by Chloe Lane
She was the one who pushed us past that moment, letting out a little laugh. “Silly me,” she said, taking the coffee cup out of my hand. “Let me hold this while you take off your coat.”
“One step ahead of me,” I said jovially, like nothing had happened, and then she’d launched into apprising me of the morning’s schedule, a few adjustments that had been made while I was still on the way in, and swept the both of us through the routine until it was time for me to sit behind my desk and get a few things out of the way before the day’s meetings began.
I’m still sitting here, wanting her. Wanting her so much that it’s clouding my judgment.
Friday night was almost everything I wanted it to be. By the time she walked back out the door of my place, I was cursing myself for not fucking her right then and there. But Marci—I don’t want to move too fast with her. She’s too important for that.
The thought takes me by surprise. That’s the kind of thought a person has about a girlfriend who might be his wife someday, not an employee with curves that make him hard just by looking at her.
I shake my head to flush the thoughts from my head, running my hands over my face. I can’t get in that deep with her. The reasons haven’t changed just because I was reckless, just because I told her to come to my place. If we are found out, it would be ruinous for both of us.
Yet here I am, fantasizing about her when I’m supposed to be working for the American people. The citizens of Connecticut would be appalled.
I force myself to read through the summary of the bill—again—making a mental note to stop by the committee chair’s office before the vote. I want to earn a reputation for independence, but it never hurts to be viewed as a team player.
“Senator?”
Marci’s voice breaks into my thoughts. I reach down under the desk and adjust myself.
“Can I order you something for lunch?”
I suck in a breath, and all my resolve, all the pretty thoughts I had about being the upstanding man, go out the window. Because the suit jacket cuts in at her waist and I want my hands there, the pencil skirt hugs her ass and I want to peel it up and off. I have to have her. I just have to.
“Are there any meetings scheduled in the next twenty minutes?”
She shakes her head, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “No, Senator. There aren’t…you’ve got time for lunch.”
“Close the door.”
Marci closes the door softly behind her and turns back to face me, holding her hands in front of her. There’s a new light in her green eyes. “What—what is it?”
“Come here.”
She comes across the room without hesitating, and the moment she’s within my reach, I stand up and wrap my hands around her waist, pull her hard into my body, and press my lips against hers.
She opens for me with a little moan, and I slip my tongue inside her mouth, tasting the tea she likes to drink when it’s cold—cinnamon spice. I cup my hands under her ass and lift her easily onto the surface of my desk, nudging her knees apart with one hip, standing between her spread legs, and push that gray skirt up her thighs, kissing her harder.
That’s when I feel it.
I pull back, grinning into her eyes. “You’ve been a naughty girl.”
A blush comes to her cheeks and she bites her lip. “I—I couldn’t help myself.”
“Do you need a little reminder about how to be good?” I murmur the words into her ear and feel her shiver.
“Maybe a little,” she says, like she’s actually considering it.
“Spread wide for me, Kitten.”
Chapter 13
Marci
My heart thunders inside my chest. This is absolutely something we should not be doing—not in the Hart Building, and not on the Senator’s desk. A cold wave of adrenaline shoots down to my fingertips. I closed the door, but I didn’t lock it—anyone could walk in at any time, and what would they see?
Me with my ass perched on the surface of the Senator’s desk, right on his calendar, legs spread wider than his waist. I’m balanced back on my elbows, my head thrown back, because even though we shouldn’t be doing this—we shouldn’t—it’s so dangerous and dirty, I can’t say no to him. I don’t want to say no to him.
I’ve been on fire for him all weekend, my pussy begging for another turn with the dildo, anything to find release. And I know that what we did in his apartment—it’s not a binding contract of any kind, it’s not like I have to ask his permission to come. But the thought of calling his phone—I have his personal number in case of emergency, in case of anything, really, when he’s out of the office—and telling him that I’ve made myself come—again—makes my entire body blush. So I didn’t touch. I was good. Now, halfway through Monday, I’m jumping at the chance to rid myself of some of this tension, to come hard. Even if it might mean—
I try to focus on the consequences, try to force the words from my lips—that he should stop stroking my sopping folds, that he should stop pressing one finger inside of me, then two, then three—but all that escapes my mouth are tiny moans. The Senator leans down and presses his lips against my neck.
“So naughty,” he murmurs, raising his head so that he can speak directly into my ear. “So wet. Have you been waiting for this?”
“All weekend.” The words come on the heels of a gasp, because he’s flexed his fingers inside my pussy in a way that heightens the pleasure another several notches.
“What a good girl.”
I spread my legs even wider for him—I can’t help myself. When he says those words, something opens up inside of me, and I care just a little bit less that what we’re doing is forbidden, that what we’re doing could result in both of us losing our jobs.
“Lay back.” I don’t hesitate to obey, and the next thing I know, the Senator has dropped down on his knees, holding my legs apart with his hands. “Absolute quiet, Marci,” he commands.
I cover my mouth with my palm, and it’s a good thing, because the Senator drags his tongue from the bottom of my slit right to the top, right to my clit, and then he swirls the tip of his tongue over the pulsing button and I want to scream, it feels so good. He laps up the rush of my juices and every single one of my nerves is on fire, every inch of me is humming with pleasure, buzzing with desire for him. His hands slide around and tighten their grip on my hips, drawing me into his mouth, and I’m lost, lost in his expert tongue and the way it’s flicking over every inch of my core, lost in the swirling sensation around my clit. When he closes his lips over that live wire and sucks, I come so hard I have to clap both hands over my mouth to muffle the sounds, my hips jerking up and away from the surface of the desk over and over.
When I finally come down from it, the Senator stands, wiping at his mouth with a cocktail napkin he takes from one of his drawers, and then he’s moving around behind the desk, toward my head, and pulling me backward so that my body is supported by the desk, my skirt still up around my hips. I’m so exposed, so completely his, that I just let it happen. One hand on the back of my head, he guides me so that I’m arching over the edge of the desk, my mouth level with his cock, which is hard as iron and already released from his pants.
“My turn,” he growls, and I open my mouth to take him in.
He’s so big that even though I’ve done this once before, it still surprises me. He holds me in place while he works himself into my mouth and down my throat inch by inch. His thick hardness isn’t easy to take, but I do it, and it makes my pussy wet all over again.
Instinctively, I start sucking him off, and a low hum moves through his body. “That’s it,” he says, and his hand tightens on my head. “That’s a good girl.”
I suck harder, and he can’t help himself. He starts fucking my mouth, and my nipples harden. Jolts of what feels like electricity lurch through me, at how unprofessional, how filthy, this is, to be arched over my boss’s desk, his cock balls-deep in my throat, my legs still spread wide, the air brushing over the folds of my pussy, and I
can’t stop the moan that rises to my lips.
The sensation must be what pushes him over the edge, because he only fucks me for a little while longer before his hips jerk and he buries himself deep, shooting his thick streams of salty come into my throat. I swallow it all eagerly—too eagerly, maybe, because I’m not normally this kind of girl, I’m not normally so swept up in a man that I’m willing to do these kinds of things.
He finishes with a sharp hiss and pulls out, pulling me up into a sitting position and cradling me gently. Then he leans down and kisses my cheek. “Back to work, Kitten.”
I shiver, warm pleasure flooding through me. “Yes, Senator.” I hesitate. “There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?” He helps me down from the desk and straightens my clothes for me, both our hands working together to smooth down the fabric.
“You’re going to need a new calendar.” I shoot my gaze over to the surface of the desk. The pages are soaked with my wetness.
He cups my ass gently with one hand, then propels me toward the door. “First order of business,” he says with a grin. “Have a new one sent up.”
Chapter 14
Senator Sterling
I can’t get her out of my head.
Sitting on the sofa at my apartment, I hold a beer in one hand and look out over the DC landscape. It’s hellishly cold out tonight, the sky clear and bitter, and the stars are out. It’s not a bad view. It's just not the one I’m interested in.
I can’t get into this kind of habit with Marci—not in the office. It’s far too risky. Someone could have walked in while I had her spread out over the desk, my cock buried in her throat, and then what? There would be no end to that scandal. Not with a reputation like mine. I’ve always done the right thing for the American people, always worked damn hard to be faultless. You have to be if you’re going to get elected without a wife.
I can’t help myself around Marci, and it’s going to become a problem.
I put the beer on the table next to the sofa. It’s not doing anything for me.
I was up at five this morning, down at the gym by five-fifteen, but there’s so much energy rocketing around my nerves that I can’t settle down, can’t relax, even though it’s been a long day.
Another turn at the weight bench might be enough. I throw on my workout clothes and head downstairs.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m thoroughly sweaty from running on the treadmill and lifting. My abs are on fire, but so is the rest of me. Exercise isn’t doing a damn thing to take my mind off of her.
I shouldn’t call her.
I absolutely should not text her private cell. We haven’t crossed that line yet, and once we do—
My cock is hard, tenting my workout shorts, and maybe that’s what makes me reach for the phone. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s cold as hell out, and having someone like Marci in my apartment would warm both of us up. In the end, the reason doesn’t seem to matter. I pick up my personal cell off my bedside table, punch in her number, and hit send.
One ring, then two, and I’m on the verge of hanging up. If she asks about it tomorrow, I can always say that I didn’t mean to—
“Senator?”
She sounds a little breathless, and there’s a kind of chatter in the background.
“It’s me.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, not at all.” The background noise fades out. “I was just doing a workout video. It’s too cold to go back outside.”
“I just got back from the gym, too.”
“Great minds.” Marci laughs a little, and the hint of nervousness practically begs me to take control.
“My mind is full of you.”
A sharp little intake of breath. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking about you since I left the office.” The images from the afternoon flash through my mind, and my cock twitches.
“I—I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Is it driving you wild?”
She gives a little sigh. “Yes.”
“How wild?”
“Well, I’m—I’m—-” Over the phone, she’s not quite as confident as she was in the office earlier. This is new territory for us. We’ve talked on the phone thousands of times, but always for business.
“Tell me, Kitten.”
“I’m wet.”
“From working out, or is your pussy dripping because you’ve been thinking about what we did earlier?”
“I’m—my pussy is soaked.” Her voice has gone quiet, like someone might hear her.
“Are you somewhere you can talk? Is your roommate out for the night?”
“I don’t have a roommate.”
“Good. You don’t have to be shy.” I take a breath to steady myself. “Your pussy needs attention.”
“I know.” I can practically see her biting her lip. “I know, but I didn’t want to—I wasn’t sure how I should tell you if I touched myself, if I got out that dildo—”
“Let’s solve that problem right now. Do you have the dildo out?”
“No, Senator.” She responds so quickly to the commanding tone.
“Get it.”
“Okay.” There’s a little rustle of movement, and then a drawer sliding open and closed. “I have it.”
“Are you wet enough to take it?”
“Yes.” The word is very nearly a moan, and I know she won’t have started touching herself yet.
“Take off all your clothes.”
“Yes, Senator.” There’s a click as her phone connects with some hard surface, and a moment later she’s back on the line. “I’m naked.”
“Lay back on your bed.”
No hesitation. “I’m on my bed.”
“Spread your legs. Wide. Like you did for me earlier.”
“Yes, Senator.”
“Now work that dildo into your tight little pussy—and tell me out loud what you’re doing.”
“Yes…” She adjusts her grip on the phone. “Oh—the first inch is in. It’s big, but—”
“But what?”
“Not as big as you. It’s stretching me a little—another inch.”
“Take your time.”
She moans into the phone, and I wrap my own fist around my cock. “The first—the first three inches are in, but I have more to go.”
“If I was there, I’d be fucking you right now. Imagine that it’s me filling you up.”
“Oh, God. Yes, Senator,” she gasps, and I know without having to ask that she’s started to fuck herself, sliding the dildo in and out. “It’s deeper—”
“Fuck yourself. Harder. Let me hear you.”
She doesn’t cover her moans, and faintly, I can hear the dildo pressing into her wetness and drawing back out. I picture her hands wrapped around it, wrapped around my cock, her tongue swirling over the head, the sweet suction of her throat—
“Are you ready to come, Kitten?”
Her yes is almost a yelp.
I’m on the edge, stroking myself hard, closer, closer—
“Come now.”
She cries out, and with the image of her pussy pulsing around the dildo, I explode, grabbing a tissue just in time to catch the spurting come.
For a few moments, I don’t hear anything but Marci’s heavy breathing.
Then, “Thank you, Senator.”
Chapter 15
Marci
At some point soon, the Senator and I are going to have to talk about what’s going on between us.
I don’t want to have this conversation. I really don’t. Not when the sight of him turns me on from head to toe. Not when the sound of his voice on the phone can push me over the edge into orgasm.
But we’re moving into new areas, and the farther we go, the more likely it is that we’ll get caught.
That’s what I’m thinking about, my chin in my hand, when Kathy bustles into the waiting area, folders in hand.
“New bill summari
es!” The singsong tone jolts me from my thoughts, which were a confusing mix of everything that happened yesterday—that’s a good girl, are you ready to come, Kitten?—and general worries about what’s going to happen when we finally get down to brass tacks. “Wow, you jumped about a mile!” Kathy’s grin is conspiratorial. “Man on your mind?”
“What? No, I was thinking about—” I cast around for a plausible white lie. “Next week’s scheduling is a little tricky, but I’ll figure it out.” A laugh floats out from the Senator’s office, and I give her as convincing of a smile as I can muster. The Senator is meeting with a constituent from Connecticut who came to DC on a school field trip with her son and “wanted to really get a sense of what our representatives are doing.” She didn’t look anything like a mom—perky breasts, styled blonde hair—and I wasn’t proud of the flash of jealousy that arced through my chest when I had to step out of the office and let them have their chat.
“O-kay,” Kathy says, and she doesn’t have to roll her eyes—the message is loud and clear. “Did you already have lunch?”
I frown. “I just ordered up. We could go tomorrow, if you want.”
“Great!” She cuts a glance toward the Senator’s door, looks back at me, and waits. Kathy is the type who always wants a deeper conversation than I’m willing to have.
I pick up the folders and start flipping through them. “Great,” I echo. “I’ll let you know if he has comments.”
Another burst of laughter comes from the Senator’s office. Kathy’s eyes are locked on my face. I just smile up at her. “I’ll let you know, Kathy. And decide on a place for tomorrow—I can never choose!”
She has no other reason to stay, but I can tell she doesn’t really want to leave, and my heart beats harder. Does she know something? Impossible. I went to the Senator’s place one time, and the waiting area was as silent as it ever was when I came back out of his office yesterday. There were no new documents on the desk, which means that nobody came to drop anything off, and I know there were no meetings scheduled…
