Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  I fasten it around his right wrist, kissing it and then clasping his hand to my chest. “Obviously, there might be times you have to take it off for security. But other than that, it’s always on your wrist, unless I take it off, or I’ve given you permission to take it off. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” he whispers, staring at it, still crying.

  I tug him to his feet so I can pull him into my arms. “I’m going to have more rules for you, more protocols. Still nothing that interferes with work.”

  He kisses me, almost climbing me like he did that first night. “All I want is to belong to you, Sir.”

  My soul swells at his eager, decisive tone. That he’s asked to be mine. I cannot tell you how much my heart needed to hear those words. “This is as serious as a wedding band, to me. It’s just you, and me, and Elliot. It means I’ll ask you, at times, to take care of him for me. To put him ahead of yourself and me. He’s got an important job, and he needs us in his corner.”

  He vigorously nods. “Yes, Sir. Absolutely.”

  Peace fills me and I slowly sway with him, dancing to nothing but the joy I never knew was possible to experience. “You and I make a damned good team, baby.”

  He grins. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

  I pinch his ass, making him giggle. “You’re not dreaming.”

  Jordan’s smile fades as he stares up into my eyes. “What if he never comes to like me?”

  “He likes you, baby.”

  “You know what I mean, Leo. What if—”

  I kiss him again. “This is for life. I’m not letting you go unless you tell me you’re leaving. All I need is for you to say you belong to me, and that you’re my boy. I promise that we’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

  He nods. “I belong to you, Sir. I’m your boy. For life.”

  It literally feels like a weight’s lifted from my soul. “Good. Now let’s get ready. I can’t wait to see you in that tux.”

  * * * *

  The bracelet easily tucks under the cuff of Jordan’s dress shirt, which I secure with a pair of my own cufflinks because he doesn’t own any. Something borrowed, and all that. Right? It is kind of a wedding.

  A hell of a reception party, too, huh?

  Sure, it’s not for us, but it’s still. Come on. We’ll damn sure never forget the date.

  He smiles as he shakes his right wrist a little. “I can feel it under there.”

  “Good. That was my goal.” I pull him in for one more kiss, mindful of the time. “Let’s finish getting ready.

  Fortunately, I long ago learned how to tie a bowtie. I tie his first, then mine. Then I hold his jacket for him to help him into it. I love helping him and Elliot get dressed.

  It’s a happy accident Jordan and I emerge from our room almost at the same time Elliot emerges from his, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck.

  I’m sure I’m smirking when Elliot turns to me and patiently waits while I tie it for him. Some other time, I’ll teach Jordan how to tie a bowtie so he can be there for Elliot in the instances that I can’t.

  Elliot looks goddamned amazing. So does Jordan.

  My boys.

  Well, my boy and my pet. My men. I love them so much.

  Elliot’s gaze is focused on me while I tie it for him. “There you go, Congressman Woodley,” I softly say.

  From the way he suddenly shifts position a little, I know he just got hard. His lips press together as he tries not to laugh. He damn well knows what I did.

  On purpose.

  “Thank you, Sir,” he softly says.

  I know how he means it, too.

  “You’re very welcome.” I tip my head to him and he tips his back.

  We join Shae, Chris, and Kev, and they also look fantastic. The photographer gets pictures of everyone before we leave Blair House, including one of me and Jordan together. It’s the picture I wish I could have of me and Elliot but I’m sure that it might trigger questions, meaning it shouldn’t happen. It would damn sure give Elliot an ulcer.

  Besides, his sister’s practically glued to his ass again, and she’s giving me and Kev dirty looks for limiting her access to him today.

  I’m certain shells going tattle to Elliot about us, claim we’re being mean to her, but screw it. I have every confidence in Elliot, and I don’t need him defending me to her. Kev damn sure doesn’t need Elliot’s defense. Elliot has far more important issues to focus on now than his jealous little sister’s zeal to use his influence to help her with her career and social standing in DC.

  We attend the three balls with Shae and Elliot, but before Elliot leaves the third one, Jordan and I duck out early and head to Number One Observatory Circle.

  Elliot’s official residence.

  There’s no one inside as Jordan goes first and immediately sets off to check things upstairs. I stand in the foyer for a moment, smelling fresh paint and cleaning products. I haven’t been in here in a few years, not since I worked a detail. I saw all the before pictures they provided Jordan with, though, and the change is drastic from the stuffy, conservative Jackson family, who preferred darker, dramatic colors and more formal furnishings.

  The formal living room has been rearranged and there’s different furniture. Ditto in the dining room. Both those rooms are designed to be more formal, used frequently for ceremonial purposes, and both have wallpaper that’s traditional but not objectionable, so Jordan left that in place as a time-saver while changing the furniture and artwork. If Elliot doesn’t like it, the work crews can always change it out later.

  In the kitchen and breakfast nook, the ugly rust-colored paint the former vice president’s wife loved has been replaced by a lovely light bluish grey that makes the space feel larger, calmer, and perfectly accentuates the existing slate grey cabinets and granite countertops. Elliot didn’t have a lot in the way of kitchen supplies, so that was another area where Jordan spent a little money.

  The counters are mostly uncluttered, except for a set of retro-looking glass canisters that bring a little pop of color to the space and hold things like Elliot’s favorite tea bags, coffee pods, and other items he’ll frequently use.

  The family room is now a pale fern green instead of dark green, and sports a new 60-inch flat-screen TV, purchased with Elliot’s money. It sits on an entertainment center that came from the government inventory. The leather sofa is also new, a large, comfortable sectional that several people can easily stretch out on, including a matching hassock that’s the perfect size to bend someone over for a spanking.

  I know that’s not a coincidence. It’s definitely a space Elliot will appreciate, use, and feel comfortable in.

  My boy nailed it. I’m so proud of him.

  Jordan appears in the doorway. He looks painfully anxious. “Do you think he’ll like it, Sir?”

  “I’m sure he will, boy.” I open my arms to him and he comes to me for a hug. “I especially like the sofa.”

  He smiles. “I hoped you would, Sir. It’s leather, so it’s easy to clean.”

  I laugh. “My practical boy. Show me upstairs.”

  He takes my hand and leads me upstairs, where the exercise room is first. The government owns the equipment, but the spare bedroom is the perfect size for Elliot’s personal gym. A weight bench, treadmill, and stationary cycle. He has a heated pool outside he can use year-round. The hardwood floor is now covered by an interlocking and removable rubber mat system to protect it. The walls are pale, sunny yellow, just a whisper from white with enough tint to make the color show. Elliot doesn’t like bright, loud colors for wall paint, and he’s not a fan of dark spaces, either.

  His home office is another converted bedroom. It now sports floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, with all of his books neatly arranged there, along with his desk from his apartment, which he’d requested. Also, his own floor lamp, and his recliner, make a perfect reading space in one corner, next to a window. I suspect there will be plenty of evenings when he’s alone that this will be his safe retreat where he c
an close out the world.

  In the master bedroom, the king-sized mattress is new, but the frame is from existing inventory, as is the rest of the furniture. Jordan even included a padded bench at the foot of the bed, perfectly situated for Elliot to sit on for dealing with Duck. The bed is offset, closer to the far wall, because the layout is arranged to give Elliot plenty of room to move from the door to the bed, bathroom, and the closet and dresser while using his walker, or in case he has to use his wheelchair up here.

  Now that I think about it, downstairs is similarly arranged, with an economy of furniture that strikes exactly the right tone between feeling like a home and not being oppressively stuffy, all arranged with a careful mind of possibly needing space for a wheelchair or walker to pass. Although, with the split levels downstairs, a wheelchair won’t be practical.

  The walls in here are also pale blue, only more blue than grey, and the same color is continued into the master bathroom. The large, plush area rug in the bedroom is dark grey with swirls of midnight blue and deep fern green, and I suspect it’s comfortable to kneel on.

  The space feels comfortable, tranquil.

  It feels like Elliot.

  When I peek in the drawer of one of his nightstands, I find lube and condoms, the ones that were in his nightstand at home before I packed them myself.

  “I handled those boxes personally, Sir,” he tells me. “Once they finished in here, I put those things away, and the bathroom items.” Meaning Elliot’s clean-out kit, and the few toys Elliot has that I gave him over the years.

  The personal items we didn’t want anyone else dealing with.

  “Good boy.” This is why I know this arrangement can work, because I trust Jordan to have Elliot’s back, and I don’t have to remind him of the little details.

  He lives to remember the little details, without fail.

  “Do you think he’ll like it?” he asks.

  I pull him into my arms and kiss him, deeply, thrilled that he so perfectly captured Elliot’s spirit. “I think he’s going to absolutely love it, baby.” I mean, this won’t be a total surprise to Elliot, because he signed off on the renderings, diagrams, and paint swatches Jordan put together.

  We go look at the guest room and bath. They’re simply and tastefully decorated in a more subdued modern style that I know the origin of—me.

  Elliot asked Jordan to have me pick out what this room would look like.

  Because, hopefully, I’ll be “using” it a lot.

  It was a secret concession and acknowledgement Elliot could make for me, to show me he’s thinking about me and including me in his life as much as he feels safe doing.

  We wander upstairs to the third floor, which feels chilly since the heat isn’t running up here. Two of the bedrooms hold the rest of Elliot’s furniture from his apartment, and boxes of other belongings he won’t need on a daily basis. At least this saves him money, because he no longer needs the small storage unit he had. I try not to think about how the sum of both my belongings and Jordan’s would also easily fit up here in the spare rooms. We share my small storage unit, which had been too large for all my things before Jordan. I suspect once we move his things to DC, it’ll be just right.

  At some point, I should start looking for a larger apartment for us, but we’re both going to be extremely busy for the next several years. A larger apartment means more work to clean and maintain, and I’d rather my free time be spent with Jordan and Elliot. Not to mention we’re not far from the White House, and finding an apartment priced as reasonably as the one we’re currently sharing would be nearly impossible without adding an hour or more to our commute.

  No, thank you.

  Besides, my hope is that, someday soon, Elliot will finally speak his mind, publicly claim me, and then there will be security concerns to think of while he and I select our new home that will house the three of us once Elliot’s out of office. Jordan can live with us in the official residence once that happens.

  Jordan will be happy anywhere, as long as he’s with us.

  “His sister’s coming by tomorrow, isn’t she?” he asks.

  “First thing. Stella and his parents are coming over for breakfast before his parents head to the airport. We need to be out of here by four a.m. because staff arrives at five. I don’t want any chance of someone other than Secret Service seeing us leave.” I turn and find him looking at me, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you want me to return to Blair House, now, Sir? I don’t mind.”

  I pull him in for another kiss. “No. I want you here, with us.” I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen tonight, but I do know I want to fuck my pet. Even more than that, though, I want Elliot to quickly acclimate to Jordan’s presence in his inner sanctum. I need him to associate Jordan with calm and safety and trust.

  And orgasms.

  Hey, it’s worked for training my pet over the years. Don’t see why it won’t continue working.

  We return to the first floor as I hear the detail pull up outside. We’re standing in the foyer when Elliot walks in, bids his detail good-night, and closes and locks the door behind him.

  Jordan and I both have keys and alarm codes for unlimited access. Not even Elliot’s valet and housekeeping staff get the kind of access we have to him and his residence.

  He smiles when he turns and his gaze meets mine.

  “Hello, pet.” I pull him in for a kiss and resist the urge to put him on his knees right now. I know Jordan’s dying to receive Elliot’s approval. “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you.” He glances at Jordan, then back to me.

  I’ll give Elliot that one, not calling me Sir or Master, because he’s nervous as hell.

  Honestly? So am I. I desperately want this to work, and tonight truly is the first tangible step in the right direction.

  Jordan smiles and nudges his glasses up his nose. “Mister Vice President, I’d—”

  “Elliot,” he quietly says. Elliot loosens his bowtie and I reach over to untie it for him.

  “Sir?”

  “When it’s just the three of us, please call me Elliot.”

  My heart leaps at that. That’s a big step for my pet.

  Jordan nods. “Thank you, sir.”

  Elliot snorts. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ in private, either. That’ll get…weird. And confus—”

  “Pet.” Elliot looks at me. “It’s all right. It’s a lower-case s.” I motion toward the living room. “Go look around.”

  I motion for Jordan to follow Elliot and I bring up the rear. I know this’ll take time, for them to shake things out between them, and the weight of Elliot’s responsibilities won’t help any. But I’ll try to be as hands-off as I can between them.

  Jordan leads him to the family room, where Elliot nods. “This is great, Jordan. Thank you. It feels…calm.”

  “Really?”

  Elliot looks exhausted and still manages a smile. “Yeah. I like the couch, too.” He turns, but his gaze meets mine. “Roomy.”

  I wink.

  We tour the rest of the first floor, and Jordan shows him where everything is in the kitchen. I’ll probably be using it more than Elliot will, because he’ll default to eating nothing but cereal if he’s tired and doesn’t have ready-to-eat food put in front of him. He can cook pretty well when it’s the two of us together, but he doesn’t like making the effort for only himself. Stress only makes it worse. He defaults to an energy conservation kind of mindset, only doing the bare minimum of what he needs to survive.

  That’s another reason I hope Jordan’s presence in his life will be positive. Because I can send Jordan over to cook for Elliot when I can’t be around. Maybe they can bond over food. Jordan’s an amazing cook and loves making his Mimi’s favorite recipes.

  We finish the second-floor tour in the master bedroom, where I lock the door behind us, more to put Elliot’s mind at ease than out of necessity. There, I pull him into my arms and kiss him, fisting his hair and waiting
until he starts to go pliant before I release him and snap my fingers, pointing at the bench at the end of the bed.

  He sits.

  I help him take his jacket off, handing it to Jordan. While he’s hanging that, I grab what I’ll need from the bathroom. Then I kneel in front of Elliot and remove his dress shoes and socks.

  “Boy.” I snap my fingers and point to the floor next to me. Jordan practically materializes next to me.

  I look up into Elliot’s eyes. “Let me take care of you tonight, pet. Please.”

  He nods. Exhaustion has drawn deep lines around his eyes that aren’t usually present. He’s wearing his contacts, but I can tell from how red his eyes look that he needs to take them out.

  In a minute.

  I take his phones and wallet from him, set his alarm on his work phone, and put the phones on the chargers on the nightstand. I also set his wallet in the small tray there that Jordan made sure he had to keep track of everything from his pockets. I unfasten his pants and help him shrug off his suspenders. He rises enough I can ease his trousers down and off his legs. Tonight, he’s wearing boxer briefs, and I leave those on him for right now.

  “Pay attention, boy,” I say, using firm Dom-tone with Jordan. I want him to know this. I show him how Duck functions, explain the importance of the different socks and where they go, what to look for on Elliot’s stump to make sure he’s not having any skin breakdown. I swab the sweat from his limb and inside the liner with the damp washcloth I retrieved from the bathroom, and then dry everything with a towel.

  Through all this, Elliot watches and listens without speaking, his hands curled around the front of the bench. I’m well aware Jordan is the first person besides me, who’s not medical personnel, who’s been this intimate with Elliot. Make no mistake, this is intimacy, for Elliot. It’s a trust issue for him.

  I look up at Elliot. “Stay, pet.” I have Jordan gather everything and carry it into the bathroom, show him how to wash it all, and once everything’s taken care of, we return to the bedroom.

  Then I point to a spot on the rug just off the far corner of the bed and look at Jordan, handing him my personal cell phone. “I want you hook this up to the speaker, then I want you naked and kneeling over there, sitting up, hands behind your head. Don’t move or speak unless I tell you to once you’re in position.”