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“We met by accident about six weeks ago. And we haven’t seen each other too much because of the election and my book tour. But any moment we could get our schedules to overlap, we tried.”
“What book tour?”
“Google me.”
“It’s all fine. You can have him. He’s flaky and obsessed with work. Good luck.”
“He thinks you’re amazing at your job.”
“I know I am.” And she walks away.
38
Alex
I’m high as hell on adrenaline. It wasn’t a total shit show, but it certainly wasn’t broadcast ready. But it’s done. We did it. We’re being retweeted, and we didn’t make asses of ourselves. The election went the way most thought it would. We predicted some upsets in the Midwest and some district house seats in the south, and I’m pretty fucking proud of it.
I’m sitting in our studio with a glass of bourbon in the dim lights of being finished. Jerrod let me know Tess fell asleep. I’m trying to take all of this moment in, but my thoughts keep drifting to her impossibly soft skin. I keep waiting for this night, the job we did tonight to fill me up. I don’t want to need her to complete me. To be a bit Jerry McGuire about it, or in my case Tess McGuire. I think I’m still sitting here because as much as I wanted her here, I’m terrified she’s here. The reality is, sitting here alone in the dark is empty. I slam the rest of my bourbon and head off into my future. It’s rare you can pinpoint in your history when life shifts. It’s our moment to be more.
* * *
“But aren’t you tired?”
“Hell no. I’m buzzing.” We pull into my garage, and instead of heading up, even though it’s late, I have a small surprise for her.
“Why are we at Clyde’s?”
I knock on the door, and Phil, the manager, comes to the door, hands me a large bag, and winks.
“Thanks, man.”
“Get the fuck to bed. Good show tonight.” I salute him and drag her towards my door.
“Alex.” There she goes again, wrapping her words around her tongue. “I smell fries.”
I grin at her and open the door to my apartment.
“Give them ALL to me!”
I drop our stuff, and we tear into the bag that’s full of French fries and crab cakes.
“The crab cakes can be reheated, but have a couple of fries right now, and then I’m going to fuck you into next week.”
She shoves a handful of fries into her mouth, the grease smearing at the corners of her mouth. She yanks the hem of her “Team Alex” t-shirt over her head. “I’m good. Fuck me now.”
“If I must.” She bolts into my bedroom, and I chase her. She throws her hat over her shoulder. Damn, this woman. She squeals and laughs as I toss her on my bed. She’s pawing at my shirt, and I whip it off. Then she reaches for my pants. My already hot and heavy cock springs into her hand, and she grips it while moaning. “Alex, I’ve missed this insanely attractive dick so much.”
“Not as much as he missed your sweet tight pussy.” She has on a navy bra and red panties. She’s bipartisan sexy for election night. I remove them quickly. I gasp as her hard nipples pop in the air. They always amaze me.
I rub my hands up the side of her to her breasts, which I brush over quickly. I spread her thighs and kiss my way up to her glistening and waiting slit. She bucks into my mouth the moment I suck on her clit. Then I kiss my way up to her breasts as my fingers find their way inside of her. She’s wrapping around me like the snuggest chamber. I fucking adore her pussy. Her nipples are so hard and waiting for me to suck them. I draw them deeply into my mouth, and she does that short, panting thing she does. I raise my head.
“Really, you’re that close?”
“Eleven days, Alex. And your fingers. Fuck. Fuck. Can I come now?”
“My pleasure.” And I dig into the G-spot.
“No, it’s mine,” she growls and then screams my name. She’s so fucking gorgeous when she comes. She’s wild and uninhibited. I pull my fingers from her and lick them. Delicious. I crawl on top of her.
