Except my cock is hard and aching now from his kisses.
Yet, still, I will obey. I’ve had, what, eleven years’ practice at this, now. Obedience.
“Yes, Sir,” I tell him.
He nuzzles my nose with his while his hands slide down to my ass and squeeze, hard, drawing a hiss of pain from me. “Tomorrow after lunch,” he says. “I’ll have about thirty minutes.”
I smile. “It’s a date, Sir.”
Once I’m in my Jag and on my way home to my apartment, I can finally relax. I don’t have a long drive, either. I unload my car, change into sweats and a hoodie, and head out for a run with my earbuds in. Tonight’s music playlist is Marc Anthony and Logic on shuffle.
Again, don’t judge me.
It rained earlier today and it’s still overcast. I push myself hard through the waning light, the cool, damp air filling my lungs and helping me focus. I lose myself in the music, in the rhythm of my steps, chasing away my darkest thoughts for a while.
This is total insanity, it really is. Yet I can’t bring myself to turn away from George. I’m in love with him.
At least with Casey, I knew if we were ever caught and exposed that it was a career-centric fallout limited to an ethics perspective. A superior having an affair with a subordinate. Age difference aside, in some ways it would probably raise both our reputations among some elements of Tennessee politics.
Inconvenient, absolutely, but completely survivable. I’d simply go back to practicing law full-time, where I’d probably receive countlessattaboysfrom nearly every man at the law firm for being the guy who bagged Casey-Marie Blaine as a significant other. Or else it’d fade away totally, and I’d be yet one more guy on Casey-Marie Blaine’s dance card, or so people would think. It’d depend on how she wanted to play it.
In our state, I don’t know if it’s possible for George to survive politically, much less professionally, if our relationship is exposed.
Except heneedsme.
That’s not just pride on my part. That’s also coming from Casey, who arguably knows him in most ways better than anyone else alive.
Even entertaining the possibility of a triad is just…
Is there a mental statebeyondinsanity? Because that’s what it would be—fucking insane to theNth degree.
Total political and law career suicide for all three of us. George’s bounce in the polls would become an inescapable black hole. Especially once the Evangelicals jumped on board and denounced all three of us as perverts.
Ironically, if it was just Casey who George was romantically tied to, the public would likely eat that up. At the very least, he’d be given a pass by the good ole boys’ club.
Around the halfway point in my run I stop for a moment to stretch and catch my breath. Part of me wants to run all evening. This was something I did back in college—lose myself in an evening run to shut down my mind when I couldn’t be with Casey and kneel at her feet.
When I couldn’t purge the image of Emma’s body from my mind, which is something else being with Casey always helps me do.
Now, being with George allows me the same blessed peace, albeit fleeting and temporary.
Although Emma’s been dead nearly fifteen years. I might have been an uncle by now, or helping her get through college.
Except her dying put Mom and me on a course to Nashville, to meeting Casey.
To meeting George.
Fuck.
I pace in a circle, hands on my hips and head tipped back, eyes on the darkening sky. There are no good tradeoffs. Not like this. I’d give anything to have Emma and Mom back and still be living in that fucking crappy single-wide. Just like I know George would give anything to have Ellen back.
Case probably would, too.
We’ve got what we’ve got, though, and that’s each other.
I only wish I knew of a way to keep us all safe and make sure we’re all getting what we need.
Or that I could think of a way to eradicate one particular man from the face of the Earth without it blowing back on George or Casey.
