I wasn’t expecting all of that to come out, but once I opened my mouth to speak, the truth was easy to admit. When I was with Jameson, I wasn’t the girl whose parents lost their fortune and died tragically. I was his equal, someone he respected. He gave my life a new purpose and it felt like I was always meant to stand beside him.
“What should the rest of the country know about Jameson?”
There was so much I could say. That he listened almost exclusively to classic rock, that he ran for miles so he could think and focus, that he looked ridiculously hot in just black boxer briefs. That his glacial blue eyes could bring me to my knees with one piercing gaze. “He loves his country more than anything. Serving the people is his true passion. I have never met anyone more devoted to public service than Jameson. His dedication and commitment to this country is honestly inspirational. It was disappointing to see what was being said about him being unmarried because that just diminishes the commitment he’s made to public service. How can people reduce his fitness to serve to just this one, tiny insignificant issue? I don’t understand it.”
I had been rambling, I could tell, and I looked up at Sierra, who just stared at me with her shrewd gray eyes. I don’t think she expected me to say that. I don’t even think Jameson would have expected that answer.
“I was going to ask you more, but I think I’m done.” Sierra stood up and began moving around the studio space, giving instructions to her assistants.
I returned to the makeshift dressing room, tucked behind a folding screen, and began to undress.
I turned, ready to ask one of the stylists to help me with the zipper, when I felt firm, familiar hands on my shoulders.
“You’re amazing,” he murmured, running his nose along my shoulder and up my neck before nipping my earlobe with his teeth. His hands slid down the back of my arms to my waist and around my backside. Jameson gripped the hem of my dress and its many layers tightly in his hands before lifting and running his hands along my bare thighs.
“I need you right now,” he growled. He walked me over to a counter along the wall and bent me forward.
I placed my hands on the smooth surface to steady myself and waited. I heard a rustle of fabric and the metallic clink of his belt, followed by the whir of his zipper.
“Suck,” he commanded, working his fingers into my mouth.
Greedily I took them, feasting and sucking. He groaned and then removed them, slipping them inside of my sex. He worked me thoroughly with his fingers, dragging them along my seam, spreading me open. I was getting overheated and panting heavily.
“Shh,” he whispered, “or they’ll hear us.”
I nodded, trying my best to quiet myself. His fingers worked their way through every inch of me and when they were gone, I whimpered. I felt empty without his touch.
“Jameson,” I cried out.
“I know, little darling. I know.”
The head of his cock nudged me and I spread my legs wider, allowing him more room. He slid inside, inch by inch, torturing me with his slow, deliberative movements. When he was fully inside, Jameson remained still, letting us both adjust to the feeling of fullness. He smoothed his hands along my back before settling on my waist.
I could remain still no longer. I squirmed, grinding my ass against him. He sucked in a breath and began moving, pumping in and out in a steady rhythm. We were by no means in a private spot. The area was open at both ends and anyone could walk past and see us. The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh filled the space. We tried to be quiet. I tried to be quiet, but when a man as powerful as Jameson Martin has you bent over a counter and is fucking you senseless, it’s damn near impossible to be silent.
I slipped one hand from the counter in between my legs and stroked my clit furiously, eager to end the tension that was growing inside of me. Jameson’s hands lifted the skirt of my dress further, exposing my scorched flesh to the cool air of the room. Fingers kneaded my ass, exposing me to him. His thumb grazed the tight pucker of muscle and nerves, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through my body.
“Fuck, Georgie.” His voice was a growl, a feral snarl. We were both so incredibly close.
“Harder,” I begged.
His steady rhythm increased until he was driving into me at a punishing pace, pounding in and out, deeper and deeper until we both toppled over the edge and straight into orgasmic bliss.
“Jesus,” he hissed, steadying himself against me. He squeezed my waist before slipping out with a lewd pop.
I was slow to stand, my legs trembling. “I, uh, need some help with my zipper.”
Jameson’s chuckle was unexpected and a delight. He was out of breath, so it was raspy and hoarse.
His fingers closed around the tiny zipper and tugged it down until my dress fell open. “I need to get out of here before I fuck you again,” he confessed.
I turned my face to watch him zip and buckle and smooth himself before he disappeared. I slipped the dress off, draping it across a nearby chair, and then dressed in my own clothes. My skin was overheated, my face flushed. I was a sweaty mess and in need of a shower, but when I replayed this tryst in my mind, I didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed by Jameson giving into his carnal desire.
We sat together in the back of the SUV, hands entwined, bodies pressing against one another. There would be no more distance between us. I could feel that change.
“Two nights apart was awful,” Jameson murmured, kissing the top of my head.
“I was not a fan,” I agreed. “But—”
“I know what you’re going to ask, Georgie. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, but we don’t have enough information yet.”
“Why did you meet with Governor Huntley, though?”
“He had information I wanted.”
“But he didn’t give it to you?”
“No. He asked me to pay too high a price.” His words were sharp and hinted at a lingering anger. He pulled me closer and I began to wonder what the price was.
“But he provided me with a clue and that’s what we’re following up on. When I have that information, I will tell you. I promise.”
I decided not to push it and to trust him. I pulled out my phone, and together, we ran through the schedule for the week. Being with him was effortless. I rested my head on his shoulder and as we discussed the week’s events, his voice reverberated through my body, enveloping me in its velvety smoothness.
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, enjoying the silence of the car and the clean, comforting smell of Jameson.
Sean was waiting in the hotel suite when we returned, and from the look on his face, I knew we finally had Russell Atlee. Or at least, we finally knew who he was. I nodded, acknowledging his presence, and then placed a firm hand on Georgie’s lower back, pushing her toward the bedroom.
“You look tired. Why don’t you take a nap?” I knew Georgie would find my tone patronizing, so I prepared for her to give me ‘the look’, but I was shocked when she just nodded and disappeared behind the door. I knew she’d barely slept, and the photoshoot itself was draining. But then I couldn’t keep my hands to myself or my dick in my pants in Sierra Simmons’ studio. If Sean hadn’t been waiting when we arrived, then I would have followed her.
Instead, I settled on peeking in and watched as she stripped down to her bra and panties and climbed under the comforter. I shut the door firmly and turned back to Sean, who was pacing in front of the balcony doors.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“If you don’t mind, let’s wait until everyone else arrives.”
I nodded. As eager as I was to finally know the asshole’s identity, this news affected the entire campaign. ‘Everyone’ included DeWayne, Lewis, Jenkins, and Harvey, a security expert we hired because I couldn’t get over the fact that Georgie was assaulted at an event with hundreds of people in attendance.
They all arrived within minutes, which meant Sean had called them before Georgie and I returned.
“You’ll all pr
obably want to fix yourselves a drink before I relay this information to you.”
I remained still while everyone else made their way over to the bar.
“Especially you, Jameson. DeWayne, make sure you fix Jameson a drink, too.”
This meant the news was catastrophic. After the governor had left our meeting, we inferred from his behavior and request that Lamar Huntley personally knew Russell Atlee. I sent my men searching through his family, combing through family trees. Russell Atlee was not a cousin, nephew, or even half-brother. Despite this seemingly dead end, my gut told me the governor was still personally connected.
DeWayne handed me a crystal tumbler full of scotch. I would seriously need to teach him the finer points of drinking because there was no way I would ever drink this much.
“Now that the Super Friends have assembled, can we please just get on with this?” I was growing impatient. I hadn’t expected news so quickly, but now that Sean had something, I was itching to find out.
“We’re still working on verifying all of this, so take it all with a grain of salt. Russell Atlee’s real name is Russell A. Hunt. His mother used to be a cocktail waitress at one of the casinos in Louisiana.”
“And his father?” I was not a fan of Sean’s theatrics.
“The good governor.”
I heard the collective gasps of the men in the room, including my own. I wanted to say that after being in politics, there wasn’t much that surprised me. But I was fucking shocked. This man was the poster child for family values. When Louise Huntley had been unable to conceive a child naturally, the Huntleys had gone out and adopted. They made it their goddamn mission in life. Louise Huntley was staunchly pro-life and used adoption as her primary platform against abortion. And now her bastard husband had an illegitimate child. I should have guessed this because the loudest voices always had the biggest, nastiest, and ugliest demons hiding in their closet.
“That explains what he asked of me,” I muttered.
“What did he ask?”
I hadn’t shared very many details of the meeting with my team, just that his price was too high, but there had been clues.
“To not prosecute the man.”
All of the men groaned.
“Nor make his identity public.”
“What do we know about Russell Hunt?” DeWayne brought us back on track.
We needed whatever intel Sean had been given in order to make the most informed decision. I didn’t want to run an ugly campaign because I felt personal attacks distracted the American people from the real issues that needed to be addressed. It didn’t matter to me that my opponent had a child with another woman. What mattered to me was whether or not he was the best person to lead our country. I happened to firmly believe I was the better choice.
“He runs the super PAC we knew was involved. He’s been a political operative for a while, running different PACs, working for various campaigns, but he’s never worked directly with the governor.”
“Smart guy.”
“He’s also got a record.”
This intrigued me. “What kind of record?”
“Couple of bar fights, mostly. But he was accused of beating up an ex. Evidence was pretty damning, but the girl dropped the charges.”
“Let me guess, Daddy stepped in and paid her to keep her mouth shut?” The more information Sean revealed, the more disgusted I became.
“Something like that,” Sean confirmed.
“But you said the information wasn’t completely verified?” Harvey, the security specialist with a snow-white buzz cut and near-constant look of anger, asked.
“Right. Russell Hunt’s birth certificate doesn’t list a father, so obviously that’s a dead end. But, if he’s Lamar Huntley’s illegitimate son, then that’s pretty much to be expected. Russell lives off a trust fund, so we’re working on tracking down the connection to Governor Huntley. That’s going to take a few days.”
“What’s his motive, though?” DeWayne voiced the question that had started to run through my mind.
What was the endgame? Perhaps the governor was pulling the strings because he didn’t want his campaign to start running negative? I tried to remember what Georgie had told me about that night, running through every conversation we had. He wanted me to call him. What could he possibly want from me?
“He wanted me to contact him. That’s why he gave Georgie his card. He wants something from me, so maybe we should?”
All eyes landed on Harvey. He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to try. I’ll set it up.”
“In the meantime, how do we proceed with the campaign?” Our attention turned on Lewis and Jenkins, who had been listening intently, absorbing the information.
“Business as usual,” Jenkins said.
I knew it was Jenkins because I had asked them to wear different ties. Jenkins was supposed to wear a striped tie. I hated getting them mixed up.
“Georgie is amazing. People really love her, in both parties. Now that her sexual assault has been revealed, her popularity has skyrocketed. Keep sending her out there,” Lewis added.
“I’d send her out with Avon,” Jenkins suggested.
“Why?” I didn’t like the idea of Georgie being anywhere without me, even with Avon West, who was an amazing woman.
“To be honest, when you’re both together, it’s kind of distracting,” Jenkins practically whispered. He looked around for backup, but everyone seemed to back away from him.
“Distracting, how?”
“It’s like watching the new Kennedys. Or, at least, that’s what the media is saying. It’s all they talk about. The new John and Jackie Kennedy.”
“So, once again, we’re back to my relationship status taking away from my ability to be the next president? Now that I have a First Lady, no one cares about my experience and policies?”
“Pretty much,” Lewis and Jenkins said simultaneously.
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” I muttered. This stupid, fucking arrangement was supposed to end all the bullshit about my personal life. Now, Lewis and Jenkins were telling me that my personal life was still the hotbed of speculation and conjecture.
“Fine. Get her set up with Avon. DeWayne and I will hit the campaign trail separately.”
“Wait, why does my marriage have to suffer now?” DeWayne spoke up, looking between Lewis and Jenkins.
“DeWayne, we need to get back out there hard. It’s all about divide and conquer. I’ve lost so much time dealing with the Russell Atlee bullshit. I need to refocus, especially with the first debate coming up in a week. Help me out, please.”
I sounded like I was convincing DeWayne but, in reality, I had to convince myself. I thought myself capable of having a real relationship with Georgie, but there were too many setbacks, too many disruptions to the schedule. I needed to get back in front of the people again, to remind them of all the reasons why I was the best choice.
We spent the next few hours reworking the schedule, trying to rebook some of the events that were previously cancelled. It would be grueling, but it had to be done. DeWayne and I had to be the face of this campaign again. We had to get back the message, whatever that message was.
The group dispersed to their hotel rooms and I returned to my bedroom. Georgie was still sleeping, but I had work to do. I grabbed my suitcase and began packing; I would be leaving in a few hours, to be at my first event bright and early the next day.
“Where are you going?” Georgie’s voice was soft and still filled with the grogginess of sleep.
“We made some changes to the schedule. I have to leave tonight.”
“Schedule changes? You’re leaving?” She was sitting up in bed, her face scrunched up in confusion.
I moved around the room quickly, ignoring her when I should have stopped to sit with her and explain the situation better.
“Yes. DeWayne and I are going to Indianapolis. You’re going to spend the week with Avon. Jenkins will be with you the whole week. He has the new schedule.
”
“But I don’t want Jenkins.”
“Fine. Lewis can stay with you.” I could hear the impatience in my own voice.
“I don’t want Lewis either.”
“Then what do you want, Georgie?” I snapped at her. I finally stopped and looked at her. Her face was flushed from sleep, her hair was messy, but her eyes gutted me, wide and so full of hurt and betrayal.
“Never mind. It’s clear that what I want doesn’t matter.” Her voice was just above a whisper. She climbed out of the bed, shoving the covers away, and stormed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
I sighed. I walked over to the door and knocked. “Georgie, let me in.”
“Go away,” she responded.
I could hear her sniffling. I persisted, knocking until she finally opened the door.
“I need my toiletry bag,” I said, faced with her tear-stained face. I felt like such a dick, treating her this way.
Georgie stood back, away from the door, and I stepped inside, grabbing the black leather case from the countertop. I placed it inside my suitcase, closed it, and turned back toward the bathroom. Georgie stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind like a broken angel. She was dressed only in her bra and panties, an innocent looking white lace set. She crossed her arms protectively across her chest, like she was somehow protecting her heart from me. She looked down at her feet, which she shuffled nervously. Finally, she looked up at me, her expression defeated.
“What did I do?” she asked quietly, her voice a cracked whimper.
“Nothing,” I said honestly. I set my suitcase next to the bedroom door and walked back to the bathroom. She fidgeted in the doorway, looking up at me with big green eyes that were so full of confusion and sadness. “I just need to refocus right now, get back on the trail. I have to make up for all of the events we canceled.”
“Because of me? You canceled them because of me.”
Presidential Bargain (The Presidential Promises Duet Book 1) Page 12
