Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  It doesn’t take long. He shifts position a little, rounding my back even more and giving me just enough friction against my cock, along with his cock against my prostate, and I tip over the edge.

  Yeah, I’m well-trained.

  He feels it and starts fucking me harder, faster. His gaze weighs heavy on me as I come, my ass squeezing him and nearly taking my breath away from the intensity of it. He soon joins me, filling me, his cock deep inside me and his lips settling over mine. This time gently, tenderly, nibbling and playfully sucking.

  I don’t want this moment to end. Next to my first night with Leo, this memory will go right up there with the best of my life. In terms of sex, I mean.

  He rests his forehead against mine. “Te amo,” he whispers.

  My heart races. I know what that means. Leo taught me lots of little phrases over the years, in a variety of languages. That one’s Spanish.

  Elliot’s carefully watching me, his eyes open and right there, staring into mine.

  I kiss him. “Je t’aime,” I whisper back in French, and his smile lights dark places in my soul I never thought would ever again be illuminated.

  It’s not a lie, either. Somewhere, in the space of these two weeks, I have fallen in love with Elliot Woodley.

  Fallen hard.

  “Let’s go take a bath, baby,” he says, nuzzling my nose.

  I feel like all the bones have been removed from my body and I really don’t want to move, except we do need to clean up. “Yes, Sir.” I’m still processing his admission.

  And mine.

  He gets up and helps me sit up. He moved his walker within reach during his prep, and once I’m on my feet, he uses it to follow me into the bathroom. Five minutes later, we’re soaking in that deep tub full of hot water and I’m tucked under his arm, my head against his chest and my legs wrapped around him.

  With his arms around me, he rubs his face in my hair before kissing the top of my head. “Better, baby?”

  “Better, Sir. Thank you.” My ass still feels a little stingy from where he spanked it, but in a good way.

  “Not too much?”

  I happily sigh and tighten my grip around him. “Not too much.” Considering my self-imposed loneliness, it was heaven. “I could’ve taken more.”

  He nuzzles my head again. “Your boy will come back to you tomorrow morning. I’m okay tonight. Better than I’ve been in a long damn time. For tonight, I’m fine with your Sir taking a well-needed night off, and my Sir filling in for him.”

  I sniff back the prickle of tears threatening. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He tightens his grip around me, his breath warm against my scalp. “You’re very welcome, boy. I’m glad I can do this for you, considering everything you’re doing for me.”

  “He’s going to hate me, isn’t he? For coming back and not telling him. For not warning him you were announcing.”

  This, too, I’m glad I don’t have to explain. “I don’t think he will. I’d be shocked if he did. Shocked, and disappointed, because it would mean he’s not the man I think he is. I honestly don’t think I could be with him again if he can’t forgive you. After all the years we’ve been together, and everything he’s tolerated from me, maybe he’ll be upset, for a while. I bet once he’s past that, he’ll be happy with the final outcome.”

  The warm water feels good and I’m glad we’re able to enjoy this precious slice of alone time. An emotional oasis in what will increasingly be a harsh desert clime as the campaign revs up.

  He shifts position, cradling me even more securely, so I’m straddling him. How could I have forgotten how damned good it feels being with someone who can make me feel…safe?

  “I’m really sorry you thought I hated you all those years.” His voice vibrates in my ear, which is pressed against his chest.

  “Water under the bridge.” I graze his nipple with my teeth. “We’re a team now. I came back because you asked me. That means you’re not getting rid of me.”

  He sighs. “I damn sure don’t want to. I’ve slept better the past couple of weeks than I think I have in a couple of years. I feel like an idiot.”

  “You’re not the only one.” I tip my head back, which might have been a mistake. The longer I stare into his blue eyes, the harder I fall.

  Annnd now my cock’s hard again. Doesn’t help that it’s wedged between us.

  He obviously feels it, because his hand settles on my ass as the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile. “You got another one in you, baby?”

  I can’t help it. Maybe it makes me weak for not being able to hold the Sir role longer, but there you have it. I start rocking my hips against him, with his fingers digging into my asscheeks and urging me on. My cock rubs against his abs as he slants his lips over mine and lets me grind on him.

  Fuck.

  I’m back in Leo’s apartment that first weekend together, shredding my V-card in the most desperately pleasant way possible, and I’m hornier than I’ve ever felt in my life. During one of the breaks in the festivities, when he was exhausted and I was ready to go…

  He held me exactly like this. Except in his bed.

  And said exactly the same thing.

  In exactly the same way.

  This is a direct tie to my past, just as I’m a tie to Elliot’s. I can see why he is so easily able to submit to me—because I’m doing to him exactly what he’s doing to me right now. We’re both channeling the man we’re desperately in love with and can’t physically be with.

  Does this even have a future if Leo tells both of us to go fuck ourselves and walks away?

  Except…

  As much as I’ve tried to prepare myself for something along those very lines, Elliot’s right. If Leo was to do that, he’d be going against everything I know he is and stands for, and wouldn’t be the man I thought he was.

  It’d be impossible to love him if he discarded both of us like that.

  I wouldn’t want to love him.

  I want to love the man who’s held on to his hopes of being with Elliot for a dozen years, and who desperately wanted me, too.

  I want to love the man who never gave up on Elliot, despite how difficult it was to love him and be in a relationship with him.

  I want Elliot to love the man who was willing to wait for me, to not take me even when he knew he could have me. Who was a gentleman with me, and honorable, and honest.

  I want Elliot to love the man who was so worried about me that he searched that club for me, then stood there with me, holding me, listening to the bands with me.

  I want Elliot to love the man who pretty much carried me out of that club, who put himself between me and the fire door as we ran outside, because he didn’t want me in danger, and who swaddled me in his coat when I stood there shivering from fear and shock, nearly pissing myself I was so terrified, every noise making me jump while we awaited our ride.

  I want Elliot to love the man whose heart I probably shattered into a million pieces, who cried when I removed my day collar and put it in his hands.

  And I want that man to love us, too. Both of us.

  Because dammit, we fucking need him.

  My fingers find their way into Elliot’s hair, twining, holding on as I hump him. This one is coming up fast—pun intended, thank you very much—and water’s splashing against the edges of the tub.

  My eyes are open, and I look into his, watching him watch me.

  This is us. We’re building us now. This solid foundation structure is what Leo hoped for.

  I cannot believe he’d walk away from us when he’s spent so many years fighting for all three of us.

  Would he?

  The man fell out of the sky, and he lived. This man, right here, should have died, but he lived.

  I nearly died.

  But I lived.

  My life is a waste if I don’t reach out and grab this and try my damnedest to bind the three of us together so no one can tear us asunder. Not each other, and not even our own stupid selves.

/>   Elliot’s fingers are going to leave marks on my ass in the morning. He’s got a fistful of my flesh in his hand, and the bite of pain only drives me harder and closer to the edge. His other hand cups the back of my head, fisting my hair and anchoring me in place.

  Then he sucks on my lower lip, nipping, dark fires burning in his midnight gaze. “Come for me, baby.”

  I do.

  He holds me tightly as I shudder against him, his kisses growing sweet and gentle, the hand on my ass rubbing and soothing.

  I’m…exhausted. I know he has to be, too.

  But I get that sweet, playful smile. The one that’s dampened countless pairs of panties since he first ran for office. “Better, baby?”

  I nod. “Better, Sir. Thank you.”

  He shifts me so I’m resting against his chest, his arms draped around me. “I think I’m a sucky sadist. I’m a big softy. But I love watching and listening to you come.”

  “You do?”

  “Mmm hmm. I always have.”

  “You…have?” That’s news to me.

  “I loved watching your face those times he made you come when the three of us were together.”

  I digest that. Honestly? I never paid close attention to whether or not Elliot was watching us. I was usually too busy being distracted by Leo. Elliot could have been closing his eyes and waiting for Leo to finish with me.

  “And I love watching you come when we’re together,” he adds.

  Well, then.

  My face heats a little. “One of my hottest fantasies was for the three of us to be together. I mean, together-together. Not just either of us with Leo at the same time. Or of you and me somewhere, like at work, and you order me to…you know.”

  He plays with my hair as a sexy chuckle rumbles through him. “Now you’re bashful?”

  I rub my cheek against the hair on his chest. It’s plastered to him from the water. “That’s one of the reasons I thought you hated me. I put on shows for you going down on him and hoped you’d want me, too. But you didn’t.”

  “How are we going to work this when he returns?” I think that might be a note of fear in his tone.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he going to order you to move back in with him?”

  I lift my head. “You said it yourself—he’s not going to interfere with your job.”

  “Let me rephrase that. If he orders you to move back in with him, will you?”

  “I gave you my word I’m taking care of you, and I meant it.”

  “But what do you want?”

  Shit. Leo was always good about not talking too much to me about Elliot’s personal stuff. Just like I knew he afforded me the same privacy in return.

  One thing he did tell me once was that Elliot self-sabotages, blows up getting his needs met.

  Like he doesn’t think he deserves nice things.

  I can not only see that, I think I sort of perversely understand it. It’s kind of the track my mental train is running away from me on now.

  There’s only one right answer for me, in this moment. I sit up and drape my arms over his shoulders. “I want to be right here, with you, doing whatever it is you need me to do for you to achieve whatever it is you decide to do. Run for president, transition to private life, go teach economics—whatever it is. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to take the next step and bring Leo in permanently, I’m here for that, too. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I giggle.

  “Dammit,” he mutters. “See what I mean? I’m a sucky sadist.”

  I kiss him. “I think you’re exactly who I need you to be.”

  I only hope I can be exactly who he needs me to be for him in return.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  With the crazy schedule Shae has, and the time difference, Leo doesn’t get to call Elliot again, although they text more often. I make a point of ensuring Elliot resumes sending Leo his routine morning and nighttime texts, and responds as promptly as possible to Leo’s texts.

  As a result, it would seem Leo’s fears about Elliot ease, at least a little.

  Leo’s still panicking about me, though. He slows down on the e-mails and texting, but he’s still trying to call my phone several times a day.

  I know this by looking at my cell account online. I’m certain my voice mail must be full by now, but since anyone needing to get in touch with me can and would call my new work phone—or my campaign phone—I leave it be.

  I am such a bitch. Because I set up a dinner meeting for Elliot with campaign staff the evening that the president returns from their trip. Air Force One is scheduled to go wheels-down at Andrews around seven Wednesday evening. And Leo will likely feel exhausted and want to go straight home and to bed if Elliot isn’t readily available for him to visit.

  I do not need Leo dropping by Elliot’s residence on the way home. I know he’ll check Elliot’s schedule, if not already have a copy of it when they land, to see where he’s at and what he’s doing.

  Here’s my rationale—I need my initial confrontation with Leo and the revelation to him of how long I’ve been back to happen at the White House.

  Yes, I know that sounds contradictory to what I’ve said about not dragging my personal drama into the office, but hear me out.

  Leo is a professional. There’s no way in hell he’ll blow up at me or Elliot there. Handling it there means he has time to process and calm himself down before we see him in private.

  I…hope.

  That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it, dammit.

  If he should prove me wrong… Well, there’s a hell of a lot of well-armed men standing around in the White House, whose literal jobs are to do nothing but make sure bad shit doesn’t go down while they’re standing around, and who can step in to help me out.

  Besides, Elliot’s campaign staff really has wanted a meeting like this with him. They need to extract a final decision from him about the official campaign headquarters, for starters, as well as where to locate key headquarters in other states. We have an infrastructure to rapidly build out. And there are some hires they want to make which really need his go-ahead. Donations are already pouring in through the campaign website, meaning staff wants to start filming ads. There’s a lot to take care of, and Elliot refuses to have any of them to the White House for those kinds of discussions for fear of any hint of impropriety.

  I also want to brainstorm ideas for social media posts, which will be free advertising in terms of shares, retweets, and other exposure that won’t cost us anything except the time and effort to post them. And if they take off, we can promote the posts already getting organic traction.

  Which posts do better organically will also give us ideas about how to proceed when we start filming ads. Everything from what outfit Elliot’s wearing, to the message itself, to how he delivers it.

  Don’t laugh. If I find organic reach is better for him standing in front of the camera in his shirtsleeves with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows instead of in a suit, guess how I’m dressing him in a big-money ad that will be blasted across prime television real estate markets?

  It’ll also give us valuable demographics info, based on how people click on ads. A/B testing that might make or break the campaign budget and which will help us squeeze every last penny we can out of our ad buys.

  I’m sitting in on that meeting Wednesday night when I feel the burner phone vibrate in my pocket with a text message.

  My throat nearly seizes, but I don’t react. When we take a break, I pull the phone out and check the message.

  I’m finally home, pet. Missed you. How late will your meeting run?

  I show it to Elliot even as I relax. Because if Leo’s at home, that means he’s probably not planning on coming over to Elliot’s on his own.

  He nods and returns the phone to me. “Respond when we get home?”

  I nod and pocket it. “Yes, sir.”

  I mean, Elliot wasn’t telling me to respon
d, he was asking me. But we do have people around us right now, so that’s how I’m responding to Elliot, as if it was an order and not a question.

  It’s nearly eleven when we finally return to the residence. Once we’re in bed, Elliot asks for the burner, and I hand it over.

  He lets me watch as he composes the message, and pauses once it’s completed.

  Welcome home, Master. I just got home, and I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.

  I study him. “The other option is I turn on the heat upstairs and quietly camp out up there until he leaves. Your call, boy.”

  He shakes his head and hits send. “No, Sir. I don’t have the energy to deal with him tonight, and I won’t have you do that.” He hits send and returns the phone to me.

  That brings up a mix of conflicting emotions. That Elliot’s standing by me, that he’s not willing to silo me to the attic in lieu of having Leo come by.

  In my head, I’m guessing there’s a good chance Leo will respond immediately, unless he’s already asleep.

  Which is also a good possibility. Jet lag after a trip like that will be a real bitch. The president has a light schedule tomorrow as a result.

  That also makes me feel a little guilty. Shae and Chris’ kids will be upset if I don’t say hello to them in the morning, but I don’t want to be upstairs in the residence first thing.

  Leo will most likely be there, unless Shae’s told him to take the morning off. He always starts the day upstairs, usually waking up the president.

  Hopefully, I can make it up to the kids. I have been able to spend some time with Pecan over the past couple of weeks, so that’s helped my state of mind.

  I don’t sleep well at all that night. I awaken several times throughout the night, and when I finally give up, it’s over an hour before my alarm is set to go off. The only consolation I have is being able to snuggle with Elliot any time I awaken, and feel him instinctively shift his body against mine in his sleep.