Chapter Three

MICHELLE

A tingling warmth between my thighs woke me from my eight-hour slumber.

My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the morning light pouring in through the curtains. I sat up on the bed, my elbows sinking into the mattress. Tate’s striking blue eyes were gazing back at me from between my legs. I fell back on my pillows with a sleepy smile on my face. He tossed my white cotton panties over his shoulder, the tip of his tongue tasting me with slow, deliberate circles.

I let my eyelids droop shut once more. I pulled my lace nightgown to my neck and reached for my breasts, helping myself out with sensual gropes. But just as I was about to lose myself in the magic of Tate’s nimble tongue, he pulled away from me.

My eyes shot open once again. Before I could protest, Tate screwed his fingers into my hips and flipped me over in one rough motion. I buried my face into my pillow, a faint trace of my sleepy sweat wafting into my nostrils. My grumpy groans went unheard, bleeding into the fluffy goose feathers.

Tate gave my ass a loud, full-palm slap. Hearing him spitting into his hand behind me, I raised my stinging ass cheeks instinctively. I waited as he coated the head of his dick with his spit and shoved himself into me.

I winced, the walls of my pussy stinging from the friction of his movement. But gradually, the harder he drove his cock in and out of me, my juices started flowing. I turned my head, gasping for air and clutching the edges of my pillow. Strands of my hair clung to my flushed face.

Tate flopped on top of me. He intertwined my legs with him, weighing my ankles down. He then proceeded to pull my nightie over my head and press his sticky chest and hard stomach against my sweaty back. I yanked my hair out of my mouth, struggling underneath him to make myself comfortable.

Reaching behind me, I weaved my fingers through his and grabbed his hand. I slipped it under me, placing his fingertips on the pearl of my clit. Despite my evident desire, Tate rubbed me halfheartedly, quickly losing interest as he focused on his thrusts.

Sighing, I started to touch myself again where he had left off.

“Yeah, baby, I’m getting close...” he murmured.

Tate snatched up my wrists and pinned them to my sides. Hot sweat from his dripping chin struck the side of my face like pellets. I clenched my ass cheeks, defeated, crossing my thighs to help him to completion. When I felt his dick twitching inside of me, I loosened the grip on my legs. Tate ejected himself, towering over me as his milky emissions drizzled limply all over my back.

I blew a raspberry under my breath. Resting my chin on my arm, I hopefully waited for him to clean me off. Instead, he rolled off the bed and casually tossed a towel on me.

I sat up, bending my arm at an awkward angle to dab at the cum on my back. Tate got off the bed immediately.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Tate stopped in the bathroom doorway, looking back at me cluelessly. “I’m taking a shower?”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” I threw the towel aside, spreading my legs open suggestively. “Don’t you want to finish me off?”

“Oh, right.” Tate rubbed the back of his neck, turning away from me. “I’m still kind of wiped out from that meeting yesterday. Maybe later.” He sped into the shower.

“Never mind,” I grumbled under my breath. I pulled up the sheets to cover my body. The trusty dildo hidden in my panties drawer was better sex lately, anyway.

After a quick and silent shower, Tate and I dried off and headed out to the kitchen. The staff had prepared lavish trays of breakfast for us, putting them in the oven to keep warm. Tate grabbed his food and pulled up a stool behind the black soapstone countertop. He claimed the spot was in the optimal location to see the television in the living room, allowing him to appreciate every pixel on the giant screen.

“Honey, can you pass me the remote?”

“Sure.” I set my tray down on the counter next to him and handed him the control.

“Thank you.”

I marveled at my weekend breakfast, salivating at the sight of my food. The tray brimmed with sugar-glazed pastries, a colorful cheese omelet, diced fruit, and a steaming cup of tea. I dipped my pinkie into a tiny tub of grape jam, licking it off my finger happily.

“Breakfast smells fantastic. I wish the staff would stick around longer so I can thank them personally for cooking all this delicious food every day.”

“It’s all right, I suppose. The omelet’s a little bland,” Tate remarked with his mouth full. He switched on the television, selecting Time of Our Lives on the movie menu. “You probably won’t run into any of them soon. I pay them to be invisible.”

“That reminds me of something.” Taking a big bite out of my honey muffin, I walked over to my bag, which was hanging on the purse rack in our bedroom. I took out a beige envelope and returned to the kitchen, laying the package next to Tate’s tray. “I meant to give this to you a few days ago. It’s my payment for the bills this month.”

Tate peeked inside the envelope, raising his eyebrows.

“I wish you didn’t insist on paying half of the bills. You know I can handle everything for both of us.” He closed the envelope and casually tossed it on the stool next to him. “It’s been over three years, and I still don’t think you understand our financial situation. Why don’t you keep this and buy yourself something pretty?”

“I have enough pretty things, thanks,” I answered him flatly. “For now, this is an equal partnership, and I’d like to keep it that way. If I’m not going to pay for rent, you have to let me take care of some of the bills, at least.”

“All right, if it means that much to you,” he said quickly, pocketing the envelope.

“Thank you. I don’t mean to snap at you, but it means a lot to me.”

“Sorry, honey, would you mind keeping it down for a minute?” He put his fingers to his lips as he turned up the volume on the television.

Tate appeared on the screen, stealing the scene in a suave leather jacket. The camera zoomed close, enlarging Tate’s slicked back hair and pensive eyes. It followed him as he strode across the living room set. As a cheesy violin instrumental played in the background, a cute brunette in a shimmery gold gown rushed into the scene. She clapped a hand over her chest dramatically, her painted red lips quivering.

“Oh, Julian. You came back for me!”

“Of course I did, my love.”

‘Julian’ wrapped his arms around the brunette’s waist, gazing deeply into her soul. Next to me, Tate was mouthing along to every word on the screen. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, directing my attention to the rest of my muffin instead.

“But what about the race at Devil’s Peak?”

“Forget the race, Sally. No race is worth risking what you and I have together. When I’m out there, feeling the wind whipping in my face through the open windows, being one with the open road...I used to think that was everything I could ever want.” There was a dramatic pause. “But the truth is that all I want is you.”

As Julian and the brunette pawed at each other’s faces in true soap opera fashion, Tate beamed.

“Did you catch that, Michelle?” He poked me in the rib with his elbow. “I think that was one of the best lines of my career. How about you?”

“Absolutely.” I swallowed hard, the muffin suddenly making my throat feel dry and thick. As I reached for my tea, I decided a change of topic was in order. “Did you hear about the Yarian ship that crashed on Maplewood Ranch yesterday? It was all over the news last night.”

“I think I heard something about it after my meeting, but I wasn’t paying much attention.” Tate shrugged and turned back to the screen. “I suppose someone on my team will fill me in on the latest gossip.”

“It’s pretty crazy stuff. I saw a few pictures of the ship on TV, and it is huge. It must be a military craft. Apparently, they were traveling back to Yaria when one of its systems failed, and it had to make an emergency landing here on Earth. Luckily, no one was hurt. I think they landed on an empty corn field, just like all the old ships that made crop circles.”

“Sure. Lucky,” Tate echoed absentmindedly, apparently not hearing a word I said.

“Do you remember Luna Maris? It’s a breathtaking moon that is in Yaria’s orbit. I think the spacecraft that just landed on Maplewood Ranch is a Keeper ship. I’ve read that Keepers are highly skilled soldiers.”

“Ah-ha!” Tate interjected caustically. “That explains your sudden obsession with these little green men.”

“I don’t think they’re green, and they have a name. Keepers.” My face twisted with disgust at his childish attitude. “What’s your problem? I was just about to say that it could be interesting if we had the chance to meet one of them. I think I’ve been talking about visiting Luna Maris almost every day. Now that some of their natives are here, it could be an opportunity to see the galaxy.”

“The thought of meeting Yarian army men excites you, doesn’t it?” Tate folded his arms over his chest and clenched his jaw.

“There are Keeper women, too, you know, in case you’re looking for a fuck buddy.” I jabbed my fork into the melon and sighed. “Do you know what? It’s early, and we shouldn’t be starting the day with a fight. Let’s move on if we can.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Tate bitterly, turning back to his tray. “But while we’re on the subject, remember something. Aliens aren’t always as exotic as they look in the movies. The savages are often barbaric and uncivilized, especially when it comes to the military types.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tate switched the television back to cable, stopping at a news channel. The screen featured a list of the twelve governor candidates, ranked by their poll numbers. Tate’s name was fourth on the list, raking in twenty-one percent of the respondents.

“Goddamn it.” Tate slammed his fist on the counter, making the plates and bowls jump up in his tray. “I was polling in third last week. How did I lose that many votes in seven days? And to that clown, Jones?”

“I’m sorry, babe,” I murmured, squeezing his arm. “It’s probably just a bad week. I’m sure things will pick up soon. You have to get out there, meet more people, and convince them you’re a winner. Remember that sweet old lady outside Textra?”

“What does it matter?” Tate pulled away from me, sulking. “It didn’t look like that old bat had many fights left in her. Knowing my luck, she’ll pass away before election day.”

It made me feel like a terrible girlfriend, but Tate wasn’t getting my vote, either. To put it objectively, Tate had no business running for any office. He had no previous political experience whatsoever, barely knew anything about the charities he donated to solely for tax purposes, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. It wasn’t as if he could rely on an experienced team like other politicians, either. The people running his campaign were a bunch of jackasses, too. With a bunch of airhead interns and middle-age party boys steering the boat, it was no surprise his campaign was at a standstill. The only reason Tate had twenty-one percent of the vote was due to his celebrity status.

A few months before Tate announced he was running for governor, he received a movie offer which sent him spiraling into a deep depression that lasted for months. It was the role of Benson Langley, a failing stockbroker and father of a twelve-year-old girl. Tate knew it was a sign that the industry was beginning to think his best days were behind him. The role was starkly different from the hunky heartthrob characters he had grown accustomed to portraying.

At the end of the day, the elaborate campaign was a tedious, long-winded, and expensive boost to Tate’s ego. I had tried several times to talk him out of it and get him to suspend his efforts, but when I realized he would never listen to me, I gave him my grudging support. I didn’t agree with anything, but if it was what he truly wanted, I wasn’t going to stop him.

“Did you return the call from ANC Entertainment yet?” I asked him gently, doing my best to tread lightly around the touchy subject.

“Of course not.” Tate scowled. “The character has ten lines. Why would I waste my time?”

“Pablo Estevez is directing it, isn’t he?” I tested my luck, trying again. “Every one of his films in the last four years has won multiple awards, and they’ve been received very well by critics.”

“I can look up movie statistics just as well as you can. The only statistic that matters is ten lines.” Tate looked at me stubbornly. “Will you give it a rest already? It’s not as if you know anything about the business.”

Tate’s phone started to ring.

“Here you go.” I caught the vibrating phone before it toppled off the edge of the counter.

“I’ll take that.” Tate grabbed his phone out of my hands. He spun around in his stool, turning his back to me as he answered his phone.

“Hello? Listen, not right now. I’ll call you later.” Tate ended the call, but he was still hunched over his phone.

“Is everything okay?” I asked him worriedly, putting my tray away. “Who was that?”

“Huh? Nobody,” Tate mumbled, tapping away at his phone screen.

“It didn’t sound like nobody to me. Who was it, Tate?” He didn’t answer. “Tate?”

“It’s just this girl, Candice, the new intern.”

“Oh, okay. Why didn’t you say so? I’m going for a walk and then I’ll pick up a few things from the grocery store. Shoot me a message if you need anything.”

He didn’t acknowledge me again as I grabbed my purse and slipped out the door.