He bites down on my neck, and the moan it elicits pours out of my mouth and into Cal’s, navigating the twisted path of tangled tongues to complete its journey. Distant voices carried by a light breeze meet our ears, and everything stops. Cal breaks the kiss. Beck’s lips leave my neck. We all turn frantic eyes to the world around us, scanning the area but staying close to each other. When no one appears, a collective sigh of relief fills the air.
Beck sighs. “We should get you back to the party. There’s no way they’re not looking for you.”
“He’s right, pet,” Cal says, trying to move back.
“No. I’m not going back in there.”
Tension writes itself into Beck’s limbs. “What happened? Who upset you?”
There’s a lethal, accusatory note to his voice that leaves me with no choice but to soothe him face-to-face. I spin around in their hold and take his face in my hands. “Nothing and no one that matters now that I’m here with you two.”
“But you can’t stay here, Selene. Aubrey will be expecting you to?—”
“Aubrey is too busy kissing up to the President of Singapore to give a damn about me.”
I inject confidence I don’t feel into my voice and pray its enough to manifest my words into reality. Aubrey has to be distracted. He has to be thinking about smoothing things over with President Tao more than he wants to ream me out. Otherwise, they’re right and he’ll be looking for me. I don’t want them to be right. I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to schlep back to that tent and play nice or hide from Aubrey’s wrath for the rest of the night.
I want this. I want them. I want us.
My touch turns tender, fingers slipping over the smooth skin of Beck’s head. His eyes fall shut, resolve fading with everysecond that passes. “Please don’t make me go back in there,” I beg. “Let me stay with you. Let me have you.” He’s already caving, both of them are, but to seal the deal, I pull him into a slow, drugging kiss that builds and builds until I’m climbing him like a tree and Cal is cursing as he guides us backwards through the doors we’re all supposed to be standing outside of.
I’ve been inside the Oval once since moving into the White House, posing for photos that ended up in a design magazine that claimed Aubrey and I chose the new slate blue window dressings and embroidered rugs together. Of course, I’d never seen any of the decor items before, and I don’t look at them closely as we stumble into the room. Beck presses me against the nearest wall, the tips of his fingers digging into my ass through the silky chiffon of my Oscar De La Renta gown. Aubrey had complimented the color, but I’d chosen the gown because I adored the rosette detail at the bust and liked the amount of cleavage the sweetheart neckline put on display.
Beck buries his face between the exposed mounds and inhales deeply. “God, I’ve missed you,” he moans, mouth wandering to my right breast where his tongue traces the curve of the fabric before his teeth pull it away from my skin, exposing the hard peak of my nipple.
“Bite her.”
The order comes from behind us, and my eyes fly open, gaze locking on Cal’s at the exact moment Beck follows his command. He’s not as close as I thought he’d be. Instead of standing somewhere near the doors we just passed through or sitting on any one of the plush chairs in the space, he’s behindthedesk. The desk every President since Jimmy Carter has used during their tenure. The one Aubrey treats with the same reverence one might give a throne.
Wet, heated lashes of Beck’s tongue steal my words, my thoughts, my questions about cameras and blind spots. All ofit, including the knowledge that Aubrey requested the cameras in his office be turned off in the evenings—falls away as Cal settles into the buttery leather of the desk chair, his expression almost bored as he watches Beck ravage me. My sex clenches, liquid desire pooling in the fabric of my thong at the sight of his indifference.
“Do you want more?”
I bite my bottom lip and nod, hips churning. “Yes, please.”
“Give her more, Beckham.”
Whatever it is Cal and I have decided on is of no consequence to Beck because he ignores Cal, continuing to work me into a frenzy with nothing more than nipple play. Cal’s lips curl into a smirk.
“I think he wants you to beg, pet.”
Confirmation lives in the pools of onyx focused on my face, and the pleas spill from my mouth in an incoherent whimper. “Please, Beck, I need more.”
“More what, gorgeous?” he rasps, fingers already drawing up the fabric of my dress to bare my legs. I start to tremble as they ghost over the inside of my thighs and nearly convulse when he uses the pad of his thumb to work my clit in hard circles through lace coated in my essence.
“She’s so fucking wet, Drake.”
“Bring her here, so I can see.”
Beck’s touch is precise, every rotation of his thumb applying the perfect pressure at the perfect spot. And it stays that way even as he carries me across the room and lays me out on the most important desk in this country. The oak is cold against my skin, but I can’t bring myself to care because I’m with my men and on the brink of an orgasm so strong it’s likely to destroy me.
I plant my feet on the edge of the desk, spreading my legs wide so Beck has more room to work and Cal has an unobstructed view. He slides the chair in closer, dipping downto take my mouth into a filthy kiss while Beck pushes my thong to the side and kneels before me. As soon as he pulls my clit into his mouth, I come apart, back arching off the desk, thighs threatening to separate his head from the rest of his body, throat raw and aching from a howl of pleasure muted by Cal’s mouth latched to mine.
His kisses guide me out of the haze of my orgasm and back into the present reality where Beck is adjusting his dick in his pants and staring at my pussy like he’s never seen one before. Despite having just come, desire starts to swirl in the pit of belly again, louder and more demanding than before.
“Beck?”
His eyes snap to my face. “Yes, gorgeous?”
