Senator Scandal: A Political Romance

by Chloe Lane

  He pulls back, grinning down at me, his eyes burning with lust. “Good girl.”

  There’s another gush of heat between my legs at his words, and my knees go weak.

  The Senator looks down at me and hooks a finger in my neckline. “This is a gorgeous dress.”

  “Thank you, Senator.”

  “I’d love a different view.”

  “What—what do you mean?”

  He slips his finger between the fabric of my bra and my nipple, and when his fingertip brushes against the hard flesh, I gasp again. The Senator pulls me in closer, his lips brushing my ear. “There are things I’ve wanted to do to you for weeks.”

  “What kind of things?” Every breath I take is filled with him, and all my nerves are on fire. I’m so nervous that I won’t be enough to please him, but at the same time, I’ve never felt safer in my entire life.

  “Let me show you.”

  “Yes, Senator.”

  He doesn’t have to say it—I know I’ve done just the right thing—because instead he leans down and kisses me, hard and long, and when he comes up for air, there’s a new determination in his face, in the set of his jaw.

  “Come this way.”

  He rests his hand just above my elbow, and I don’t resist. I don’t want to resist. I want him to lead me, to take me, even if I can’t find the words to say it out loud.

  He steers me down the hallway to the right, turning left into a dark room, the cityscape below us on a smaller scale than how it appeared through the picture window in the living room. The Senator flicks on a lamp, and it casts a warm glow through the space. In the reflection, I see that we’re in an office that looks like a smaller version of his space in the Hart Building. A thrill of pleasure runs through me. Maybe I know the Senator better than I thought I did, because I definitely channeled his style despite having never seen his home office before.

  He’s looking down at me, his eyes burning in the dim light.

  I stand up tall. “You—you wanted a different view, Senator?”

  “More than anything.” His voice is a low, sensual growl. “Bend over the desk.”

  My mind flashes back on my naughty thoughts from last week, and my breath catches. The Senator crosses his arms over his chest. “Be a good girl, Marci.”

  “Yes, Senator.” My voice is a whisper, and it’s all I can do to turn toward the desk and take the five long steps across the room.

  The Senator follows closely behind, and when I hesitate in front of the mahogany expanse of the desk, empty and waiting, he places one hand on the small of my back and presses forward. At his touch, I suck in my breath and obey, taking another tiny step toward the desk so that my hips press against the hard surface.

  My breasts brush the shining top of the desk with only the fabric of my dress between my nipples and the hard wood, and another gush of wetness gathers between my legs.

  “What a pretty sight,” the Senator says, like he could be commenting on the sunset. But he’s not.

  His hand slips down from the small of my back to the hem of my dress, and then he pulls it upward, inch by agonizing inch. I take in another shuddering breath. It’s so dirty, bending over the Senator’s desk. I’ve never done anything so forbidden in my life. And I’ve never been so turned on. All of my nerves are live wires under his touch.

  The dress is wrenched up nearly to my hips, and all that separates the Senator’s hand from my sopping slit is a thin excuse for panties. He slides his fingers down the lacy fabric to the heat between my legs, and his laugh is a low rumble that sounds like sex.

  “You’re a dirty girl.”

  “But not a bad one,” I say, and the worry in my voice makes him laugh again.

  “I don’t know.” His tone is thoughtful while he’s sliding his fingertips up and down my slit, making me arch my back, pressing my ass up into the air another few inches. “Stay in your position.” I freeze in place, only slightly trembling. “Have you done anything that I wouldn’t approve of?”

  The dildo—the bathroom…oh, God…

  “I—I fucked myself with a dildo,” I blurt out, my hands tensing on the desk.

  “Oh, dear.” His hand stops moving, and it takes everything in my power not to wriggle against his fingers. I’m aching for more. “What should we do about that?”

  Chapter 10

  Senator Sterling

  Marci is an absolute vision bent over my desk in her sexy kitten heels, her ass pressed up into the air, back arched, trying her best to hold still. She’s as innocent as they come, but she wants to please me, and I can’t help but slip into my old habits. Women like Marci want to be dominated—in the bedroom, at least—and I’m perfectly made for that role. But I’ve never trusted any of them with keeping our private life…private.

  I’m taking a big risk here, and I don’t give a fuck because she’s delicious, she’s perfect, she’s soaking wet…and I couldn’t tear myself away if I wanted to. I should have gotten her a transfer weeks ago. Women with a quarter of her effect have been gently steered toward other offices, for all these years. But I didn’t, and now we’re here.

  Right where I want to be.

  Her cheeks are flushed with desire, and her head is turned toward me so I can see those luscious lips opening and closing as she works out what to say.

  “I’m—I’m sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t be sorry for taking pleasure in yourself, Kitten.” These are words that have been boiling in my throat for too long, and I’m not about to stifle them now. “You should only be sorry for not telling me.”

  She whimpers a little and presses her pussy back into my hand just a fraction of an inch. “I want to be good for you.”

  “You’re being so good for me,” I say, soft and low, putting my other hand on her lower back. “But as for fucking yourself…” I’m hiding the fact that I’m a little startled she would say that out loud. I’ve never known Marci to say anything so filthy. But here, behind closed doors, with me—she’s clearly crossing some of her boundaries. And I love it.

  “I did,” she says, shame coloring her voice. “I should have told you.”

  “Yes, you should have.” We’re both ignoring the fact that there was no way she could have revealed this to me at any other time. That doesn’t play into this fantasy. “I’ll have to punish you for it.”

  She had to be expecting this, but when I say the word punish she tenses under my hands. “Punish me?”

  “Yes, Kitten. If you’ve been a bad girl, you need to be punished. Don’t you agree?”

  She nods, but I see the fear flash through her eyes, and I lean down, planting a kiss just under her ear. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll never do anything you can’t handle I won’t hurt you.”

  “Yes, Senator,” she whispers, and at the sound of her voice, my cock jumps in my pants.

  “First things first.” I straighten up, then hook a finger into the waistline of her barely there panties and tug them down until they’re just under the curve of her ass. She lowers her breasts down toward the desk—she’s a damn natural—and sucks in a breath. “Are you ready for your punishment?”

  “Yes, Senator,” she says, forcing her voice to be steady.

  I slip my fingers against her folds. She’s dripping. At my touch, there’s another gush of wetness. I trace one finger along her slit, then two, and her breathing quickens.

  “Spread a little more for me.”

  She obeys instantly, opening her legs another several inches, her panties straining, more of her pink core exposed to the air, to my fingers.

  I draw two fingers along her molten wetness, one time, two times, three, and with every moment that passes, she’s having a harder time staying still, trembling on her high heels. Until she can’t stand it any longer.

  “Oh, please.” Her voice is tense with need, with want.

  “Hush. You’re being punished. Hold your position.”

  I glide my fingers through her wetness one more time, then push one inside h
er. She moans, and the walls of her pussy grab at my finger—my one finger—but there’s no resistance.

  “This isn’t your first time, is it, Marci?”

  A flush of shame runs through me—I should have asked her this before anything else—but she’s shaking her head. “No. No. Please—” She bites her lips. “Please don’t stop.”

  I press another finger inside her, and she arches up toward me another fraction of an inch, pulsing around my fingers. Gently, so damn gently, I start to finger fuck her, reaching around with my other hand and sliding it down the creamy expanse of her stomach toward her clit.

  When my fingertips make contact with her hot little button, she cries out, then stifles herself, curling a knuckle into her mouth.

  “Here’s your punishment.” I start making small circles with my fingertips over her clit, slow and gentle. “Don’t come until I say so.”

  She groans, her pussy gripping my fingers even tighter, but she doesn’t argue.

  I pick up the pace, my fingers gliding in and out of her soaking passage, and she holds out for a surprisingly long time before she can’t stay in a still position anymore. I don’t think she even realizes that she’s rocking back and forth with the motion of my fingers, my hands everywhere, on her clit, inside of her.

  “Please, Senator,” she gasps. “Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”

  I don’t change a thing for another several heartbeats, letting her pleading hang in the air between us, letting her rock back and forth, needing it more and more with every second that passes. Her big green eyes beg for more, but she hasn’t even thought of standing up, hasn’t thought of breaking position. She loves this.

  “Have you been punished enough?”

  “Yes,” she cries, and the trembling has taken over her whole body now. I slip a third finger inside her, drawing out another moan. “Yes, please, I—I can’t—oh, Senator, please—”

  “Come now.” My tone is all command, and it sends her crashing over the edge, a cry tearing from her lips while her pussy clenches again and again, pulsing on my fingers, her hips banging against the front of the desk. Wave after wave sweeps over her until she’s spent and flushed, still bent over, still in my hands.

  Chapter 11

  Marci

  The Senator’s hands remain as a delicious pressure on my skin for a few long heartbeats, and then his palms slide up my back, causing an electric tension to emanate over the fabric of my dress. With one hand, he reaches down and tugs my dress back into place. Then he offers me his hand. It’s all I can do to straighten up on knees turned to Jell-O by his tender attention.

  My face is flushed, hot, the heat pulsing in my cheeks, and a cascade of emotions makes me short of breath. Oh, God, it felt so good. But it was so dirty, so filthy, so unlike the girl I used to be in college, so unlike who I thought I was.

  No, that’s not it. In my own mind, I’ve been thinking this way for weeks. The Senator elicits these types of thoughts from me, even if it’s not ladylike, even if it’s not professional.

  His finger under my chin drags my attention off the floor and up to meet his blue eyes. If they were smoldering with need before, now they’re ablaze, all-consuming, and again the room loses all its oxygen. His jaw is set, and the way he’s standing exudes unquestioning authority, all command, but then something shifts.

  “Are you satisfied?”

  The question in his husky voice has layers that unravel like ribbons in the air in front of me, and even though I haven’t been to this place before, even though this is the first time I’ve ever done something so dirty with a man, I instinctively know what he’s asking. My pussy throbs heatedly between my legs, desire flooding back like I didn’t just come so hard my vision started to flicker out.

  I want to bend over the desk again and beg him for more, but instead I answer his question.

  “Yes, Senator.”

  As soon as the words have passed my lips, I answer the question he didn’t say out loud. I hesitate for a split second while the thoughts rush in—Is this the right thing to do? Will the Senator be pleased with me? Will I be a good girl?—and then I shove them deep down in the pit of my gut with the rest of my jumbled nerves.

  With as much grace as I can muster while perched on my heels with my sex-wobbly legs, I sink down to me knees on the luxurious carpet of the Senator’s office in front of him, my eyes locked up on his face.

  He keeps one hand on my shoulder as I slip to my knees, his expression unreadable until I tilt my face up, folding my hands in my lap. It feels so natural to be on my knees in front of him, and so unbelievably wrong at the same time.

  “Please, Senator,” I say softly, keeping my voice as even as I can.

  He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his arms over his chest, straightening his back. He looks even more formidable from the floor, even stronger, and pure desire shoots from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. “Please what, Kitten?”

  “Please, can I—?” I swallow hard. I know I just bent over his desk for him, spread my legs for him, and offered up my pussy for him to stroke and fuck with his fingers until I came, bucking his other hand that was pressed against my clit, but somehow, now that I’m looking up at him from down here, I feel shy, inexperienced, almost virginal. “Please, Senator, can I suck your cock?”

  The grin that spreads across his face is incredible, a mix of lust and want and joy, and I know I’ve said just the right thing.

  “You want to suck my cock?” His hand goes to my hair and he winds his fingers through the twist at the back of my head, holding me in place with a gentle power that makes my pussy gush again.

  “Yes. I—” I squeeze my thighs together under my dress. “I want to be your good girl, Senator.”

  “Then prove it to me.”

  He gives a little tug on my hair and I unfold and raise my hands from my lap, nervously reaching for his belt. I get it undone on the first try, and the instant I get his zipper down, his cock springs out, fully erect.

  And massive.

  I gasp out loud when I see it—I can’t help myself.

  “Did you change your mind?” His tone is mild, like he won’t be offended if I did, but I shake my head. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I whisper hoarsely.

  I wrap both hands around his steely girth, my heart rate picking up. Oh, my God, how am I going to fit this into my mouth? But there’s no way I’m backing out now. He’s harder than iron, and I test it out, giving it a gentle squeeze. His cock twitches in response.

  I lean forward and start working the surface with my tongue, lapping up the creamy drop of pre-cum. My heart pounds at his salty taste—the taste of the Senator—and a shiver of pleasure runs across my lower back. Hand still clasped in my hair, he lets his head tilt back, a low groan escaping his throat.

  I must be doing something right. I lap my tongue along the length of him—God, he is huge—all the way to the base, the hair there neatly trimmed. I work my way back to the head, then draw the first inch between my lips, creating a suction that makes his legs tense.

  It’s time.

  I open my mouth wide, swirling my tongue as I go, and work it in, work it in, inch by inch, sucking in a rhythm that seems like it should be right. The Senator’s grip tightens on my hair, tipping my head back another inch.

  “Take it,” he growls, and though my eyes water a little, I’m almost overtaken by his spicy and masculine scent, my nipples pebbled hard against my bra, aching for his touch. I’m so dirty, I’m so good, I’m so—I’m on the verge of another orgasm, and his hands are in my hair and that’s it.

  I moan around his cock and it pushes him over the edge. Cock deep in my throat, he presses in closer, hips rocking, and then comes hard, his release shooting down my throat in milky waves.

  I take it all.

  I’m such a good girl.

  Chapter 12

  Senator Sterling

  I want Marci’s lips wrapped around my cock
again.

  I’m supposed to be going over a bill that we’re voting on later today, but all I can think about are her sweet lips pressed against my shaft, those big green eyes looking up at me, begging for approval while she swallows down stream after stream of my come.

  She has no idea how good she is. She has no idea what a natural she is at submitting to me, at being mine.

  I tap my fingers against the surface of my desk and try to redirect my focus to the summary of the bill she slid in front of me an hour ago.

  This morning when I came in, she was a new woman. In some ways, she was the same as always—brisk, professional, kind—but there’s another fire in her belly that’s obvious to me, and it’s sure as hell going to be obvious to anyone else. Her hips swayed confidently in her little gray skirt suit.

  “Good morning, Senator.” Her tone didn’t betray anything, but her eyes did, flicking from me to the floor and back again so fast that I would have missed it if I hadn’t been paying rapt attention. She gave me a smile that sent a bolt of desire directly to my cock. Marci came around the desk, setting down a cup of coffee from the place she stops at every morning down the block. “Coffee?”

  I took it from her with a smile. Her voice was even, but her breasts rose in a quick rhythm. She was doing an incredible job of hiding her nervousness, but I could smell it in the air, just like I could smell the light, flowery scent of the fragrance she wears when it’s a special occasion.

  “Thank you, Marci.”

  We were alone in the office, and it was then that she hesitated, just for a split second, like she wanted to lean closer to me, like she wanted to rise up on her tiptoes and brush her lips against my cheek. Hell, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to slam the door behind us and tear that jacket off of her, rip the silk shell underneath it to shreds, and spread her out on the couch so I could lick her sweet, sweet pussy until she came, shuddering and writhing, in my mouth.