He’s on his knees and elbows, his head down, just the way I want him. I grab the blindfold and walk around to the side of the bed so I can lean in close, my mouth by his ear.
“I’m going to totally own you this weekend, boy. You won’t want anyone else by the time I’m finished with you.”
A wave of gooseflesh sweeps over his body.
When was the last time I had this effect on anyone? It’s an intoxicating feeling that primes my sadist and sends the psychologist off to the break lounge for a few hours.
Elliot’s cock is hard again. A thin string of pre-cum is already dripping onto the towel underneath him.
I kiss him. “Don’t hesitate to safeword if you need to. I’d rather you do that if you feel you need it. Never a penalty for that.”
He nods. “Yes, Sir.”
I stare into his eyes and realize I’m already love with him.
It’s crazy, it’s reckless, and it could easily be doomed out of the gate.
Worse?
I don’t care, because I want it.
I want Elliot.
No matter what I have to do to keep this going between us, I will.
Chapter Fourteen
Now
We leave the White House, the Secret Service ferrying us in an armored SUV. We’ve left staff behind, because they’ll ride over in vans and meet us at Andrews.
During the ride, Elliot sits slumped against his door on the driver’s side, eyes closed. I make no effort to pretend I’m paying attention to anyone but him. We’re the only ones back here, and the driver and special agent riding shotgun in the front seat won’t look back here unless we call to them.
I’m seriously worried about Elliot now. He looks even worse than he did earlier, and I wonder if there’s more going on than just our issue over the weekend.
He’s horrible about taking care of himself. He’ll work himself into exhaustion if not checked and forced to take time off.
Which is usually my unofficial job but one that I’ve slacked off on as of late.
I slide my left foot over until it bumps against his right, and I rub it against his.
His weary sigh fills me with more guilt, but he returns the gesture and then, finally, looks over at me and tips his head.
And keeps his foot tightly pressed against mine.
Back at his place, I lock us inside and, even though I don’t need a shower, I strip and shower with him. He rests his head against me as he sits there while I shampoo his hair and rub his scalp for him.
“I’m so tired, Master,” he whispers.
I shove my guilt away. I can beat myself up later. Instead, I wrap my arms tightly around him and hold him, keeping track of time in my head. We’re on a schedule and I don’t want to make us late. Which’ll make Elliot feel shitty because it’ll impact air traffic as they hold everyone else while we take off from Andrews.
“I know, pet. I’m sorry. You can sleep on the plane.” I planned for him to dress casually for the flight for this very reason. Just before we land, I’ll help him change into the suit he’ll wear for the rest of the day. That way, he’ll look fresh and not rumpled. He can also remove Duck and snuggle with me during the flight. His staff and the flight crew know he’s not fond of flying, and to disturb him as little as possible. Once we’re aboard, I’ll be his go-to unless there’s some sort of emergency.
I use a razor and shaving gel there in the shower to shave him again. Otherwise, he’ll need a touch-up once we reach California. He’s not super-hairy, but while his hair is light brown, his body and facial hair are darker, and he always starts developing a five o’clock shadow not long after noon.
One of these days, I’m going to make him grow it out and see what he looks like with a full beard and mustache.
But not right now. Definitely not during the campaign.
