Vetting The Senator

by Alex Elliott

  I’m torn. Confused. Who am I? Or rather what am I becoming?

  “Master,” I whisper.

  “What are you thinking? Look at me, submissive.”

  “I’m...” I lift my eyes, encountering his aphrodisiac gaze that locks if not dives into me with the power to unearth all my secrets. My heart flutters and I glance downward, but just as fast, he cups and lifts my chin.

  “Talk to me.”

  I don’t want anyone to watch us and yet I do. Being with Bennett in this room feels so intimate and that’s an illusion. This is a carefully crafted stage and scene—we are the players. Nothing more.

  “I’m confused.”

  “Yes, I see that. Is this about the collar or me...or us?”

  I can’t construct what I’m feeling into meaningful words. I shift my eyes toward the mirrored window. “Please, can we talk later?”

  He swings my face back to him and when our gazes reengage, his green eyes blink once, and he nods. Lowering his head, his warm lips meet mine, and he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, devouring my confusion until nothing remains but us. I close my eyes, wind my arms around his neck, and readily lose myself within our kiss.

  He lifts me up and carries me, but we don’t stop kissing, not even when he lays me down on the bed. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I arch off the bed, drowning in waves of pleasure he propels within me.

  * * *

  I’M NEAR the brink as I lift off of Xavia, running my hand over her taut belly. I peel the tiny thong down her hips, staring...fucking, captivated by her waxed cunt as I slide the strip of lace over her shoes. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

  Seductively, she opens her knees, skimming her fingers along her inner thighs and I stiffen, my muscles go rigid. She splays her pussy, blowing my mind. My cock thickens painfully from the vision of her pink lips, slick petals that I’m hungry to taste and pound between, so rough she cries out. She’s wearing my collar and tonight I’m going to own her. Claim her intimately. “Turn over,” I order, and position a padded cushion under her hips, wedging her legs back open again.

  I pick up the rope and separate the twin coils. In the first, I tie a knot in the center, then slip the loop over a cleverly disguised clamp in the footboard to secure it. I thread each rope end through a ring on either bedpost, glancing back at X’s hips hiked upward, and clench my jaw in satisfaction. I’ll remove the plug peeking out between her cheeks, and then her perfect ass is mine as I fuck her and fill her with my cum.

  Holding onto one of her slender ankles, I wrap the rope over and over before tying it off. I repeat the same type of knot on her other leg. Picking up the other coil of silk rope, I walk to the front of the bed and meet her gaze, lift her hand and tug. Her eyes flare with heat as I wrap the rope around her forearm down to her wrist and pull it snug into a secure knot. I attach the center of the rope to a clamp on the headboard.

  Leaning over the headboard, I arch a brow. “Beg me to bind you,” I command her in a low voice.

  She gasps. This is her last limb that’s free and the ultimate form of submission. A test and she knows it.

  “Please...tie me up.”

  I shake my head. “Louder.”

  “Please, Master.” She cranes her neck, and the muscles along her back contract. “Please bind me to this bed!”

  Fuck, I love to hear her beg. Gently, I lift her wrist and lower my lips to her hand. “You’re perfect.”

  This last knot I dispense with, tying the rope quickly. She’s spread-eagle, completely vulnerable, and what a masterpiece. For a second, I admire how beautiful Xavia is, splayed open for my pleasure. I check the lines, and they’re all taut. I undress, pick up the bottle of lube, and climb onto the bed. Tonight I’m going to spank her with my palms as I take possession of her ass. I drop the bottle next to my knee and rub my hands over her cheeks, spreading her apart, and remove the plug.

  “Breathe,” I command her. “And beg for what you want.”

  “Master, please fuck me,” she says. Not once but several times.

  I run my fingers through her smooth pussy, pressing her lips apart, and pinch her clit. She arches and I thrust two fingers in and out of her, enjoying how she bumps and grinds against me, moaning in a husky voice. I pummel my hand against her rougher, deeper as she begs me for more. She’s wet, the walls of her cunt choke my fingers and my dick pulses in need of pounding...owning her. I squeeze the bottle, coating my fingers and my cock with slippery liquid. She’s open and I don’t wait.

  I coast my finger into her channel, gliding in and out of her. “Beg me. Tell me how much you want this.”

  Tipping up her hips, she pulls on the ropes with her arms. “Please, fuck my ass.”

  Her submission is my drug of choice. A deep groan from the fiery pleasure her voice and body invoke rises in my throat as my cock judders. I spear two of my fingers into her ass, and she gasps, her body tightens, and I remind her to breathe as I pump my fingers into her until I can’t take another second. Withdrawing my fingers, I grip my cock coated in lube, align my crown with her entrance, and push forward, splaying her ass cheeks apart as my tip enters her. So. Fucking. Good.

  My muscles go rigid as I force myself to go slow. I pull back and she clenches her ass, her walls compress like a vise around my crown. “Relax and let me inside you.”

  I flex, holding onto X, and drive my shaft into her—she’s soft—I need more. Jolting forward, she mews sharply, but I’m an animal. I capture her, wrapping my hands over the curves of her hips. Hauling her to me, I impale my tip into her.

  Gotta feel myself balls deep but she’s tense, her channel tight. I grab the lube and drizzle droplets over my erections and along the seam of her ass. I piston my hips, only pumping my crown into her as the instinct to savagely thrust gets stronger, harder to ignore. Holding back, I’m so fucking on edge. “This is going to hurt. No way around it, but afterwards, you’ll feel pleasure.”

  “Do it,” she whispers. “Hard. I want it.”

  Holy fuck! Hearing her beg for what I’d love to deliver, I shudder. My cock is pure steel as I peel her cheeks apart, staring at my engorged crown. My muscles twitch from all I’ve held back but no more. I slam my hips forward, plunging my rod into her.

  “God, baby!” She’s unbelievably tight. Slick. Perfect.

  Hauling up her hips, I pump my length farther. All my muscles lock as I sink fully into her ass. My eyes roll back in my head and for a long as fuck second I stay swathed inside her and exhale deeply, releasing a primal groan.

  X is mine. All. Mine.

  She’s got her head down on the pillow and I pull out slow, watching my dick as I withdraw a few inches then I reenter her. Hard. Fast. I repeat watching and withdrawing, a few more inches until I’m rimming her rosette. I ram my cock back into her, smacking my balls against her ass, and fully retreat until the ridge of my crown rims her, owns her.

  “Say it!” I need to hear her beg me to be fucked. I slap my hand over her ass in a gliding spank. Not once but several times.

  “Now. Please, Master. Fuck my ass.”

  My dick glistens, thick and swollen, and the veins along the sides stick out from being fully, erotically aroused. I pound into her, grinding against her plump cheeks. With each pump, I spank her ass, and make her beg for more. I’m so turned on by being a voyeur to my cock as I savagely pound my shaft into her pinkened ass. I own her. Fuck her. Spank her with the mind-eviscerating brutality I hunger for and she supplies.

  I swipe my fingers through her pussy. She’s wet, slick, moaning for more. Together we move in a rough rhythm that makes the bed shake and rock along the floor. I finger fuck her as I pound into her from behind. I’m so there but need her to unravel with me. I pinch her clit, driven to the edge where I hunger to hear her cry out in pain and rapture. This near violent fuck intoxicates me and I bend over her, hooking my fingers along her shoulders like a rutting beast, as I ram my cock into her.

  “Fuck. Oh fuck!” I curse as I slam into
her without mercy.

  “Please. I need to come,” she begs, trembling as her muscles contract and she squeezes the thoughts from my mind and the cum from my cock.

  “Now, baby! Open for me.” I’m gone. Over the cliff.

  Thunderous euphoria rips through me as we climax together. I bow over her body, giving into the haze of coming so hard I can’t see straight. Jagged pleasure explodes, flashes white-fire under my skin, and I shudder as another furious jolt of cum shoots out of my cock.

  Chapter 14

  THE EAGLE HAS LANDED

  A WEEK later after a series of disconnects, I finally scale the stairs at O’Malley’s. There’s Jax and he’s engaged in an animated cell conversation. I unbutton my jacket before taking my seat, watching him with his phone attached to his face. The waiter takes my drink order and when I sit, Jax rolls his eyes, telling the person on the other end, “Next time.”

  “You beat me here,” I say, glancing at my watch. Really, I’m scoping out the room as I lift my eyes.

  He sets his phone on the table and snorts. “I’m not the one who has an issue with structure. Am I?”

  “I bet you plan your boxers a month ahead. Shit, I pity the person you end up with.” I grin, but I’m serious. He borders on OCD in maintaining an organized life except for his one flaw in being on time to lunch appointments.

  “That person will thank God I do,” he retorts. “I work hard to be damned near perfect so fuck off.”

  He’s the king of structure.

  No argument.

  His phone rings and I drum my fingers on the table when he takes the call. He’s also the king of cell talk. I lift my water glass and peruse the place. The upstairs is virtually empty and that’s unusual as hell. O’Malley’s is a place that requires a reservation, a favor, or extreme luck to score a seat during lunch. Jax always requests a table near the front, but not today. Our customary table is right over there and it’s empty as are most of the booths.

  Jax is still jabbering on. So fuck, I remove my own cell, click through my staffers’ texts and reply to three messages yet I’m aware of the action around us. In the five minutes since I arrived, the upstairs is now devoid of other patrons. We’re near the backstairs in a room designed with booths and alcoves. Secretive as shit, and now I wonder who else is joining us. The more upfront I strive to be, ironically I keep ending up in out-of-the-way places.

  Jax hangs up and sighs, shifting his attention to the pair of sunglass wearing men who just entered the space. Probably Secret Service from the looks of them. Standard operating fixture in D.C. and I for one, don’t pay them any heed.

  “About time. Even seated here, you still run perpetually late for lunch,” I reply, picking up a menu. “What’s the special today?”

  “I am,” a woman’s voice purrs.

  I glance up and meet Angela Warner’s fixed stare but instead of greeting her, I glare. It’s almost been a year since she and I hooked up at the House. And for the last two weeks, she’s requested three appointments. The last one was a sham.

  “Not even a hello?” She lifts a brow. I notice the two men who entered seconds ago, stand off to the side, but in the line of sight of our table.

  “What do you want?” I keep my voice devoid of any emotion, my face neutral. Early on, I learned that this woman feeds off drama. Her first move comes across as sparring like a vulture circling a carcass.

  “My goodness, Ben,” she scoffs. “Christ, what’s gotten into you?”

  “Angela.” Jax stands. “Good to see you.”

  I flash my eyes to him. He’d better not fucking invite her to sit down. “Senator Warner, just the other day, you requested yet another meeting. Just curious why you need more face time with me given I’m booked solid.”

  “We could talk now,” she suggests.

  The two men in suits appear at her side and they speak in clipped tones into their cells. “Eagle is free to land. I repeat, the eagle is free to land.”

  One of the suits pulls out a chair and she proceeds to sit down. I stiffen and look from her to the suits, then to Jax. “Ben,” he says my name in strained voice. “Just listen to the offer.”

  “Really, Jax?” I say in complete disbelief, and then repeat myself I’m so fucking astonished, “Really!”

  I go to stand, but another duo of dark suits enters the upstairs area. They promptly step aside, and Gabriel North appears. Fuck me flying!

  “Senators and Speaker,” the eagle says, smirking before he motions to the men at his side. “Agents, proceed. Give an ‘all clear’ when you’re done.”

  The men flanking the president scour the place with hungry expressions while another crew of three men with bomb sniffing dogs—FBI hotshots—sweep the place for devices and explosives.

  The waiter returns with Jax’s and my drink, as well as North’s customary sealed bottle of chilled Grey Goose with frosted glasses. The waiter pours two neat shots, setting one in front of the president and the other in front of Warner.

  An agent steps up to the table. “All clear, Mr. President.”

  North nods, picking up his glass, and casts a glance around the table that settles on me. “Well done last week. Pity you and your sub have been running under the radar since. Will you be at the club tonight?”

  “No.” I meet his heavy-lidded stare; his deep-set eyes hold mine from across the table. This man has requested a private viewing of me in Dom action. I’ve held off, out maneuvered him by rescinding Jax’s Wednesday night offer and showed up at the House with X last Saturday morning when the place was empty. If he were anyone else and my sub were anyone else, I’d raise my glass and shoot the shit with him. Pick a date. Eat lunch, discuss Hill antics, and be on my merry way. But he wants to watch me with X—doing what I have no idea. I doubt it’s playing poker.

  “Sorry to hear,” North remarks.

  Warner is seated next to him, and Jax arranged this ludicrous lunch well aware of the fucked-over terms on which she and I parted. How many levels of hell have I just descended and where is this going? “Apparently, you called for this meeting,” I reply, lifting my glass. “Care to tell me what’s it’s about?”

  “You. And that sub of yours.” North quirks an eyebrow, then tosses back his drink without missing a beat. “I have a proposition.”

  “Which is?” Clenching my jaw, I remain seated, and consider my options. The proverbial shoe dropped and now, the question is am I the only person seated, waiting on the next shoe to fall?

  “Unavoidable.” That’s all he says.

  His candor is anything but. He’s infamous for political savagery which equates to being seamless. Cold. Ice. North is from Detroit. Graduated from West Point. Served in the Gulf War. Has a reputation to possess a left hook that could knock out a man on contact in his day. We share party affiliations. He’s married, has two children, and now five grandchildren. “Sign this,” he says and removes a folded piece of paper from his jacket. He slides it across the table to me.

  “If this has anything to do with your previous offer. No thanks,” I reply.

  “It doesn’t.” He unfolds his napkin, without meeting my gaze.

  Last Wednesday, he offered me carte blanche, a one-time White House deal where he’d back me as POTUS, if I let my sub suck him off. He wanted her down on her knees in front of the whole club in the main lounge.

  I refused his offer. That was the second time he’s approached me. This is the third time, and it’s apparent he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. My other partners would jump at an offer to showcase their talents. Being watched is the whole reason for the House and why we opened the damn thing. But with X—it’s different. This lunch is totally a fucked up continuation of his offer—but which one?

  I open the paper and read ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement.” I’m unimpressed. “What exactly does this NDA involve?”

  “Stone, it’s like this...I need your services. I’m accustomed to brokering deals,” he admits and I shake my head.

  �
�I don’t have any for sale.”

  “Sure you do.”

  To think of him, sitting in a room, on the other side of a glass wall, and potentially watching X...the tick, tick, tick, tock in my head hammers hard. Hammers loud. Loud. Louder.

  It’s as though the whole world has slowed. My ribcage tightens. A jolt of rage wraps around me like barbed wire.

  “I’m going to get what I want,” he snarls.

  “Your opinion,” I return, and that razor sharp knife of apprehension, a quicksilver slither of serpentine dread, cuts through the haze, and every fiber of every muscle in my body constricts. I ball my fingers into fists. Fingers grip my am, and I turn.

  The waiter returns to the table, wearing a wide grin, and asks, “May I take your order?”

  Simultaneously, Jax leans over, handing me a pen and whispers. Low. Discreet. “Take. It. Easy.”

  With my jaws clamped shut, I give a curt nod. Nothing more. He’s lucky I don’t deck his ass and leave. But my mother didn’t raise a stupid son. The leader of the free world if he desired could have me gone. Locked up and locked away. No questions asked. I’m not strictly in a rage for myself. This is panoramic shit and I’m tumbling...my thoughts racing over dots that serve as connections like tripwires on the ground.

  The game becomes uncover what North wants and the cost. Not that I’m entertaining conveyance. I’m gathering the most precious of precious commodities. Time. I sign my name and toss the NDA next to North’s elbow as he orders his lunch.

  “Vegetarian Lasagna. Side. Steamed broccoli. Salad. Fresh lemon. She’ll have the same,” he says in a nasal monotone, and something clicks. Warner doesn’t eat vegetables. Or rather when I knew her, she was the anti-Christ to vegans. Had been all her life. Might explain why she’s suddenly lost some weight, and has started to appear gaunt.