“No, no, it’s not like that. You already explained all that, and I’m not mad that you didn’t take advantage of the situation, Hudson; believe me. I just want to know-”
“Why I walked away, you mean?” The words are ones I’d never have imagined telling her before, though for some reason they come easy now.
“Because I knew you were hurting; I was too.” I take a deep breath; “Reagan there’s so much he never told you, about everything.”
I can hear her sniff against my chest; “I know,” She says quietly.
“I had so much shit, so much pain inside. You- you don’t know, and you can’t know the things I’ve seen, Reagan,” I whisper out; “The things I’ve done-”
Her lips kissing my chest stop me; “You don’t have to tell me.”
Right, but being near me might be bad enough for you I want to scream. I’ve come a long way from the broken man I was when her father found me, but I’m still toxic, and I know that. I still have the demons clawing at my back, the lust for vices I’ll have to deny myself for the rest of my life, and the recklessness of a man who’s already seen death. How can there be a place for a girl like her in all of that shit? She’s so good, and just so damn perfect and unbroken and undimmed by the darkness of the world that I can’t bare the thought of even telling her that darkness exists. She’s the light, and I can’t let my darkness swallow that up.
“I want to, you know,” I say, running my hands through her hair and closing my eyes as she softly kisses my chest again; “I just- I just can’t; not yet.”
“I’m here, you know, when you can.”
I smile into her hair, wondering for the millionth time how all this is possible; “I know.”
P A S T
I know as soon as I step off the stage that I’ve fucked up, even before my new campaign manager stomps over to me with that mean look on his face.
“Oooo-kay, so, that was-’ He shakes his head, sighing heavily at me like I’m some sort of disobedient child; “That was not good, Reagan.”
I’m feeling flustered, and out of my element, and mad at myself for not going up there and being strong; “I know, I’m sorry, Donald.”
“I give you a script for a reason, you know; stick to it.”
I groan; “I know, I know, it’s just- I mean, I’m doing this because I have ideas, and visions, and projects that are important to me that I really want to make part of my platform in all of this. And I feel like if I ignore those things-”
“If you ignore those things, you’ve got a shot at being elected.” Donald snaps at me.
“Well then what’s the point? What about fighting for what you believe in? What about having passion for things that matter?”
He sighs; “To get elected, Reagan. If that’s not your goal, than you may be wasting your money with me.” He takes off his glasses and looks at me sharply as he cleans them with his tie; “You do want to actually get elected, right?” I nod quietly. “Good, then keep your fluffy daydream ideas inside and stick to the damn script.”
P R E S E N T
I giggle as I push back against him, feeling his lips brush against the back of my neck and send shivers down my spine; “We need to stop this, I’m about to go on stage you know.” I bite my lip, wondering if that sounded even remotely more convincing to him than it did to me.
“Stop what?” He growls into my ear, and I gasp as I feel his fingers slide up the inside of my thigh, under my relatively conservative knee-length skirt. I gasp as he finds what I know he was looking for, his fingers sliding over the gusset of my panties and only making me press back against him even more.
“Mmm…that. Stop that.” I murmur, my eyes closing as he touches me there.
“What, this?” His fingers slip under the seam of my panties and slide through my wetness. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I reach back behind me to the hardness in his pants, and I begin to stroke his length. “That’s not exactly doing much for your case here, Senator,” He whispers huskily into my ear.
“Fine.” I grin as I hear him groan as I take my hand away from him, but suddenly I’m gasping as his other hand suddenly hikes my skirt all the way up to my waist behind me. Before I can even turn around, his hand is yanking my panties down over my thighs; “Don’t even think about it!” And I squirm to try and stop him, but not really all that hard.
“Too late,” he says with a sly grin against my skin, as he pushes my panties down further until they drop down my legs to my heels.
Welcome to a typical Thursday afternoon with Reagan and Hudson; sneaking around like we’re teenagers and fucking every chance we get; even when that chance is a chancing it in itself. We’re about to go out on stage to sit for this panel-type discussion with a news anchor about my platform and about me being the “fresh young face of politics” or something like that. Hudson’s going to be out there too actually, due to his association with Archer Holdings, and while he resisted at first, I managed to convince him.
…Ok, so maybe I convinced him while I was fucking him, but that doesn’t make me any less of an amazing negotiator.
Suddenly, I can feel him doing something behind me with his hand, as I hear a familiar sound, my eyes go wide; “Hudson!” I can feel it then, his bare, naked cock pressing hotly against the skin of my ass cheeks. “What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss, peeking out from behind the curtain we’re hiding behind to glance out at the stage and seeing that they’re just about set up. He pushes the head of his cock down between my legs, and I’m suddenly moaning quietly as I feel him slide it across my opening; “Hudson, don’t even thi- oooh.” He growls into my ear as he pushes half of his length inside of me, and I can feel my knees go week as I ease back against him.
“Oh, did you mean don’t even think about this?” He chuckles as he pushes his hips forward, sliding deeper into me.
“Reagan!”
Fuck. Erika is on stage, shielding her eyes from the lights and looking around the empty auditorium for me. With a moan, I’m pulling myself away from Hudson and pushing him back as I try and catch my breath; “Put that away!” I say with a giggle, eyeing his cock which is sticking out from his pants still glistening from me.
He shrugs and grins at me; “Why?”
“You’re incorrigible!” I roll my eyes at him before I see that he’s holding my panties on the end of one of his fingers; “Give me my panties.”
“Oh, these?” With a smirk, he closes his hand around them and slides them into his jacket pocket.
“Hudson!” I hiss, my face growing red; “I’m serio-”
“Reagan!”
Hudson’s cocky grin is plastered across his face as he gestures nods towards the stage and to Erika’s shrieking voice; “We better get out there, Senator.”
*****
I’m still buzzing electrically from Hudson’s teasing while I smile at the woman sitting across from us. It’s Hudson and I sitting at one desk, and her at the other, at sort of angles to each other so that we can both also face the small assembled crowds and the live cameras. Yeah, live televisions with loose cannon Hudson Banks and a lingering sexual high still teasing my body from him; what could possibly go wrong in this scenario?
“Well, Amy,” I’m saying; “Politics don’t exactly run in my family, but doing good does. You see, my Father-”
“Now, forgive me for interrupting Ms. Archer, but Archer Holdings is, or at least was a major player in the international firearms market, was it not?”
Well, this question had to come up sooner or later, and I’m prepared; “It was, Amy, but that was a long time ago. My Dad and a lot of very good friends of his, including Mr. Banks here, did a lot to change that.”
“And Mr. Banks here is involved in your campaign?”
“Oh I think I can take this one Amy, if you don’t mind.” He’s flashing that criminally charming smile at her, and I can see her cheeks flushing a little, even through all the lights and the makeup. Yeah, welcome to my world, honey.
> “I’m affiliated with Ms. Archer’s campaign, but only so much in that I consider myself a strong supporter of her platform.”
I stiffen suddenly as I feel his hand drop to my thigh beneath the table, and my eyes shoot to his face, which is of course, totally impassive as he smiles at the news anchor.
“Right, but you do work for Archer Ho-”
“I do, but my personal involvement with Ms. Archer’s campaign -“ his hand slides up my thigh, and I’m scrambling to thrust my own hands beneath the table as well as unassumingly as I can to stop him; “- is totally separate from what I do with William Archer’s company.” His hand pushes my own away easily, and then I’m struggling to swallow and keep my face neutral as I feel his fingers slide over the lips of my pussy.
Yeah, when exactly did I think it was a good move to go on live televisions with this man?
“So, Ms. Archer-”
I cough as Hudson’s fingers slip between my dripping wet lips, and Amy looks at me quizzically. “Sorry, Amy, I was just going to say that you can really just call me Reagan.” I smile at her innocently; “I think we’re on a first name basis here aren’t we?” She laughs along with the audience, and I turn my grinning face towards Hudson, who’s just sitting there grinning at me like the cat with the canary. Only in this case, it’s his fingers and my pussy.
“Well, you know lots of people associate you with your father because of your last name, but I hope I’m not the first one to make a political reference about your first name!” Amy chuckles; yeah, yet another joke I’ve only heard about eight-million times since I started politics.
“So anyways Reagan, why don’t you tell us a bit more about what it feels like to be the media sensation you’ve become since announcing your candidacy? I mean - and no offense meant here - State Senate races are rarely given the amount of limelight you’ve manages to shine onto the New York state primaries.”
“Oh, no offense taken Amy, you see-”
Hudson clears his throat; “If I could just insert something here, Amy.” I groan and grab the edge of the desk with white knuckles as I feel Hudson push two of his finger into my opening, sliding them deep inside of me. I glare up at him, but he’s still mugging for the camera. “I think Reagan’s strong suit is her ability to galvanize people and get them to pay attention. It’s all about rubbing people the right way.” I swallow my gasp as his thumb begins to roll over my aching clit, sending electric shocks through my whole body right there on live television. I decide right there that if I somehow make it off this stage, I’m going to murder him.
The interview continues, and somehow I find myself on autopilot; answering Amy’s questions with answers that just sort of come to me while I sit there smiling at the cameras like a robot as Hudson’s magic fingers coax me higher and higher, until I’m terrified that I’m going to come right here on live television and give the whole fucking thing away. But then, the interview is over, and everyone is cheering at my apparently winning answers, and it’s right there, in the midst of everything clapping and cheering, that Hudson manages to completely push me over the edge of my climax. I cry out, but it just looks like I’m shouting my exuberance to my adoring voter base, instead of what it is I’m actually doing, which is having a fucking orgasm on live Goddamn TV.
“I am going to kill you!” I hiss into his ear as we stand after it’s over; smoothing my skirt down and trying to find my breath.
“Bring it, Red.” He grins, winking at me.
Amy shakes my hand, and mercifully not Hudson’s, before he’s leading me out the stage door to the side parking lot.
“What the fuck was that?” Donald is standing there waiting for us just outside with his arms crossed over his chubby chest and his face looking furious.
“Uh, excuse me?” My voice falters as I suddenly have a horrible thought that he knows what Hudson was doing to me up there during the interview.
“What happened to sticking to the Goddamned SCRIPT, Reagan!” Donald honestly looks furious, and I’m suddenly realizing that I never glanced down at his list of canned answers once during the whole thing. I did the whole interview off-the-cuff while Hudson was driving me wild; probably giving the answers I wanted to give instead of the boring, middle-of-the-road ones he wanted me to say.
“I- I don’t now, it just felt natural to say what I wanted to say, Donald.”
Hudson is tugging me away towards his car, and Donald is sputtering as he trails after us.“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Uh, excuse me, Hudson, I’m not done with my fucking candidate yet!”
We’re at his car, and Hudson suddenly whirls on Donald; “Yes, you are.” He says, his voice deep and leaden as he stares down my campaign manager. He turns to me as he opens the passenger door; “Hop in, Senator.”
*****
This time it’s me that hits the emergency button inside Hudson’s elevator, and the surprised look on his face only gets better when I just start to pull my clothes off right there. But when I turn around and press my hands against the glass and arch my ass back at him, I’m pretty sure that surprise turns into something else pretty quickly. He growls as he enters me, and then he fucks me like he owns me, and it’s exactly how I want him to fuck me. His grip is tight on my hip, even bringing his hand down to smack my ass and make me cry out against the glass and the neon New York skyline. He grabs me by the hair and turns my face into his kiss, and I’m clawing and screaming at the edges of my sanity as I feel his length fill me again and again and again. When I come, he’s right there with me, pressing his body flush to mine as we ride that wave together, our choked breaths coming as one as our heartbeats racing the other in a dead sprint.
I have officially gone off-script; both with the campaign and with whatever it is I’m doing with Hudson, and quite honestly, I’ve never been happier.
P R E S E N T
A few nights later, we’re driving in my car and I’m almost insulted when she doesn’t ask me where we’re going, but I see the grin on her face out the corner of my eye as I take us over the George Washington bridge and onto the Palisades Parkway. I let the horses under the hood roar as I gun us up the west side of the Hudson, letting New York fall away behind us in the rearview mirror as we head into the night.
Finally, I cave; “Well, shit, don’t you even want to know where we’re going?” Reagan’s face breaks into a wide smile; “I mean come on Archer, I prepared this whole little speech and everything.” I shake my head, feeling alive and on fire and more whole than I’ve felt in a very long time.
“I’ve got an idea where we’re going, but please, lets hear this speech of yours.” She sticks her tongue out at me, her whole face lit up by the dash and her smile just flashing right into me.
“Well, now I’ve forgotten it.” I shake my head as I sigh dramatically; “Your loss too, it was a good one.”
She laughs that musical laugh of hers and slides over across the bench seat against me. And as my arm goes around her shoulders and draws her close, I realize I have and will never feel more like Steve McQueen than I do in that perfect moment. It’s just Reagan and I, the car, and the road, and it’s just fucking perfect.
I know she thinks she knows where we’re going; to our place where the romance that didn’t, that couldn’t happen back then. But then is not now, and things are very different now with Reagan and I than they were back then a lifetime ago. I mean I was crazy about her back then, even if I didn’t know what to do with it. And now? Well now that I’m in lo- wow, shit. I feel my heart pound as I mull over that particular four-letter word, but I don’t even have to dwell on it to know its true.
When we drive past the Bear Mountain turnoff I know she recognizes, I grin broadly seeing her glance back at the sign out of the corner of my eye. She looks at me with a sly look; “Alright, you got me.”
“I’d say so.”
*****
She’s cracking up by the time I park the car, and as we stroll arm and arm towards the entrance she looks at me
and shakes her head; “Seriously? A Renaissance faire?”
I grin; “Hey, might as well put that one semester to use huh?” She rolls her eyes and I pull her to me and kiss her hard as she melts into me. “You know,” I say, breaking away for a second; “I think it’s good for you to get out of that city sometimes. Now com’on Senator, let’s go get us some culture.”
“Oh, culture? Is that what we’re here for?” She nods towards two guys dressed in actual metal armor chugging enormous steins of beer while a woman dressed as some sort of tavern wench with her tits half hanging out cheers them on and shouts things like “m’lord.”
I shrug; “Well, you know, someone’s culture.”
She laughs, hugging my arm tighter in the chill of the air, and then we’re laughing as she loops her arm through mine and we stroll through fair-grounds.
Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance Page 37
