by Hazel Grace
What’s the point? Other than the fact that I can’t divorce Demi because of the shady shit I’ve done. I dug my own hole, I’ve lived with it for years. But this particular year changed me. For the worse, the better—fuck if I know. All I’m aware of is that there’s a hole in my heart the size of a cannonball, and I can’t fill it up.
Only she can do that.
And Reagan won’t even look at me, let alone allow me to explain why I am where I am. Why I’m still married to the woman who has made my life unbearable to the point where a bullet to the head used to sound better and better each and every day.
“I’m so sorry,” Emmy concedes finally. “Wade...I am. I didn’t mean to...I’m so sorry.” I don’t respond, going back to pouring myself a cup of black coffee and neglecting the sugar packets.
No amount of anything is going to get me through this week. I’m so mentally wrecked about the night of my birthday party that I can barely make it through a conference call or an interview without zoning out and reliving the look on Reagan’s face.
Disgust, hatred, a mild glimmer of sadness. They are burrowed in my skull, and I can’t erase them. I can’t take back what happened between us.
Not that I want to—not all of it anyway.
With Reagan, I’m selfish and misguided. I know it's wrong. I led her down this path of bullshit because I wanted—no, needed an escape.
She was it.
Everything, really. And now we both have to reap the consequences of my actions and lack of smart decision-making. I don’t know which one of us will suffer more—her or I, but I pray to God it’s neither.
Then there was that comment she made to Chase (AKA me) the other night about quitting. I almost shattered the phone in my hand, I squeezed it so hard.
She has every right to want to stay away from me. But even if it's animosity that flicks in her eyes towards me now—I’ll take it over nothing at all. I’m possessed with having her in my life. I’ve admitted it to myself already, and there’s no point in hiding it from my pride. I rely on her too heavily, and I can’t function without something from her in my life.
It’s unhealthy, fucked up. I shouldn’t need another human being so I’m able to do my fucking job—my dream since I was a kid. A fantasy up until now, knowing firsthand that people are liars, manipulators, and worthless.
Oh, wait, that’s me now.
When did I become this? When did I fall off the deep end and submit to becoming like everyone else in this world? I used to pride myself on being somewhat different. Yes, my tactics are fucked, I’ve messed up and did things I shouldn’t have, but I’ve tried to move past it.
As long as my family and wife stayed the hell out of my life, I’m good.
Well, I used to be. Until Reagan Shelton walked into, not my world, but my best friend’s through some dumbass app. But it was me on the other end. I was the one who had the conversations. I’m the man who became enthralled and reliant.
I’m so in over my head that I have no clue where to even start to fix anything.
My office door suddenly bursts open, hitting the coat rack. Emmy stands behind it, eyes wide with excitement.
“She’s here.”
Here’s where things start getting more ridiculous. My heart does this skip-run thing in my chest while my blood pressure skyrockets into oblivion. I’ve never had this kind of reaction. Not when I won the position of governor. Not when I had a threesome in college. Sure as hell didn’t react like this when I married Demi.
And I fucking loathe it.
This powerless feeling—we don’t play well together. I’m ready to throw myself out of this six-story window and just off my whole damn self right now. I’m out of control. I don’t know how to curb all the moods and impulses that keep slicing through me at any given time.
“Hey Reagan,” Emmy suddenly greets cheerily through my body’s current panic attack.
Slowly, I force myself to glance up and straighten my spine. I can feel sweat starting to form on my forehead. An unexpected chill creeps up my spine, warning me to watch myself. To look out for that vital organ called my heart not to leap out of my chest and into Reagan’s soft hands.
I watch her stride purposely to my office. Black dress pants and nude heels, a plain gray sweatshirt and hair that bounces off her shoulders as she makes her way to her mission—quitting.
She’s here to fucking quit.
Over. My. Dead. Fucking. Body.
“What’s up, Emmy?” Reagan mutters, standing alongside her in my doorway. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”
“Of course,” my faithful assistant replies, stealing a quick glance at me. I hope my face doesn’t give away my current mind fuck. The last thing I need is more of Emmy in my office and up my ass.
Reagan walks deeper into the room and sucks all the air out of the room.
My next inhale doesn’t happen.
My right leg starts to bounce underneath my desk as I clasp my hands together in anticipation, waiting for her to suck the soul right out of me with her eyes.
And it’s happening.
I can feel it with each blink. The disdain in her frown along with the tension in her shoulders.
Reagan Shelton is done with me.
I’m just not done with her yet.
“Shut the door, Em,” I deadpan.
Reagan peers over her shoulder. “You don’t have to, I won’t be here long.”
My assistant is glancing between us like she’s about to witness her parents fighting. The pout that breaks from her lips, the sad eyes that look between Reagan and I.
I’m going to fuck up Emmy’s stress level because I’m just realizing that Reagan’s ongoing hate towards me is going to screw things up.
Gesturing with my hand for her to do what I ask, Em hesitates before slowly closing the door behind her. I return my palms back together, coercing myself to chill the fuck out right now.
She’s just a woman.
I’m the fucking governor.
Chill. The. Fuck. Out.
“Please take a seat, Miss Shelton,” I convey when her head turns back to face me.
“Won’t be necessary, Governor,” she retorts. “I’ve come to resign from my position as your party planner.”
My teeth clench together so hard that I think I’m going to chip one.
Instead, I perk a brow. “Have you now?” She doesn’t pry her gaze from mine, defiant and prideful as hell.
I only fucked her hours before she found out I had a so-called wife. One I’ve been separated from for years, but couldn’t rid myself of until my ass sat in the Oval Office.
And it’s happening all over again.
Demi will make it her mission to fuck my whole life up because she is a petty, resentful bitch. I just never expected someone like Reagan to stride into my life to where I would be putting my existence and someone else’s world in danger.
“You’re not a complete idiot,” she professes. “You know why I wouldn’t want to be near you. Professionally and personally.”
“I know how this looks,” I reply calmly. “It doesn’t look good.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I want out.”
“So, you have the money to buy yourself out of the contract?” Her forehead creases, forming lines that I wish Demi had permanently. That woman shouldn’t be allowed to look like she does—beautiful, perilous, and a body that men would kill to fuck.
“You can’t honestly be serious about making me still work for you after what you did.”
“I can...and I will, Miss Shelton.” Her hands form into fists at her sides.
Hit me, baby, it’ll make us both feel better.
“And I can, and will leak a statement about our prior relationship to the public if you don’t let me go.”
The corners of my lips quirk like the asshole I am. “Then, you must be a good money pincher because that NDA you signed for me will cost you more than your ass.”
“Wade,” she
grounds out. “I don’t want to work for you anymore. I don’t want to plan your events. I don’t want to be in your office. I don’t want to see your fucking face ever again in my lifetime. Do you understand that?”
“Then, work outside of the office.”
A mirthless laugh escapes her lips as she gives a slight shake to her head. “You’re unbelievable, but you already know that, don’t you?”
The defeat in her tone sets the hairs on my arms on end. I could be a decent human being and let her go, but I can’t.
More like I won’t.
Not when she holds too much for me and we’re too deep into this.
I’m too deep into this.
She’s that “first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night” thing for me. I’m not ready to give up.
“Reagan,” I profess. “Let me explain everything. I promise you that—”
“Don’t promise me anything,” she snaps through a potent glare. I hate being under her animosity, but I thirst in this second just to be in her sights. “You don’t get to do that with me.”
Rising from my chair, I watch her body start to tremble slightly. Hands still balled into fists, I’d let her hit me again if it meant that she’d feel some sort of relief. Anything to make her not feel as shitty as I do right now.
She deserves better than me. I’m the worst thing that could’ve possibly walked into her life.
But I still crave her.
I still fucking want her.
Cautiously, I round my desk, afraid she’s going to make a run for the door like a scared little animal, but she remains docked to her spot. My fingers beg to touch her. To just feel her for a second because we miss her, and she wants to leave us for good.
“I never wanted you to find out this way,” I tell her. “I honestly never thought we’d end up where we were. But the way you pulled me into your—”
“So, this is my fault?”
I shake my head. “No, no, it’s mine. All mine, I’m not blaming you for a thing. You did nothing wrong.” I take another step forward, where she’s within arm’s reach from me, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep from making contact with her. “I’m so fucking sorry, Reagan, you have no idea how much. I never wanted to hurt you. I would never want to cause you any pain.”
She peers up at me, eyes glistening with unshed tears that she tries her best not to let fall. It cracks my heart right in half watching her silently seek to hold herself together while the problem stands before her in a Hugo Boss suit. I’d literally do anything to keep her from feeling like this. I’d cut off my arm just so that she’d be able to get some sort of deserving payback on me.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she vows, raising her chin. “Because we weren’t anything.”
My brows snap together. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. You’re not my boyfriend. We’re not dating. I was just a quick fuck and—” My hand shoots out to grab her bicep, and then I yank her into my chest.
“Don’t ever say that to me again,” I snap. “You were never that to me. If I wanted to fuck someone and not deal with the aftermath, I could’ve gone to the VIP in Laison and gotten a blow job for a few hundred bucks.”
“But I was free,” she retorts. “I can see why—” I shake her to stop talking. To stop making it sound like she’s a whore that I wanted to use just to get my dick wet.
“Stop. You’re not someone I picked off the streets to satisfy a need for me.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Reagan,” I warn. “Stop. Don’t make this something that it’s not. It wasn’t like that for me.”
I’m falling in love with you.
I have, and I’m not sorry about it. I want her smart ass and the fights. I want the bad times and the good. I want to be the one she wakes up to, kisses goodnight, and longs to go home to.
I want it all—with her.
“Good for you, Governor,” she drones. “Now, let go of me.” Hesitantly, I drop my arms and offer a step back to give her some space.
Some space.
Pushing Reagan into a corner will do nothing for me. It’ll only cause her to push back. I’ve done enough as it is right now. Demi means absolutely nothing to me, but she doesn’t know that. My wife is a regret and mistake that I made a long time ago. Someone I should’ve seen past and never tried to forgive.
And now I’m reaping the consequences for it.
Every single one of my sins is laid out for her. I’m an open book, ready to delve into the pages and read off my story. There is no happy ending, not yet. Not until Reagan forgives me and understands my point of view. How things got so messed up and what I’m planning to do about it.
What I’ve always planned on doing with my unwanted baggage.
“I need you to draw up paperwork to terminate our contract,” Reagan professes. “I won’t work for you anymore, I’m done.”
I shake my head. “It’s not done. I can’t be done with you. You mean more to me, Reagan. Every moment you’re not here, I think about you. I fucked up. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But if you’ll let me—” She reaches into the pocket of her pants, and I swear by the way that she’s standing, she’s going to pull out a gun and shoot me with it.
At least she’d be the last thing I’d see.
Pulling out a roach, she flicks a lighter with her other hand and lights the fucker.
I blink, she’s fucking serious right now. She’s trying to push a button, attempting to get me to let her go. I hope this isn’t her main game because it’s weak and not going to work.
“What’s it going to take?” she asks me through a deep inhale of her blunt. “What do I need to do to get you to do it?”
“I just want you to listen to me. There are so many—” She steps in my direction, leading me back before my ass hits the edge of my desk.
“What will it take?” she repeats, her violet eyes roaming my face. “Everyone has a price.”
“Not me,” I deadpan. “All I want is you.” A soft scoff leaves her nose as she eyes my lips. My cock spasms in my pants at how close she is to me. How my hands want to roam her face and body to make her believe that what I’m saying is real.
But I’m not playing into this because I know what she has in mind.
“How much of me?” she retorts in a whisper. “How much is enough?”
“In a perfect world, the whole thing. But we’re not going to play this game, Reagan. I’m not letting you go, nor am I nulling our contract. Not until you hear everything that I have to say.”
Her full lips wrap around her blunt, but she keeps her gaze locked on me like she’s thinking about it.
Reaching over to my desk, she deposits it somewhere on top. I don’t bother to look because her fingers start to work the button of my pants. I pry my lips apart to speak, but she already has her hand in my hair, dragging my mouth to hers.
My dick eagerly twitches in my pants, ready for her contact, but my brain is telling me to relax, that she doesn’t need to do this.
We need to talk. I need to tell her everything that happened. Why Demi is still somewhat in my life and what I plan on doing moving forward.
Then her hand wraps around my length, and my ass falls with a thud on top of my desk. My knees weaken, not being able to hold up my own weight. Not being able to handle her body pressed up against mine again. The way I want to touch her and make her as weak as me right now. I want to swallow her moans while I take her over the edge.
Reagan breaks from me, my cock springing free from my pants as she bends down to lick the tip.
“Geezus,” I hiss, clasping the sides of my desk. “Reagan, please stop—” Her mouth downs my cock, hitting the back of her throat, and I’m done.
Her wet lips go up and down the length of me, sucking and licking the side of my shaft. She pulls her dark hair away from her left side, letting me see the view in front of me as she gets on her haunches.
Purple e
yes peer up at me, innocent and sexy, wanting to discover what’s waiting for her from me. And it’s all lust, pure and unadulterated fervor for this woman. My body reacts to her so violently that it overtakes all my senses. All my red flags.
And all my thoughts are solely on her.
She’s unlike anything or anyone I’ve ever experienced in my life. The power she wields within her is something I haven’t come across yet, and I wasn’t ready. All I was prepared for was to call out a fifty-something-year-old woman on that stupid Bumblebee app for stealing a model’s pictures and coming up with a fake profile.
Not this stunning, head-turner who snapped mine the moment she waltzed in my direction at Montgomery’s anniversary party.
“Reagan,” I moan as she licks my cock like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. She doesn’t stop, taunting and teasing, until I coerce myself to cup her face and pull her from me. “I can’t be bought into letting you go by you sucking my dick. I just want to—”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” she pledges, hitting me with her intense and now darkened eyes. “Let me.”
My brows furrow before she leans forward to retake my cock.
“You’re going to—fuck.” She’s sucking me like a Kirby vacuum cleaner, and my dick isn’t going to hold out for that much longer. “That feels so good.”
“Are you going to come in my mouth, Governor?” she mutters with my length hovering over her lips.
“Yes,” I croak out. She smiles, satisfied with my answer before coming down on me again.
Another suck and lapse of her wicked tongue and my balls start to swell, signaling I'm close to my release.
“I’m going to come,” I groan out, my fingers lacing through her thick hair. I fuck her mouth, my instincts take over, my body separating from my rational thoughts. Reagan moans deep, humming along my shaft as she gives it another suck before letting it pop from her lips.
Straightening her body, her dark eyes look at me under furrowed brows. “You’ll never come with me again. That’s what you’ll get from me. And if we’re going to continue to work together, if you want to force me to do your stupid little parties and events, suit up, Governor. You’ve never fucked with a bitch like me.”
