I have the memories of all the times he held me over the years as I cried, and all the things he’s done for me.
Loyalty.
Devotion.
Carter is a bastard extraordinaire, yes, but he is a loyally devoted one to the two of us. I know he’d be a great father if that option wasn’t closed to him, to us.
Part of me aches over that, but I lock it away, because I hate what-if rhetoricals that are meaningless. They’re a waste of time, and we have precious little time to accomplish big things.
I’m waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed when Carter and Susa emerge from the bathroom. They’re both naked. He walks over to me and I draw him into my arms, looking up at him. Susa stands behind him and wraps her arms around him. Like this, we take a quiet moment.
I can still remember those early days when I was starved for affection and physical contact of any kind. Skin hunger.
It’s not a problem I have anymore.
“I want Christmas,” I say. “We warned everyone Christmas would be iffy anyway, if I won. I want Christmas alone with both of you. Just lock ourselves in and not go anywhere or answer the phone or anything.”
He plays with my hair and nods. “Done. Christmas EveandChristmas.”
Relief fills me and I lay my head against his chest, listening to his heart beating there. “Thank you, Sir.”
We climb into bed and I take a moment to enjoy watching Carter fuck Susa, getting her primed before falling still so I can get into position. It’s sexy to watch them fuck, just like I understand why Carter likes watching us fuck. We’re not machines. Some nights, despite how Carter owns us, he knows one of us might not be in the mood. He’s a bastard, not an asshole. On those nights, a show is sometimes put on for the third.
Sometimes, that show is for Carter, especially if his pain is bad.
And to be certain, with the campaign and stress, sometimes it’s more a matter of we’re falling into bed, whoever’s together that particular night, and doing some power cuddling without any sex being involved. Carter’s almost forty-five now, I’m thirty-seven, and Susa’s thirty-five. We’re not exactly old farts, but we’re not horny college kids any longer.
We’re reasonably responsible adults who were just given the keys to one of the largest states in our nation.
Oh, shit.
I must have frozen, because Carter looks back at me. “What’s wrong, Owen?”
“I…” I swallow. “I’m thegovernor…ofFlorida.”
He smiles. “You’re just now realizing that?”
Susa giggles.
“No, I mean, seriously, I’m the fuckinggovernorofFlorida! Who thehellthought this was a good idea?”
He tips his head back enough he can kiss me, and that starts distracting me. “There’s a motion on the floor, Senator Taylor. How about you fuck me—sorry, I mean,GovernorTaylor, not Senator—and we can discuss this further after you, Representative Evans, and myself have had some orgasms?”
Susa’s giggle lasts longer this time. “The representative at the bottom of the dogpile votesaye,” she says.
I grab his hips and start fucking him, feeling a little sadistic satisfaction of my own when his eyes practically roll back in his head. Somehow, he starts moving, and we find a rhythm that also has Susa happily moaning below us.
By the time we’ve collapsed in a happy heap, I’m done for the night. We clean up and curl up in bed, tonight with me in the middle.
“I can’t believe people voted for me,” I mumble against his shoulder.
He chuckles. “That’s because you’re hot as fuck,Governor.”
I groan.
Susa giggles.
God help us all, I’m now the governor of Florida.
