Chapter Three
Now
“No chance of me talking you into quitting,hmm?” I tease as I stare down at Daniel, where he beautifully kneels before me. “New year, new you? Can’t I tempt you, baby?”
He chuckles and shakes his head a little, where it’s pressed against the tops of my bare feet. His warm breath brushes against my toes. Thinking about him sucking on them makes my cock eagerly surge and twitch.
“No, Master. Not yet.”
This is another familiar routine between us. We could easily afford for him to quit work and stay home, or he could go back to school, but he loves what he does.
Another promise I made to him back then—I would never force him to quit working.
Damn my integrity, anyway.
I wiggle my toes, stroking his cheeks with them. “I’m sure I could find plenty of things to keep you busy and fulfilled, boy.”
“The full and filled part I’m sure of, Master.” He finally looks up, a playful smile quirking his handsome lips. The years have been kind to him due in no small part to genetics. Everyone in his family, especially his mother’s side, looks younger than they are. Dark blond hair and light blue eyes that melt my heart and soul into a puddle. Right now, he’s trying out a slightly scruffy beard and mustache that I haven’t decided if I like or not. He keeps his hair just long enough I can get good fistfuls of it when I fuck his mouth. With his build on the slim side, he looks barely thirty, much less nearly forty.
Damned if I can find a grey hair anywhere on him, either.
Lucky bastard. I’m silver at the temples, and it’s spreading. At least I stillhavemy hair, as my boy playfully reminds me when I start to kvetch too much about it. I’m fortunate baldness doesn’t run in my family. Although, thanks to my boy keeping me on my toes and working out with me several times a week, at least I’m still in good shape. In far better shape than many of my colleagues on the Hill, that’s for sure. We slacked off the week between Christmas and New Year’s, but when we return to DC we’ll once again resume our workout routine.
My heart lurches again as Daniel stares up into my eyes.
This boy helped heal my soul. Make no mistake—I knowIhad to do the grueling emotional and mental work to overcome my past, and I did. Some parts of me are probably permanently broken but I finally regained my equilibrium. He patiently walked beside me the entire way, never afraid of the ugly aftermath I still had to wade through before leading us to where we are now.
Sitting up, he never breaks eye contact with me as he leans in and nuzzles his lips along the outline of my cock through my slacks.
Thisnevergets old.
“Hands,” I order.
Obediently, he tucks them behind his back, clasped together.
Reaching down, I rake my fingers through his soft, fine hair before tightly grabbing a fistful, holding him in place. His sexy, needy smile as I do makes my cock surge again.
My boy loves it rough.
Frequently, so do I.
Although there have been plenty of times I start making love to my boy, thinking it’s going to be sweetness and sunshine, and it turns into delicious darkness and shadows. It frequently feels like we live on a knife’s edge. Pretending to be a normal, responsible couple, vanilla.
Then the Master and the boy come out to play and all hell breaks loose.
Before I was elected to the Senate, there were times we attended secret clubs and play parties at private homes.
Not after, though, and I miss that. It’s one of the trade-offs of what it is that we do for a living, moving through the world of high-powered politics. People know us too well now. His visibility is, obviously, lower than mine, but anyone who knows who he is likely also knows he’s my husband.
While I know for a fact there are other kinksters in Congress, none of us wish to be outed. Everyone has cell phones, and they all have cameras. It’d be too easy to become a front-page scandal and I’d like to run for at least one more term after this one.
Last thing I need is a rabidly conservative opponent trying to trot out “family values” and drag our private kinky activities into the mix. I have a pretty decent cross-party appeal, since I’m openly Christian and not afraid to say it. Sure, some bigots come after me for being gay and pro-choice, but plenty of GOP voters cross the aisle to vote for me when they see me defend my faith and when they see that leaders of faith endorse my candidacy, Democrat or not.
I don’t bother to point out that those particular GOP voters are usually being hypocritical and the ultimate embodiment of the kind of privileged “christian” Jesus wasn’t fond of.
But don’t tell them that. Do I look stupid? Most of the voters who vote for me only because of my faith have a less than stellar grasp of their Bible’s contents to start with.
With my grip in Daniel’s hair, I gently shake his head back and forth. “Who’s my good boy?” We left the bedroom blinds mostly closed. In the room’s dim light, the grey flecks in my boy’s light blue eyes appear darker.
