Always Yours (The Always Series Book 2)

by J. P. James

  The good part is that when we’re together, I’m relaxed. I’m not nervous, tic-ridden Chase. Instead, I’m the best version of me because that’s what Blake does for me. He takes me out, and we enjoy spending time together. In fact, we’ve been hitting up every Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese restaurant in the metro area. It’s nice being with someone who loves Asian cuisine as much as I do.

  Honestly, though, we spend most of our time together between the sheets. I just can’t get enough of his body. His chiseled abs, strong hands, luscious hair, and piercing blue eyes undo me. Not to mention, his cock is the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen, and it’s always ready for me. It stretches my asshole night after night, and my orgasms have never been this intense or long-lasting. The other night, he drew out my pleasure so long that I came five times before he was done with me. I was wrecked, but I’d felt like a new man. It’s funny, I feel like I can’t fall asleep these days if his arms aren’t around me and his semen bubbling deep inside my body.

  Also – and I don’t want to gloat – I can tell Blake’s just as into it too. This really is the best sex he’s ever had. Every time my clothes come off, he looks at me like he’s a caveman. He drags me to the bedroom if he can manage; otherwise, he has his way with me on the table or the floor. Whatever surface is convenient. He needs to grab me and to feel every inch of my body. He makes me feel like I’m the eighth wonder of the world.

  But I’m still getting used to our work routine. After all, we can’t let on to the staff that the CEO and the junior reporter are an item now. We exchange casual hellos if we see each other at the office, but otherwise try to avoid each other as much as possible. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves. Jimmy and Lyla know, but that can’t be helped – they’re assistants, so they know everything. Plus, my man is bad. Blake keeps pestering me for another conference room rendezvous, but I think it’s too risky now that we’re in so deep.

  So yes, I think we’ve managed to keep our situation under wraps from the rest of the office. I’m not worried about it anyways because what’s the worst that could happen? He’s the CEO, after all. Plus, I have another story to finish, and deadlines always come first.

  The walk to work is more beautiful every day in autumn. The leaves are changing, the air is crisp, and the birds have less to say as they start their migrations. It’s absolute bliss.

  As I step through the front doors of the Post, it’s like being transported into a different world. Gone is the serenity of the outdoors. Instead, everyone buzzes about the office as usual, busy as bees. That is, until they glimpse me walking into the lobby. What’s going on? Why is everyone looking at me weird?

  The sideways glances are impossible to miss. They whisper a bit and then avert their eyes, some with a pitiful smile on their face. I feel like I’m in The Truman Show or a David Lynch film. Why is everyone looking my way?

  Lyla comes running up to me. She looks panicked but smiles as she comes closer. “There’s an empty conference room. Come with me!” She has a newspaper folded under her arm. Without another word, we walk briskly to the conference room.

  I whisper as she leads me, “What’s going on?” But Lyla says nothing.

  We pass a group of photographers, and I swear I hear one of them say “sexual harassment.” Oh shit! Is this about Blake and me? Did someone find out, and they’re trying to pin this all on him? No way. It’s not like that at all.

  Lyla drags me into a small conference room and locks the door behind her. “I take it you haven’t seen the front page today,” she pants before unfolding the newspaper under her arm and handing it to me.

  My eyes practically pop out of their sockets. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s BJ! His face is plastered across the page, but these aren’t just any pictures. They are obscene, naked pictures of him and photos of three different men. Who are these dudes? When I read the headline, I nearly vomit from the shock.

  Mayoral Candidate Sexually Harasses Victims Online.

  I read and re-read every word like I’m trying to eat rotten food. I try to swallow, but the bile at the back of my throat makes me gag.

  “Keep reading, Chase,” Lyla whispers, trying to look over my shoulder. I do my best, but every sentence feels like a hammer coming down on my chest. The report says BJ sent pictures of himself to these three random men on some online hook-up site. I flip the page to continue inside. The exposé goes on to say that the third man is just sixteen, and legally, a minor. The solicitations go back a while, and my heart sinks to the pits of my knees. BJ is over. Every political aspiration, every network he’s built, and every friendship and kind act he’s done for the community is gone.

  My ex is disgusting, yet it still hurts. We haven’t spoken in months, and I know what’s happening has little or nothing to do with me, but I can’t help how I feel. I can’t help but feel pain on his behalf. What in the world would possess him to send dick pics to random strangers? Especially the ones who look really young, too?

  “I’m going to be sick,” I choke out. Lyla runs to the credenza and grabs the trash can. She holds it to my mouth as I lose it, just in time so that I don’t make a mess on the carpet. Blech! I wipe my mouth and start to re-read the paper again. I start to feel that churning nausea in the pit of my stomach once more.

  “It’s going to be ok. Don’t cry,” Lyla says as she pats my back awkwardly. That’s when I realize I’m sobbing. I collapse to the ground. Lyla crouches with me, holding me as I shake and weep. I hate to admit it, but I feel bad for my ex-boyfriend. I know that BJ and I had our differences, especially near the end of our relationship, but I cared for him. To find out about him like this isn’t right. How is this even happening?

  Even worse, I shouldn’t have found out like this. Blake knew, and probably has known, for ages now. He’s the goddamn publisher of the paper! He’s wired into every news outlet, and every source. He should have told me before dropping this bomb on my ex-boyfriend. I feel deceived. I feel betrayed. I feel pathetic, like I’m a downed aircraft nosediving into the earth.

  That’s why everyone is buzzing about outside. They’re wondering what I knew, and maybe even if I had anything to do with it. They’re wondering if I questioned BJ about his habits, or suspected him of hitting on minors. They’re wondering hundreds of questions that probably don’t have very good answers.

  Suddenly, I yank myself from Lyla and run out of the conference room. I pass wretched face after wretched face. Scores of my colleagues watch me like I’m some hapless fool. I climb the stairs like a warrior and march across the floor straight for his office.

  I don’t knock. I think I deserve as much. I shove the door open, but unfortunately, Blake’s not alone. There’s Jimmy in the office, along with a couple other staffers gathered around the big desk. Everyone jumps except Blake, naturally. He’s always been cool, and doesn’t even look surprised.

  “Let’s continue this discussion later. Thank you,” he tells everyone. With that, the editorial team leaves. They offer me half-hearted smiles on the way out, but I ignore them. My fists clench as steam practically pours out of my ears. Jimmy and Blake now face me, but Blake turns to his assistant with a dismissive hand.

  “It’s alright, Jimmy, we need to speak in private,” Blake says. Immediately, Jimmy scurries out with his head down and notebook clasped beneath his arm. Finally, we’re alone.

  Blake looks in my direction, but he doesn’t look me in the eyes. Coward. He begins, “Chase, let me explain,” but I cut him off and throw my hands up in protest.

  “You knew this was going to publish, Blake. Come on, cut the crap,” I say before I stop myself. I don’t want to run away with my tongue. Not this time. I’m angry, but I want him to see that I haven’t lost my mind over this. I take a deep breath.

  Blake lifts his gaze to me. He looks stern, like a father trying to convince his child that his plan was the right one. “Yes, of course I knew. I let it run without telling you first,” he says, “and it was the r
ight decision.”

  Then, the billionaire looks down and fixes his tie. He feels guilty; I know it. “Go ahead. Tell me what you need to say.”

  I walk over to Blake. When I get within arm’s length, I punch the billionaire, unleashing my best right hook. His head snaps back, but otherwise, he doesn’t even budge.

  “You knew what would happen to BJ, and you didn’t warn me. You knew what he meant to me. You met me at his event, for Christ’s sake,” I hiss as my throat catches.

  I guess I still feel more for BJ than I let myself believe. It doesn’t matter that we’re broken up. It doesn’t matter that I’ve moved on. My heart says that Blake owed me this because hearts are fickle creatures.

  Blake rubs his jaw and tries to exonerate himself.

  “I knew this would affect you, but you two broke up! You don’t associate with him anymore, so what does it matter what’s going to happen to him?” he asks.

  “It hurts, Blake,” I finally say. He doesn’t move.

  “It hurts that I didn’t tell you?” he asks, brows drawn together in confusion.

  “No,” I respond. “It hurts to see BJ taken down publicly like this. It feels rotten. I can’t do anything for him now because no one warned me,” I say as my jaw clenches. I look down at my lap and swallow. “I trusted you. I thought you trusted me, too,” I accuse him.

  “I do trust you,” he insists, still rubbing his jaw. “But what were you going to do? Like I said, Chase, you would have been devoured by the media circus. It was best to keep you in the dark. Do you really want a part of all this hoopla?”

  I take a deep breath with tears prickling hotly behind my eyes.

  “No, of course I don’t,” are my quiet words. “But I thought you would trust me enough to tell me something like this before it actually hit the presses. You know, I dated BJ before I dated you. In fact, I dated BJ for a while, and you don’t just stop caring on a dime. Maybe in your world, people do, but not in mine.”

  That makes the CEO sit back.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  I take a deep breath, looking behind his shoulder to the glistening river. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

  Blake sighs, running a hand through that black hair before staring out the window. He’s so handsome it hurts, and my heart beats painfully in response.

  “You know, I’m trying to protect you, Chase. I know how these media storms go, and if you’re out conducting interviews, they’ll swarm you. You’ll be fucking decimated. You need to lay low,” he says. He tries to reason with me, but I merely stare straight ahead.

  “You hid the truth from me,” I say woodenly. Blake stares my way.

  “Chase, let me explain-,” he begins.

  “It’s Mr. Adams to you,” I hiss right back. The billionaire sighs again, looking pained.

  “Sit down,” he invites. I take a seat across the way, but stare blankly at the floor. At the moment, I can’t stand to look at his chiseled jawline. It would undo me.

  He sighs again. “Officially, this news broke because of an anonymous tip. But unofficially,” he starts but holds his tongue. He leans in closer and lowers his voice. I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. “Unofficially, it was Mr. McCord.” The billionaire stops. He waits and watches me lift my face and try to process the news he’s just dropped. My mouth goes numb, and my head feels like it’s in a daze.

  “Travis?” I ask, but I already know the answer. “Do you mean Travis McCord? The oil guy?” My head spins.

  Blake shoots me a curious look. “Yes. Do you know him?” he asks. I nod silently before answering.

  “Travis was BJ’s economic adviser, from what I remember,” I say slowly. “He allegedly took BJ under his arm, and was introducing him to the right people. You know, potential donors at all. But I think he wanted something in return, like policies that were good for him and his company.”

  Blake nods.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’ve asked around my inner circle, and they tell me a deal between BJ and Travis went sour. My guess is that Travis sought revenge when it went south. Maybe he wanted to make BJ regret whatever went wrong, whatever it was. You know, rich people are powerful. McCord probably knew about BJ’s wandering eye and had his personal accounts hacked for anything incriminating. Travis turned the photos over to—” but he stops again. This time, Blake laughs. Laughs. What the fuck? Is he really laughing at a time like this?

  “What’s so funny?” I demand. He stops laughing but holds a faint smile on his face.

  “I promise you won’t believe this, but it’s the truth,” he caveats. I never bite my nails, but I lift my hand to my mouth and nibble savagely on my thumb.

  “Travis gave the photos to Cap Street Cam. You know the guy? The one whom BJ bullied? Apparently, Travis wanted Cam to give the photos to whomever he wanted, whichever newsroom sap came next. The best part is, you won’t believe who Cam gave them to. Jimmy was walking by, and Cam handed Jimmy the pictures,” Blake says.

  “You have to be kidding me,” I choke out. I look up at the ceiling and drown in my swimming thoughts.

  “Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction,” Blake remarks as he leans back.

  My gaze moves to the window. I stare blankly until a question crosses my mind. “What about Jerry, BJ’s campaign manager? Is he alright? Does Jerry know?” I wonder.

  Blake laughs sourly. “I’m sure he knows now, but my guess is Jerry knew the entire time. If anything, he probably tried to keep it from you.” The CEO turns to look out his window. I look over his shoulder past the horizon. My mind feels sucked dry of its thoughts and emotions. Really? Even Jerry knew that my ex was a disgusting piece of filth, and never bothered to tell me? Suddenly, I feel nauseous.

  “I have to go,” I manage in a choked voice before bolting out of the office. Fortunately, no one’s in the hallway, and I take a few minutes to get myself together. I don’t want anyone to know how ashamed I feel at the moment. Even if I’ve been betrayed by Blake, BJ, and god knows whom else, I don’t want people to sense my pain.

  Taking a deep breath, I stride out with my head held high, even as co-workers turn my way and whisper. What must they think? Everyone knew that BJ and I dated. In fact, some people probably still think that we’re a couple because I never said anything about my relationship status.

  But it isn’t BJ per se who gets to me. It’s Blake who’s causing this pain in my chest. My new lover, the CEO. It hurts that Blake didn’t care enough, or trust me enough, to let me in on the secret before it hit the headlines. Instead, I was left a headless chicken, bewildered and running around just as clueless as anyone else. And that, I can’t live with.

  After eight hours of working at my desk like an automaton, I head home. The evening dusk is gray and bleak. The lapping of the waves fall on deaf ears because now, everything that I had with Mr. King is gone, and I don’t know what to do next.

  14

  Chase

  I’m home early today. There wasn’t much to do, so I took a half day. I tried to enjoy the walk, but I’ve been trying that for the last five days with no success. When I passed a local school, my heart filled with longing seeing all the kids were playing on the jungle gym. They laughed and kicked each other, then wrestled and made up. If only life were so easy, and Blake and I could wrestle and make up with a hot session of loving.

  But life as an adult is much more difficult, and now I’m sitting in the living room and looking out the window with my robe and slippers on. I have a drink in my hand, but my mind is fixed on the world outside. Will Mr. King and I ever be together again?

  It’s been five days since I last saw him. It’s been that long since BJ’s story broke. Since then, a new routine has taken hold. I go to work and do very little, since most of my leads have been tasked out to other reporters. Then I head home and drink. I wish I could say there was more, but there really isn’t. My days are gray and dreary, and there isn’t much to say about them.

 
The front door swings open. “Chase! Hey!” Vance calls out as he drops his bags. My buddy waltzes into the room and stops to watch me. “I see we’re playing the role of jilted lover again.” He walks over and takes the bottle from my hand, giving it a quick sniff, before handing it back to me.

  “You want to get out of here? Go get sushi?” he asks.

  “No, thanks,” I say as I sip my drink. Ever the impulsive one, Vance grabs the bottle and pours it down his gullet. I look at him with shock.

  “Oops! I guess you need to get more alcohol. Let’s get you out of these sad clothes and into an outfit that screams, ‘Fuck you, I’m hot!’”

  He sounds like a cheerleader on amphetamines. Then again, if anyone else tried these things, I’d bite their head off. But not Vance. He knows exactly which buttons to push and when, and has a way of reminding me how awesome I am, no matter how shitty I feel. I crack a pathetic smile.

  “That’s a pleasant serial killer smile. Let’s save that for Halloween and stick to frowning until you have some food in your stomach,” my buddy assures me. He pats my back and tries to pull me off the couch, but no dice. I grunt when he finally kicks my foot.

  “Lay off. I feel like garbage that’s floating on the Potomac,” I grunt, letting out a sad burp.

  Vance sighs. “You want to talk about it?” he asks, and to my mortification, tears start to run down my face.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I admit. He sighs once more.

  “Just say the first thing that comes to mind,” he suggests. “Come on, out with it.”

  I hiccup awkwardly.

  “I don’t want sushi. All I want is to take dog shit and throw it at the bastard,” I say. Vance leans back and nods with satisfaction.