Chapter Twenty-One
Leo is on his way up the stairs as I’m on my way down them the next morning. He smoothly pivots in mid-stride and walks with me. If you didn’t know he’d nearly died in a plane crash, you wouldn’t be able to guess.
Then again, I don’t jog, so he doesn’t have to keep up with me like that. His limp is barely perceptible when he’s walking. Anything faster, and it shows.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
“Good morning, Leo.”
“Did you eat breakfast?”
I know that question came from Kev. “What’s first on our agenda?” I sip my coffee and he doesn’t even try arguing with me.
I tried a piece of toast upstairs and nearly threw it up after the second bite, so I tossed it.
Coffee it is.
I’ve had this happen before, and Leo, Kev, and Chris have seen it, but usually not to this extent. It’s been years since I’ve had it this bad: when I was studying for the bar, when I ran for Senate the first time, when I ran for re-election as a senator the first time.
The morning I knew I had to kill my mother.
You know how it is.
The only thing I can do when one of these spells hits me is stay hydrated (I am) and suck it up (in progress) and keep moving (I will). They usually last two or three days, it’s a hard way to lose a few pounds, and then life returns to normal.
I’d rather be hungry than puke it up.
We have to formulate a new routine. I drop in on the staff meeting to say hi and note the puffy noses, red eyes, and somber expressions. It’s going to take a couple of days for it to really sink in, and Kevin’s absence isn’t helping them.
I’m sure there are probably a few of them worried he might not be coming back, either.
After the staff meeting, Ben approaches me about some items and I almost snap his head off until I realize that he’s trying to do Kevin’s job the only way he knows how.
He knows Kev and I are close. Everyone does.
He just doesn’t know how close.
I sit back in my chair and apologize. “I’m not at my best right now. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, ma’am. I understand. I don’t think any of us are.”
When Chris prepares to leave that night, after the kids are asleep, I pull him in for another long kiss. “Give that to him, too, please?”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I will, sweetheart. Did you ever eat anything today?”
“Don’t worry about me. Take care of our boy for me.”
He studies me for a moment, but doesn’t challenge me on my answer. After pressing a kiss to the middle of my forehead, he heads off.
I retreat to our bedroom and go to bed wearing nothing but one of Kev’s tees, the TV on and turned down.
I feel…helpless.
That’s a feeling I’m not very familiar with. My men are wounded to the depths of their cores, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to fix this for either of them.
Worse?
Now I’m a mom, and I want to raise these children and love them and heal them, and I can’t fix anything for them, either.
Right now, it feels like everything around me dies upon contact, and that makes me afraid.
Another feeling I’m not familiar with.
At all.
Maybe I was born under a cursed sign. Maybe there is something to the supernatural.
Maybe there’s too much of the wrong kind of genes in me from my mother and father.
I startle awake to a hand grabbing my ankle and one covering my mouth. The TV’s off, and the room’s in total darkness. My rational mind hasn’t kicked in yet, and danger brain is in control of my fight-or-flight reflex. I struggle, flailing, helpless.
I’m flipped over, and a heavy body presses me into the bed, knees force my thighs apart, and a hand plunges between my legs, two fingers roughly spearing me and making me struggle harder.
“Something from your Sir,” the low, coarse voice rumbles in my ear.
Before I can process that, the fingers disappear, replaced by a cock.
I’m still frantically trying to shove the weight off me when enough adrenaline dumps into my mind to wake me up to actually understand what’s going on.
Chris.
This is Chris.
He’s back.
He must have realized I’m now on board, because the hand disappears from my mouth when he realizes there’s no longer any danger of me screaming for help. He fists my hair, hauling my head back so he can plant a rough kiss on my lips.
He’s naked—goddamn, I must have been sleeping deeper than I realized—and I can smell Kevin on him, his sweat, his tears.
His cum.
He didn’t shower before he returned, bringing a little of our love home to me.
He pulls out and flips onto his back, grabbing me and dragging me onto him. I quickly find his cock and mount him, leaning in to kiss him, to smell him, to try to tease every last bit of our missing husband to me. I ride him and lick, sniff, kiss. If this is all I can have of Kev right now while he tries to rebuild himself, then I’ll take it.
Chris rakes his nails along my thighs, up my back, and I can’t get enough of him. This isn’t making love—it’s sex, it’s the sadist, it’s a raw abrasion of my aching heart and soul but I know it’s the only way to heal.
He reaches between us and uses his fingers to get me there, but it’s more because I know it’s what Kev would want me to do, and would be doing to me himself if he were here. It’s honoring him and what we have. It’s the knowledge that we took vows to each other, and I need to do a better job giving Kevin what he needs, not what I want to give him.
Right now, he needs space, and I have to give it to him.
He’ll come back when he’s ready and able.
I’ll be his good girl, and I’ll make him proud in the meantime.
I finally make it over. Chris rolls me onto my back and finishes quickly, then lies there with our foreheads touching, just breathing, nuzzling noses.
“Did you give him my kiss?” I ask.
“I did, baby. First thing.”
“When is he coming home?” I didn’t mean to ask it, but it boils free from my pain like a toxic steam bubble that has to escape.
He sighs. “He’s going to see how he feels. He’s no good to anyone if he bursts into tears in a staff meeting. He’s worried about letting you down and not being able to do his job. I gave him what he needed last night and tonight. He’s still…processing.”
We have the election coming up. I should be on the campaign trail, but I have surrogates going out for me right now.
The thought of leaving DC without him, knowing the shape he’s in, feels…wrong.
I’m terrified to ask, but I have to. “He won’t hurt himself, will he?”
“No.” He kisses me. “No, he’ll come back to us. But after the election, he’s going to need to sort through the townhouse. She left everything to him. He’ll probably spend some time there at nights. I need you to let him.”
“Okay.”
He rolls us onto our sides. “We have about an hour before we need to get up. Let’s go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to, but there’s a little light peeping around the blackout curtains when I feel him sit up a while later.
We take a shower together, and I put on a brave face—no makeup—and head downstairs with my coffee. Today, I’m two steps from the bottom when Leo appears in the doorway.
“Sorry, ma’am. Good morning.”
“No apologies needed, Leo. None of us are at our best.” If I can’t have my Sir, I at least need to do him proud and put on my game face.
“How was breakfast, ma’am?”
“How was yours?” I offer him a smile before I sip my coffee.
I tried to eat a banana and ended up throwing it away after one bite. I’m sure that bite will probably sit and sour in my stomach, too. Admittedly, this is the longest stretch I’ve had this problem, but I’ve got Gatorade in the small fridge in my study, and a couple of those bottled shake things.
I’m not starving to death, I just need to let my body’s stress reaction sort itself out on its own.
I make it through the day without biting anyone’s head off or breaking down crying, even though I do walk over to Lauren’s office and stand in the doorway.
After dinner, where Chris doesn’t try to make me eat while I sit and talk to the kids, I walk back downstairs to my study to read through a couple of intelligence reports that were produced today about North Korea. It’s after nine when I startle as I realize someone’s standing in my doorway. I never heard him.
Kev’s wearing jeans and a Tampa Bay Lightning T-shirt under a denim jacket, and his name badge.
He never comes in dressed like this.
Ever.
I also realize he’s holding a takeout bag.
Without a word, he walks in and closes the study door behind him, locking it.
Then he points at the floor.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve slithered out of my chair and I’m on my knees in front of him.
He takes his jacket off and sits in my chair, still not speaking. He sets out what looks like cartons of Chinese food, then he takes his name badge off and drops it on my desk before he leans back in my chair.
After a long moment, he motions with his finger, and I know what he wants.
I’m in a skirt suit. I pull my blazer off, my blouse, my bra. My shoes were already off, but I rise enough I can peel off my skirt and panties, and then I’m kneeling before him again.
Much of what and who we are is silent, reading each other, needing to conceal what we’re doing.
It’s all now part of Sir.
My heart pounding, I wait as I stare up into his blue eyes.
Eyes that are red, puffy, as is his nose.
He takes his glasses off, lays them on his name badge, and then pats his lap. I climb up into his arms and my stomach rumbles as I really get a whiff of whatever it is he brought me.
He kisses me, then reaches over with his bare fingers, breaks off a piece of egg foo young, dredges it in the small container of gravy, and brings it toward my mouth.
I open automatically, my stomach now almost painfully growling.
I swear, it hadn’t made so much as a goddamned peep in fucking days.
He makes me suck and lick the gravy off his fingers, then kisses me. “Good girl,” he whispers before feeding me another piece.
Only after he’s happy with how much I’ve eaten does he let me rest my head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I tearfully whisper, afraid I’ve disappointed him, failed him.
He nuzzles my temple. “It’s okay, baby. No one can resist Orin’s. Best Chinese in the neighborhood. My old neighborhood.”
I realize he means Lauren’s, where he used to live with her.
“I’m not going to stay all night,” he adds. “I need a couple of nights still. I’ll come in day after tomorrow to start working again, but only if you promise to try to eat for me, okay?”
I can’t stop crying. “I’m sorry, Sir. I tried. I’ve tried in the mornings and I couldn’t. I’m sorry I’m not stronger.”
I’m the motherfucking Commander In Chief of the goddamned US military machine, and I’m bawling like a stupid baby.
I’m pathetic.
“Shh.” He tucks my head against his neck, so I can nuzzle the front of his throat, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re all doing the best we can.”
When I first walked into his house that day, he was at rock bottom, broken, and it was Chris who truly picked him up and carried him, rebuilt him, made him stronger.
And now our positions are reversed.
“Are we okay, Sir?” I’m almost afraid to ask it.
“What do you mean?”
“Us. Are we okay?”
He tips my chin so I can look him in the eyes. “I love you, baby, and I love Sir. I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze searches my face for a moment. “I have a feeling they’re not going to catch the fucker who did this, and…I’m not handling it well. Doesn’t help that everyone and their fucking brother is sending me the links to my dad’s stupid speech on the House floor. I feel…guilty. I offered to get a car and driver to taker her, and she said no. I offered to go with her, because I knew she was going to stop by the damn store, and she told me she was fine. She walked back and forth to that store all the time. So did I. I wish I’d gone with her, but I also realize if I had, maybe we’d both be dead.”
He strokes my cheek. “And who’s going to make you eat if I’m not here? Because Chris sure as fuck failed.” A lopsided smirk quirks his lips, and I kiss him.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“I told him. He’s going to come with me for a couple of hours when I leave.”
I don’t exactly know how we got into the configuration, but after a moment I’m riding his cock, kissing him, feeling his hands squeezing my ass and not even caring if I get off.
I just want him to be part of me for a while.
His soft gasp as he comes inside me settles my mind, sets me at ease, and I snuggle there with him going soft inside me.
I don’t care that I don’t get over. That’s not what this is about.
After a couple of minutes he kisses me, then pats me on the ass to get me moving. “I’m going to send this upstairs with you. I want you to eat a little for breakfast, okay?” He reaches out and touches my chin. “Close your eyes, think about me feeding you, about you being my good girl, and eat a little. All right?”
I nod. “Yes, Sir.” I know I can. He broke my fast—no, I don’t understand it, either—and I want to be his good girl.
After I get dressed, and he’s washed his hands and packed the food, he actually holds my hand as he walks me back to the main stairs, where Christopher is coming down, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.
Chris kisses me goodbye and Kevin squeezes my hand before handing me the bag of leftovers and pointing upstairs with that look.
Sir.
I take the first step, then look back. “Love you,” I say to both of them.
“Love you,” Christopher says.
“I know,” Kev softly says at the same time, smiling.
As they walk away, I hear Chris mutter, “I still don’t fucking know how you get her to eat, goddammit. You’re a wizard or something.”
I turn to head upstairs, smiling.
No, I think to myself. He’s not a wizard.
He’s my Prophet.
The End