The Corrupt Trilogy

by Penelope L'Amoreaux

  His keeping her at a distance was his way of loving her.

  What a dummy. That didn’t mean Paige didn’t enter the house renewed. The zeal of the chase was back. She wanted the truth from Walter about Jessica. She wanted to fix the problem of Simon’s news leak, and a plan was beginning to form.

  Most of all, she wanted to remind Roger that he wasn’t the only person who protected the ones they loved.

  Chapter Eight

  Walter, not knowing the reason for the visit, had gone all out. The table was set, he’d had an extra cook come in. Roger’s mother was at a spa resort in another state. Paige remembered how often Roger complained about seeing his mom once every three to seven years because between his schooling and career and her love of travel, neither was ever at home in Virginia at the same time.

  Once everyone was seated, Walter raised his glass for a toast. Everyone else picked up their glasses reluctantly. The dinner had caught them off guard, the toast made Paige feel guilty; he was about to be ambushed.

  “To Roger, and his ever surprising moves in Congress.”

  With that, her guilt disappeared. In one sentence, the formality of the meal, the huge and elaborate house, and Walter’s seeming appearance as a gracious host disappeared. This truly was the man who only used his sons for politics, and once Roger refused to play ball, well… disappointment didn’t seem to fully cover it.

  Some father.

  Paige felt momentarily thankful for her own. He might not have been the ideal father, but he loved her and let her know it in his own way. She wondered if Walter showed love to his sons, or if he even knew how to love them.

  Roger didn’t even wait until people were eating. “So tell me what happened to Jessica Farmer, dad.”

  There wasn’t a moment of hesitation as Walter set his glass down and picked up his spoon. “Am I supposed to know who that is?” He took a slurp of soup and closed his eyes with relish.

  No one was buying it. Walter had been a good ol’boy politician himself, spending many years in the governor's mansion. He was too smooth, too uninterested for it to be the truth.

  “Sure you do. She was my pregnant high school girlfriend. I just never heard about the pregnant part, and I’d like to know why.”

  This did get a reaction. Roger’s father stopped eating and stared at his son, hard. “Why would you think I’d know anything about that? If she didn’t tell you, that’s on her.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, dad. I think she tried to tell me, and I think you stopped her.”

  Walter slammed his hands on the table. Paige jumped in her seat. She’d never met him, but he struck her as someone who didn’t lose control often. It made his seething reaction all the more terrifying.

  “You ungrateful son of a bitch,” Walter hissed between his teeth. “Can’t you leave well enough alone? Everything I’ve done was to get you where you are, and now you come in here trying to make me sound like the bad guy? You haven’t even done what you were supposed to! You’ve never been able to just play by the fucking rules!”

  Roger pointed at his father. “That’s because your rules are dirty! I didn’t want to do that! I earned my place on my own!”

  At this remark Walter began to laugh cruelly. “On your own? Are you kidding me? You couldn’t have even been voted vice president of your high school without my help! All your campaign funding was my money or people I promised support to! You still get invited to meetings and committees because I ask friends to try and help you! And you would never have gotten a seat if I hadn’t cleaned up your stupid teenaged mess!”

  The color bleached from Roger’s face. Walter got up from the table, a malicious grin on his face. “I don’t know how you found out about Jessica, but it doesn’t matter. I’m done trying to help you, because you’ve never been willing to help me. That’s how politics are supposed to work, son. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. But you haven’t, so I’m just scratching you out.”

  He left, leaving all of them stunned and silent at the table.

  Dallas leapt from his seat and began to follow his father, shouting. After all, he’d spent his whole life devoted to Roger at their father’s urgings. That their own father had kept him out of the loop on so many things--

  Paige grabbed a breadstick. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed something to chew on. Her eyes locked onto Roger, who sat, unseeing, his face pale and his hands clenching and unclenching. Mariel had left, presumably to fetch the driver. Paige bit into the bread, her teeth and mind working.

  “So I’m just scratching you out.” She supposed he could have meant from the family legacy. Maybe from the billions in family fortune as well, though Roger had such a sizable amount of money in his own savings she doubted that would mean much to him.

  No, Walter had meant something else. Doublespeak. Oh, damn. It was too easy, she should have figured it out from the get-go. She leapt up to follow Dallas and Walter.

  She burst into an office, having followed the sounds of yelling. “You hired him!” She exclaimed. Both men froze, and the sounds of Roger’s following footsteps rang in her ears as he followed her into the room. “You hired Simon to ruin Roger!”

  Walter sneered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, little girl. Be careful what you accuse people of.”

  “No, I’m sure of it. Simon owes you. You put him through school; you’ve probably helped him launch his shady little career. It probably more closely resembles what you’d planned for Roger, anyway. But he owes you, and since Roger has cost you face--”

  “Not just face!” Walter roared. “Money. Prestige. I made so many promises. Deals. I counted on Roger.” He swung to face his son. “You’ve cost me connections and influence!”

  Roger grabbed Paige’s hand. “She’s right. You paid Simon, or called in a favor, but you made him try to ruin me. He’s my friend, dad!”

  “You should pick your friends more carefully, then, because I didn’t even have to twist his arm.”

  Roger dropped her hand and cold clocked his father in the face.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “What the hell are we going to do?” Dallas was pacing. Mariel was fixing all of them dinner in Roger’s kitchen, while Paige was holding ice to Roger’s swollen knuckles. He’d hit Walter hard.

  She watched him shrug. “I guess I try to bow out as gracefully as I can. Maybe--” he snuck a look at her, his eyes wide and concerned, “try to find Jessica. Meet my kid? I don’t know.” Paige hated how unsure he seemed. What was it Mariel had said? That when the Taylor’s felt out of control, they crumbled?

  Well she wasn’t going to let Roger do that. “You’re not going to bow out.”

  “Paige, I know it’s going to be tough, but I can’t see another way around this. I have to take responsibility and find a way to be a father.” The word ‘father’ sounded foreign in his mouth, as if he tasted something new every time he said it.

  “Oh, damned straight you’re going to take responsibility. But you’re also going to keep your seat in Congress. And when I’m finished, I bet you’ll be a contender for Vice President. We’re going to show your asshole of a father and Simon that playing dirty isn’t the only way.”

  Roger let out a half-hearted laugh. “Sure, VP.”

  Dallas, however, came over. “You know how to fix this.”

  Paige nodded. “We’ll have to work fast. I mean crazy fast.”

  “What do I need to do?” Dallas ignored Roger’s protests.

  “Find Jessica Farmer. I mean tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. We need to know if she’s talking first. Why she didn’t pursue telling Roger. What’s her job? Is she stable? More importantly, we need to find Roger’s kid. Because someone else will if we don’t, and we should be there first--not just for Roger’s sake, but for his child’s.”

  Dallas was already pulling out his phone and calling Mariel. Paige had no doubt that between the two of them, they’d all have answers in no time.

  Roger was watching her, mystified. Sh
e brushed his hair out of his eyes. He hadn’t looked like himself in almost 24 hours, since she’d left him in the restaurant. It hurt her to see him like this.

  “You, sir, are about to become a dad. Of… an adult. But still a dad. How’re you handling that?”

  “Not well,” he answered honestly. “The whole thing is making me sick. Everyone I thought was in my corner-- dad, Simon-- are trying to ruin me. And I have a fucking kid and missed everything. I keep picturing an infant saying ‘dada’ and I wasn’t there. Crawling? I wasn’t there. Graduating high school and I wasn’t fucking there!”

  She gripped his hand, tight. “I know. But you would have been if you’d known. You’re not a bad father because of this. A bad father wouldn’t care that he’d missed those things.” With that, she pulled him to her.

  A flood unleashed in him. His arms clutched around her, pulling her tight to his chest. It was awkward; they’d been sitting and she was half falling into him now but it didn’t matter because his smell, oh his smell! It wrapped around her and the crushing strength of his arms made her feel at home.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured in her hair.

  She sighed, enjoying the moment, hating that it wasn’t complete. “I know about the clubs,” she whispered.

  He stiffened and tried to release her but she wouldn’t let him. “I don’t care, Roger. You--you could have told me.”

  “How? How could I say that I was less than what I promised to be? That I have these desires in me that are, are--” He faltered, not willing to admit how he felt about himself.

  “That are sexy, Roger.” She moved up and bit his earlobe lightly. “Really sexy.” She hovered, hoping it was enough.

  It was. “You… don’t mind?”

  “I mind that you couldn’t trust me with your wants. I’ve lived to serve you since you hired me at day one. Don’t you get that? I live to serve you.” It felt cleansing to say it aloud. It felt invigorating to see his face relax, delight taking the place of fear.

  And it felt damn near exhilarating when he swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, calling to Dallas and Mariel.

  “Don’t wait up for us.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Oh. Ohhhhhhh.

  The soft knotted ends of the leather flogger traced across her back, so light they could have been a breeze.

  Paige found herself bound, back exposed, on Roger’s floor. He’d tied her wrists up front, then led the rope down through her legs and tied her knees and ankles. The end result was this: her face pressed into his rug, her shoulders filled with a delicious ache, and her bottom in the air.

  Roger was barefoot, pacing around her. She’d expected some pain. After all, she’d read what he liked. He liked to tie girls up, to whip them, to burn them with candle wax, to blindfold them, and more. That had sounded exciting and daring, a venture into a world she’d known about but never experienced.

  What she hadn’t counted on was the overwhelming arousal that happened not from the pain, but from the anticipation of it. He had yet to use the flog in any way that what he was currently doing. Teasing her, slow and sensual, letting her mind play tricks as it cringed and yearned in tandem.

  “There is a chemistry that happens in baking when the food first hits a hot oven,” he growled, his rich voice making her shiver. “That is why it is so important to preheat.” The flogger disappeared and he stood still. She strained against her binding, though whether to escape the hit she knew was coming or rise to it she couldn’t have said.

  “I feel this is much the same.”

  SLAP!

  It came, then, and it came brutally hard. There was no working into the pain for him, he’d let the waiting and anxious anticipation do that for him. Paige yelped and the rope bit into her wrists and she tensed from the surprise. Yet she found the immediate heat that followed the sting to be soothing. She immediately craved more.

  As if sensing this, Roger flogged her again, the tiny knots that had once felt soft raining on her tender skin now felt like sharp pebbles. Little bursts of pain lit up like stars across her back, and the aftershock caused spots in her eyes.

  Did she want this after all?

  A fog was beginning to settle on her mind, languid and warm. As Roger continued to pace around her, flogging her at random, she found it wasn’t a choice. Her body became attuned to his. Her skin began to welcome the burning slashes of pain. Between her legs she grew slick, wet like she’d been in the restaurant. Her arousal began to drip down her thighs.

  Struggling through her fugue, she heard something that made her nipples tighten and clit throb; Roger’s heavy breathing. He was in his own battle, she sensed, between wanting to unleash more on her but not wanting to push her too far, too fast. He was still having difficulty trusting her, though she understood now he was scared to trust that she wouldn’t leave if he showed her his true self.

  “Harder,” she commanded. His sharp intake of breath and pause in pacing let her know she’d got his attention.

  “Don’t try to top from the bottom,” he commanded. “When we do this, I’m in charge.”

  “Then do what you need to. Anything. Everything.” She gave him permission. Before he’d tied her up, they’d agreed on a word, red, for her. She’d use it if she felt he was going so far. Paige had promised, and she’d meant it. So far she was feeling green green green. More. She wanted more.

  He lit into her then. He heaved with exertion, and she felt the difference acutely as he began to put his whole body into it.

  The pain was excruciating, but it was also cleansing. It washed away the selfishness she’d been feeling for so long, for wanting Roger but not being able to see what he needed. It helped her forgive him for trying in all the wrong ways to protect her. She felt as if she was being torn open and all of the nastiness of the past was leeching out.

  And then, when she was beginning to become too lost in the sensations, they stopped. Roger stooped beside her. Her back felt on fire and she was certain he could feel the heat radiating off of it.

  With aching tenderness he smoothed his hand across her supple, wounded back. The soothing touch was enough to bring her to the brink of a climax, her body shuddering beneath his careful touch. Nimble fingers untied her wrists, then her knees and ankles. The feeling of blood rushing back into those extremities was biting and Roger must have known. He rubbed her palms, soothing the cramps and sting, then vigorously rubbed her legs and feet back to life.

  When he was finished with that she felt the delightful juxtaposition of wishing to collapse and sleep versus the real and demanding need of her core for a climax.

  Roger stripped his boxer briefs off and sat next to her. He was gentle as he lifted her pliable body onto his lap, guiding her legs around his waist. Lifting her, he positioned himself at her slick entrance, and slowly guided her down. She felt him sink into her, his thick cock stretching her.

  They rocked together, back and forth. The friction between them was sweaty and titillating. Her breasts crushed against his chest, both of them slick with sweat, and the drag of his skin against her sensitive nipples made her mewl in ecstasy.

  It was different from the restaurant. There, he’d been dominant in a way she’d never seen. He’d been ruthless as he’d fucked her. Here, in this moment, he was still in charge, but his control was what was making her sing his praises.

  His hand slipped between them and this thumb brushed her clit.

  She crested, her orgasm exploding. Paige locked her ankles behind him, pulling him in deep. His own gasp of release joined her cries and they came together. It was the most intimate climax of her life.

  As the pleasure began to ebb away, she refused to move, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her cheek on his shoulder. She admired how well they fit together.

  Her fingers lazily traced circles on his back and he moaned appreciatively.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  His laugh was self deprecating. “For being a monster? F
or loving hurting you?”

  “For believing in me and letting me share this with you.”

  Hands reached up and his fingers combed through her long, straight hair. “I love this. I love the color of your hair. The richness of the brown, the shininess.” His fingers knotted, her hair tugging at her scalp. “It is so grippable.”

  She murmured her approval. “Tomorrow is going to be hard.”

  “I might talk to my kid tomorrow.”

  “He or she won’t be a kid anymore.”

  Roger sighed. “I know. There’s more to your plan, isn’t there?”

  Paige smiled against his skin, kissing his shoulder. “Of course. Your father made a very large and glaring mistake.”

  Roger leaned back and looked at her. “Walter doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “Oh, he does, he’s just become exceptionally good at covering them up. All except this one.”

  “Care to share?”

  She leaned in and whispered it, hearing him curse as he understood.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hey, remember when you did me that favor and I promised you an interview?” Paige was practically jumping up and down in her seat as she spoke with Karen.

  Her former editor sounded gleeful on the phone. “I didn’t think you meant it!”

  “I didn’t but something came up. Big. But it needs to be today. Just your best reporter. No questions, Roger has an announcement. This is going to be your exclusive and trust me; you’re going to want it.”

  “Did I mention that you’re my favorite past employee?”

  “You may have said something about it. Send your reporter to the office around 2PM.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  She could hear him on the phone through the door. Paige had asked Roger if he’d wanted her in the office with him when he placed the call, but he said no.

  “This is my past, Paige, and I need to confront it myself.”

  “I’ll be here when you’re ready, then.” She’d kissed him and walked away as he made the most important phone call of his life. He was calling his daughter.