Vetting The Senator

by Alex Elliott

  Opening the cabinet, I stow the photos in a manila envelope. I pick up a bag with the supplies I bought for my little sub. Last night, after following Colin and calling Archer, I made a detour and acquired a few provisions for my and Xavia’s pleasure. With the bag in hand, I exit and lock this closet door. Second doorway in my condo that I’m keeping under lock and key, and I’m not sure how I feel about that revelation. Returning to my closet, I slip on my jacket and reach for my phone. I text Jax that I can’t make lunch.

  Then I text Xavia, “Prepping for the day. Can you do 7:00 am to assist? Flextime.”

  My false antiseptic life is choking me, and with X’s cousin up to potentially no good, I run the idea for the nine millionth time of having her come here. Archer said he’s going under the wire for a few days for other shit, and he’ll get back to me when he’s solidified the tracks he’s running on Stillman.

  Walking out of my bedroom, I’ve got to get my head in gear for a day of senate hearings. Two of the subcommittees scheduled I chair. I’m prepared to do battle with the opposition in the form of senior ranking members beating a war drum, if I could concentrate for five consecutive seconds.

  My cell is silent. Last minute, and if she can’t, I’ll figure out an alternative in how I can meet her, and deal with her butt plug situation. I don’t want her in pain tomorrow night when I take her ass, and two more graduations will allay her discomfort. Heading into my kitchen, I think about what she said about cooking. Christ, when was the last time I prepared something to eat that didn’t involve a microwave? No answer comes to mind, and before I can mentally debate myself on that one, my phone buzzes.

  She’s sent me a message. “I’m already in the office and working on answering emails. Can I do something to help you prep for hearings? Ready to shift gears.”

  Since we’re texting on my regular cell, I have to temper my reply. I can’t very well ask her if she realizes her jackwad cousin was hanging outside her apartment last night. “I’m in for legislative wrangling and witness testimony today. I’m good on that score. If you can, I need a translator for next week to deal with documents I expect to obtain. Pull up our contacts. Get me a name.”

  “Dialect...region?” She texts back.

  “De facto language is Spanish.”

  She zips a reply. “That I can do. Location?”

  “Havana. Cuba but tack on the Dominican R. as well. See you soon.” That’s more than I normally text but it’s not over-the-top—less gregarious than lots of senators with staff.

  *

  The ride to the Hill is quick at this hour. I enter my office, and it’s dark except for the area at the end of the hall where light streams out of Xavia’s temporary office. A twinge twists in my chest. Myra is out on maternity leave until Thanksgiving, and given X is now fulltime staff, serving as my semi-press secretary, I question what she’ll do to finish her degree.

  “Good morning,” I say, entering her office. “Can I see you a minute?”

  Her eyes hold mine, unwavering over the top of her glasses as I unbutton and remove my jacket. I hold off grilling her about school. She looks tired, and I immediately wonder if her roommate is still sick. I hang my jacket on the back of a chair in front of her desk, observing her. “Everything okay at home?”

  “Yes. And you?” She quirks her brow slightly and gets up, shedding her jacket in turn. Seamlessly, she tosses it over her chair and stalks toward me, and now I’m the one staring. She rocks her hips from side to side in a wraparound dress she proceeds to untie. Black and clinging to her curves. I imagine unwrapping and using her dress, binding her to her chair as I spread her legs and finger her clit.

  “Do you own anything... clothing wise that doesn’t get me to the point of busting a nut in my pants?”

  “Is this going to be similar to yesterday?”

  My heartbeat revs up at the sound of her soft voice, and I let my gaze drop down her body. “That depends. Do you want it to be?”

  “I want you and I don’t want to be teased, Senator.”

  “We’re alone for at least an hour...maybe more.” I’m on the verge of suggesting that we could meet at my apartment for early morning quickies, and then I frown. Sharply I exhale, “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?” She stops untying her dress as I shut her door, locking it.

  I don’t have a plan, but what I do have is experience. With her partially clothed chances of us doing something soon are pretty high. Assuredly high. But first I’ve got to ask her about Colin.

  In three steps, I’m in front of her and curl my fingers over her shoulders, bracketing her neck with my thumbs. Her body feels incredible at this range and all I have to do is pull her to me. Undo my zipper. Slide inside her, into nirvana—I grind my molars, rubbing my thumbs along the curve of her collarbone, telling myself to talk first. Then enjoy her.

  “Your cousin,” I hiss between my teeth.

  Fuck, I’m going to have to admit that I was outside her building, during the point that she and I are establishing ‘us’ as a cohesive unit. A time when we’re supposed to be learning how to trust each other. What’s left of my common sense roils in frustration. Can I risk destroying the tenuous bridge linking us, this sacred spot where she’s let me into her world?

  “Do you mean Colin?” She bites her lip and looks up at me.

  “Yes...” Pausing, I reconsider.

  My pulse rockets. I want her. Without reservation. We’re thirty-eight hours away from me claiming her in one of the most intimate ways at the House. Every fiber within me storms that I don’t have a solid line on what he’s up to and if she calls him on the carpet—he’ll learn he’s being watched which will blow my chance of unearthing what the slimeball is up to. Common sense—or rather my fuck-wit cock—demands that I need to keep silent. Do not confess my stalker fascination with sitting in my car outside her apartment.

  I’ve already cursed aloud so I can’t pretend that idle curiosity about Colin is running a circuit around my brain. I tangle my fingers in the scarf she wears to hide the bite marks I leave on her neck. “Has he made any contact with you...you know after the last time? At Harvard?”

  “Why? Has the Veep done something else? Jesus, Ben!”

  “Slow down.” I let go of her scarf, curling my fingers over her shoulders, and shake her slightly. “Just tell me about him.”

  “Colin Stillman is a jerk. He doesn’t have any business in D.C. but I doubt that minor fact would prevent him from visiting. Why are you asking?”

  “It’s not a mystery to you that I...acquire information on people.”

  “On me?” she asks, her eyes glassy.

  “Everyone. And since he was bothering you, I won’t lie. I’m investigating him and if he intends to be a thorn. We should be prepared.”

  “I’m not paranoid about him. Not anymore. Effectively, he and my grandmother can go bark up another tree in their need to meddle. Even with the Veep’s admission of talking with my grandparents, I’m not worried about Colin. Besides, I doubt my grandmother will do anything to rock the White House boat. She enjoys the limelight more than anyone I’ve met, and more than likely, is busy spreading the news that she’s coming to a State Dinner.”

  The muscles along my neck knot. “If your cousin tries to do something, let me know. I’ll deal with him.”

  Glaring at me, she plants her hands on my chest. “You’ve got more important things to worry about. Virginia Ryan reminds me of my grandmother with her agenda and plans and appetite for attention. We can go with the Veep flow, or appear to.”

  “She has a team of ten like your grandmother, calling the media shots. But keep in mind a key element. We’re in control.” Earlier, I received an email from Ryan’s PR team, a reminder that X and I should appear in public together. Christ, maybe my little sub has a valid point.

  She squeezes her fingers along my arm, jarring my attention. “Seriously, it doesn’t always feel that way, even if we’re calling the shots. I came here to find my place. No
t a different colored cage.”

  “Give the Capitol a chance. This isn’t coming from anyone but me. I want to be primed for the State Dinner in relation to your family, and what to anticipate. And now that you brought it up, we should probably have a date before then.”

  “Oh, and that doesn’t smell of the Veep’s agenda?” she scoffs. “I don’t want to discuss anything. Not until we take care of some business between you and me, Stone.” She opens the front of her dress, displaying her mind-blowing body, and smiles provocatively up at me. “Well? Up for being spontaneous? A little rule breaking between friends?”

  “I’m more than ready. Able. On both fronts.” Tracing my gaze across her chest, I follow suit with my hands, molding my fingers over her bra, tugging gently on the chain clamped to her nipples.

  Her breath catches and the parting of her perfect pink lips makes my cock lengthen. “What do you suggest...for both ventures?”

  “Honestly,” I reply, captivated by the scrap of lace covering her tits and the matching sliver between her legs. “What about shopping?”

  “Shopping?” She tilts her head as though in question.

  “Yeah. You’re going to need some new lingerie.”

  “And why is that?” Once again, her lips curve seductively.

  Dropping my hands, I spread open her dress further, taking hold of X by her slender waist. I bend forward, ghosting my mouth over her jaw until I’m kissing that sensitive spot on her neck. Her threading pulse thuds under my lips. My cock judders in need of thrusting into her. I suck a bruise into her skin, one of many. The idea of leaving bite marks—more on her body—has me to the edge.

  I lift my mouth and hover near her ear. “Because I’m going to rip these off your body, beautiful.”

  “Please, sir,” she gasps, skimming her hands up my shirt and over my shoulders. “I’m wearing the clamps and a plug per your order.”

  “And?”

  “I’d like to have my bra and panties in place, while at work.”

  “Hate to admit it, but I do see your point.” I tug the ribbons at her hips. Twin pastel pink bows. Undoing the tiny ribbons, I relish the jolt of excitement racing through me as her panties come undone. Gazing into her crystal eyes, I pull them from between her legs. “Baby, I want you riding me.”

  She kisses my jaw, sucking sweetly on my skin, and guides her fingers along my shaft, tugging on me with the perfect level of rough pressure. God, so good. My cock jerks and I feel my eyes roll upward. Like the discarding of her lingerie, I’m so close to shedding my new found secret obsession—admitting that I watch her apartment from the street.

  Opening my eyes, I meet her gaze. “X,” I hiss, my heart slamming against my ribcage. Normally I want her loud and begging. Making me feel like a god. A demon. A hurricane.

  “Let me,” she begs, caressing my cock.

  Driving desire runs in my blood and I grip her hips, drawing her to me. I want no secrets between us. This softness is her strength and I want skin-on-skin. Hell, I crave closer. I’m willing to forge a connection that’s deeper. Tease out the truth of what’s happening between us. Is this a chemical reaction? Lust so over-the-top that I’m blinded. I exhale an erratic breath. No question, I’m keyed to the max in need of her wrapped around me.

  “Same drill. Let’s use your desk.”

  “Mmm, but you’re so hard,” she moans, squeezing my throbbing dick.

  I guide her, holding onto her as I force her backward. I refuse to let her go, keeping her close to me as we move as though dancing. When she’s up against her desk, I pivot her slowly, and slip the dress from her body, draping it over her chair. Instead of positioning her hands on her desk, I wrap my arms around her, molding her against me, whispering against the back of her head. “X...let me...in, baby.”

  Her hands find me, tracing along the outline of my cock once more, and she strokes my rod, forcing a column of air to rustle from between my lips. Little space separates us, but enough for her to unbuckle my belt, and unzip my pants. I release my hold on her only long enough to lower my trousers and boxers, freeing my cock.

  “How?” she murmurs.

  “On the floor. All fours.” I grab the bag and tug her down with me to the carpet.

  Us fucking on the floor in theory is insane. In reality, us on the floor is fluid. It’s perfect. Raw, primitive, and gives me the means to expend my volatile hunger to take her. Own her.

  Opening the bag, I remove the larger plug and bottle of lube. I coat my finger and then slowly remove the plug from her. She’s open, inviting, and without hesitating, I slide my finger into her channel as my muscles constrict and my cock throbs without mercy. She’s pure satin, wet and clenching. I piston my finger in and out of her ass as my lust burns under my skin, tempting me to go beyond this forbidden tease to singularly fucking her.

  “Say it!” I growl. God, what I’d give to take her roughly, plunging my shaft into her, and joining us together. Only that type of overarching fuck will assuage this infuriating possession she weaves within me.

  “Fuck me. Please.”

  “Not good enough. I want more convincing or you get nothing.”

  “Please. Please,” she begs.

  “Tell me what this feels like?” I rub my cock against the seam of her ass cheeks.

  “I want you inside me,” she whispers, swaying against me.

  Fuck! Somewhere along the way, the balance of power has shifted...it’s tipping toward her in how she has to do absolutely nothing except be near me. My desire to devour her gains more and more traction within me bone deep. Reason number five hundred and three why she’s got me to the mind-blowing edge.

  I cup one of her round tits, and pinch her nipple. Instead of an iota of relief, I’m drowning in my hunger for this woman. She curls her hips upward, flexing and rocking against my cock. I drink in her scent that turns me inside out. I’m hard. Hungry. Releasing her nipple, I spread her ass cheeks apart. Pre cum leaks from my crown—I can’t hold back. Fuck it! I plunge my finger into her. Slam my hand against her ass. I own her.

  Rough. Demanding, I make her ride my finger. “That’s it, fuck my finger.”

  I need more and grip myself, rapidly stroking my shaft but it’s not enough. I remove my finger from her. She’s open, pink, and inviting. I swipe my crown along her seam, teasing us both by grazing my hardness between her legs, dipping my tip into her puckering rosette.

  “Please do me,” she whimpers. “Fuck my ass.”

  My abs tighten. Slowly, I coat her channel with droplets of my pre cum, dripping off my crown. I could easily align my dick and drive my entire length into her in a powerful thrust, joining us. I’m so there....

  “We are going to wait!” I growl to her.

  I’m a goddamn Dom for fuck’s sake! In a lust soaked state, I focus on my promise to teach X to control her passion—see the bigger picture. Bigger than my throbbing dick, and my vow to her includes savoring the first time I take her ass. As her master, it’s my duty to instruct her in the art of surrendering to me while I enjoy her for hours—not minutes.

  As if the world slows, my self-control reinvigorates itself. I pick up the plug, coat it with lube as she moans my name. I align the tip of the plug with the pink rosette between her ass cheeks. I glance at my cock, glossy with pre cum, and rasp in a gravelly voice. “Exhale. Now.”

  When she relaxes, I insert the plug, and grind my teeth, focusing all my concentration to go easy with her. I swipe my cock within her silky heat, which is slick and soft against my crown. “Fuck, baby.”

  “Bennett...” She trembles and bows forward.

  “Not that way.” I grip my rod, positioning my crown at her entrance, then curl my fingers over the spot where her thighs and hips meet. Pulling her back, I thrust forward, driving my cock to the hilt into her. I close my eyes that roll up into my head. Does she feel like I feel? Mind blown.

  Pummeling my cock into her silken cunt, grinding against her, I’m possessed with this primal craving to own h
er and willing to ride a cresting wave that threatens to crash. Crash and rip me the fuck apart.

  “Please. More,” she pleads, quivering.

  I lean over her back, kiss a path up her shoulder as I piston my hips faster, thrusting harder, rougher with each of her wild and wicked moans that spur me to give her what she begs for.

  Thrusting within her—I peel apart her ass cheeks, driving deeper as jolts of pleasure tears through me. Shards of white light burst apart inside my head. Pure bliss to my senses. I move my hands to her pussy, spreading open her lips as I pound into her. On my down stroke, I flick my fingers over her erect clit, then circle and stroke her mercilessly as sparks erupt at the base of my spine.

  I’m close. I won’t last. I hike her hips, forcing my cock deep inside her, then withdrawing until my crown rims her. I stare at my length wet with her juices, and the muscles over my forearms down to my fingertips constrict in need.

  She trembles, whispering my name. “Ben. So good.”

  Groaning, I impale my entire dick into her so fiercely, I shudder. She spasms under my hands, her pussy milking my cock as I jet, spurting my release inside her. Slamming my shaft into her again, I curse from the impact.

  “Fuck,” I say and fold over her. We’re both panting as I close my eyes, inhale her fragrance and hold onto her. “We need a bed, X. One we can do this in.”

  Chapter 11

  INSTRUMENT OF TORTURE

  “DID YOU get my email?” Bennett’s gravelly voice has the ability to send the kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach into orbit. I’m circling around a block after taking a wrong turn.

  “Uh, I’m driving.” More like lost. I’m in Brooke’s car and on my way back to the apartment, pulling up my navigation app to get directions on my phone. “You sent me an email? I’m on my way home.” I scramble, wondering if I’d forgotten something before I left the office.