Chapter Twenty-Two
Two weeks into my questionably triumphant return to DC, I’ve sold my townhouse, moved in with Chris, and have wrestled several large chunks of our campaign infrastructure into existence. I’ve come to admire and even like the version of Senator ShaeLynn Samuels I get to know as the candidate’s campaign manager. I begin forming my own relationship with her ascampaign manager to candidate, and maybe even something tentatively drifting toward friendship.
And yet, I still have difficulty reconciling the fact that I mustshareChris with her.
I mean, Igetit. I’m not calling the shots here. This is what I asked for. What Ibeggedfor.
Professionally? Oh, yeah, this is already turning into a dream job for me.
Outside of work, though, I have no control.Chris doesn’t see her every night, but six weeknights, he has.
I can’t get snippy with Chris when he returns to the condo late at night smelling like her before he rolls me over and fucks me, or uses my mouth while jerking me off or blowing me, telling me I’m his good boy. And any night he sees her, immediately upon his return to me he’s making love to me.
As weird as that sounds, it takes theworst of the sting out of it. Like he’s proving to me that just because she’s there doesn’t mean I’m not still here.
There’s a part of me thatneedsthis absolute control from him, absolute obediencetohim, and I’m still…processing. Maybe it’s my guilt, or maybe I am hard-wired to be a kinky fuck, I don’t know.
Maybe I want to show him I can be better in bed than she can. There’s a sick andtwisted kind of pride there, too. Something rooted deep in the knowledge that Chris always kisses me goodnight and tells me, “Love you, baby, you’re my very good boy,” before we fall asleep twined together.
She doesn’t get him all night.Ido. AndI’mthe one who gets to wake up next to him.
Friday morning, at the end of week two in DC, all three of us are booked on a flight out of Dulles toTallahassee, and I don’t even bother asking what we’re doing. Christopher is our driver in the rental car, and, after a stop at the grocery store, he drops me off at my house and we unload my things and his and the groceries while she waits in the car. Then he leaves to drive her to her house. I know Shae made one trip down here already, last weekend, and had coordinated the move from DC, so herhouse now has furniture.
Before we even left the condo this morning, Chris warned me that he would be spending time with her first upon our arrival, and then I’d be his for the rest of the weekend.
Not that I get to challenge that, but it’s an arrangement I can easily live with. It’ll give me time to get a few chores done around the house.
Chris lets himself in my front door fifteen minuteslater, and I’m honestlysurprised to see him return that quickly. I poke my head out of the kitchen, where I’ve been putting groceries away. I stripped earlier, before starting that task, because one of his rules for me is I’m naked at home here in Florida, and in DC, when we’re not expecting visitors.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Put on shorts and a T-shirt.Now.” He continueson through into the living room, where he draws all the blinds shut. I usually leave them slanted open a hair, enough to let in a little natural light.
I don’t question him—I head to the bedroom, grab shorts and a T-shirt, and pull them on before returning to the kitchen to finish what I was doing.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rings. Christopher goes to answer it.
I once again poke my headout of the kitchen. This time, I find he’s letting Shae inside. I’ve had practically no contact with her outside of working hours that didn’t involve the campaign.
Well, other than smelling or tasting her on Chris.
Unlike when I saw her earlier, though, she looks…
Nervous?
He closes and locks the door behind her and, after she hands him the keys to the rental, he stands there, staring at her,obviously waiting for something. She’s wearing an overcoat and heels.
When I saw her a few minutes ago, she wore jeans, a Lightning jersey, and sneakers.
I sense the sadist is completely in control right now. He tips his chin up, almost daring her not to obey whatever silent command he obviously expects her to follow.
I watch her throat work as she swallows before shedding the overcoat to revealshe’s naked, except for the shoes. Which are definitelynotshoes I’ve ever seen her wear at work. These are sky-high fuck-me pumps.
Then she glances my way again before she sinks to her knees in front of Chris, her head bowed.
Jealousy slams through me like a tsunami against the shore. While it hadn’t been explained to me specifically, I thought this time with Chris would bemineonce he lefther place. That we wouldn’t have interruptions this weekend.
That I wouldn’t have tosharehim beyond this afternoon.
