He returns my smile. “I would hope so, Sir.” The smile fades. “I don’t want you to let me slide.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
I spread the towel out in the middle of the bed. I don’t want to screw around trying to change the sheets tonight. I pat it. “On your back.”
He stares up at me as he gets into position. It’s late, and I’m exhausted. I know he is, too.
Still, weneedthis.
I kneel, straddling him. I lean in, grab him by the wrists, and push them over his head, where I pin them to the bed. I’m caging him with my arms, the way Leo always used to do with me. Staring down into Elliot’s blue eyes, I can see he’s sinking deep into subspace again.
“Who’s my good boy?”
“Me, Sir.”
I lean in closer, my lips just over his. “What do you want, boy?”
“Please fuck me, Sir.”
My cock’s hard, rubbing against Elliot’s abs as I close the distance and kiss him. I also adjust my grip on him so I’m holding his hands, not his wrists. His fingers close around mine and squeeze as I take my time kissing him. It feels like days instead of merely hours have passed since I was pulled out of work and found myself being kissed by VPOTUS onAir Force Two.
In some ways, it feels like I never left Washington. It almost scares me how fast I can step back intoJordan Walsh, Politicomode.
I guess being a chameleon is a good thing.
This slow-burn kiss is fueled by the volcanic heat flowing right below the surface. Trying not to think about those times with Leo between us, I thoroughly explore every bit of his mouth and his stubble rasps against my cheeks. There absolutely will be throat-fucking sessions in his future.
Not tonight.
Tonight, this is us, this is the baseline, this is where we start this new deal and build upon it.
My boy.
His Sir.
Our messy, crazy union, in what will in short order become an increasingly messy, crazy life.
The literal calm before the campaign storm.
I always need to be the eye of the hurricane for him, his safety, his refuge.
Nipping and sucking at his lower lip, I gently tug, playfully, loving how he’s so easily given himself to me.
Neither one of us is an expert in love—we’ve got Leo in common. Elliot’s had a couple more partners than I have, but they were women. Leo’s traineduswell, I dare say. That’s why I think it doesn’t take long for me to feel close to exploding just from kissing him.
Only when I know I’m damn close do I sit up and grab a condom and lube. I quickly sheath myself, slather my cock with lube, and hike his legs up, pressing his knees to his chest to give me access.
“Watch me,” I order.
He does. I nudge in and sink home hard and fast, his gasp at the rapid intrusion filled with nothing but pleasure. His legs wrap around my waist and maybe I’m the one trapped now.
Maybe I want to be.
Then I lean over him again, once more pinning his hands to the bed and kissing him as I grind on him. I need a moment to find a pace that won’t tip me over the edge too fast.
I finally hit my stride, hammering into him and watching his eyes. “You can come for me, boy.”
Like this, his cock’s pinned between our bodies, and it’s not long before he’s moaning, arching against me, his ass contracting around me as he spills all over both of us.
