The Politician

by Marteeka Karland

  Pulling her into his arms and kissing her tenderly once more, he held her close, savoring the feel of her warm, lush body. “I'll see you tonight then, sugar.” Pressing one more kiss to her mouth, James reluctantly picked up his keys and left, making sure she locked the door before he got into his car and headed back to the hotel. He had plans to make. Like how he was going to introduce Lark to the Georgia public and still keep his seat in the Senate.

  The Politician

  Chapter Four

  “My gawd, he looks like he just sucked a lemon.”

  James rolled his eyes at Robert’s constant prodding of poor Stafford. The man did look rather sour. Not just about being at the club; he had been none too happy to find out where James had been the night before. Now that Stafford had gotten a look at Lark, he looked like he was going to be sick. It wasn’t something that had ever crossed James’ mind. He’d known Stafford for years, and never once had James thought he would have a prejudiced bone in his body. Suddenly he was having serious doubts about the man he had always considered a friend.

  “I can’t believe you—” Stafford began, but James held up his hand to cut off whatever the other man had been about to say. He’d heard enough earlier. Oh, Stafford hadn’t said anything overtly distasteful, but he had expressed a firm belief that being seen with Lark could be a deterrent to his re-election. It was the twenty-first century, for crying out loud. Who cared what color his girlfriend was? James was offended by the very notion.

  “I think maybe you should go back to the hotel,” Mason offered, probably reading the anger James was sure came off of him in waves. His cousin was always good at reading his moves. Both Mason and Robert were valiantly trying to get Stafford to loosen up, knowing James had just about had enough.

  “No, I want to meet this—this—” Stafford looked at him, then quickly looked away. “Woman.”

  Wise choice. James was precariously close to punching him.

  “Man, you like living dangerously, don’t you?” Robert asked, turning to face Stafford. His face was devoid of all the mirth he'd previously sported. “James is about a hop, skip and a jump from punching you in the face. If I were you, I would check your prejudice at the door and shut the hell up.”

  The night just wasn't going as planned. The last thing he wanted Lark to see was his cousins and campaign manager having a knock-down drag-out because Stafford was an asshole.

  “You should go, Stafford.” James was tired of this. He could understand his campaign manager’s shock and maybe even his disappointment. What James had done had been so outside the norm, he would’ve been concerned too. But this was going too far. As soon as Lark had come on to the stage, Stafford had steadily gotten on his last nerve. “I’m on vacation; I don’t need to be hassled by you. I like Lark. She’s a great woman. I am going to spend time with her whether you like it or not.”

  “You're going to give up everything I've—we've—worked for, for this woman?” Stafford's face was incredulous. It was obvious he didn't approve, what James wanted to know was why. More than that, he wanted to know he hadn't so completely misjudged a man he considered not only the best damned manager in the nation, but a good friend also.

  “Why would I have to give it up? I'm a single man. She's a single woman. We're both consenting adults. Neither of us has done anything wrong.” James tried his best to keep his voice level. He needed to know, but he didn't want to cause a scene.

  Stafford looked around. James glanced in the same direction. It was obvious Stafford didn't want anyone to hear his next comment, but James needed to know.

  Finally, Stafford hissed, “Are you out of your fucking mind? There is no way the conservative Georgia voters will accept this woman as your girlfriend.” He practically spat the word. “You'd be embroiled in controversy no matter what, but they'd probably accept her more as your mistress, not as a potential wife!”

  A red haze fell over James' eyes. Before he realized what he was going to do, he took a swing at Stafford. Fortunately, Mason caught his arm and stood. Richard stood as well, catching Stafford by the upper arm and dragging him to his feet.

  “I'll just escort Stafford to the hotel and have a chat with him,” Richard said, dragging a sputtering Stafford in his wake, not giving the smaller man a chance to say anything else.

  Mason moved his hand to James’ shoulder and squeezed. “Don't mind him. I'm sure he's just drunk or something. You know how he hates to change. You threw him for a loop. He just doesn't like to have his perfectly laid plans shredded; Lark is not something he was prepared for.” James didn't respond, but he was guessing Mason wasn't looking for a response. “You’re going to have to fire him, though. Just putting that out there.”

  That made him laugh. Thank God his cousins were here. They had always had his back. If it hadn't been for them he probably would’ve beat the shit out of his former friend, and that was bound to be all over the Internet.

  “Thanks, man.” James slapped Mason on the back. “Hate to leave after all that, but it is almost midnight.”

  Mason just laughed as James made his exit, practically running toward the back of the stage. As soon as Lark stepped off the platform he swept her into this arms, not caring who saw him. Those sweet, full, berry-colored lips were too much to ignore. Throwing her arms over his shoulder, she kissed him back with equal intensity. She didn’t hold anything back, giving him everything he demanded. She seemed to do everything like that, giving her all and holding nothing back.

  “I don’t really need to change.” Lark smiled up at him, her dark eyes shining brightly. Damn, she was beautiful. Her voice held a slight husky tone, making him rock hard in seconds. “How about a walk on the beach?”

  All James wanted to really do was take her somewhere secluded and peel off her filmy dress nice and slow. Not the best move right about now. He needed her to see he was deadly serious about her. She was so much more than a vacation fling.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Well come on then.” Her purr was like that of a cat sitting on a warm lap. It wrapped around his middle and hugged him tightly.

  Even the simple act of walking on the beach, holding her hand, inspired all kinds of naughty images. Unbidden, a scene from an old movie flashed in his mind of a couple making love on the beach while waves crashed all around them. It made him want her all the more. Imagining her in that flimsy dress, wet from the sea and writhing underneath him, almost brought him to his knees. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever considered, but in that moment, he knew he'd make love to Lark—right here on the beach.

  When they were a good distance away from prying eyes, James pulled her to him, her back to his chest. He kissed the side of her neck because he couldn't help himself.

  “You looked like you were having a fight with that sour-faced guy at your table,” Lark said after a few minutes of silence.

  James wasn't surprised. He’s decided to take a table right in front of the stage. He had known sitting in the back of the club just wasn't going to cut it tonight. He'd wanted to be as close as he possibly could. Getting through the day without turning around and going back to her rented house had been hell. His cousins talked to him, but all he could think about was her. Stafford, well, Stafford had been himself, constantly worried about appearances.

  “It was nothing. He has...” He trailed off, looking for the right word. He didn't want to lie to her, but that didn't mean he had to let her know the complete ugliness he'd discovered in Stafford. “He has concerns about me having a relationship with you.”

  Lark snorted delicately. “You mean he doesn't think a white congressman from Georgia has a chance in hell in winning his seat if he's screwing a black woman.” She didn't make it a statement. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes, but also resignation. He hated seeing that, and damn Stafford to hell and back for putting them both in this situation. It was almost as if she'd been expecting this. James had never felt so much pressure to do the right thing in his life. He fel
t as if his next words would seal his fate, would direct the course of his life from here on out. This was a turning point. What would he do?

  *****

  There was no way it couldn't come to this. Lark had known the moment James had left her that morning this would happen. It wasn't that she didn't believe in love everlasting, but she was a realist. Rich and powerful white men did not shack up with black women. No matter how powerful said woman was in her own right—not in the South. This might be the twenty-first century, but some things went beyond political correctness and refused to be uprooted. She wanted to think James was different, but she didn't really expect it.

  He smiled, not bothering to deny she'd been right. “Something like that, yes.” His arms tightened around her slightly, as if he were afraid she'd suddenly bolt. “I happen not to agree with him, though I don't plan on doing anything so crass as to fuck you, sugar. I plan on making you my wife.”

  Lark felt her world veer off kilter. Spinning around, she turned to face him. She knew anger blazed in her eyes, but she couldn't help it. “That's not funny, James.” She might dream at night in her heart of hearts, but the damned man had no right to do this to her. “Don't joke about something like that. It's not nice.” She was very close to tears, and that made her all the more angry at him.

  When she would have pushed away from him, his hands framed her face, forcing her to look at him. “I'm not joking, Lark.” The intensity in his eyes took her breath. Even in the moonlight, she could see passion glittering there. He shook her a little, obviously trying to make his point. “I swear to you, I will marry you, if you'll have me. House seat be damned.”

  Was she a fool to believe him? She wanted to, so bad it hurt. While Lark wasn't a pessimist, she didn't believe in fairytale endings. Still, the chemistry was very real between the two of them. It just wasn't the kind of connection she expected someone like James to acknowledge. From all that she had ever seen of him he was a very practical person. Not the kind of man who fell for a woman he'd just met.

  “I want to believe you.” She really did. But she hadn't made it this far in life by being a fool.

  “Then take a chance.” James tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer until they were face to face. “I promise you won't regret it.” Then, he claimed her mouth with his.

  Being kissed by James was like being consumed. When his tongue swept into her mouth, she lost all coherent thought. All that mattered was him. Kissing him. Loving him. He seemed to invade every part of her, taking her outside herself and transporting her to the clouds.

  Of their own accord, her arms slid around his neck, her fingers finding the strands of hair at the back of his neck. His body pressed against her was so hard and warm, she wanted to crawl inside of him, climb him, let him take care of her. She wasn't a weak woman—quite the opposite—but James’ strength of body and character made her feel very feminine. Having him look after her wouldn't be such a bad thing.

  They'd stopped underneath the pier, the waves crashing along the pylons in deeper water. Before she knew it, her back was against one of the large wooden braces and James' hand bunched in her dress, palming her flesh as he slid it ever upward. His thumbs hooked over the waist of her thong and pulled it down her legs. He had to kneel to remove them, placing them in his pocket.

  “I'll just hang on to these,” he mumbled as he stood. “You can have them back after the wedding.”

  As reluctant as she was to hold on to the belief that would ever really happen, his words thrilled her to her core. It made her pussy even wetter than his kiss had. To be possessed by such a man, was thrilling no matter how hard she tried to stay realistic.

  “I haven't agreed to marry you yet,” she breathed, barely able to catch her breath.

  His grin was heart-stopping. “You will, sugar. You will.”

  Dipping his head, he caught her nipple through the filmy lace of her dress and Lark sucked in a breath. The combination of his heated mouth and the roughness of the material was a heady one. She held him to her even as she arched into him. Pulling down the material, his hands cupped her breasts as if testing their weight. In turn, he licked one then the other, lingering on the ripened peak and sucking it between his lips. When he nipped gently, Lark squealed softly, unable to contain the small sound. No matter the apparent solitude, she was acutely aware they were on a public beach.

  “We shouldn't do this here,” she whispered. “What if someone sees?” As scared as she may have been, she didn’t want him to stop.

  “I know,” he rasped between licks and nips. He didn't stop though. In truth, he sounded as needy as she felt. Her pussy burned with need and her belly coiled in anticipation. Anyone could see them! This was insane!

  It was also erotic as hell.

  With a little growl, James straightened and pulled her against him, bracing her back against the pylon. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” He sounded as desperate as she felt. She would’ve given him anything at all at that point.

  Lark couldn’t do anything other than obey. She was helpless in the wake of her need of him, of his for her. James fumbled between them with his belt, button, and zipper. Once he'd freed himself, he slid inside her with one hard thrust, robbing her of breath, thought, of everything but the sensation of him inside her.

  Lark screamed, trying to muffle the sound by burying her face in his neck. His fingers dug into her buttocks as he guided their pace and rhythm, but she didn't care. Riding him as much as she could, Lark tilted her pelvis so that his every movement scraped her clit erotically. James held her by the hips, lifting her, pulling her down fully onto his cock. Both of her legs wrapped around him, her teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder. His groan of approval drove her crazy. He wanted more; she wanted it all. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and no matter what happened in the morning, she was making sure both of them had a damn good time tonight.

  Squeezing her inner muscles around him tightly, she embraced the pleasure he gave her, letting it wash over her like the ocean all around them. Two strokes later, she burst. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. Funny, she hadn't realized she'd closed them. She had to force them open, but seeing the look of utter bliss on the face of James Monroe Buchanan was worth the effort.

  Jet after hot jet of his seed burst into her. Their lovemaking had been wonderful the night before, but, somehow, this was simply soul shattering.

  “How the hell do you expect me to ever give this up?” James moaned, raining kisses all over her face. “I couldn’t walk away from this, from you, even if I wanted to. I don't want to.”

  Lark didn’t reply,; she couldn’t. She just hoped like hell he didn't regret it in the light of day. She hoped, prayed, he still felt like this in the morning.

  The Politician

  Chapter Five

  After their wild romp underneath the pier, James had taken her back to the beach house. He didn’t leave, making love to her until the sun came up. This time instead of him hurrying off back to his hotel, he stayed until morning, making her breakfast in bed and even showering with her when they finally had to get up.

  “I promised to take a fishing trip with Mason and Robert today, but damn, I don’t want to leave you.”

  Smiling, she leaned into him, kissing his chin before nipping lightly. “I don't want you to leave me, but maybe it's best. I'm sure there are things you need to discuss with them, especially after last night's little tiff.”

  He rubbed his chin where she'd bit him. “I'll spank you for that later, you little minx.” He kissed her then. Slowly, tenderly, so full of promise she almost shoved him back onto the bed and had her wicked way with him. All too soon, he ended it, and Lark whimpered in protest. “I'll be back later tonight and we can discuss what we do next.”

  Lark hesitated, not wanting to ask too much of him, but unable to stop herself. “Do you promise?”

  James pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. “I promise, sugar. Do you sing tonight?”

&nb
sp; “No. I'm off until Friday.”

  He grinned. “Rest, then. I have a feeling you're going to need it.” He took a card out of his pocket, flipped it over, and scribbled a number on the back. “If you need me, this is my personal cell. If you don't get me there, call the number on the front of the card. Whoever answers will be able to get in touch with me.” With one last lingering kiss, James left. Lark had never been happier in her life. The silly grin she'd acquired sometime through the night just wouldn't go away.

  Deliciously sore, Lark decided a soak in the tub would do her good. She was clean—James had made sure he'd washed every nook and cranny she had—but she wanted to soak in a tub of hot water. Her muscles ached in places she never knew she had muscles.

  She had just settled into the most luxurious bubble bath she'd ever been in when her cell trilled. There was a moment for her to hope it was James before she glanced at the caller ID. Her best friend, Robin. The West Coast was a good three hours behind her, so Janie should just be getting off work.

  “What's up, girl?” Lark was anxious to tell Janie about James. It still felt surreal, but she had to tell someone or she was going to explode. “Have I got news for you!”

  “Not now, Lark!” Robin sounded distressed. Robin never got distressed. She got even. Right now, she sounded mad as hell.

  “Is everything all right?” Lark sat very still. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good.

  “That depends,” Robin drawled. She lived in Southern California, but she was all Southern Louisiana at heart. “Did you, or did you not, have sex on the beach with one Georgia Representative, James Monroe Buchanan?”

  Lark's heart skipped a beat. “How did you know that?” Her voice was a mere whisper. Had she not already been sitting, she was pretty sure she'd have fallen down.