The Politician
The Politician
by
Marteeka Karland
&
Shara Azod
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Copyright © 2011 Marteeka Karland & Shara Azod
Editor: Novellette Whyte
Proof Reader: Stephanie Parent
Cover Art: Shara Azod
Dedication
This book is dedicated with love to Jayha Leigh who ride us for more, more, more- pushing us to be the very best we can be. And Jayha the answer is no.
~ Marteeka & Shara
The Politician
Chapter One
The sounds from the blues bar across the street were as hot as the sultry summer night in St. Augustine. James Monroe Buchanan sighed, wishing his campaign manager would look the other way for a change. Why he’d invited the man to come along on his vacation he would never know. He'd love to have a few drinks and just sit and listen. So far, everyone there seemed to be having a great time—everyone except Stafford, who was far too uptight for his own good.
Not for the first time, James' attention wandered around the tiny place. He was supposed to be meeting with several key party members to discuss his re-election strategies, but his mind simply wasn't in it. This was supposed to be a vacation, damn it! High-powered money men always set his teeth on edge; it was one of the parts he hated about politics. It took way too much money to run a campaign. He couldn't concentrate on a thing any of them said. Watching his cousin Robert rolling his eyes wasn’t helping.
“James, have you heard a word I've said? Your stance on several issues will need to be tweaked. You're simply not conservative enough anymore to make it through Georgia. You'll to have to get tougher on crime, immigration and taxes.” His campaign manager, Stafford, waved a hand as if encompassing everything in general. James gripped his chair to try to keep from throttling him.
“Come on, Staff. I'm on vacation. That means I don't give a fuck right now.”
Robert smothered a laugh by ducking his head and taking a drink of his scotch. At least he had the manners to hide it. Mason didn't bother to hide his laughter.
“He's got a point, Staff. We invited him here to relax before starting full swing into his re-election. You don't want the golden boy here burning out, do you?” Robert tried his best to deflect. Rob was good like that, always the peacemaker.
“Laugh all you want. I'm simply stating a fact.” Stafford leaned forward, catching their gazes with his steely eyes. Like it or not, the man was passionate about his job. It was why James had hired him and why he kept him. The man might get on his nerves from time to time, but he was damned good at what he did. “Do you want to win, or do you want to win by a landslide? I'm looking beyond the small scale and seeing the bigger picture, and I'm telling you, if you play your cards right, it could lead you straight to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.”
No one spoke for a moment. It was Mason who broke the silence.
“Wow. I think I just got a hard-on. Too bad you can’t marry my sister, her being your cousin and all.”
Naturally, everyone had a good chuckle over that; well, everyone but Stafford. He simply stood, downed what was left of his drink, and left. That was fine. He wouldn't stay mad long. Much as James needed the man, he was entirely too much “the job.” James loved serving his country in the best way he could, but everyone needed time off. Those who didn't soon found themselves either burned out or in the middle of a huge scandal because they didn't take time to play. James might be a lot of things, but he absolutely would not disgrace his office because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.
Although he was single, there were still many pitfalls he needed to avoid. Not that he was going to go out and embroil himself in anything remotely scandalous. He’d kept his nose clean all his life, knowing he wanted to go into politics. Sometimes it led to a lonely life, but he loved his job, and to him it was worth it. Unwinding a little at a beachfront club wasn’t going to tarnish him in any way, right? It wasn't like he had a wife and kids back home.
Again, the music called to him as a sweet, melodic voice drifted on the sea breeze. Was it a live singer or just a really good acoustic system? He had to see. There was just something about that voice.
“Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. I need to see a man about a dog.” James grinned. It has always been their favorite saying when they were simply tired and needed a change of scenery.
Robert snorted. “You mean you're going across the street to see where that voice is coming from. I may look dumb, but I'm a man. It's getting under my skin too.”
So much for shaking his cousins; he should have known better. They had always been close, more like brothers. If nothing else, they probably wanted to see him moon over a voice he'd never seen the face to, then make fun of him for it.
“Hell, she's probably five hundred pounds and eighty years old,” he groused good naturedly.
“Probably,” Mason agreed. “But you're going anyway.”
“Naturally,” he muttered, tossing down money to cover his drinks before making his way to the cozy club on the water.
No matter what he’d said, expectations were kind of high. How could a voice so damn sweet come from a hideous package? Didn’t seem probable. As much as he hated to admit it, he shook a little as they were shown to a small table tucked near the back of the place. He didn't even look toward the stage until they were fully seated. As Mason ordered the drinks, James slowly lifted his eyes to the stage and immediately felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut.
“Damn, now that is what I call a woman,” Rob muttered.
James wanted to throw something over his cousin’s head so that he couldn’t look at her any more. It was an insane reaction. He didn't know the goddess on the stage, but he felt an immediate connection—like she was already his and he just had to make it so in reality.
“Damn, we should have come over here sooner,” Mason agreed, making James even more irritated.
“Have you come to this place often?” he asked Mason, who lived here. It seemed unbelievable that Mason wouldn’t know who she was. The man was the consummate horn dog. “Who is she? Does she live here? Does she sing here often?”
That was probably way too much way too soon, but damn it, he couldn’t help it. She seemed to glow onstage. It was just that her skin seemed to be almost iridescent, a dark pecan and honey, making his mouth water to nibble on it. Her hair swung every time she moved her head, a short fall of straight black, silken strands. James wanted to bury his hands in it, use it to pull her to him as he took those lush berry-colored lips. Damn, he was hard as stone, and he didn't even know her name. Not unusual for most men, but for him a rarity.
“Her name's Lark,” Mason announced, reading from the little program that had been on the table the entire time, his movements exaggerated. It was very obvious he was laughing at James. “From Southern California, San Diego in fact.”
Smartass. There was no way in hell he was letting either cousin get a jump on him, though. He had to meet her, just to talk to her. Yeah, he knew he was lying to himself, but it didn’t matter. Stafford pitching a bitch didn't matter. He had to meet this woman.
�
��I’ll be back,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Hey, old Staffy give you the key to your cock cage?” Rob threw back at him as he made his way from the table. Mason let out a belly laugh. Bastards.
James didn’t bother to answer, but he did send his cousins a one-fingered salute before he pushed his way through the throng of summer tourists and locals. Nothing mattered but being near the exit of the stage when she came down. Worries about whether or not she was taken tried to crowd his obsessed mind, but it didn't seem all that important. He'd simply smash the face of anyone who tried to come between him and the lovely Lark.
Another ten minutes, and her set was over. James saw the hesitation in her eyes when he reached for her hand to help her down the stairs. Still, she slid her hand into his gracefully and allowed the contact.
“Well, well, well. Congressman Buchanan, I must say I am honored, sort of.”
James felt as if he’d just swallowed his tongue. Her voice was twice as lovely speaking as it was when she sang. He wanted to say something witty, but all the blood seemed to have rushed from his brain to his groin.
“You know my name?” That could either be very good or very bad. He wasn’t sure which.
“I’m a C-Span junkie.” she flashed him a smile that damn near blinded him. She was more beautiful up close than she’d been from afar. “And just so you know, I cheer for the other team.”
Any other time that would have been a huge clue to step away, but he just couldn’t seem to do that. There was some kind of magnetic pull he just couldn’t manage to escape from. Her dark eyes gleamed like black diamonds, clear and full of laughter and life.
“That’s okay.” Man, now he was sounding like a grade-A dork. “I, uh, liked your music.”
Maybe leaving Rob and Mason back at the table wasn’t such a hot idea after all. Usually, words flowed from him with ease, but his brain seemed to be on stall when talking to her. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush. He was sure he was even blushing.
Her smile was brilliance itself, and he felt a curious melting in the vicinity of his heart. Had he lived in a cartoon world, he would have been nothing more than a puddle at her feet. Instead, he stood there, in her way, grinning like a fool.
“Glad I appealed to you.”
Was she kidding?
“Is there some place we can...talk? Privately?” Okay, that was a little strong, but he couldn't seem to come up with anything else and he needed to get her away from prying eyes. He needed to be alone with her, if only to bask in her presence. He wanted to be the only thing in her world for just a little while.
She seemed to appraise him, weighing his worth. Did she find him lacking?
“Well, I'm pretty sure you're not a serial killer. With the media hounding politicians nowadays, I don't think that would be a secret you could easily keep. I happen to know you’re not married, so it seems harmless.” She grinned, moving past him, but allowing him to retain possession of her hand. “Come on. My dressing room is this way. We can...talk...there.” He could practically see her rolling her eyes at him, but the only thing he felt was elation. She was giving him an opportunity to get to know her a little better, and that was fine by him.
It was all kinds of wrong to have his eyes glued on the sway of her hips as she turned to lead the way. There was quite possibly not a man alive who could’ve looked away. He knew he certainly couldn't, so he didn't try. He’d heard about perfect hourglass figures, but he’d never seen one with his own two eyes until now.
They reached a door near the back of the hall and she opened it, stepping inside with all the grace of a lioness. The second she'd shut the door, James pulled her to him, unable to resist a second longer. He expected her to resist, but instead, she only smiled and melted against him. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted to go about things; he’d wanted to seduce her with tenderness, show her how truly special she was, but he didn't seem to be capable of anything other than basic need. He needed her like he needed to breathe.
Immediately, his lips descended on hers. He took what he wanted, what he needed, and she seemed to meet him with every bit of desire he felt. Her lips parted, inviting him inside, and he was powerless to resist her pull. It was as if she was his perfect opposite, so very feminine to his masculinity. His tongue plunged into her mouth like he was invading without mercy. Lips so soft they were like wet velvet caressed his, urging him to take more. Her tongue danced with his, filling his mouth with the intoxicating taste of her.
Head spinning, cock pounding, James mashed her against the door and lifted her, urging her legs around his waist. Thank God she was wearing a skirt—he might have been tempted to tear pants off her if she hadn’t been. Her breathing was as raspy and needy as his own, and he could see the pulse beating frantically at her throat before finding her lips with his again. Never in his life had he felt such burning need.
Impatiently, he ground his cock against the juncture of her thighs. The loose-fitting, short skirt she wore gave him easy access to her center, and he used the advantage shamelessly. Making sure his ridge pressed directly over her clit, he thrust his hips at her. Her little gasp told him he'd hit the right spot. Lark gripped his hair in her fist and held him to her, kissing him with as much intensity as he kissed her. Her heels dug into his ass, and she met each of his thrusts with a tilt of her pelvis, meeting him gladly, eagerly.
James knew she was close. Her ragged breathing and the little whimpering noises she made in between kisses gave away her passion. More than anything, in that moment, James needed to see her come. He needed to know it was him who'd given her that pleasure.
“That's it, sugar. Come for me. Let go,” he whispered between kisses.
Lark's body tensed, and she let go a little cry followed by spasmic thrusting of her hips at him. She gasped and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as she came. His ass ached where her heels dug into him, but he didn't care. She'd come. For him.
The Politician
Chapter Two
Lark was flying! Her body sang like the song bird she was named for. Who'd have thought she'd experience such pleasure at the hands of a politician? Not just any politician either, but a conservative one at that. It was almost cliche. The man probably had little rendezvous all the time. Though, she had to admit, she'd never heard of anything like that out of him and with the recent media frenzy of philandering politicians, she was sure she'd have remembered if his name was mentioned. She'd never admit it to a soul, but she'd always thought the man was hot. More than hot. Scorching.
He clung to her as tightly as she did to him, both of them breathing hard. Amazing! The best orgasm of her life and they were both still fully clothed. What did that say about her sex life? Inviting a man back to her dressing room wasn’t something Lark usually did. Actually, she never did this kind of thing. It was rare that she went on the road, but she’d decided to this summer just for a change of scenery. She was actually kind of a homebody back in San Diego. The last thing she’d expected when she decided to spread her wings a little was to run into a politician she’d always thought was hot, though too uptight for his own good. Strange how the man she had often fantasized about was now right here in front of her, and man oh man was this better than anything her mind could have cooked up.
She grinned. “Wow.” His answering chuckle sent heat pooling deep in her belly. This was a man whose playground she could spend some serious time in. Lord knows he knew how to play in hers.
“Wow, indeed. That's got to be the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on.”
“I totally agree.” She pulled back slightly to look at him, her hand automatically going to his face in a gentle caress. The man was gorgeous. His features were chiseled, but not harshly so. He had good strong features, a man of impeccable character. Few men could live up to the kind of masculine beauty he held, but he managed. Okay, so following a bar singer to her dressing room wasn't exactly living up to the standards she set, but she wasn't a hypocrite. She'd wanted this as
much as he apparently did. How could she blame him for something she'd given in to herself? Even now, she wanted more. She wanted him deep inside her, filling her, taking her to heights of pleasure she'd only read about.
Without waiting for instructions, her hands slid from around his neck to the small, round buttons of his shirt. She slipped two of them through the tiny holes, just enough to see dark blond hair peeking at her before he put one hand over both of hers.
“No, sugar. Not now. Not here.” His voice sounded strained. Indeed, he looked like he was in pain. Between her legs, his cock jumped in time to his heartbeat, letting her know he was still hard and ready for her. He obviously wanted the same thing she did, so she had no problem seducing him.
Lark cocked her head to the side, considering him for a moment. “Why not? I may not be in the habit of doing this sort of thing—and believe me, I am so not—but I'm pretty sure you want me as much as I want you.” In her way of thinking, there was no point in denying the obvious. She was single, he was single, they were both consenting adults. It was crazy as hell to feel this way about someone she’d just met, but who was she to question the cosmos?
His face hardened, and the intense look sent shivers down her spine to coil tightly inside her and make her pussy ache with need. “I don’t think you do this often. I'm not denying that I want you, but I'd certainly like our first time to be in a bed. You have a nice dressing room, but my masculine honor won't let me cheapen you by making love to you on a couch.”
Lark was certain her smile split her face while her heart melted just a little bit more. She'd never met a man concerned about anything like that. Sex was sex. It didn't matter where it happened as long as it happened. That old-fashioned streak he had was something that really shouldn’t have surprised her at all. Still, she loved that he felt that way. It made her feel all mushy and feminine. He definitely wasn't an ordinary politician, or an ordinary man for that matter. Ahhh, she wished she could keep him, though she was way too practical to even go there.
The Politician Page 1
