Chapter One
Now
It’s hard not to shiver when the AC kicks on as I kneel, naked, on the floor of my new office, the carpet doing little to cushion my knees. My hands remain clasped behind my head, back straight, elbows out.
This is how he’s trained me, and what he expects of me.
My knees are spread as wide as I can manage and still keep my heels tucked under my ass.
He circles me, inspecting me as he smiles and tugs on his shirt cuffs, adjusting the lay of the cufflinks. I know he wants to strip off that suit he’s wearing and fuck me right here, spread over my new desk, but he’s holding himself back.
Waiting.
I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, even though my hard cock has a will of its own and is probably dribbling a puddle all over the towel Carter thought to put down before ordering me to kneel.
He might be a bastard extraordinaire, but he’s also very practical.
He looks pleased with himself, and he has every right to be. He’s the only man I kneel for and he damn well knows it.
It’s a price I willingly pay to be owned byHer.
His wife.
Who is also, as of when we were sworn in at one o’clock this very afternoon, my lieutenant governor for the great state of Florida.
* * * *
Carter Wilson, bastard extraordinaire, is eight years older than me, a decorated Army veteran, my best friend, college roommate, one of my two closest confidants, my chief of staff…
And he’s the Master and husband of Susannah Evans.
Susa owns me—mind, heart, soul, and body—and has ever since I first met her in college.
Since she owns me, that means I belong to Carter by default. It was the deal I willingly accepted all those years ago.
Susa grew up the daughter of a lawyer, a progressive Republican who pretty much ran the state GOP for decades. Still does, unofficially now. Benchley Evans was a county administrator, then a county commissioner, followed by four terms as a state rep, and two more as a state senator. The only reason he didn’t run for the big G or a national office was a massive heart attack that made his wife put her foot down and demand he choose his family over party and politics for once in his damn life.
He also hailed from a family that first made their fortune in citrus and cattle. As freezes and canker and greening took down the citrus industry, and the exploding housing market chipped away at cattle lands, he’d already moved on to land development, jumping in early when acreage was still cheap.
That meant he could easily afford to send his only daughter to any college she chose, for any degree she wanted.
It was my luck—good or bad, you decide—that we ended up in Tampa together, selecting majors and minors that would help us with law degrees.
But she’s also smarter than me in many ways. Far more ruthless politically. That’s why, when Carter decided we could change our home state in good ways, Susa insisted it should be me who ran for governor on a third-party ticket.
Thistime.
After eight years—if I win re-election, that is—she’ll be perfectly positioned for her own gubernatorial bid.
I’ll do my best to get her elected. Once I’m out of office, I’ll return to the private sector while still championing a few key causes that are near and dear to my heart.
But what I’ll be looking forward to most by then is time out of the public eye.
For at least the next four years, my official residence is the Florida Governor’s Mansion in Tallahassee. I can’t simply choose tonotlive there, because it’d be a logistics nightmare for my security detail, as well as an unnecessary expense for taxpayers.
Considering two of the key planks in the platform we ran on were better budgeting and smarter spending, I can’t do something that would so blatantly fly in the face of those ideals.
I especially can’t cite wanting to be with Susa and Carter whenever I choose as the reason.
