CHAPTER TWELVE
Cameron
“I agree,” I said halfheartedly. “It makes perfect sense.”
The woman in front of me could have been asking for me to parade around Independence Hall in the nude and I wouldn’t have cared. A journalist for Philadelphia Woman magazine, she’d been calling me for an interview for months. At first, I’d been apprehensive, as I didn’t have the greatest record on women’s issues. But I’d relaxed the moment I saw her. She was middle-aged, perhaps late forties, but doing her best not to look it. Her white-blonde hair was teased atop her head, her makeup thick in the creases of her forehead, and she smelled like a perfume factory. She looked, in a word, flammable.
But the reason I relaxed was because she chattered like an old grandmother, singsonging everything she said. She’d spent five minutes digging in the bottom of her oversized purse for a pen until I’d finally lent her one. Then, blushing, she told me that she didn’t do interviews very often, and she hoped she didn’t “screw this one up too bad.”
“You don’t say,” I’d said, barely looking at her.
She sat at the very edge of the chair in front of my desk and smiled as she wrote something down in her notebook. When she’d pitched the story, she’d done it under the guise of “letting the female population of the city know about the man behind the three-piece suit.” She’d said that most of her readership was curious and that to them, I was somewhat of a sex symbol — a la JFK. I knew when I was being buttered up, so I relented once I had the time on my schedule.
We’d started out talking about my favorite Philadelphia restaurant, Butcher and Singer, then moved on to my favorite libation, Macallan 25 or a dry martini. I figured there’d be a few more mindless questions, like my favorite color and my favorite ice-cream flavor, and I could look forward to a fluffy little write-up, far from Pulitzer-worthy, a few months from now. “So, you don’t mind?”
I smiled at her, thinking of Cassandra. It had been two days, but those two days had only solidified something in my mind: It was her, at the Grille. She’d been standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, to take. Mask off, her face was even more gorgeous than I’d imagined. Her features were sculptured and poetic like a fine Italianate sculpture, her eyes even bigger and bluer than I’d expected. I’d gotten a raging hard-on the second I’d seen her standing there, as if my body had recognized her even before my mind had.
And she’d denied.
“Of course not,” I said, nodding dumbly at the woman as she continued to scribble. “You go right ahead.”
Well, of course Cassandra had denied. But there was no doubt she’d recognized me. I could see it from the way her eyes widened with recognition, the way her pale cheeks had pinked. She’d been with her friend, and she wasn’t Cassandra to her friend. No, she might have been a good girl with an admittedly dull life, perhaps a kindergarten teacher or a nurse, and like me, she’d wanted to escape it. Maybe she still lived with her parents, or a dozen cats, or a boyfriend who didn’t give her the attention she needed. Obviously, Cassandra’s little friend had no idea what kind of double life she led. I could only imagine what she would say if she’d seen Cassandra wearing clamps on her tits and clit, bouncing with abandon on my cock in an upstairs room of a sex club only a few days earlier.
Cassandra.
God, fuck. Cassandra. Gorgeous, wild Cassandra, who I’d be seeing at midnight. Yes, as placid as her normal life had been, she’d gotten the bug, like me. Now, she couldn’t keep away. I’d been counting down the moments. I lifted my jacket sleeve and checked my Rolex. Now, it was down to less than four hours, and I could practically taste her.
But when I saw her at the Grille, I’d realized something. It had nothing to do with the moans of ecstasy echoing through the halls, or the smell of sex. Nothing to do with the abundant sex toys and condoms and lube. Nothing to do with the clamps or vibrators. It turned out, all of those tools that were needed to get that rise before Cassandra seemed worse than cheap. Worse than unnecessary. Almost… an annoying distraction.
I just wanted her.
Naked, and on me.
One more time.
Though even then, I didn’t think I could stop with just one more time. I’d already constructed a plan of what we’d do together tonight, and in the past few days, it’d solidified. No more masks. Nothing between us. I’d let her choose how she wanted to be fucked, and I’d do it again and again until I’d gotten my fill of her. I’d stay there with her until I’d fucked her right out of my head.
Then, maybe I’d be able to put this obsession — and yes, with the number of times I’d thought about her, it had crossed the line into obsession — behind me. Then maybe I’d be able to do what was expected of me. Propose to damn Bernadette or someone equally well qualified in the role as my wife.
The woman across the desk was staring at me like I had snails oozing out of my ears. “I can quote you on that?”
Annoyed by the thought of my family obligations, I frowned at the woman. Had I given the wrong answer to my favorite television sitcom? “I’m sorry. What are we talking about now?”
She crossed her arms, and that mild, grandmotherly smile slid right off her face. “That you’re pro-life with absolutely no exceptions?”
I straightened. How had we ventured straight into this topic, the double-edged sword from hell? Five minutes earlier, we’d been discussing the relatively warm weather we’d been having for May.
“Because there are only two options on the table, I intend to vote along pro-life lines, ma’am,” I said, still tenting my fingers.
She frowned at me. I could just see the vote of the entire readership of Philadelphia Woman magazine frittering through my fingers.
“Look,” I said, reaching over, and arranging the paperweight on my desk. “I know what you may think. But I am for women’s rights.”
She almost snorted in disbelief. “How?”
I cleared my throat. “Because women are humans, and I’m for the rights of all humans, actually. Who is it for me to decide when a life becomes important? Conception? Birth? When a person is old enough to vote? In my opinion, all life is precious, and you can’t possibly be in favor of abortion in any form if you do not take into account the rights of the unborn child. If I vote anything other than pro-life, I’m not doing all I can to protect the lives of the children. There’s a reason children are so often abused, neglected, maltreated, and why criminals commute lesser sentences for killing a child. Maybe it’s because we don’t value life enough from the very beginning.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at me. “But what about women’s rights?”
“Thus, the reason why sometimes you need to just follow your heart with these things,” I explained. “You cannot say my voting pro-life means I hate women, anymore than you can say voting pro-choice means my opponent hates children.”
She scribbled something down in her notebook. “And what do you have to say to those people who’ve alleged you’re accepting illegal donations?”
I blinked. The woman had clearly done her homework. I shrugged. “I have nothing to hide. I run my campaign openly. There are no secrets here.”
She snorted. “There certainly were secrets in your father’s office as vice president.”
“Perhaps,” I said, tenting my fingers again. “But I’m not my father.”
“Well, let’s hope not. Thank you,” she said curtly. I couldn’t believe it. The woman was a ringer, like fucking Columbo. She came off as friendly and dumb, waiting until her victims put their guard down, and then she pounced. All of her sweetness had gone right out the window. She stood up, maybe to go retrieve it.
“Thanks for coming,” I said half-heartedly, but she’d slammed the door to my office before the words were fully out.
When I was alone again, I exhaled. Then I breathed in and out, wiping my tired face, the rough stubble on my cheeks, trying to figure out how I’d allowed myself to be cornered. That woman would undoubtedly run a slam piece, insulting everything from my policies to my necktie, and my father would likely be furious. He’d always told me to stay away from the media, and only go with “safe” choices on the “approved” list. Philadelphia Woman hadn’t been on the approved list, but they’d seemed so small, so harmless.
I cursed myself, thinking of what my father would probably tell me. They all come across as harmless until they’ve got you by the balls.
I finished slogging through the rest of the day, then went back to my house to shower and shave. Despite the fact that I’d soon be bathing in the sweat and stench of the closely packed bodies at the club, I felt like I was going on a first date with a debutante. I selected my suit and dressed carefully, and by the time George arrived to pick me up, I was as excited as a kid in a candy store. Packing my Guy Fawkes mask in the oversized inside pocket of my jacket, I sipped my Macallan and drummed my fingers on the armrest as I watched the lights of Philadelphia disappear behind me.
“Same place as before?” George asked when we’d cleared the bridge.
“Yes please,” I said, noting his expression in the rearview mirror never changed. He had to have known I was up to no good in a rundown neighborhood like this, but he never asked questions. He simply pulled to the corner by the drugstore.
“Have a good night,” he said to me as I opened the door.
I plan to, I thought as I jogged across the street toward the club.
Both times, I’d met Cassandra in a rose-colored room at the left of the doorway. It was filled with hi-hat tables and a large bar made of tufted black leather. Like all the other rooms, it was hazy and dark. By the time I arrived, the festivities were well under way. A naked woman was lying on the bar, wriggling as a man squirted hot oil over her.
That may have gotten me aroused before. But right now, my cock was trained on the sight of one woman only.
It jumped when I spotted her a moment later, standing in the doorway. She looked phenomenal, wearing a tight white sweater and a plaid schoolgirl skirt that bared her long legs. When I met her here the first time, she’d been nervous, uptight. Now was an entirely new woman, loose, wild, and incredibly sexy. Her pin-straight blonde hair was loose and falling in her face as she laughed, and she carelessly tossed it back over her shoulder as she demurely sipped her soda.
I frowned when I saw who she was laughing with.
A short, wiry prick in a tight white t-shirt and jeans with a Joker mask. From the way he was leaning toward her, touching her bare shoulder, he was clearly into her — what sane human wouldn’t be?
Currents of hot rage started to ripple through me. I didn’t know why. Cassandra wasn’t mine. I’d make her mine for tonight, but that would be the end. It couldn’t continue.
Still, it was clear to see she’d grown into herself, becoming more of a woman, and I’d like to think I’d played a part in her progress. Not long ago, she’d stuck out here. She hadn’t belonged. Now, she looked entirely too comfortable. I couldn’t say I liked it. I didn’t want to think that my pet had grown beyond me. That she would have a life after me.
Even though I knew she would. She’d drive men wild, fuck them the way she’d fucked me. And she’d forget me.
I stalked up to her.
She smiled the second she saw me. “Apollo,” she said, looking at the Joker. “This is—”
“I don’t fucking care,” I mumbled, grabbing her hand and yanking her away. I saw her eyes widen beneath the mask as I pulled her into an alcove, away from the hundreds of eyes that were mentally undressing her.
She was frowning when she turned to me. “Possessive much?”
I’d made her come in the middle of the club last time, and it had been a mistake. I’d bared her to everyone, made her brazen. I’d created a monster. And that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted… her. I wanted to create something with her tonight that she’d remember forever, that her future experiences would pale against. “Have you fucked him?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”
“Did you want to?”
She pressed her lips together and yanked away from me. “So what if I did? What if I wanted to take you both upstairs and sandwich me? This is a club, right? Where fantasies come true.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is that really what you want?”
“No,” she said, and I could see the honesty in her eyes. “I only want you.”
“You’re mine, Cassandra,” I said, trying to keep my voice hard, but I faltered. She wasn’t mine. Not really. I swallowed. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
She smiled and licked her lips. “Then let’s go.”
Without hesitation, I led her up the staircase. We’d traveled these steps before, but this time, a new fervor propelled me, hotter and stronger than anything I’d ever felt. I’d gone to the club’s website earlier in the week and booked the “Honeymoon Suite” on the third floor, which, from what I’d read was private and quiet. The privilege was five-thousand dollars for the night. I’d used an alias and booked with a PayPal account that couldn’t be tied to my name, all the while thinking of what I’d said to the journalist at Philadelphia Woman.
I have no secrets.
And damn, how I wished that was true. The funny thing was, this wasn’t a crime. If I wasn’t Cameron Brice, this wouldn’t mean anything. Plenty of people went to sex clubs. And yet, right now, this moment meant the world.
This had to be my last time.
With the election so close, I needed to walk on the straight and narrow.
Today was symbolically the end of my life as a free man. The shrugging off of my old ways, and the acceptance of my destiny.
And I intended to milk it for all it was worth. To give us something we would both remember forever.
My hand tightened around hers as I led her past the moaning noises emanating from all of the upstairs rooms, straight to a narrow spiral staircase. I took both of her hands and motioned her toward it. She looked up apprehensively. “Up there?”
I nodded, smiling to myself at how innocent she could sometimes be.
I held her hand as she climbed and stopped at a door. There was a wipe-off board there too, completely blank. Smiling, she picked up the black pen and wrote in a fat, looping script, He is Mine.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sharing me, then?”
“Not tonight,” she said sweetly, underlining the words and capping the pen.
When she pushed the door open, I immediately stepped in beside her, closing off the booming sound of the bass and the sticky, humid air. I twisted the lock so we would not be disturbed, tilted my mask back, then drew her to me, crushing my mouth onto hers. She responded in kind, our mouths exploring each other in a hungry tangle of tongues and teeth. When I traced my tongue down the side of her face, nibbling the exquisitely soft skin there, she tilted her chin back and groaned. “Oh, god, I couldn’t wait for this. For you.”
“Me too, baby,” I groaned, holding her there against the wall as I sank down upon her neck, licking and sucking. Her skin was the sweetest sugar. I couldn’t get enough of it. My hands reached down her bare thighs, and up her barely-there skirt, cupping the globes of her ass. I couldn’t feel the hem of her underwear, suggesting she was wearing the standard dental floss that doubled as panties. Or maybe… nothing at all?
My cock was already straining against my trousers. She yanked on the belt, pulling it open, fumbling with the button and fly before pressing my pants down and letting it free. When she did, she wrapped her hand around it, stroking it, silently urging me on. She pressed her shoulders against the wall, lifting a leg and hooking it around my hips. She tilted her hips against me, grinding her pelvis into me.
“Condom,” I said, reaching into my pocket.
“Fuck the condom,” she said. “I’m on the pill. Take me.”
That was the sweetest invitation I’d ever received. I’d wanted to take my time. I’d wanted to make this last, do everything right. But like her, I couldn’t wait. I needed her now, in a way I’d never needed anyone.
I lifted her leg higher, the tip of my cock flirting with the material of her underwear — so she was wearing a thong. I ripped the scrap of material away, the sound competing with our breaths. Finding her open to me, wet and ready, I plunged into her. We both gasped. In my case, it was with relief at finally being in the right place after a week of hell. I fucked her there, thrusting into her as she moaned.
“Harder,” she said. “God, Apollo, give me everything.”
I did. Sweat beaded on my temples and stuck to our clothes as we moved together, grinding against each other. The damn masks banged against each other, now more of a nuisance than anything else, but not enough to delay our climax. She came, her body shattering in waves, and when my release followed a moment later, she grasped my shoulders tightly, falling against me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Holy shit,” she said.
I laughed. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” I said when I pulled out of her. “Though I do wonder why I secured this space since it seems any back-alley would’ve done just as well for us.”
She blinked and looked around, suddenly aware of our surroundings. “You secured this?”
I nodded. “Online.”
She smiled, flattered. It was a whole new world up here in the “Honeymoon Suite.” I couldn’t imagine that actual honeymooners came here, but it was everything the downstairs rooms were, but more luxe. There was a king-sized bed in the center of the room with white satin sheets, and the walls were covered in dark red damask fabric. Electric candles flickered on all the surfaces, and there was a gas fireplace, already lit, in the corner of the room. Soft piano music effectively drowned out the noises from downstairs, placing us in another world entirely.
Her eyes widened. “Have I been transported to the Ritz Carlton?”
I grinned. This wasn’t even close, but I was glad she appreciated it.
“And it’s okay we’re up here?”
I nodded. “Like I said, I paid for it. For us.”
She looked at me. “You did?” She lowered her skirt and stepped farther into the room, running her finger along the shiny satin of the sheets. “It’s nice.”
There was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling beside the bed, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to imbibe. I’d purposely laid off the scotch so I could have all my facilities intact for this experience. I opened the door to the bathroom. There was a large Jacuzzi tub in the center of the room as well as two vanities and a walk-in shower with a plexiglass door and multiple showerheads.
She followed me, peeking inside. “This is nicer than any hotel room I’ve ever been in.”
I turned to her. The pearls had made it obvious she wasn’t rich, but this was the first real detail she’d ever freely admitted to me about her life. I pounced on it. “Is that so?”
She must have realized she was revealing too much because she turned away, her cheeks flushed, and opened the double doors across from the bed. “Oh. I guess this wouldn’t be a sex club without these.”
I looked in. There was the standard assortment of playthings, everything found in the rooms downstairs, and more. These were packed in boxes instead of plastic and were decidedly better quality. I lifted the lid on the first one to reveal a solid gold cock ring in the shape of a cobra. I placed it back down on the shelf. “Come here,” I instructed.
She came close to me as I shut the door and looked over at it apprehensively. “Aren’t you going to tie me up? Use something on me?”
I shook my head, then reached over and started to unbutton the buttons on her sweater. “No. I don’t want the distraction. Unless you…?”
She shook her head fervently. “I liked being tied up,” she admitted. “But it’s enough just to be here with you.”
I smiled at the admission, sensing the way she shivered as I touched her. When I opened the buttons of her sweater, one by one baring an opaque bra that did little to hide her nipples, I could almost see her heartbeat dancing underneath her skin.
I undressed her fully, baring her gorgeous body, revealing and taking my time with each of her soft curves. I slipped the white sweater off her shoulders, pushed the tiny skirt down over her hips as she stood there, bending to my will, allowing me to get eyeful upon eyeful of her. I finished unsnapping her bra, exposing her perfect tits. I loved having her fully open and exposed to me like this — no secrets between us. When I was done, I stepped back, tapping my finger on my chin. “Something is wrong.”
She shivered in anticipation. “What?”
“Did you enjoy your dinner at the Capital Grille?”
She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Did you?”
“I enjoyed the view,” I said, reaching over and tracing the line of her mask. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Cassandra, but I want to see all of you, now. Don’t you think it’s time we take these off?”
She sucked in a breath, but she didn’t fight when I lifted the elastic and slipped it off over her head.
I stepped back again, admiring her. God, she was beautiful, her skin so pale and perfect, her blonde hair falling on her shoulders, grazing her nipples. I tossed the mask aside and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face to mine. “What is your name?”
“Cassandra,” she breathed.
“No. Your real name.”
She didn’t answer.
Taking a breath, I reached up and removed my own mask. I didn’t know why my hands shook as I did. She’d seen my face before, in the restaurant. Had I disappointed her, she wouldn’t be here now. Her eyes swept over my features, and she smiled.
“Approve?” I asked.
She nodded.
I cast the mask aside, then reached for her hand. We entwined our fingers together, and the heat between us was almost an inferno. I freely gazed down at her naked body, without the eyeholes to fuck up the view. It was better, closer, more real than I’d even imagined. “It’s hardly fair. You know my name,” I whispered into her ear.
She bit her lower lip, the little vixen. “I do?”
I smiled, wondering about the game she seemed to be playing. “It’s clear your friend recognized me. If I recall, she called me a douche. Did she not tell you who I am?”
I thought she would concentrate more on my face, now that she was free to. Instead, she looked away. “No. I mean, yes. She did. She said you were some politician.” She sucked in a breath. “I just thought she might be mistaken.”
“Some politician?” I repeated, half-amused, half-wounded. From what I’d heard, there were few families in America who hadn’t heard the Brice name. “You’ve never heard of the Brice family? Cameron Brice? Son of Vice President Ron Brice? We’re the wealthiest family in the state.”
I knew I sounded just like her friend had said, like a douche. But for some reason, I wanted desperately to impress her.
“Well… yes,” she admitted, though she didn’t seem very impressed. “But I mean, Cameron Brice in a sex club? Who would’ve thought?”
I chuckled. “I confess, my life is a bit buttoned up. I don’t have a chance to breathe in my day-to-day life. These places have become a bit of a closet obsession for me,” I said softly. “You can understand the need for discretion.”
She nodded. “I won’t tell. I’m sorry for what she said.”
I laughed softly. “I’ve been called worse. Does it change your opinion of me?”
“Does it matter?” she countered, reaching up and unfastening the buttons on my vest, one by one. “What should we do now?”
“I have some ideas,” I said as she carefully undid every one of the buttons on my dress shirt, pulling it open. “But yes. It does matter, Cassandra. I’ll call you Cassandra since you won’t give me your real name.”
“Again,” she said, looking up at me coyly. “I don’t think it matters.”
“Fair enough,” I said, leading her through the double doors of the bathroom. I reached into the shower and turned the water on hot. Then I finished undressing. “But just for the sake of curiosity, and because birds of a feather often flock together, do you share your friend’s opinions?”
She smiled. “I’m not very political.”
“So you don’t vote?”
“No, I do. But are you asking whether I’d vote for you?”
I nodded.
She batted her eyelashes innocently. “I’d sooner vote for a toad.”
A toad. How had she, who was admittedly unpolitical, heard about the yellow-horned toad situation? Something tickled at the back of my mind, and a little warning bell went off. I was not going to get taken in by a ringer again. But this was Cassandra, my innocent Cassandra, and though I’d only been with her three times, and she still wouldn’t tell me her name, I’d come to trust her. She’d bared her body to me, trusting me to blindfold her, tie her up, something she hadn’t needed to do if her aim was to fuck me over. Her mentioning the toad was likely coincidental. “Why, thank you. So you’re a liberal?”
She nodded. “Well, I suppose I am, now that I think of it.”
Steam had begun to waft into the room, casting everything in a hazy, dreamlike state. I opened the shower door again to let her pass through. She stepped in and water immediately soaked her hair, darkening it. Water trickled over her curves, her nipples went hard as rocks, and my cock twinged again for her. She beckoned me in as I said, “So what causes are important to you?”
“Climate change.”
I let out a groan. “Climate change is a load of bullshit,” I groused, grabbing a bar of soap and starting to lather it up. “It was invented by Al Gore because he wanted to feel important after losing the election. But the fact is that they stopped calling it Global Warming and started calling it Climate Change because they have no idea what the hell is going on. The earth has always gone through periods of warming and cooling as long as it’s existed, and there’s little we can do about it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I snapped my mouth shut. I was mansplaining. Damn.
“Really?” she asked, her nose wrinkling as I began to lather her skin. I washed her back, her front, thoroughly, taking care not to miss a single spot. She twirled for me, clearly enjoying it from the groans she let out. She threw her wet hair over her shoulder and gave me a sexy pout. I thought she was going to let the subject go, then surprised me when she didn’t. “What’s bullshit is politicians who think that humans have no bearing on the environment and that we can rape it of its natural resources and behave irresponsibly and everything will be just fine. Don’t you care about future generations?”
I raised an eyebrow as she started to lather me up, her hands moving slickly over my body. When she reached for my cock, it was already rock-hard again. I’d care about whatever she wanted, as long as she just kept doing that to me.
“I care very much for future generations. That’s why I want to focus on the things we have control of… emissions, the overabundance of plastics. If we chunk it down and work on one problem at a time, we have a better chance of effecting change.”
She didn’t agree, but she didn’t disagree either. Instead, she went on to another subject that seemed to be weighing heavily on her mind. “Don’t get me started on sexism in the workforce. Women get paid seventy cents for every dollar men make, and it’s not fair.”
“Well, those statistics are true for a variety of reasons. For example, one reason is that many women leave their work after having children, and find it harder to get back into the workforce after a prolonged absence,” I explained. Her hands were moving harder, faster on me. I was getting fucking aroused by her passion. Not political? Fuck that. She had her opinions, even if she didn’t think she did.
“That’s bullshit,” she groaned. “Maternity leave in this country is a disgrace, by the way, and politicians like you don’t get it.”
“Actually, I’m for mandatory paid maternity leave,” I said. “I think the way we treat working mothers in this country is shameful, and we’re falling behind the rest of the civilized world.”
“You are?” She seemed shocked. “Well, the minimum wage should be raised.”
“Which would destroy job creation as companies that hire minimum wage workers will likely pile more work on their current employees rather than hire new ones,” I countered. “Or replace them with robots and self-serve computers.”
She stopped lathering and frowned at me. “Oh, right. Just like that old myth about how cutting taxes for the rich will trickle down to the other ninety-nine percent,” she said, starting to cross her arms. “That’s bull—”
I grabbed her arms before she could entirely close off from me, my hands sliding down to her wrists, and I pinned her against the wall, kissing her hard as the water rained down on us. She fought at first, but relented, at least for a moment. Then she pushed me away. “You’re fucking heartless,” she sneered at me, turning to open the shower door.
“And for someone with no politics, you are oddly political,” I told her, grabbing her before she could make her escape. Her skin was slick, but I held her, wrapping my arms around her waist. Bending over her, I whispered in her ear. “And fucking sexy when you argue like that.”
She surrendered to me at once.
She leaned over, parting her legs, guiding my cock to her entrance. I thrust into her with no hesitation as she pressed her palms against the shower wall. The steam from the shower swirled around us as I fucked her from behind, slow, steady, her body rocking back and forth to meet me.
“God, Cameron,” she moaned, and I was surprised at how comfortable she was with my name, considering this was only the second time she’d used it. I was also surprised by how much I loved hearing it come from her mouth when she was lost in the throes of passion. “Please don’t stop.”
I didn’t. Not until we’d both come. But even then, I wanted more. I’d wanted to fuck this need away, but I still hadn’t had enough.
I needed more.
When we retreated to the bed, still damp with water and soap, we laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms. The dull thrumming of the bass downstairs died away, and a strange silence ensued. Soon, I’d have to go to get ready for a golf tournament with my father in Ardmore. After that, dinner with the Dryden family at the country club. And deal with more Bernadette shit.
Fuck.
I closed my eyes, intent on savoring this moment. Intent on savoring Cassandra for as long as I could. I’d wait until the absolute last moment to leave her. Fuck that it was likely getting late and the sun was coming up. Fuck if I missed the opening of the tournament. Fuck my father. Fuck it all.
“So,” I said to her, wiping a stray lock of damp hair from her face as she pressed her naked body against mine. “It appears you are not entirely uninterested in politics.”
She rolled over and looked at me. “Well. Maybe I am a little interested.”
“So you do know about the toad.”
A grin spread across her face. “That was a totally asshat move.”
“Asshat?” I played the word over in my head, laughing softly. “That’s a new one. I don’t think I’ve ever been called that.”
“I’m sure you have been called it. Just not to your face.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks,” I said, giving her a little shove. “But the truth is… and what the media refuses to share is that the remaining land in that district is swampland, and so that breed of toad is not in any imminent danger. That was the only parcel of town that would support the building of the development. Unfortunately, it’s in the middle of the swamplands, but it’s really the only choice for this project. It would bring a thousand jobs to a district that’s been seeing a lot of suffering since the sugar plant closed down a decade ago. Half the people there are on welfare, and none of them are complaining. They want this development to happen.”
“I didn’t know about the sugar plant,” she said quietly. “So, you’re not killing toads?”
I laughed. “Not today. Actually, not ever. The swampland that surrounds the plot of land is unbuildable and will survive, and the toads will have their home. We hired an EPA conservationist to measure the effects and make sure our yellow-horned friends weren’t being impacted. Unfortunately, none of that seemed to leak into the news outlets you’ve been reading.”
“Seriously?” She propped herself up onto her elbow. “You’re quite attractive when you talk about your yellow-horned friends.”
My balls contracted. “And what are you going to do about it?”
She reached under the sheets and found my cock. Under her touch, it had already begun to harden. I heaved in a breath as she climbed on top of me, sinking down onto me without hesitation, as if she belonged there. I pushed my back up against the headboard and held her to me, intent on remembering this awesome sensation of being buried inside her. The one picture window in the room, though covered in heavy drapes, was outlined in white, signaling that the dark was fading to day. In another hour, I’d have to let her go, and she would no longer be mine.
One more time, I thought. If this is our last time together, make it good.
It was good. In fact, it just kept getting better.
And it was far from enough to quell my need.
She hadn’t wanted to tell me her name, or anything about herself because she knew this wasn’t real. Now, she’d happily go off, fuck men like the Joker jerk deliberately, unabashedly. Maybe I’d come to this club a year from now and find her naked and wriggling on the bar while someone poured hot oil on her. Maybe I’d find her on a leash, being fucked on stage.
And I couldn’t fucking bear that thought.
When I lifted her off me, I realized that despite knowing her body so intimately, I knew nothing else of this woman, other than that she leaned liberal, and she’d never stayed in a fancy hotel before. Holding her close, I said, “Tell me something about yourself. Something personal.”
She lay down flat on her back and looked over at me, confused. “Why does it matter?”
I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at her intently. “Because I want to know.”
She thought for a moment. “I have three older brothers. We used to play cops and robbers when I was a kid. I was always the cop. When I was six, they tied me to a tree and left me there for two hours because they went inside to play video games and forgot me.”
I had to smile at that. “So, you’re close then?”
“Well, not then. But they came around. They live all over the country. The closest one is in Maine. They’re all attorneys. Like my p—” She stopped quickly, like she was afraid she’d said too much, but I filled in the blank. Like my parents.
“Do you aspire to be an attorney also?”
She shook her head. Then she repeated, “Why does it matter?”
Because I’m not ready to let you go yet. “I’m just curious,” I said, “because, my mysterious goddess, now I know more about your family than I do about you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not very good at arguing.”
I laughed and touched the skin on the side of her hip, watching it rise with goosebumps. Every part of her only begged to be touched, again and again. “I beg to differ.”
She laughed and said, “But some attorneys are so heartless. Take for example… you. Right? You were one before you decided to run for office?”
I took a pillow and swatted her with it. She blocked the hit and threw it back at me.
“I am an attorney, yes. I was Philadelphia’s Assistant D.A. for three years out of law school, but now I work as private counsel for my father’s firm, specializing in commercial and real estate law.” I took her hand and put it flush against my chest. “But what’s that? A beating heart?”
She felt for a moment and nodded, looking just like my father — less than impressed. My father thought I should at least be running for U.S. Congress by now, and had suggested it, but the Senate election wouldn’t be until the following year, and when the state seat became vacant this term, it only made sense to make the move. But the difference was, I’d lost interest in proving myself to my father years ago. Now, I seriously felt like I was the right man for the job on my own merits, not just my family’s.
“Do you like it?”
I stared at her. No one had ever asked me that before. “It doesn’t matter whether I do or I don’t. It’s what I have to do.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“No. It isn’t a no.” I gave it some thought. “It’s like any job. There are many aspects about it I like. I like playing a part in shaping the world into a better place. I like helping people. But there’s a lot of bureaucratic bullshit. And you’re right. Some people are driven by greed.” I stopped when I realized I’d started this line of questioning to find out more about her, and instead, she’d turned the tables and put the focus on me. “Do you realize you know just about everything about me, and I know practically nothing about you?”
She sighed. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?”
She shrugged. “Around here.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She was being deliberately vague. “Grew up here?”
She nodded. “Around here.”
It was damn near infuriating. I ventured my next question. “What do you do for a living?”
“A little of this, a little of that.” She smiled. I scowled in return. Now I knew she was toying with me.
“Are you still in school? How old are you, anyway?”
She gave me a shocked expression and patted her heart. “Weren’t you ever told that you’re not supposed to ask a lady that?”
I ran a finger down the smooth skin of her inner arm, and pushed it away from her chest, then paused to touch her nipple, which hardened at once. “You don’t strike me as being of the age where asking would be inappropriate.” When she didn’t answer my question, I laughed. “Please tell me you’re legal.”
“Very funny.”
“All right. Then let me guess.” I stroked my chin as I appraised her. “Twenty-six?”
She shook her head.
“Older or younger?”
She pointed down.
“Twenty-four?”
She pointed down again.
“Twenty-three?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she sat up quickly, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached over the side for her clothes.
“Ah. Twenty-three.” I was happy to claim victory on that, albeit a small one. “I have the feeling that getting to know your name will drive me completely batshit.”
She didn’t seem to find the humor in that. Instead, she pressed her lips together and lifted her clothes onto the bed. She pushed her arms through the straps of her bra and fastened it behind her. “What does it matter, Cameron? What does who I am, or what I like, or what my family is like really matter?”
“It matters to me. In this moment, it matters.”
“I have news for you,” she said, turning to look at me. “This moment is over.”
She was right. Now, the sunlight was slashing through the blinds. It was the moment I’d been dreading. The end.
“But it doesn’t have to be.” I forced away the thoughts of real life. Of my father, of my family’s expectations, of my political career. “You have to go away with me.”
She whirled around on the bed, and a crease appeared on the bridge of her nose. “What?”
“Next Saturday. I have it clear. I’ll call you and we’ll—”
I stopped because she was already shaking her head. A thought dawned on me, one that I couldn’t take. She didn’t want to see me again. She wanted to disappear, and with the few details I had of her life, I’d never see her again.
“Listen to me,” I said, reaching for her.
“No, you listen,” she said, pulling away. “You can’t call me.”
Of course she didn’t want me to have her number. Cassandra was a mystery and wanted to stay a mystery.
Desperation crept in, threatening to overtake me. “But you’ll meet me?”
She nodded slowly.
Thank god. “Two o’clock, Saturday. Any place you want. Just tell me, and I’ll be there.”
She inhaled sharply, and I thought she might say no. But then she said quietly, “At the Temple Welcome Center. Twelfth and Montgomery.”
“Yes. Two o’clock.” I repeated it because I needed to make sure she knew it. “Bring an overnight bag. With as little clothing as possible, because you won’t need it. You’ll be there?”
She nodded back at me, sitting on the edge of the bed still mostly naked, a small smile appearing on her face. “Though I still think you’re a conservative piece of shit.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, tree-hugger.” I wrapped an arm around her and easily pulled her back to the bed. My cock twinged as I wrestled on top of her, kissing her long and deep, and I only wished I had the time to be inside her again.
But not now. There would be another time, thank god. Right now, I needed that next time, like I needed air to breathe.
We dressed after that, donning our outfits, our masks, and as I did, a feeling of guilt seeped in, mingling with the glee from knowing I’d see her again. If I kept prolonging this, it would make it all the harder to call it quits. But part of me thought she’d already become a major vein to my heart, and cutting her loose would mean bleeding to death.