They’ll probably approach Fullmer the deficit hawk from the angle that it’ll save the taxpayers money, because infrastructure’s already in place to keep Blair House secure, meaning it’ll make him look good. A last bit of positive PR for him to go out on when it’s likely he’ll get slammed for whatever fricking pardons he scribbles out at the last minute.
And Fullmer is a vain fuck, even this many years later from when I worked with him. Good PR that costs him nothing is good bait to motivate him.
I’d love a chance to tell him to go fuck himself to his face, but I doubt that’ll happen. I sincerely doubt he’d even know who I was.
It’s not worth it to raise a stink.
One good fuck-you to the super is that Secret Service overrode the building’s policy on the elevator, and now we can use it freely.
That might have been my suggestion, but Secret Service does not comment on procedure.
Lucky for me.
I move the items from my computer bag into my pockets during the ride up. I know the agents stationed by the elevator on Elliot’s floor and pause to chat with them for a moment, because it’d look weird if I didn’t.
“Working late tonight?” one of them asks before I turn to head toward his apartment.
I glance back. “Senator Samuels is a taskmaster. She reworked our whole weekend agenda after he left. I told her I’d get him caught up before I go home.” I smile and shrug. “What are you going to do? I love my job.”
They all laugh, because they know Shae’s rep. It’s rightfully earned.
They also know how much I hated not being able to return to The Shift.
I walk down the hall and knock on his door, nodding to the agent on duty there.
I know him, too.
I know many of these guys. They’re coming up a little long in the tooth but they’re good.
The best.
The Shift.
Elliot opens the door, his Vice President Woodley mask in place. “Leo, hi.” He shakes with me.
“Good evening, Congressman Woodley.”
“Come in. Thanks for coming over so late. I appreciate it.” I know what he’s doing, setting up the act. Making it look real.
I step inside and when he turns to close and lock the door, I’m already setting my bag down. When he turns back to me, I catch him by the front of his throat and shove him against the wall so I can kiss him.
He’s wearing his glasses and I don’t even care that I smudge them as I crush his lips under mine. When I press my body along his, I feel his cock’s hard.
He starts to reach for me. I grab his hand and pin it to the wall with my free hand. I wish he still had his tie on but he’s in a T-shirt and sweats and fuck,thatsure makes life easier.
“Who’s my good pet?” I whisper against his lips.
He’s already halfway to subspace. “Me, Master,” he practically moans.
I fist the front of his T-shirt and head toward his bedroom with Elliot scrambling to follow or be dragged. I close the bedroom door behind us and, still leading him by his shirt, I grab the remote for his bedroom TV from his nightstand, turn the TV on, and turn the volume up. Then I shove him onto the bed, hard enough he bounces.
Need tinged with jealousy burns in his eyes as he sits up and watches me kick off my shoes and remove my coat, dropping it to the floor, followed by my blazer. He yanks his T-shirt off over his head, and then we’re stripping fast and furiously.
This’ll be fun.
He finally remembers his glasses after he knocks them askance and they get tossed onto the nightstand. While he’s pulling Duck off, I grab the lube and strip of condoms from my pocket and drop them next to his glasses before I go after him without further preamble.
Tonight, he’s fighting me hard, like his life depends on it. Like he doesn’t have to whisper one word to make me stop.
