Chapter Twenty-Eight
Casey had enough forethought to book us on a return flight that doesn’t leave until Sunday afternoon, meaning I’ll be able to sleep in late with Declan that morning.
Which is a damn good thing, because by the time I make it through delivering my keynote speech Saturday night, I’m wiped out. I’m too mentally and emotionally exhausted to actually play withDeclan when we return to our suite. We make love and then curl up together with the TV on.
I’ve spent the weekend fielding “thoughts and prayers” and all sorts of personally related comments I know are meant well, but…yeah.
They wear me right the fuck out.
I would actually prefer theydon’tmention what happened, or Ellen.
Atall.
Igetit. People weren’t saying, “Oh, glad your wife died.”But, two years out, I donotneed another hundred fricking people insisting on telling me how much they prayed for me, or how they listed me on their prayer chains.
Can’t they let it go?
Declan even red-lined me adding a comment in my speech that I’m an atheist and asking people to please shut the fuck up about their thoughts and prayers for me.
I wouldn’t havereallysaid it.
Maybe.
Excepteven though he knows I was joking (mostly) he also reminds me I have a part to play.
RINO or not, I’m a Republican governor in a predominantly conservative state. I cannot afford the unforced errors.
I have to watch myself.
I’ve got the “bounce” working for me still. I have astronomically good poll numbers. If I do something stupid, it will wipe that out.
Fortunately, no one’s said the commentto me that will enrage me, the “oh, it was god’s will” bullshit that makes me want to strangle the person.
That it happened at all is more proof to me there is no god. Because if there was, he wouldn’t have taken my Ellen from me. And if there is a god?
Then he’s a fucking asshole, and I want nothing to do with him, anyway.
Early Sunday morning, I startle awake from a nightmare about the planecrash to find Declan sitting up, his hand in the middle of my chest and gently shaking me awake. I’m bathed in a cold sweat, my heart racing.
I shove him back onto the bed, kissing him, needing him to quiet my mind for me.
Rightnow.
I grab the lube and roll him over onto his stomach. He automatically spreads his thighs, scooting his knees forward to give me access.
Because he’s my good boywho knows what I want.
“Tell me what you want, boy,” I say as I drizzle lube down the seam of his ass.
“I need to be bred, please, Sir.” His voice has already dropped into subspace territory. That’s something else I love about him, that, as I had with Ellen, we have this instant rapport between us. I can grab him by the throat and kiss him and sink him deep into subspace. I don’t have to beathim to get him there.
It’s a heady feeling that makes my cock achingly hard.
I start with two fingers, because he loves it rough when he goes into this headspace. I fuck them deep into him and twist, making him shudder and moan and arch his back so his ass sticks up and gives me better access.
He’s a very good boy.
This is something Casey can’t do for him. Sure she can fuck him with a strap-on,but she can’t comeinsidehim.
