She rolls her eyes before tucking her face against the side of my neck. “Fine,” she mumbles. “Maybe I did.”
I take one final sip of coffee, scoop her up, rise, and head for the stairs. In my arms, she’s squealing and giggling. “Then maybe Sir can stay for another round of fun with his girl.”
Truth be told, it has been a longthree weeks away from her. I don’t need my implements for this round. She’s already going to have a good set of marks on her ass from the way I went after her earlier.
This time can be all about the fucking.
When we reach her bedroom, I unceremoniously toss her onto the bed. She loves it when I get rough with her. I have to be careful not to mark her anywhere she can’t easily conceal, like lowerarms.
I drop onto her, using my knees to shove her thighs apart as she start to struggle. So I grab her arms and pin them over her head at the wrists with one hand and use the other to untie the robe’s belt. “You sure are squirmy for a girl who wanted a round two.”
“Wouldn’t want you to think I’m getting soft, Special Agent Bruunt.” Her nearly manic grin says it all, though.
Game on.
“I’dnever think that, Senator.” I’m already hard. I jerk down my sweat pants and easily notch my cock between her legs and find my target, making both of us moan.
At that, the fight goes out of her, the game abandoned. Her legs hook around mine, and the struggle is forgotten as she tries to rock her hips in time with me.
Soft and sweet doesn’t do it for her. It’s rare that she’s in a fluffy bunnymode, and usually those times come after emotionally draining circumstances, like dealing with tragedies. In those times, she just wants to sit curled in my lap and be able to cry and feel safe.
The rest of the time?
She wants the stuffing fucked out of her.
Which I proceed to do now. By the time I’m finished with her, we’ve both come again and lie there snuggling for a few minutes.
“The soonerwe talk to him, the sooner I can announce,” she says.
I snort. “That’s some pillow talk, Shae.”
She rolls on top of me. “I mean it about getting married.”
“I know. I’ll do it.” I probably know this woman better than anyone. I mean, there is more to our relationship besides sex and spankings. But those other parts of our relationship usually happen over a phone or video chat. We don’t wasteour precious time alone together making small talk.
The kiss she gives me now is different than how she usually kisses me. It feels like a promise she won’t renege on.
I tuck a strand of her black hair behind her ear. She grew it longer for me, when she asked me how I liked it. She gives me control in tiny ways I know are a big deal for her.
That’s why I relish them.
“You really love him,don’t you?” she asks.
I nod. “I never got over him. It’s why I’ve been single for so long. I tanked a lot of relationships without realizing exactly why. When I finally quit trying to replace him in my heart, I finally found a way to make a little peace with it.”
Which is a fucking lie.
I’ve never made peace with losing him. Maybe if I’d had some damn closure, okay. But for now, Kevin Markosremains an unpunctuated sentence in my soul—a life sentence, apparently.
She studies me for another long moment. “Would you still marry me if I ran for re-election instead of president?”
Ah. We’re having a “moment.” I never assume that with Shae. Early on, when I thought she was being emotional, it turned out she wasn’t. So now I assume everything isn’t a “moment” unless I see evidence of hermaking herself truly vulnerable to me.
“On the same timeline, yes.” I smirk. “As long as you still ask me.”
She sits up, straddling me. She’s still wearing her robe, but it falls open in the front. “No kids, though. Even if I wasn’t getting up there in years, management closed the baby factory, and it’s not reopening.”
She had her tubes tied long before we ever met, back during her first termin the Senate. “I know. I’m good with that.” I’m an uncle to my younger brother’s kids, and I’m happy with that role. I’ve never had a desire for more.
