Jared

 

 

 

Things are going great in every aspect. Of course, I can't trust the current ease with which everything seems to be developing in my favor.

Button looks perfectly chic and smart in her new outfit, a pencil-shaped dress in a vibrant purple that hugs her frame without showing too much skin, looking perfectly tame and conservative, but so fucking hot at the same time.

I wanted to yank it up and bend her over to have my way with her when she came down the stairs, casting me a coy smile and winking seductively. She knows how to carry herself in a way that drives me insane, and she seeks to gain my attention in any way possible lately. She's been deliberately misbehaving, literally asking for punishments. I know there's one thing she seeks the most: my hand clutched around her throat. I've never had a submissive who got off on being choked as much as she does.

But as much as I enjoy it, too, I can't follow either of our desires as much as I'd like. I have to be careful. She bruises too easily and she cannot be seen with any marks on her skin.

It would ruin everything.

The dirt that has been spread about me years ago may have been proven false and dismissed, but even then, a bad rumor always leaves its stain on you. Even the smallest hint could bring me down. I'm not running against any particularly strong or powerful opponent, but even without such opposition, there's always someone out there who wants to hurt a man like me. Journalists, mostly. That sneaky brand of media whose entire profession is focused on snooping around and getting their noses into things they have no business in.

I can't risk feeding them anything.

So I restrained myself and stayed away from her throat as much as possible. There are other ways to leave my mark on her, other ways to make her scream out my name, to make her squirm, wail and moan in a blend of agony and pleasure. It's the most beautiful sound, the most beautiful sight. No one can see the blue and purple marks beneath her dress. Her ass is so bruised up that I'm sure she won't be able to sit without contorting her face in pain. I'm looking forward to that, to watching her process the sting while she's so eager to hide it to the outside world. The knowledge that she's carrying my marks on her skin, still feeling the leathery blows I granted her this morning, is a big turn on.

She was shifting on her seat in the car, casting me playful looks as we were on our way here. I didn't say a thing about it, and neither did she.

Today is the last of three events we had to attend this week. Button has accompanied me every time, and while we've been doing this for a while now, I can't help but be impressed with her more every time. It's hard not to fall for her; close to impossible, I'd say. I never tried to prove anything to myself since that incident a couples of weeks ago. I may be a fool for this, but she's managed to bewitch me. There's no denying it anymore.

However, I'm painfully aware of the fact that she's only with me because of the contract. She never said anything to contradict that, but her actions show that she's in this for more - just like me.

Be careful. Be very careful.

I can't get that damn voice inside my head to shut up. It's still there, every damn day, every time I look at her the way I’m looking at her right now.

The event has just started and we are chatting with people as they arrive. Usually I'd always make sure that Button was right at my side, making sure that she's not doing or saying anything to jeopardize my campaign. But with every new event we attended, every conversation we've had, and every short interview she took part in, I’ve grown more confident in her abilities to play this game. She's familiar with my platform and knows how to forego unpleasant questions and evade uncomfortable situations.

I watch her from afar, observing her as she engages in small talk with an elderly couple I know to be long-term benefactors of the Lion's Club. All three of them are smiling, apparently having a good time.

I was just about to tear my eyes away from them when I see another guy joining the conversation. He's rather young, probably about my age. My pulse accelerates when I see the press tag hanging around his neck. I told Button not to talk to the press when she's not with me, and to turn them away if they ever approach her when she's alone.

The way this guy pushes himself between her and the couple she's been talking to gives me reason to worry. He looks a little too eager to talk to her, his eyes flickering with excitement when he addresses her. He's sneering as he talks, nodding and motioning in a very pushy way. I can tell right away that he makes her uncomfortable. She moves away from him, raising her hand up in defense as if he was attacking her.

I want to step in, but something is holding me back. I remain in my spot, frozen like a statue, watching how she handles the situation. He's talking to her, puffed out and eager, but she's shaking her head repeatedly.

Then, something changes. He finishes a sentence, leaving room for her to react. She stares at him, her mouth partly opened, slowly lowering her hand. Whatever he just said to her, it must have left an impact.

"Mr. King!"

My attention is pulled away from her when I hear my name called out, and it’s accompanied by a strong hand on my shoulder. I forcefully tear my eyes away from her to face the idiot who has the audacity to just barge into me like that. Unfortunately, he's not just anyone, but the organizer of this event, a leading figure in the prestigious Club and tonight's host.

"Good to see you!" he says, shaking my hand with such strength and excitement that it's impossible to ignore him.

I allow him to engage me in a senseless conversation about the proceedings of the next couple of hours, nodding and smiling at the right places, while my mind is hooked on Ann and the menacing reporter who crept up on her.

What the hell did he want from her?

And what the hell did he say to cause her to react like that?