“Will he divorce you?”
“I don’t know.” I snort. “You’re literally my hall-pass fuck. So, technically, I guess this is okay.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. But I was supposed to tell him first before redeeming it.” This is…surreal.
Completely surreal.
I tip his head back so I can stare into his eyes. My boy, older and sadder and wiser, but stillmine.
Words are locked in my throat, so many, the anger still there but temporarily held at bay by this beautiful, impossible moment.
“I understand if you hate me and this is a one-time thing,” he says.
I slowly shake my head. “I told you, I’m not letting you go.” I realize I haven’t said it to him yet. “Yes, I still love you. I never figured out how to stop loving you or how to fall out of love with you. I knew you feared your father, but not the full extent of it, obviously.”
His tears fall again. “I’ll do anything you want me to, Master,” he whispers. “Just, please, don’t make me face my dad right now. Let me get through this first term. Can we stay a secret? Please? I’ll figure out how to divorce her, and I already have an idea how to alienate him, if he doesn’t die first.”
“Without him hurting you?”
He shrugs. “Probably. I’m going to be pissing off minority leadership left and right.” He grimly smiles. “Expect me to be voting with the Dems a lot. Especially on social issues. I’m hoping he’ll publicly disown me when enough of his friends start to abandon him.”
“You don’t think he’ll retaliate?”
“He had a bad heart attack two months ago. Almost died. He’s at high risk for strokes, too. Doctors told him to stop smoking, stop drinking, exercise, lower his stress, stop working, cut out caffeine and fats—all of that.”
“He won’t?”
“Of course not. He claims they’re ‘libtards’ trying to kill his fun. You can’t tell a narcissist anything they don’t want to hear. He was supposed to have a double bypass and he refused. He let them put in stents instead. The next heart attack will hopefully kill him. It’s not if, but when.”
“So you’re hoping you’ll do enough stuff to shock him into another heart attack?”
“Or a stroke. Either one. I’m not picky.” His evilly playful smirk makes me laugh. “With his health tanking, he hasn’t been paying any attention to what I’m doing. I fell off his radar, for now. I’m kind of hoping he dies.”
“Then what?”
“Then, for starters, I file for divorce the next morning.”
I kiss him, which quickly leads to another round of fucking.
Honestly, I’m shocked. I haven’t popped three times in a single day in a couple of years, and here I am, two of those climaxes happening in close proximity to each other.
Twenty minutes later, we’ve cleaned up again but we’re sprawled on the floor on couch cushions we’ve dragged off it, and we’re leaning against it, using it as a backrest.
I’m going to need a larger couch in here.
“I need you to trust me,” I say. “If you want to keep seeing each other.”
He nods where he’s splayed across my chest, an arm wrapped around me, mine around him.
“You have to do what I say. I bought us burner phones to use. We’ll use a secure app for calls and texts, so they can’t be traced to us.”
“Okay.”
“I need a little time to figure out how to approach Daniel about this. He’ll be upset that I didn’t tell him immediately who you are, but I think he’ll be okay. We cannot let him find out aboutthisyet.” I motion with my hand, indicating our current post-fucking cuddle. “I have to figure out how to tell him who you are and make sure he doesn’t try to retaliate against you. That’s can’t happen until after the inauguration, because life’s too crazy right now and the press is focused on the Hill more than they usually are.”
He nods. “Your husband is gorgeous.”
