The Corrupt Trilogy
Page 19
Marta had been Walter’s mistress, and she’d borne his child.
“Is it true?” Simon was ashen. Walter didn’t reply; everyone already knew the answer. Instead, he looked at Paige. Suddenly she felt caught, an outsider hiding amongst deeply personal family affairs.
“You intrusive bitch,” Walter hissed. “This is your fault.” He began to stalk toward her, but both Roger and Simon moved to shield her.
Simon’s voice was low. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, father.”
Paige found Roger taking her by the hand. “Let’s leave. I think we have an agreement.” He pulled her out, leaving his half brother and father.
Outside, Roger paused before getting into the limo. He turned and looked at the huge house. “This is probably the last time I’ll ever come here,” he sighed. “My childhood home.” The sun was high in the sky and its rays warm on the skin. Paige watched him lift his face to the sky, eyes squeezed shut.
“Does that bother you?” She was curious.
The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile, the sun highlighting the laugh lines she’d thought were so handsome. “No, it doesn’t bother me.” He looked at her. “It’s kind of freeing, really. I believe in family loyalty, but only to the right kinds of family.” Coming around the car, he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. “I want a new family. I want you.”
He kissed her then, and it wasn’t like his old kisses. Vanilla was gone. This kiss was all spice. His tongue danced into her mouth and his fingers gripped her harder and oh, oh oh--
Paige pushed her hands against his chest, pulling away. She was dizzy from the closeness of him. “It sounds like you want to marry me, Senator.” As soon as she said it, she wished she could take the words back. She was joking, of course, but in the moment, it sounded like baiting.
Roger, though, couldn’t have looked more pleased. “Oh, absolutely.” His tone wasn’t joking. “If it’s too quick for you, I’ll wait. But I want you. Now, forever. Be my Mrs. Taylor.”
Her heart erupted into fireworks and she knew she was smiling from the lovely ache in her cheeks, but Paige shook her head. “No.”
He stiffened around her, and she felt his heart race under where her hands were still pressed. “I won’t be Mrs. Taylor, but if you’re okay with me being Mrs. Summers-Taylor, then we have a deal.”
His laughter was a caress. “You want to hyphenate? Fine, hyphenate. Just say yes.”
“Yes, Senator.”
His eyes darkened, this time in a way that made her heat and yearn. “Be sure to call me that again, later.”
Chapter Eleven
If Paige had been worried about becoming her mother, Roger extracted those worries from her flesh in delicate, ecstatic detail.
Blindfolded and bound, Paige was the perfect vessel for his touch. No two touches were the same. At times she thought he was brushing a feather on her skin. A piece of silk dusting her shoulders or the tiny prick of a pin on her hip here and there. He used ice, dripping a slow, cold trail down her spine until she was gasping.
She’d asked him about it before, when he explained what he’d wanted to do. “I thought BDSM was about pain,” she’d said.
“No. It is about control, and a give and take between the Dom, me, and the Sub, you.” He’s begun to tie her wrists behind her back. “It is an experience exchange based on both of our wants and needs. Sometimes,” he slapped her ass hard enough to make her yelp, “I need to give you pain or you’ll need to receive it.”
His fingers picked up the blindfold and she shut her eyes as he put it on her. “However, sometimes we just need to experience the basic elements of it. Trust and experience. You’ll trust me to take you where you need to go, and I’ll trust you to let me know if I take it too far. And we experience it together.”
He’d kissed her then, and with the blindfold on the kiss felt like so much more. Paige hadn’t realized that by removing one of her most basic senses, he’d forced her to trust in himself and her other senses so much more.
So as each new sensation crawled, smoothed, pricked, and delighted across her skin, all of the anxiety that had come with her acceptance of Roger’s spur of the moment proposal leached out of her.
Her mother had wanted Paige to be set for life as a trophy wife. She doubted that the life her mother had envisioned included the sensual and tortuous acts Roger was capable of.
“I’m going to want to keep working,” she gasped as he dripped something hot onto her nipples. Candle wax?
He sighed. “Darling, this is not the time for that discussion. I think you need to be punished.” His sultry voice didn’t sound very punishing, though. She listened to him rustling and moving about, trying to figure out what he was up to. His footsteps brought him close to her again and her skin practically crackled with his nearness. “Open your mouth,” he commanded.
She did, wide. Something dry and wadded was shoved inside. Her tongue fought against the intruding object. Cotton? Her saliva glands began to churn, trying to re-wet her mouth, but the cloth gag soaked it up. Roger had decided to shut her up, and it made her sopping wet between her legs to relinquish yet another part of her to him.
“To answer you, though,” he began to kiss his way down, nuzzling her breasts, “I can’t picture you not working.” His teeth grazed her ribs and then her hips. When he bit into her fleshy curve her voice tried to scratch through the gag. And then…
His lips hovered above her core. She felt every hot breath as he waited, so close she ached. “I would never want you to stop working.” He licked her and she shuddered, groaning into her gag. “You’re critical to every part of me.” Lick. “My happiness,” lick, “and my success. You’ll have to keep working, Mrs. future Summers-Taylor.”
He dove into her, then, his lips and tongue plying and working every secret inch of her pussy. He was done playing at sensual. This was raw and it was hungry. The blindfold helped amplify the pleasure, each spark of it becoming vivid and colorful as the nerves responded.
She felt him push fingers inside of her and she rolled her hips in response.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growled before sucking her clit. She detonated, her climax a supernova of rippling release.
Roger drew it out and she came and came until Paige struggled, her pussy too sensitive. Roger didn’t care, though. He was in control of the show. She thought she was at her limit, but he knew her better, because he was inside of her so quick she saw stars.
And then he really started into her. Their session had started painfully slow, an awakening of the senses. Now he was using her, her body a tool and a vessel and igniting, igniting, igniting!
Another orgasm rushed on her and her ears, more attuned with the blindfold, heard his own gasping climax. Tremors raced and her pussy clenched and snatched at him.
This, she realized, was what he was promising her for the rest of her life. Body limp, she smiled as he removed her gag. When Roger began his patient, soft care, bringing her back to herself, she thought the rest of her life would never be enough.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Yeah, I have a meeting with the wedding planner at four and I’m running late.” Paige was walking to the metro. “But I think we can get dinner this week, okay?”
“We’d better,” Karen warned. “I still need to thank you for that interview. People are eating the story up!”
Holding her left hand in front of her, Paige admired the new piece of jewelry adorning her ring finger. Ever one to put a twist on tradition, Roger had picked a black diamond ring with an art nouveau band. It was funky, it was elegant, and as she watched the sunlight reflect off of it, it was perfect.
“Well, I wouldn’t say the outcome has been perfect, but--”
“Oh Paige, are you kidding me? He’s America’s Prince right now! Bad Boy politician turned protective and adoring dad? Engaged to a smart, sassy assistant? He can do no wrong!”
Grinning, Paige laughed. “Yeah, I guess he’s a keeper. I’ll call you soon to
schedule! Right now I need to get to my meeting!”
Rushing down the steps, Paige held her phone in front of her. Yeah, she was like the other mass of citizens who paid more attention to their phones than their surroundings, but she didn’t feel guilty. After all, people like her never wasted a minute.
It was quiet in the station, the train having just departed. She’d have to wait. Eyes glued to the screen, she moved to a quiet corner, hoping to give Roger a quick call and make sure they were still on for dinner.
One thing that Roger had always done for her is answer on the first ring no matter what he was doing. It didn’t hurt that she knew his schedule inside and out and never called him while he was in a meeting or in Congress.
“Hello, my darling.” the deep timber of his voice gave her chills.
“Hey, I was just making sure we’re still on for--”
“Are you in the metro?” He interrupted.
“Yes, but--”
“You know you can just call my driver, he’d be happy to take you where you need to go.”
She knew. But, if she was completely honest, while she loved being in the limo with Roger she felt terribly out of place in it on her own. Maybe they could discuss getting her a car of her own.
“I know, and you know how I feel about it. But thank you,” she added warmly.
“Of course. And darling?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.” I’ll never get tired of hearing that.
“I love, yo--”
Paige didn’t get to finish as a gloved hand holding a piece of cloth slammed over her mouth, yanking her head back hard. Her body crashed into her attacker’s as her hand dropped her phone. A pungent smell invaded her nose like a concentrated dose of chlorine. That was the last thing she had a chance to notice before her vision tunneled into black.
Chapter Twelve
Her head felt heavy and her eyelids were made of wool as she came to. A rustling noise caught her interest and, with effort, she opened her eyes and looked around. She tried to stand and couldn’t; she was duct taped to a chair. The glue of it itched at the bits of exposed skin it was stuck to, like her wrists and ankles.
Her stomach dropped as she recognized her surroundings. The sleek lines and modern furnishings. She almost didn’t see him because he wasn’t moving. His body was curled tight, his arms locked around his knees, wedged in the nook between his couch and a wall.
“Simon?” The scratchiness of her voice made her feel weak and afraid. How long had she been out and why was she here? “What’s going on?”
At first he didn’t move and that was more terrifying than anything. He just stared at her, his eyes so wide she could see the whites all around his irises. Just when her fear began to crawl up her throat, struggling to escape in a scream, he spoke.
“I’ve always been smart. And yet you figured out the answer to the most painfully obvious question in my life. Do you know what it is like to not only finally discover who your dad is, but to also realize how fucking stupid you’ve been?”
When Ellen had pulled out her gun on Roger, there’d been no time for Paige to have any sort of instinct for survival. Everything had been pure reactions. Gun, panic, and then the aftershock of its use. This, though, was different. Time was crawling and her mind, while still reeling with the realization of her situation, was already adapting to the new situation.
It wasn’t good. Her gut told her not to speak-- Simon was in a bad place and she needed to let him talk it out.
When she didn’t answer him, his body unfurled from its hiding place beside the couch. Had she never noticed before how graceful he was? The level of control he had over his movements? There were men with elegance, sure, but this was something else. Training. Jesus… how many jobs did Simon have?
“Were you laughing at me? Outside of my dad’s house? You listened to me tell Roger how I wished Walter was my father and you said nothing.” He spat the last word, lacing it with poison.
“It was our only leverage; we couldn’t use it too early. Surely you understand that,” she replied, attempting an even tone. It didn’t work-- her terror was painted in each word for him to hear.
“I warned you, Paige. I told you that you didn’t know who you were messing with. You think someone like Walter is content to just try and influence politics?”
Paige thought back to her list of Walter’s history and the conclusion she’d drawn from it. How could she continue to be so short sighted? She’d thought money was his means of manipulation. Money and favors. Now she was kidnapped and tied up with someone acting more than a little unhinged.
“Who are you, Simon?” She’d asked him once before, but the Taylor’s had so many secrets and baggage spilling out now.
He went into the kitchen and stopped in front of his butcher’s block of knives. His fingers dusted the tops of several handles before he settled on one. It was a serrated bread knife, its nibs glistening ominously as it slid from the wood holder. “You know as much about me as I do, Paige.”
“No, I don’t.” Her lip trembled. “Simon… I’m scared.”
His gaze met hers. It startled her now to see the Taylor eyes and know so assuredly that’s what they were. In his handsome face, in another time and another place she could just as easily have fallen in love with him instead of Roger.
“I’m scared, too. I’m in his pocket, you know. I would have done all I’ve done for him had he asked as my father. Instead, he guilted me. Made me feel like I was supposed to be grateful for every decision he made for me.”
He brought the knife to his mouth and licked the blade. “The things I’ve done for him. I’m not a good person. I don’t know if there’s any redemption for me.”
Stalking, a predator, he paced back toward her, knife resting comfortably in the palm of his hand. She began to shake so hard her chair skidded on the floor.
“Relax, Paige. We aren’t there, yet.”
“Aren’t where, exactly?”
He sighed. “Walter hasn’t decided if he wants you dead. He’s pissed at you, sure, but he’s mostly torn up about Roger. He’d had so much confidence in ol’ Rog, a lot of investment and let’s face it-- zero payoff. So I’m waiting, because Walter might just want you hurt.”
The candid and calm way Simon spoke about hurting her belied his true intentions. It was hard to stay focused through the haze of horror. Some part of her was exhausted from not screaming and not losing her mind, and she had a feeling things had only just begun.
It was time to change tactics. “I thought Walter just put you through school.”
Simon smiled, his teeth glinting in the low light of the room. “He put me through boarding school. When I was out, though, he convinced me to enlist in the Army. I did, but I was transferred. He called in a huge favor for that one. So naturally I owed him an equally large favor in return, he said.”
“Transferred where?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. I think though, that you’re smart enough to guess at the kind of work I’ve been trained to do.”
Sure, she could guess. He was already obviously top-notch at gaining information about people. He’d known when and how Roger had fucked her. Now, with the abduction, the duct tape, and the way the knife looked like an extension of his own arm-- yeah, she could guess what kind of work he’d been trained to do.
The real question, then, was where did his loyalties lie? Was he still truly loyal to Walter, despite the lie of his heritage?
“When you asked me out,” she ventured, “was that because you liked me? Or to get back at Roger?”
“Oh, you clever girl. Yes, my original intentions had been to steal you from him like he stole Jessica from me. I’ve waited years and watched him. He never dated, not really, and certainly never fell in love. Of course, you know what he’d really been up to. But then he found you.” Simon moved close to her chair. He brushed some hair that had tumbled forward out of her eyes.
“He loves you. I mean, truly does. An
d I wanted to take you from him so he could know a taste of the misery I felt losing Jessica. But watching you, learning about you-- I think we might have actually made a nice pair, Paige. You’re quite a catch.”
She grimaced. “Compliments are usually better received when I’m not tied up.”
He winked at her. “You’re funny, too.” He was flirting with her. Unbelievable. Yet his eyes were still wide and jittered around. Simon was struggling, she thought, and if he didn’t come out on her side it’d mean her life.
“Was losing Jessica worth all of this? You were so young when it happened!” She was hoping to tap in more to the easy vibe they had going, but she missed--his look soured. The hand holding the knife gripped more tightly.
“Why do we always try and minimize the love of youth?” He growled. “She was everything to me. You can’t know what it is like to have something you love yanked away, destroyed so utterly.” His heartbreak-- she could feel it.
“You still love her!”
He didn’t reply, but the thin press of his lips told her everything she needed to know. He was still in love with her, with the mother of Roger’s daughter. Had been for all of these years, and no one had known. It made her chest ache for him, and wasn’t that great? Sympathizing with your kidnapper.
A phone buzzed and Simon fished it from his back pocket. “Yes?”
She heard a muffled voice but was unable to understand the caller. It wasn’t a long conversation. It was, however, enough for her to know what kind of conversation it was; Simon’s face went dead as he hung up. Whatever Walter had said, it wasn’t the outcome Simon had hoped for.
Now he moved in front of her and knelt, the knife hand weighing heavily on her thigh.
“Here we are,” he murmured. “The crux of it all.”
He traced the edge of the knife along her leg and she felt the serrated teeth tickling through her jeans. It reminded her uncomfortably of the sensory games Roger had played with her, the memory biting and painful. The knife didn’t elicit the same response from her body when Simon used it.