I’m expecting Ruby to roll her eyes, but she just exhales and smiles, still on her back. It’s a real smile, maybe the most genuine one I’ve ever seen her make, just pure, unguarded happiness.

“Yeah, that was fine,” she says, turning her head toward me. Her green eyes are sparkling, even in the dark, her hair wild on the pillow. “Completely acceptable.”

I pull her in and kiss her one more time, lazily, our faces both half-smashed into the pillows below us. It’s slow and almost sloppy, but there’s something intensely intimate about this, kissing just because even though I’m totally, utterly, and completely sated, I like the feel of her lips on mine.

When it ends, I heave a deep breath, then sit up on the edge of the bed.

“Be right back,” I say, and head into the bathroom, condom bobbing at the end of my mostly-floppy dick. I wrap it very carefully and toss it into the trash, figuring that the plumbing in this place is probably pretty old, and if it gets clogged with a condom, there will be some serious questions.

When I get back to the bathroom, Ruby’s gone.

My heart squeezes and instantly I think she’s been taken, he got her, he was watching even here and all it took was for me to leave for one second but then I hear a quiet noise downstairs, and some of the tension unfurls.

I rush down, and she’s there, of course, sitting on a chair and putting her shoes back on, wearing her skirt and bra, totally un-kidnapped. As I walk in, she looks me up and down, then looks away like she’s embarrassed.

“I should go,” she murmurs. “Have you seen my shirt?”

“Don’t,” I say.

She looks at me, that guarded expression back in her eyes.

“Gabriel,” she says. “I can’t—”

“Twenty minutes,” I say, and I grin at her so I don’t sound like I’m begging.

Which I’m not. I’m not begging, I’m just asking her to stay because I want her to stay. I want twenty more minutes of talking together like two adults, of real, raw, unguarded Ruby who doesn’t have to please anyone or think about who’s listening.

She bites her lip and looks away, at the front of my apartment. It’s dark outside except for the faraway streetlights: no lights on in the house, no sign of life.

“I got whiskey,” I say, and that gets a smile out of her.

“I swear you think I’m an alcoholic,” she says, but she takes her shoe back off.

“I met you at a liquor store at eight in the morning when you had a toddler in tow,” I point out, walking naked through the downstairs of my apartment toward a cabinet.

“There were special circumstances,” she laughs. “And I’m not even the one who nearly puked on a two-year-old.”

“I’ve got better aim than that,” I say, kneeling on my kitchen floor.

I pull pots and pans out of a cabinet, all unused, until I can grab the bottle of Four Roses I’ve stashed back there. I feel pretty ridiculous hiding whiskey like a seventeen-year-old, but if I’m going to be fucking the Senator’s daughter — which I absolutely intend to continue doing — I should probably be as squeaky clean as possible otherwise.

“Has it been as bad as you thought it would be?”

I close the cabinet, bottle in hand, stand, and turn to stare at her like she’s crazy.

“I’m pouring you a drink still stark naked,” I say, bafflement in my voice. “No, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well, not that part,” she says quickly. “But everything else.”

As far as I was concerned, two weeks ago the worst part of this was going to be not drinking or getting my dick wet for a couple of months, and here I am, wet-dicked and pouring whiskey into tumblers. But I don’t want to say that to Ruby, because then the rest of the truth is gonna have to come out, too.

That there were women, all the time. Lots of them, mostly political types who were in town for a few weeks looking for a little fun before they went back to wherever they were from, and I was always more than happy to provide a night or two of good times.

I’m not an asshole. I knew their names and the basic details of their lives. Sometimes I’d even call the next day, see if a woman wanted to get together again. But all I ever wanted from them was sex, and they were more than happy to oblige.

Harmless, until it wasn’t. Until I wanted sex from one particular woman, and that ended in disaster.

But that’s not how I feel about Ruby. Even though I barely know her, it’s just not. This feels different, strange, like she’s somehow gotten a hold on something deep inside me and isn’t letting go of it.

So I don’t want her to know that I’ve got a past with dozens of women, and I really don’t want her to know why I’m here now. At least not yet. Not now, when we’re sated and drinking whiskey in the dark and this moment is just about as perfect as it can be.

I grab ice from the freezer, plop it into the glasses, and hand one to Ruby.

“Everything else has taken some getting used to,” I admit.

She looks at me, then down at my dick. She stares at it for a few seconds, then looks back up at me, and I can’t help but grin.

“You’re gonna have to wait about thirty minutes for round two, so drink up,” I tease.

Ruby smiles and shuts her eyes, shaking her head.

“Sorry,” she says. “It’s just, like, there and...”

I take a long sip of my drink, my other hand on my hip, dick totally exposed.

Ruby starts giggling, and I grin.

“You’re not supposed to laugh at someone’s dick,” I tell her, giving it a slight wiggle.

She laughs so hard she snorts.

“My self-confidence is gonna be ruined now,” I tease her. “I’m a broken man, Ruby, and it’s all because you laughed at my dick.”

“I’m not, I swear,” she gasps. “It’s just, I don’t know, it’s right there?”

I lean down and give her a kiss.

“I’m gonna go find my pants so you stop mocking me,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, but she’s still laughing, and I head upstairs and get half-dressed, sticking another condom in my pocket just in case. The whole time I’m grinning like an idiot.

I get it. Dicks are funny. Besides, it just made her come so hard her eyes rolled back in her head, so I’m feeling pretty confident about it right now.

When I get back downstairs, she’s sitting on the couch, feet tucked under her, looking at the curtained windows to the yard. I grab my drink and sit as well, one arm around her. I’ve got jeans on again but no shirt, and apparently, she hasn’t found hers either, so we sit there skin-to-skin, and for a long moment, we just sip our drinks without saying anything.

“My father said you’re tightening security,” Ruby says, all of a sudden. “I meant to ask you about it earlier, but I got... distracted.”

“He didn’t say why?”

She snorts.

“He went into excruciating detail about the many reasons that I should put aside my pride and personal preferences, suck it up, and have ten children with Kyle, but no, he didn’t elaborate at all on what happened with the man who’s stalking me,” she says. There’s a bitter edge to her voice, but it’s not like I can blame her.

But I do hate being the one who tells her this stuff, the only one who’ll bother to tell her the truth she deserves to know.

“He was at the county fair,” I say, and then explain everything. Ruby looks into her drink the entire time without saying anything. I try to sound as professional as I can, the fact that we’re both half-naked aside, because the last thing I want is for her to be scared.

Cautious, yes. Alert, aware, maybe a little nervous, fuck yes. Those things are useful.

I finish, and she’s still leaning against my chest, quiet, swirling the ice in her glass.

“You’ve read most of the letters, right?” she asks.

“Right.”

She thinks for another moment.

“What’s his deal?” she finally says, and looks up at me. “Why’s he doing this?”

“I have no fucking clue,” I say, taking a sip of whiskey.

“Does he want something?” she asks.

“Most people who do this sort of thing want control,” I say, slowly. I’ve got half a degree in criminal justice, even though I stopped going to classes when I got hired for the Secret Service. “It’s a power trip thing. I think he likes making you afraid, and he likes watching us all scramble to protect you and keep you safe.”

I take a deep breath.

“And I think he likes knowing that if he can’t have you, he can dictate what you do anyway,” I say, and take a drink before I say this next sentence. “I think he’s incredibly attracted to you, but I think that because — as he puts it — you’re no longer pure, he feels guilty about it and it gets all twisted in his head. So, he wants you but doesn’t want to want you, and he’s ended up writing a ton of fucked up letters about it.”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” she says, sighing. “It’d be nice if he would just... go get laid or something.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have your own personal bodyguard,” I point out.

She looks over at me, a smile in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t constantly be this close to a re-education camp for proper ladies,” she says. “I’ve heard lesson one is don’t drink whiskey half-naked with men you’re not married to.”

“I doubt re-educated ladies are supposed to do that with their husbands, either,” I say. “As far as I can tell, based on my time in your household, ladies are supposed to make jam, take pretty pictures of jam, have a dozen children, and wait on their husbands.”

“You’ve been paying attention,” Ruby deadpans. “Clearly, it’s no wonder I got divorced, since my pictures of jam all turn out terrible.”

“That’s what turns men gay,” I agree. “Bad jam pictures. We see ‘em, and bam, next thing you know we love dick.”

Ruby snorts, laughing.

“I honestly wish it were that simple,” she says. “I can learn to take better pictures of jam, but I don’t think I can learn to want what I’m supposed to want.”

She drinks the rest of her whiskey in a gulp, then leans across me to put it on a side table, getting onto her knees. I let my hand skim down her back, and my dick twitches as she kneels next to me, on the couch.

“What are you supposed to want?” I ask.

Ruby rolls her eyes, but puts her hand in my hair, playing with it.

“You know what I’m supposed to want, you see it every day,” she says. “I’m supposed to want to have a nice, Godly husband who I bless with baby after baby, and I’m supposed to want to submit to his every whim and serve his every need.”

I grin.

“Sounds boring,” I say.

“It is,” Ruby says.

“Doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Nope,” she says, then tilts her head to one side, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Not that I know what I do want. Just not that.”

“Well,” I say, sliding one hand up her skirt. “I have some thoughts on what you might want. I’m not sure how useful they’ll be overall, but for the next few minutes you can tell me what you think of them.”

She laughs and blushes as I run my fingers under the elastic of her panties.

“This is purely to help me figure my life out,” she teases, leaning forward until our foreheads are touching. “How selfless.”

I run my fingers along her lower lips, and she’s soaking wet again, slick and swollen. She kisses me and makes a noise into my mouth, so I bite her lower lip gently as I pull her panties down for the second time that night.

“For example,” I say, my voice low and dusky. “You might want to get on top of me and ride my cock, but you won’t know unless you try.”

Ruby blushes even harder, and I fucking love it. There’s something about the combination of her blush and how wet she gets when I talk dirty to her that I can’t get enough of.

She swings one leg over me and sits on my lap, her wetness right on top of my still-clothed cock, and I grin, kissing her again, harder, reaching behind her and getting her bra off. Ruby moans quietly when I take both her nipples in my hands, rolling them gently between my fingers, as her hips buck against me.

I unbutton her ugly skirt, and she steps off me for a second, pushing it to the floor. As she does, I undo my belt and jeans, get the condom from my pocket, and pull them off as well, my cock springing free. Ruby looks at it, and I grab it in one hand, grinning at her.

Then she’s on me again, rolling her hips against me. She grabs the condom from my hand and tears it open, sitting back to unroll it down my length as I dip one finger into her wetness, making her bite her lip. Despite already coming once tonight, I’m catastrophically hard, my hands all over her as she strokes my condom-covered cock once.

I grab the base and her hip, because she seems a little uncertain as she leans in and kisses me again.

“C’mere,” I whisper, pulling her in. She reaches down and puts one hand over mine and then I’m at her entrance and her tight channel is taking me in, pure pleasure coursing through my body. Ruby sinks all the way down until I’m hilted in her and panting for breath, my hands locked on her hips so hard that she might bruise.

We kiss and I can feel her muscles fluttering around me, intense and intoxicating, so I kiss her back and she rolls her hips, just enough to send another spike of pleasure through me.

Slowly, Ruby starts moving, tentatively at first, and I remember what she said earlier, I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t care, because watching her is goddamn magic. The way her perfect breasts bounce right in front of me, the noises she makes when I hit that spot inside her, the way her eyelids flutter.

I don’t give a shit if she hasn’t done this a thousand times and doesn’t have finesse, because watching her learn to ride my cock the way she likes it is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

Gradually, she gets into a rhythm, one hand on the back of the couch for leverage. Now we’re rocking together, my hands moving her up and down on me. I’m lost in a haze of pleasure, trying to force myself not to come before she does. I lean forward to kiss her neck, lick a nipple, and she wraps her arms around me.

The angle inside her changes and I growl, somehow sliding deeper as she moans, her channel clenching around me as she does, the feeling heady and intoxicating. For once, I’m glad I’m wearing a condom so I don’t come too fast.

I grind into her again, my arms wrapped around her waist now, and Ruby makes a noise that’s half-moan, half-sigh, her head back as I kiss her throat.

“Was this what you wanted?” I murmur, her skin just below my lips.

“Yes,” she whispers. “God, yes.”

Ruby leans back with one hand, steadying herself against my knee. Now I’m watching her body as she undulates, eyes closed, her muscles already fluttering and spasming around me. It’s fucking intoxicating, and her fingers dig into my knee and my shoulder as she gasps, holding her breath, right on the edge.

I grind my teeth together and bury my face in her neck, keeping myself from coming through sheer force of will as I pull her onto me roughly. She whimpers as I hit that spot, and instantly I’m lost and helpless and there is goddamn nothing I can do except growl into her neck and rock her back and forth, again and again until she grabs a fistful of my hair, exhales hard, and clenches around me so tight my vision goes white.

It’s glorious. I’ve never felt anything like it, not in the dozens of women I’ve had, and I come seconds later, pumping myself again and again into Ruby until I’m completely and utterly spent but we’re still just rocking together, arms around each other. I can feel her breathe, her heartbeat, and I don’t want to stop, I don’t want to leave.

And I don’t know what the fuck is happening.