Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  I could do this all night.

  “Come for me, baby,” I whisper. “Like this. Come for me.” I let him find the perfect angle and take over the tempo. In the dim light, I see he’s gone again, and it nearly shoves me over the edge.

  He’s so fucking eager. He’s given me not just his body, but his trust, rightly or wrongly.

  I don’t want to lose him.

  I don’t want to give him up.

  I damn sure don’t want him to return to Florida.

  I’m too far gone now.

  I watch his face and listen to every sweet gasp and moan he makes as he rides me. We can take our time.

  We don’t have to rush.

  We don’t need to worry about who might hear us.

  He braces his hands on the mattress and it only takes him a couple of minutes before he’s there. I grab his hips and speed up, plowing him, loving that he kisses me as I start moaning when I finally come.

  He’s still tenderly kissing me as I relax my grip and begin massaging his ass.

  I don’t want this night to end.

  It’s not just about the sex—it’s about having his warm and willing flesh pressed against mine.

  And now we need to go clean up again.

  I roll us over, on top of him, and stare down at him.

  “What, Sir?” he asks, sounding completely awake and totally proud of himself.

  I think I know what that look means. “It’s not a contest.”

  “I know, Sir.” He plays with my hair.

  “Are you trying to stake your territory, boy?”

  He smiles. “Maaaaybe.”

  The way my heart pleasantly twists over that admission takes me by surprise. I nuzzle noses with him. “Consider me staked.”

  * * * *

  We sleep until nearly eight Sunday morning. For me, that’s like a damned vacation.

  While Jordan’s in the bathroom, I find my burner and text Elliot.

  Good morning, pet.

  I don’t have to wait more than a few seconds for his reply.

  Good morning, Master. :)

  Okay, that’s a good sign.

  Also leaves me feeling guilty as fuck.

  I had not mentioned my plan to stop by his place today because I didn’t want to get his hopes up and…

  No, wait. That’s not correct.

  I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

  Shouldn’t I be able to savor this moment, though? Waking up with a guy who’s obviously into me?

  I have permission. To a stupid fucking level, Elliot has made it clear I should date and sleep with someone.

  Stowing my phone before Jordan emerges from the bathroom, I ponder the day ahead of me. When the door opens and I see him standing there, looking a little owlish without his glasses, my mind’s made up for me.

  Opening my arms to him, he walks over to where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and I engulf his naked body in a hug.

  “Let’s cook breakfast. Later, we’ll run to your hotel and get a few things.”

  He doesn’t lift his head from where his face is pressed in the crook of my neck. “Sir?”

  “You’re spending the night with me. We’ll head to work from here.”

  When he’s happy, he has a habit of wiggling like an excited puppy. It’s something I’ve noticed him doing in the office, and it’s even more adorable when we’re both naked and he’s doing it in my arms.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  This is a bad idea for a lot of reasons.

  Unfortunately, I think I’ve finally hit my fuck-it point.

  Right now, it’s a little chilly. I bump up the heat and pull on sweatpants. I give him one of my T-shirts, and it hangs halfway down his thighs.

  I let him take over in the kitchen, and he makes us omelets that are better than any I’ve ever had in a restaurant.

  “I’m still cooking you dinner tomorrow night, Sir.” He glances at me. He’s still not wearing his glasses, and with his short hair mussed, he’s fucking adorable.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  What I’m not looking forward to is the conversation I need to have with Elliot as soon as possible. Because a very bad idea is forming in my head.

  Except the good ideas I’ve had seem to keep biting me in the ass.

  Maybe it’s time to follow my instincts and give in.

  I text Elliot off and on throughout the day. When I learn two of his staffers are at his apartment and going over work stuff with him, that kills any ideas I might have had.

  See why I didn’t get my hopes up?

  By the time Jordan and I fall asleep that night a little after ten, I realize this is the first day I’ve had in years where I could relax and mostly be in the moment.

  Jordan relaxes me.

  Not just from the sex, either.

  He’s intelligent and creative and fun to talk to.

  He’s the whole package.

  And he begs me to spank his ass, which I do after watching him eagerly go through my toybag.

  He doesn’t remove anything from it, either.

  Who does that remind me of?

  Oh, yeah.

  I’m a very bad man, who does very bad things.

  In this case, I’m also going to be very selfish.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Getting up the next morning and showering with Jordan, eating breakfast with him…it feels like the start of a new routine I could easily get used to.

  Fortunately, Elliot’s not in the office first thing to witness our arrival. Because Chris spots us, does a double-take, and gives me a thumbs-up once Jordan’s out of view.

  Not like Chris hasn’t seen us arrive together before, but I think I know why he reacted like that, because Kev says it when he passes me on his way to get coffee from the break room.

  “You’re smiling like you hit the lotto, Leo. What’s up?”

  I shake my head and silently curse myself. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  With this newest development, it means I must sit down and talk to Elliot.

  Sooner rather than later.

  While Jordan and I must exercise discretion, there’s currently no scandal if our relationship is exposed. He’s not my subordinate. He doesn’t report to me. Not officially. Even though, yeah, he sort of does. Once Shae’s sworn in, Jordan will still be working for the campaign while I’ll be working for the government, so it won’t even be an issue. Unless he says he’ll stay, then I can get him a job within the administration in a position so our relationship won’t matter. Even though it’s a bit of an inequitable relationship, we’ll be reasonably equal coworkers on paper. If Jordan doesn’t make it a scandal, it will never be one.

  We’re both single, consenting adults.

  Not like I haven’t spent the last six years in an inequitable relationship.

  I refuse to live in a closet any longer. I want to go out to dinner and be able to hold hands while we walk, or play footsies under the table. I want to go to the movies together and sling my arm around his shoulders and not worry about the optics. I want to go see Christmas lights and hold hands.

  I want to kiss him when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve and not worry who sees us.

  I want more with him.

  Except Elliot’s Master wants all of these things with…

  Well, Elliot.

  Jordan is an innocent, beautiful, talented, eager man. If I go down this road with him, that bell can’t be unrung, to mix a metaphor. I’m already thinking in terms of him being mine.

  This is a slippery slope. Before I jump, I need one last chance to convince Elliot to commit to…something.

  Anything.

  He needs a chance to look me in the eyes and tell me he’s okay with this, or that he’s not okay with this and ask me not to do it.

  Right now…

  Honestly?

  I can’t tell you which way I hope he breaks. Because there’s so much promise in Jordan’s kisses, and everything’s so damn
ed easy the way it was in the beginning with Elliot, except without his crippling fear and smothering closet to hold us back.

  Once Jordan’s left the campaign office for the day, I know it’s time to talk to Elliot. Jordan doesn’t know I’m going to talk to Elliot about this. I told Jordan I’d meet him at his hotel, and we’d go shopping together before returning to my place. I didn’t tell him I’m talking to Elliot mostly because I didn’t want Jordan stressed out today. There are too many variables. As of this moment, nothing’s set in stone.

  Besides, I still haven’t confirmed to Jordan that he’s right about it being Elliot.

  I’ve put all my cards on the table, except confirming it’s Elliot, and the one thing Jordan has not said is that there’s no chance he’s staying in DC. Had he taken that option off the table, meaning there was a finite lifespan on this thing between us, I would have approached everything differently.

  Jordan didn’t shut me down when I floated him getting a job here and staying.

  Depending on the outcome of my talk with Elliot, I want to ask Jordan to move from the hotel and stay with me. The hotel room’s paid for, regardless. That way, if it doesn’t work out, he can return there.

  Or, if it does…

  Maybe he won’t return to Tallahassee.

  Jordan might be young and inexperienced, but I’ve noticed he has absolutely no trouble speaking his mind. If he wasn’t interested in me, he would’ve said so. Especially when I told him about my requirement regarding secrecy.

  So…yeah. The main reason I wanted to meet Jordan at his hotel is because, either way, I’d want him there if I have to break it to him Elliot’s dropped the boom on us, and we’re over, or in case Jordan says yes to my request to live with me, then I want to help him pack and move his stuff to my apartment.

  Most of the staff has left for the day when I walk in and find Elliot alone in his office. So I shut and lock the door behind me.

  He’s wearing his glasses but when I hold up my hand, he makes no move to take them off and slither out of his chair like he usually does.

  Before.

  I think of my life now in terms of before Jordan and after Jordan.

  This conversation is going to suck on numerous levels, but I won’t lie to Elliot or hide what I’m doing.

  “We need to talk, El.” I grab one of the chairs and pull it over beside his desk.

  He tenses and turns his chair to face me, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, head bowed. He nods but doesn’t speak.

  He knows. I can tell he does, and not just because I didn’t call him pet. This conversation needs to happen in a mode of us as close to equals as possible.

  “Are you going to spend your life denying yourself?” He flinches, as if my words struck him, but he doesn’t reply. “Are you ever going to stop being afraid and at the very least admit you want me?”

  “I do want you, Sir.” I barely recognize his low, anguished tone. “I said you could date other people—”

  “And you sure as fuck don’t seem to be handling it well. For the record, it’s not people, it’s only Jordan. If you want me to stop seeing him, tell me. This is your chance to ask me to stop seeing him.”

  Although I’m…torn. Part of me doesn’t want to stop seeing Jordan.

  A pretty damned big part.

  Surprisingly big, now that I’m actually paying attention and taking emotional inventory.

  He draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to do that.”

  “Fuck fair, El. Tell me you still love me. Tell me you still want me. Tell me you’re scared, but you will at least commit to me and let me spend more time with you. Even if what we have has to stay in the shadows. Fine, but let me spend nights with you. Not even every night. I promise you that the Secret Service won’t tell anyone. Tell me not to take things farther with Jordan, and I won’t.”

  “I…I’m not ready. You…you need someone in your life. You deserve to have someone.” His eyes drop closed. I know he’s struggling not to cry and it’s gutting me.

  I somehow strangle the bitterness threatening to swamp me and make me say something I can’t take back.

  “Is that your final answer?”

  He slowly nods.

  Fuck. He’s called my bluff. I was dead-certain my territorial pet was going to beg me not to do this. Then, when Jordan’s time was up, I could bid him a sad good-bye but know that at least I had Elliot’s commitment to keep me centered and hopeful.

  A painful, shuddering sigh escapes him. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  I don’t want to answer, despite this being the point of this whole difficult conversation, because I know it’ll hurt him.

  Except I swore I’d never lie to him. I’m not about to start now. Not about this, at least.

  “Yeah. He spent Saturday and Sunday nights with me.” I owe him the whole story. “It wasn’t going to happen. The plan was to wait until Shae was sworn in, but we were at that club where the shooting happened Saturday night. Everyone stampeded, including us. When we returned to my place…” I watch his face. “He started it, and I didn’t stop him. I let it happen. After the shooting, I think we were both…emotionally raw.”

  His gaze drops to his hands again, where he’s working his fingers together. It’s a nervous habit he has when he’s stressed and struggling.

  “I’m going to ask him to move in with me on a trial basis. He still has the hotel room, so that way, if it doesn’t work out, I can send him back there.”

  That makes him look up. His eyes widen. “But he’s returning to Florida after the inauguration.”

  I slowly nod. “Maybe he is, maybe he’s not. If he was to get a decent job offer here, he might be persuaded to stay.”

  He studies me for a moment. “In the administration. East Wing.” It’s not a question.

  No, I haven’t confirmed that with Chris, but I know he could easily find someplace for Jordan to work.

  Agitated, Elliot’s fingers squirm and twist together and I know he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. I lay my hands over his and gently squeeze, holding them still.

  “I love you, El, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m still yours, if you want me.”

  It’s killing me this is killing him, but actions have consequences. In this case, for both of us. Insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result.

  It’s time to stop the insanity.

  “Elliot.” I wait until he finally looks at me again. “Ask me not to. Tell me not to. Fucking beg me to stop, and I will. All you have to do is ask. That’s all you’ve ever had to do is ask. Please.”

  “I can’t.” Tears well in his eyes again.

  “You can, pet!” Dammit, I didn’t want to go there until we’d resolved this, but it doesn’t feel right calling him anything but pet.

  Anything but mine.

  He slowly shakes his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You’ve waited for me for years. I cannot in good conscience ask you to wait another eight or maybe sixteen years. I can’t, Master.”

  I release his hands and cup his face. “You fucking can! I’ll do it if you ask me!”

  “I know.” He sniffles. “That’s why I can’t. Because I know you will, and it’s not fair to you.”

  “I get to decide what’s fair or not for me. That’s not your call.”

  “It can’t be your call, Leo. Because you’ll never do what’s best for you. You’ll always default to what’s best for me, even if it kills you in the process. And it’s been killing you. You’ve looked happier these past couple of weeks than I’ve seen you look in years.”

  Stunned, I stare into his eyes. This is truly the first time he’s ever given cogent voice to such a pointed but silent fact between us. It’s something I’ve batted around in my mind longer than I’d like to admit.

  It was also one of those things I swore I’d never say to him. One of those deeply wounding, borderline lethal emotional weapons I promised
myself would forever remain sheathed and locked away.

  I’m torn between feeling proud as hell of him for the rare insight, and angry he’s still defaulting to fear.

  “You don’t think I see you watching me sometimes, at events?” he says. “Or see you slip into the gallery at the House and watch me when I’m on the floor? I know there are plenty of times I haven’t seen you, but I swear I feel you there, and I feel so damned loved, Leo. I love knowing you’re probably there watching me. And I feel like shit that I can’t be that for you, too. Because you deserve to have someone who can watch you the way you watch me.

  “No, I don’t want to break up with you,” he softly continues. “It’s obvious that Shae, Chris, and Kev make it work. I know I’m stressed right now. I know I’m scared about what happens next, and that I fucked up by accepting the nom and running with her because maybe I’m the last person who should be here.”

  He blinks back more tears. “I also know you’ve never lied to me. You say you won’t walk away from me, even if you have Jordan, so I have to trust you mean it.” Another sniffle. “If you mean it, Master, that we’ll eventually try to make this a triad, then yes. I want you to see Jordan. Because I know having me as a pet is a lot of work for very little reward, and you deserve to have someone who isn’t afraid to be out. There’s not a lot I can give you right now. That’s something I can offer you and hope it’s enough to keep us together.”

  I honestly don’t have a reply to any of that. Instead, I kiss him. I slant my lips over his and remind him that from the night we met, he and I were perfection. That from our first night together, I knew he was supposed to be mine.

  That I fell in love with him that first weekend, and I’ll never walk away from him unless he tells me to.

  “I swear to you, pet, you’re mine.” Dammit, I’m blinking back tears now, too. “He doesn’t know it’s you, but he thinks you’re hot. That’s something, right?”

  He nods a little. “I guess.”

  I pull him in for a hug. “I’ll get you through this, pet. I promise.”