Los Banditos: A Biker Romance Collection

by Hazel Parker

  I recovered my poise, “Senator Chilton, thank you for the honor of your call.”

  Senator Chilton chuckled down the line, “Oh, Sasha, no need for formalities, especially if we may be working together. And reading your impressive C.V., I would say the honor is mine. Now how are you placed for an interview?”

  I struggled to respond to make arrangements for an interview in a few days’ time. Senator Chilton had reviewed by C.V., and that means he had seen my picture. At 5’6, slim, and slightly busty, I was often described as no slouch in the looks department, but someone like James Chilton dates models before settling down with a society beauty. I blushed, glad the Senator couldn’t see me.

  Arrangements for an interview were made and Senator Chilton tied things off with a cheerful, “I can’t wait to meet the picture standing before me, Sasha,” and hung up before I could even respond.

  I stood in the park looking down at my phone. I had struggled to hold my own just on the phone with the handsome Senator; I knew I had better bring my A game to the interview.

  *****

  I strode confidently into the offices of Senator Chilton. I had spent the last few days preparing hard for my interview, from reading James’s memoir of his political youth to getting a haircut and a discreet French manicure. In a neat skirt, blouse, and blazer, I looked the part—I hoped.

  The receptionist welcomed me with a friendly smile and mentioned I was among the senator’s last appointments for the day and she was on the way out. She gestured to me to sit in the comfortable waiting area, along with one other young person, a guy dressed in an expensive suit whose haircut looked like it cost four times what mine did.

  I took a seat on a couch that came with a plate attached saying it had sat in a presidential library before. This was no ordinary freshman senator’s office. The waiting room alone screaming power in the making. I had my first bout of nerves; the Chilton’s stood for the everyman in politics, but as for actually having one as a boss, when I was the daughter of a welder and a nurse, it made me feel a little out of place.

  The young guy reached out a hand to me from his equally luxurious seat, “Fletcher John Winslow, of the Pennsylvania Winslow’s, Harvard; you?” he barked at me with a cocky smile.

  I sat back in my couch, taken by surprise. Surely people like this didn’t really exist? Apparently so, as Fletcher John Winslow looked back at me expectantly.

  Taking his cue, I responded with charm and confidence of my own, “Sasha Anne Jones, of the Michigan Jones, Thomas College.”

  Fletcher’s smile faded slightly then returned to a beam as he replied patronizingly, “Ah, lovely, Sasha. It’s so great of James to be…diverse…in his interviewing, to give everyone some practice at interviewing on The Hill.”

  My smile remained equally false and bright, “Practice? Well I didn’t expect to come here today just for practice. May the best man or woman win, hey?”

  Fletcher dropped my hand and his smile, straightening his suit, “Well of course, but you must know an office like Chilton’s requires a certain type.”

  I raised an eyebrow and let Fletcher go on, feeling annoyed a man I admired was even interviewing such a guy as this. Maybe I had read Chilton wrong when I saw him as a blue blood, but one who was hard working and really cared about all his constituents.

  “Of course,” continued Fletcher, “our fathers were in a society together; you know how it is,” Fletcher finished with a shrug.

  As I was contemplating my response the tall frame of Senator Chilton strode into the room. I let out a slow breath. James was even better in person than on the cover of a magazine. In person he brought sheer presence, he changed the energy of the room just by walking into it. My stomach did somersaults and a fire began in places it really, really shouldn’t when you are about to be interviewed by your potential new boss…and major political figure.

  “Fletcher! Sasha!” boomed James with a charming smile. “Thank you for coming. Fletcher, good to see you; how is your father? Wonderful!”

  I frowned and looked at my shoes at James engaged Fletcher in mutual acquaintances banter. James announced apologetically to me he would interview Fletcher first and he ushered Fletcher on ahead down a wide hallway decorated with framed photos. I sat on my historic couch feeling both filled with desire and confusion. I wanted this job and I wanted this man; I shouldn’t want him, and it seemed like I might just be a token glancing presence in his life after all.

  As all these thoughts tumbled through my head, I looked up to see Fletcher striding confidently ahead of James and James’s broad back turning to me to deliver a slow, confiding and mocking wink in Fletcher’s direction.

  Maybe I would be more than a token interview after all.

  An age seemed to pass before James and Fletcher emerged back into the room, all jokey, boys-together smiles. James gave a smiley farewell to Fletcher and then turned to me with a relieved look, “Well, Sasha, this is just between us but that was just a painful obligation interview I had to do; family friend, you know how it is.”

  He looked at me expectantly, as if I was intimately familiar with providing interviews under obligation to the children of your father’s secret society friend.

  “Of course,” I replied with confidence. “Networking is what runs Washington, isn’t it?”

  James laughed and gestured for me to follow him through to his office, “Clever girl; I knew I liked your application. It’s all about who you know, not what you know…although in the case of our Fletcher you do need to know a little something to go with the who you know.”

  James turned to wink to me again, and my heart skipped a beat. Being included in private banter with him, with a senator, the kind that shouldn’t be repeated, instantly made me feel special and included. Part of the club. The in crowd. As if I was worthy of maybe one day being a Washington insider and already assumed as someone who had a grasp of the ropes, the game that needed to be played.

  James strode into his office, tossing off a comment to me, “And this is where the magic happens—policy and otherwise.”

  I swallowed hard. Otherwise? Exactly what kind of magic was Senator Chilton creating in his office?

  I played it safe and responded neutrally, “Good policy can produce magic for its constituents, and it can change lives.”

  James grinned wickedly at me, “Oh come now, Sasha; let’s not play that role, that polite talk. We both know what work we are here to do. I take my work seriously and your studies show you do too. I don’t need to know your thoughts on policy; I can see from your application you have that down.”

  Confusion ran through me, and my thinking skills were not aided by the distracting handsomeness of James, nor his inviting presence, as if he were inviting me into confession.

  I watched him warily, not wanting to blow my big chance and say something out of turn, “Well, yes, Senator, we all know what we are here trying to do; what is it you are looking for in an applicant, other than the usual, cookie-cutter responses then?”

  James eyes raked over me, taking in my neat, conservative outfit, curvy body, and what I hoped was not the visible effects of my desire. My nipples felt hard being around such an intoxicating combination of power, personality, charm, and looks. Thank god for padded bras to hide what was certainly the firm points of desire. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, as if it would make the desire in me shift away and enable me to focus.

  “Well, Sasha,” James drawled casually, but with power behind his eyes, “what I want is to hire someone with fire inside of them. Who is tough and resilient. Policy can be taught; politics can be learned from a book like you did in college. But fire…now that can’t be given. You’ve got it or you don’t. You grew up tough, you are tough, and this is a tough town.”

  I felt proud at James’s words. I had worked hard to get to where I was and it was rewarding that someone in a born-to-it position recognized that—and wanted me on his team.

  “Thank you, Senator,” I began before James cu
t me off.

  “Sasha!” he laughed. “Senator is what a reporter calls me; please call me James.”

  Our eyes locked and I saw my desire mirrored in his eyes. I knew in that moment I wasn’t imagining the air of sexual tension between us nor the flirtation behind James’s words. I felt taken aback; what was a senator doing flirting with me? James may be single, but intern relationships had blown up in more than one politician’s face and I was sure they were off limits these days…not that I would say no to a man like that wanting to teach me politics in an intimate way.

  Recovering slightly, I flirted back, “James: that has a friendlier touch.”

  James grinned back at me, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm casually over the back of the chair. His open body language to my hungry eyes appeared to be saying, ‘Here I am, come and get it.’

  James spoke, “Friendly touch, hey? I like to be keep on good terms with my interns…especially the ones who are special.”

  I smiled back slowly, with lust, “I’m special, am I? And why do you say that, James?”

  James leaned forward now, his eyes looking me over again appreciatively, “Oh, you want me to flatter you, do you, Sasha? It’s simple really: I was handed a pile of the most qualified candidates and your application was ranked number one. I like winners. I also like cute application photos. I looked at your picture and I could see us finishing off a tough day with that cute face looking up at me as I was on top of you.”

  I laughed outright at the ballsiness of it and replied teasingly, “I thought this kind of thing didn’t happen anymore! Aren’t you supposed to date models to get that stuff out of your system before settling down with a society bride to be Future First Lady?”

  James feigned offence, “Hey! I like to mix up the wild oats I’m sowing, and it’s always been a fantasy of mine to be with an intern, especially one who is clever and smart. Can you blame a guy for trying and taking the risk? And who is to say you are just a ‘blowing off steam’ idea?”

  I frowned. It hadn’t occurred to me the fantasy of the Senator and intern cut both ways. I made up my mind on the spot, under the force of James’s desiring gaze. I wasn’t going to let my fantasy pass me by…whatever the consequences. We could keep this quiet, couldn’t we?

  “Well, James,” I grinned lustily, “consider me sold on the job of your intern fantasy. When do I start work?”

  James unfolded his tall, strong frame from the couch and moved to stand over me, he reached down to cup my face and draw me into a long, deep, fierce kiss—a kiss that sent lust flaming through my body.

  He pulled back and grinned wickedly at me, “Work starts now.”

  James pulled me up from the couch and kissed me again, murmuring into my mouth, “I’ve seen a lot of interns, but you are the first one I’ve wanted to cross the line for.”

  I groaned softly as James’s mouth moved to nibble on my neck, sending spasms of pleasure through my body. My hands wrapped around him, exploring his strong muscles and solid body. His fine, expensive suit felt silky beneath my fingers as I ran my hands over his chest. The opulence of the office, the solid oak desk, gold drapes and bookcases with heavy tomes, aroused me further; I had never done it outside a bedroom or dorm room before.

  I pulled back from James’s seeking mouth to slowly, teasingly undo his Hermes tie, speaking as I did, “Well, Senator, I’m feeling we are about to leave that line right behind us. I’ll be your naughty intern…so long as this stays between us.”

  James spoke, “Oh, it’s back to Senator, is it?”

  I smiled back, “If I’m your intern, you’re my senator.”

  James laughed, “Fair call, baby.”

  James reached for blazer and slid it off my shoulders as I dropped his tie on the floor like it was from K-Mart. Together, we began to undress each other, his hands on the buttons of my blouse, mine on his suit jacket, his shirt.

  James grinned with desire at me, “Have you ever had a naked interview before?”

  I laughed as I peeled his shirt off, exposing a muscled chest that made my breath catch, “It’s my first time; go easy.”

  He pulled me in close, pulling away my blouse and freeing my beasts to the air and his gaze.

  “Well,” he began as his hands began to feel my breasts and reach around to unclasp my bra, “I have plenty of experience in being bad and crossing lines; I’m perfectly good at it. You’re in safe hands—talented ones too.”

  Excitement rose in me at James’s cockiness, his complete and utter disregard for what was right and proper. What kind of man lured an intern in to seduce her? A man who didn’t give a damn, and that was damn sexy. On my part, I may have worked hard in college but there was the hint of a bad girl wanting to come out, which I had held in check in college, feeling I couldn’t quite cut loose the way other kids with safety nets did. Now it was time to do something for me.

  I snapped to as James succeeded in freeing my breasts with one, easy hand as the other one unzipped my skirt. God, did I want more. Impatient, I helped him push my skirt down, leaving me standing in front of my new boss in stockings, panties, and otherwise quite naked.

  “Oh yes,” James breathed, his eyes taking me in. “Consider yourself well and truly hired as my fantasy intern.”

  I tossed my hair back and grinned, “Now for your turn, Senator; show me what you have to offer as my boss.”

  James smiled with easy charm and confidence—a man who knew he had the goods. He slipped his suit pants down and tossed them onto the pile of clothes heaped on the luxurious rug. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, intern.”

  My breath caught and lust consumed me as James stood before me: naked, confident, cocky. His cock drew my immediate eye. Thick, large, and jutting out, I couldn’t wait to have him inside me, taking me. Tall, muscled, and strong, his body was bronzed from weekend sports and looked like it would firmly hold me in place and teach me.

  James took me in his arms, running his hands over my ass and up between my legs where wetness was soaking through my panties, “Do you like what you see, intern? Mmm? Do you accept the job?”

  I reached up and kissed him on the mouth firmly, “Yes, I do; you have my vote, Senator.”

  “Excellent,” James responded, pulling me over to his large, oak desk, “I just need to check your credentials.”

  He pulled my panties off with one hand and bent me over his desk with another, standing behind me. I was naked except for my heels, naked with my senator boss in his opulent office in a secret moment of fantasy turned reality.

  James ran his hands over my body, reaching around to feel my breasts, twisting my nipples, running a hand between my legs to make me cry out with want. He cupped my ass and pushed his hardness against me, showing me what he had to give me. I tried to reach around for him, but he blocked me, continuing to tease me and keep me at his mercy.

  He spoke in a voice heavy with lust, “I won’t hold back, Sasha,” he warned. “When I see what I want, I take it and own it completely.”

  Drunk on desire, I could only moan my assent as his hand worked between my legs to make me ready for him, his strong long lean fingers up inside me, pleasuring me to the point wetness trickled down my thigh. I felt embarrassed at how much I wanted it, but James didn’t let me pull back from his insistent hand; he made me feel the pleasure he was giving me, not run from it. It was what I needed, had wanted to experience after fumbles with college boys that left me frustrated.

  James shifted behind me and moved my legs apart with his, his ankles locking around mine. With one hand in the middle of my back, he pushed me down onto the desk; with the other, he pushed me open and pushed his cock up inside me. He took me in one, powerful, confident thrust, his cock shoving up inside me and filling me, stretching me. A firework of pleasure exploded inside me as he took me up a level from our playful foreplay into getting serious.

  James crooned to me as he began to stroke his cock slowly and decisively in and out of me, “You’ve always wante
d to be a bad girl, haven’t you?”

  I gasped in pleasure as his cock moved in and out of me teasingly after his initial powerful taking of me, “Please.”

  I felt James shake his head, “Please isn’t good enough; tell me you need it.”

  I moaned and tried to push back on his cock for him to take me harder, but he thwarted me with a hand on my hip to remain in control.

  I gave into his demands, “I need it…Senator…please take me.”

  James nodded, “I thought so, do you want it slow, baby, just like this?”

  And he rocked his cock in and out of me slowly, moaning, “Oh, baby,” as he took his pleasure and teased mine, pushing in right up high inside me, filling me and pulling to the edge of leaving me, leaving me feeling empty and pushing back in search of him, wanting to stay filled by him.