by Ivy Nelson
He gently nudged her.
“Wake up, little one,” he murmured in her ear. When she turned to face him, there were tears in her eyes.
“Thank God you’re OK,” she said, her voice trembling.
Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry I was such a fucking asshole.”
Carrie shook her head. “Don’t be. Ripley told me what happened. I stepped into a minefield and didn’t realize it. You were a jerk, but I understand, and I still love you.”
He took his good arm away from her waist and reached for her wrist. “Let’s get this off of you, crazy girl.”
It took a bit of work, but he untied it with a single hand. “I’m surprised the nurse let you get away with that.”
Carrie giggled. “I think Gary and Ripley have intimidated the hell out of all the nurses on this floor. We could probably have sex and they wouldn’t stop us.”
Peter lifted an eyebrow. “You wanna?”
Carrie laughed and smacked his arm.
“How’s Reggie?” he asked as their laughter died down.
When Carrie’s face fell, Peter felt his stomach drop. No. Not Reggie.
“I’m so sorry, Peter. Reggie didn’t make it.”
Peter buried his face in her shirt and let his grief pour out and Carrie just held him. After a few minutes, he sat up a little more and she handed him some tissue for his eyes. Carrie filled him in on everything that went down. When she finished her story, the room fell silent.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I know you say it’s OK, but I need to know you forgive me.”
“I do. I forgive you. You mean too much to me Peter. We both have a lot of learning and growing to do, but I’m willing if you are.”
• • •
Carrie spent the next two days by Peter’s bedside. When the doctor finally released him, Gary drove both of them to Peter’s apartment. To her frustration, Peter refused to get back into bed when they got home, choosing instead to sit in his home office and make phone calls.
“I’ve been in bed for three days, woman. That is the last place I want to be unless you’re going to have sex with me.”
Carrie shook her head. “You’re injured. That’s not happening.”
Peter scowled. “You’re lucky I’m wearing this cast on my swinging arm or I would spank your ass.”
“You’re all talk, tough guy.” Carrie got a secret thrill out of sassing him just to see what he would do next.
“Get your ass over here,” Peter demanded.
When she was in front of him, he stood and pulled her closer to him with his good arm. Then he planted his mouth on hers.
“I need to step out for a little while,” Carrie said. “There are things at work that need my attention, and my apartment finally got deemed safe enough for me to go back into. I want to get a few things and bring them back here. Do you want me to have Gary or Olivia come sit with you?”
Peter glared at her. “Do I look invalid to you. My arm is banged up but I’m perfectly capable of being home alone. They even took the sling off. I could even tie you up if I wanted. What are you worried about? I’ve got things to take care of anyway. You should just bring all your stuff and move in with me,” he said with a wink.
“OK.” Carrie grinned when his mouth opened and then closed again.
“You delight me, baby. Now get out of here. You’ve been hovering for days. I don’t want to see you for at least three hours.”
Carrie saluted just because she could before heading out the door.
When she reentered the apartment four hours later, delicious smells hit her nostrils. Was he cooking? Setting her bags down in the entry, she jogged to the kitchen. Sure enough, Peter was at the stove stirring something.
“You’re hurt, you shouldn’t be cooking.”
Peter turned and smiled at her. “Welcome home, little one. Dinner will be ready in five minutes. I’ll need your help to get the plates down. Arm won’t quite go that high.”
Carrie crossed to the correct cabinet and pulled down two plates. When Peter filled them both with spaghetti, she carried them to the table.
“I resigned from the Secret Service today,” Peter said as she settled into her chair. Her eyes flew to him.
“Why would you do that?”
Peter shrugged. “I realized I was tired of the politics and that my goal of becoming director would mean more of it, not less. I think I’m going to open a private security company.”
“That’s a pretty big life decision, Peter. Are you sure you’re OK with this?”
Peter nodded. “I’m positive. It means I can set my own hours and spend more time with you. Stop being such a stick in the mud,” he said with a wink.
As they ate, Carrie knew the decision she’d come to earlier in the day was the right one. She set her fork down and prepared to ask what she hoped was a life altering question.
“It’s appropriate that you made spaghetti, because I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh yeah?” Peter twirled his fork in the pile of pasta on his plate.
Carrie cleared her throat and ducked her head. “I want you to teach me how to bundle your rope.”
Peter’s fork clinked against his plate and his hand settled under her chin, lifting it so she met his eye.
“Carrie, baby.” His voice was husky with emotion. “Are you asking me to collar you?”
Carrie nodded as she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Yes, Sir,” she murmured.
Peter tossed his head back and laughed, and for a moment Carrie felt her heart sink. Was he turning her down? Then he stood and said, “You really know how to steal my thunder, don’t you baby?”
Carrie looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He crossed to his pantry and opened it. When he returned, he held a paper sack from a nearby grocery store in his hand. “This is for you.”
With a wrinkled forehead, she peeked into the bag. Reaching in, she pulled out a box of Red Bull and stared at it. Rotating it in her hand, she felt something on the side. When she looked, her mouth fell open and she looked up at him with glistening eyes. On the side of the box a typed message had been taped.
Marry Me?
Tears were streaming down her face as she stood and wrapped her arms around him. “Yes,” she whispered.
“There’s one more gift in the bag,” he said, pushing it toward her. At first, Carrie was expecting a ring, but what she pulled out was even better. A new wave of tears fell down her face as she held a picture frame. Not just any frame though, it was the frame that held that awful quote his mother had given him. Inside was a copy of their amusement park photo.
“I thought it was time to put something new on my desk,” he said as she wrapped her arms around him once more.
Peter held her in his arms for a moment before he pulled away and said, “go to the bedroom and wait for me.”
Carrie’s eyebrows rose. “What are we doing?” she whispered in what she hoped was a seductive voice.
Peter’s eyes grew dark. “If you’re going to learn how to bundle my rope, I have to tie you up first.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Are you ready to go see our friends little one?” Peter stood against the dresser watching his wife slip into the purple dress he had picked out for her. It matched the purple streaks she currently sported in her hair. As the soft material swished over her curvy and bare ass, he felt his cock twitch. He couldn’t wait to strap her to the spanking bench at Edith’s house and bury himself in her in front of everyone.
As her dress fell into place, she smiled up at him and said, “Yes, Master. I can’t wait. I’ve missed everyone. You kept me away for so long.”
He grinned at her use of his new title. The one they had decided on together. Their honeymoon had been six weeks long and she had spent most of it naked in various hotel rooms and cabins as they roamed the country together. They had explored their new power exchange dynamic and she was flour
ishing under his guidance. At the same time, he was learning to loosen up and have fun more often. There had been dancing at a country club in Nashville, zip-lining in Colorado, and more junk food than he cared to think about. They had already had their share of disagreements about her caffeine intake, but he was learning to live with it, and she was drinking more water which made him happy.
Now they were preparing to go to Edith’s house for their first party since they had returned home.
Ripley was still gone, and nobody seemed to know where he was though Carrie had gotten a single e-mail thanking her for keeping his name out of her story and promising a favor if she ever needed one. How she was supposed to cash in on that favor if they couldn’t find him was unknown, but he had a feeling his snoop of a wife would have no problem tracking him down. Corbit Upwood was spending the rest of his life in prison, but Diego Carrasco was still in the wind.
When they got to Edith’s, she answered the door and practically pulled them into the house.
“I’ve missed you two cuties. We’ve got some new faces here tonight too.” He felt Carrie squirm beside him. She had been hoping there wouldn’t be strangers here tonight because of his earlier promise to fuck her in front of everyone. He let his fingers tangle in her hair and gave a gentle tug hoping to ground her in her place as his.
When she remained tense, he pulled her in front of him so her back was to his chest and wrapped one arm around her waist, His other hand still tangled in her hair.
“Relax. You’re mine. You can do this.”
She nodded and leaned her head back for a kiss just as Olivia walked up.
“You’re home,” the bartender squealed as she pulled his wife into a hug. Peter stood back and watched with amusement as Carrie recounted some of their honeymoon adventures. When there was a lull in the conversation, Olivia looked between the two of them. “Have either of you heard from Ripley?”
They both shook their heads. “Sorry sweetie, not since Reggie’s funeral,” Carrie said, patting her on the arm.
“He’ll come in from the shadows one of these days,” Peter said. Olivia hugged them both again and wandered off to talk to someone else.
Gary came jogging up to them and pulled them both into tight embraces. “Good to see you love birds,” he said.
When Gary stepped back, Peter said, “Are you sure you don’t want to come work for me?”
Gary chuckled. “I’m positive. I’ll freelance occasionally if you need me but I’m not going to be tied to a full-time job. I’m glad you’re getting business though.”
Carrie glanced around. “No Evie tonight?”
Gary laughed. “Didn’t you hear? Our girl got a job in New York and moved a couple weeks ago.”
They made small talk with Gary for a few more minutes until he spotted a sub he was interested in playing with.
As Peter was leading them to an empty couch, a redhead stepped into their path and smiled at them.
She was adorable and her hair was a wild mess. This must be one of the new faces Edith was speaking of. Carrie’s eyes met the redhead’s and without speaking, Peter watched the two instantly become friends.
“I’m Darci. It’s my first time here,” she finally said.
“It’s nice to meet you Darci. What brings you here?”
Peter stood back and watched the women talk. His girl was relaxed and they were going to have a good night. Even better, it looked like they had made a new friend.
Power Desired
A D.C. Power Games Novel
Chapter One
“You tell the senator if he keeps pushing this legislation, he’ll have the entire weight of the ACSL working against him.”
Darci Sanders ran a hand through her red curls wincing as her finger caught on a knot and then another. Her hair hadn’t started the day so wild, but it never failed to end up that way. It had taken her half an hour to talk to someone other than an intern. She sat behind a worn desk that had seen better days and fiddled with the tiny snow globe from Paris. It was one of several travel mementos that adorned her space. The office was cramped, but it belonged to her.
She decided not to mention that the full weight of the American Coalition for Sexual Liberty was only seven employees. The thing about power and influence—it’s kind of like dynamite—it can come in small packages, especially in a city like D.C. Her eyes wandered across the array of pictures on the walls and desk causing her to smile as the woman on the phone spoke.
“I’ll pass your message along, Miss Sanders. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Darci rolled her eyes at the woman’s professional but impatient tone. She pushed away from her desk, stood and stretched. Rounding the modest desk with the cordless phone still pressed to her ear, she walked to the window. It was large and bathed the room in natural light, making the blue walls seem even brighter.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Adara Kent, ma’am.” Darci shuddered as she scribbled the name on a sticky note. Don’t call me ma’am.
Out loud she said, “That's a lovely name. You can get me an appointment for a sit down with the senator.”
“I’m afraid he is a busy man and won’t be able to meet anytime soon,” Adara replied.
“Of course, he is. I hope you’re prepared to spend a lot of time on the phone, Miss Kent. I will make sure the senator’s constituents call you every day to express their displeasure with this bill.”
Darci spent another thirty seconds getting the usual, “I’ll pass your message to the senator.” She knew full well Adara Kent had no intention of doing anything of the sort. At most, her call would reach the chief of staff if she was persistent—and she would be. She pulled up her list of co-sponsors of S.571 and crossed off Sean Atleigh, the Republican from Arizona. Three more lawmakers to harass today. She tried to keep the smirk off her face. Jim hated it when she harassed members of the legislative branch.
Darci walked to the window again. It looked out onto a busy D.C. street. She loved the city. The hustle and bustle relaxed her, and in this job, relaxing was a rarity. She had been working for the American Coalition for Sexual Liberty for seven years. It was a rewarding job, but she worked with a lot of victims, many seen as society's outcasts. Porn stars, prostitutes, rape victims and more came through this office seeking representation and aid.
Today, she was starting a lobby against a bill that classified pornography as a public health crisis on a federal level and directed funding and legislation towards restrictions that would hobble the industry. Sexual liberty meant being able to make money off it in Darci’s eyes, and the ability to do so without government intervention. Certain laws regarding child porn were necessary but to kill an entire commercial enterprise because some religious white guys were feigning offense? That seemed like a gross overreach of power.
The phone rang, startling Darci. It was shaping up to be a busy one. She crossed the short distance to the desk and answered with her usual greeting. A timid voice reached across the line.
“Miss Sanders, I’m Tessa Heath, I wondered if we could meet.”
“Can I ask why you're calling? I can try to help you on the phone,” Darci opened her desktop calendar as she spoke.
“I would feel more comfortable talking in person,” Tessa said.
“Will you at least tell me what it’s about?” Darci asked.
A long pause, and then a whisper.
“I... Someone raped me, and they’re going to let him get away with it.”
Darci froze. A knot formed in her stomach and the small office suddenly felt cramped to the point that she struggled to breathe. She didn’t do rape cases. They were too hard on her emotions. She was about to inform the girl she would transfer her to another representative when she remembered Jim Perkins was the only other one in the office today. Jim was amazing, but he wasn’t always as delicate as necessary for a situation like this. If she transferred this frightened girl to her gruff boss, they would lose her before t
hey were able to help her. No, this was her client now. She pushed past the lump in her throat.
“I understand you don’t feel comfortable talking on the phone, but can you tell me if you’ve gone to the police?”
Another pause.
“I’m afraid I’ll lose my scholarship if I do.”
Damn it! This story sounded eerily familiar. Without asking questions, she could guess what this girl had been through since her attack.
The threats wouldn’t have been overt, they would have been subtle.
“Think about your academic future. A criminal trial might cause your grades to suffer, and then what would happen?” they would ask in a kind voice.
Darci took a deep breath and spoke again. “Can you meet me for lunch today? Say in an hour? I want to help you, Tessa.”
Tessa agreed, and they swapped cell phone numbers. Darci asked where she went to school so she could do some research into the administration there. To her surprise, the girl went to her alma mater. Small world. She ended the call and got to work. All thoughts of harassing senators about S.571 had left Darci. She could only think of helping Tessa.
• • •
Bradley Givens walked out of his office in time to see his assistant slamming the phone back into the cradle.
“Everything alright Adara?”
He straightened his tie as he crossed the room to the young woman sitting behind a pristine desk. Her dark hair was up with a few loose curls framing her face, her makeup neat and understated, and her suit was a simple but flattering gray. She was the first line of defense between his employer and angry constituents, and she was damn good at her job. Keeping her happy was at the top of his priority list.