It was fierce and terrifying, having his hand covering her airway, but her body jerked in response, cresting in an orgasm.
As she began to scream out her pleasure, Roger hissed and his fingers began to tighten, cutting off her cries. Paige choked and thrashed, but he had her where he wanted her, his rhythm never faltering as he pounded in her wet, clenching pussy. Tighter and tighter his fingers clamped, until Paige was seeing stars and only the faintest bit of air was wheezing in and out of her lungs.
Roger came with a shout, his hands releasing her and gripping her hips for the final few thrusts, his strong body shuddering.
When he was finished he jerked away from her, his pants already zippered before she could stand on her own. It hit her then, the absurdity of the situation. They were in the middle of a restaurant. He had just fucked her in public, had unleashed this side of himself she had only guessed at, without asking her. Without discussing it with her, or trusting her, or anything that any normal man would do with a woman he was in a relationship with.
It hurt, knowing that she’d thought she’d known him and realizing he had never let her into anything but his bed--and even then he didn’t share himself fully.
Shaky, she finally asked, “What the fuck was that?” Her voice was hoarse, her throat feeling bruised. It thrilled her and she hated it. She wanted this version of him. It scorched her to know he’d been hiding it from her all along.
He reached out, maybe hoping to soothe her, but she shrank from him. “Paige, I’m… I’m sorry, I just--” His hair and face were wild, his skin pale. She’d never seen him this unraveled, not even when Ellen’s betrayal had been unearthed.
Paige ran. She was already moving toward the door as she was fixing her dress, trying to zip it still as she felt the crisp breeze of a DC spring night blow over her. There was a flash of a bulb and she knew she’d been photographed in disarray but there was already too much in her mind and heart to be worried about it yet.
She ran, ignoring Roger’s shouts for her to wait.
~ ~ ~
The mirror behind the bar of the Hilton was one of those made to flatter women. Smart move, Hilton. She looked slimmer than usual, the light dim and softening. Paige raked her fingers through her hair, combing and smoothing it so she didn’t have that just-fucked look. Her reflection’s ironic smirk said differently. Her eyeliner was smudged but she left it, the heavy kohl look giving her an air of mystery.
She wasn’t Senator Taylor’s personal aide right now. She was an investigator, undercover, and slipping into that old skin felt safe.
The bar was full of politicians and wealthy patrons. The soft, muted colors and the dimly lit chandeliers added to the ambience. The soft clink of glasses and the subtle murmur of conversation could just barely be heard over the jazz singer on stage. Paige scanned the room.
There.
Anastasia was sitting and chatting up a familiar face. Paige was almost certain it was the Governor of a Midwest state who was thought to be a hopeful in the next presidential election.
Ha, she thought. He won’t be that hopeful if he is caught spending too much time in Anastasia’s company.
Voters didn’t take too well to candidates who spent their spare time with high-priced hookers.
She went over to their table, gently interrupting. “Governor, so nice to see you,” she crooned. He stood up, startled, not recognizing her immediately. She helped him. “Senator Taylor didn’t know you were in town, but I bet he’d love to have a meeting or lunch, if you’re here for long.”
His smile dropped quickly and his eyes avoided hers. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what kind of girl Anastasia was, and he knew that Paige knew. Delightful. She’d forgotten how much fun this could be. “Ah, yes. Only here for a few more days, actually, but go ahead and,” he handed Paige his card, “give us a call. I can always make time for the Senator. Now, if you’ll excuse me--”
He walked away, not even saying goodbye to the girl he’d just been chatting up.
“You owe me two grand, lady.” Anastasia had a nice voice, low and soft. Disarming. Paige admired it.
“I don’t owe you anything, Anastasia.” Paige dropped her name, letting her know that it was no coincidence they were at the same table.
The girl straightened her back. She was truly lovely, with soft, medium brown curls that spilled effortlessly down her back. Tonight she was wearing a strapless gown that was classy but also made her look young. Her most clever move was an almost-nude face, her apple cheeks pink. Everything about her appearance screamed youthful, virginal, innocent. With a two thousand-a-night price, Paige knew she was anything but.
“Can I help you?”
Time to put her cards on the table. “I’m looking for ‘S.’” She thought it was better to use his pseudonym, the name he’d used for Ellen, instead of Simon. Anastasia stiffened, her eyes narrowed. Bingo.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeah, right.
“I’m talking about the man who used your address to get into Senator Taylor’s fundraiser. The man who was connected with a high-up employee of that campaign.” Paige tried to relax her shoulders, leaning on the table a little. Her voice sounded nonchalant and she let her eyes wander, the picture of carelessness. Only her teeth betrayed her, and only in a miniscule amount, as she chewed at the sore spot on her lip. She needed a pencil, or she’d chew right through.
“What are you, a reporter?” Anastasia moved to grab her clutch to leave, but Paige reached out and stopped her.
“Not a reporter. Not anymore.” Time for the lie. “I don’t need information about ‘S,’ I have information for him. About Senator Taylor.” Paige reached into her own bag and pulled out a card to give to Anastasia, but the girl refused it.
She stood and, before leaving, turned back. “I’ll let him know.”
“But how will he know how to contact me?”
Anastasia smiled then, a mean smile, one that betrayed the innocent lie of her appearance. “Oh, he’ll know. He always does. Now, please excuse me, unless you plan on paying for more of my time.”
Paige let her go. She went to the bar, her nerves jangling. That was it! She was one step closer to “S.” One step closer to the man who had driven Ellen to death and tried to ruin Roger’s life. Of course, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he contacted her. Maybe it was time to at least tell Dallas. Make a plan. After all, she was good, but this guy was the big league and Paige was worried about being in over her head.
The bartender came over. “What’ll it be?”
“Double Stoli on the rocks with a twist.” She’d shared a bottle of wine with Roger and it wasn’t like her to order such a strong drink but she was buzzed from her chat with Anastasia.
She heard his voice, smooth and low, before she felt the overpowering magnetism of his presence at her side. “A lady who knows what she wants. I admire that.” A hint of an Australian accent--sexy.
It was him. She didn’t need to look to know it was him.
S.
Chapter Five
She waited until the bartender brought her drink to look. Clasping the cold glass in her fingers as if it might, somehow, be able to protect her, Paige turned.
Oh hell. He was hot!
Not just fireman calendar hot, or movie actor hot, but that drop-dead gorgeous, need a new pair of panties hot that punches you in the face. Her pussy, still raw and deliciously aching from Roger, tightened at this stranger. Paige became painfully aware she’d left her underwear on the floor of the restaurant.
The Corrupt Trilogy Page 14