Chapter 5 #2
Small hands rubbed her body. I observed, taking note of the movement, pressure, and direction. When time permitted, my lengths to please Royce would be immeasurable.
She was quiet. Content. Relaxed.
I lowered my body until my mouth was ear-level with the woman who was slowly stealing my power and my sanity.
“My world is crumbling and you’re face down, eyes closed, and without a care in the world. Royce–”
I was hardly here because I needed her to do any more than she’d already done in preparation for the inevitable.
I was here because I needed her. And, it ended there.
Seeing her clothed me in content. Disturbed whatever was going on up in that fucking circus of mine.
My brain was a complex place… one that she simplified with one word. One look.
Still, I didn’t reveal the true nature of my presence. But, somehow, I had a feeling she knew that already. She lifted her head. Things inside of me shifted.
“Get undressed, Ishmael,” Royce demanded.
After the words left her mouth, she lowered, disappearing without as much as a glance in my direction. Perturbed and tantalized at once, I stilled. Unmoving and completely consumed, I considered her bare-faced beauty. It was staggering.
Her side profile left me gobsmacked. I wasn’t prepared for the full image. Not mentally, physically, or in any way I could be. I rested my eyes and shook my head from one side to the other, slowly, as I attempted to collect myself. Or as much of me that she hadn’t yet stolen.
I rubbed a hand down my chin and neck. Royce was becoming as much of my stressor as she was my reliever.
I didn’t protest. Instead, I laid my naked body on the table next to her sixty seconds later, smothering my hard dick with the weight of my body. Revolver in hand.
A warm, damp towel cleansed my skin of excess oil. My lungs and chest had loosened. So had my limbs. The sound of water crashing against the shore swayed my thoughts.
An hour and a half of my time had been well spent. The noise was behind me. Anxiousness was beneath me. Contentment was before me.
At thirty-eight, I had never taken the time out of my day to rest my body and mind on the table of a masseuse. That changed today, and I was contemplating fitting a monthly maintenance in my schedule.
“Ma’am. Sir. Have a blessed day.”
“Thank you, Hailey.” Royce sighed.
The weight she was carrying had been freed from her shoulders. She sounded much lighter and utterly refreshed. I couldn’t deny the difference I felt either.
I was the first to rise, considerate of Royce’s discomfort. Remaining respectful, I held both ends of the towel around my waist as I stood. I lifted my left foot, attempting to put it forward. However, I halted midstride.
Royce was on her feet in a flash. Unclothed. Uncovered. Unphased. Her body glistened from the remnants of oil. Her face radiated from the effects of the hour and a half long massage. Her cheeks rose as my erection followed suit.
Down, boy.
Dark areolas housed hardened nipples. They were small, round, and suckable. I swallowed the saliva forming in my mouth at the thought of all parts of her touching my tongue.
Her breasts were only the first perfect parts of her I noticed. However, she was perfection at its finest. All of her.
Those chiseled abs.
Defined waistline.
Hips that spread like mayo on a slice of bread.
The slight gap between her legs.
And the way her legs rounded out so perfectly.
Even her toes were flawless. All aligned, no signs of the work I knew she had done to acquire her title and become a walking resource.
Slowly, she located one piece of clothing after the other. Her speed was agonizing. She moved without haste. On her own time.
First, it was her top. She was braless underneath. Next was her panties. The fabric clung to her bald pussy. It was as beautiful as she was.
Smooth.
Hairless.
Thick.
And, undoubtedly, creamy.
I didn’t need any more evidence than the moisture that darkened her panties where her lips started. Darkness came quickly. Light surrounded me again, almost immediately, as my eyes reopened.
A thigh strap clamped around her leg. She shoved the Glock into the holster. In pure bliss, I observed every detail of her makeup.
“Clothes, Ishmael.”
“Don’t dangle meat in front of a starving beast and expect him not to eat at some point.”
My warning had come. Destruction would follow.
With a smile, Royce pulled a silk skirt up her body. She was enjoying the turmoil she was inflicting.
“Clothes.”
I released my towel. Royce’s efforts to redress concluded, simultaneously. Her eyes found my center, where my rigidness sliced the air. I pulled my briefs over my ass, feeling the tension thicken in the room.
Undoubtedly, Royce would suffocate before I did. Her gaze told me so. She hadn’t calculated the risk factors before jumping into the boiling water she’d placed on the stove herself.
The fabric did little to conceal my hard dick. Though caged, it still had an audience. I followed with additional clothing. Once I was clothed completely, I placed both hands in front of me and rested my weight on my legs.
“Shoes, Royce,” I commanded.
“I– Ye– Right.”
She tripped over her words as she began scrambling. She slid into a pair of heels that only had a strap over the front. They were black in color, tall, and had a red sole. I knew the designer without mention.
I allowed her to exit first. She stepped into the hallway, making her presence known with the sound of her shoes colliding with the floor.
And, that shit…
That shit did something for me.
Something to me.
There was something about a woman announcing her presence without a fucking word that lit a fire within me.
Like a lost puppy, I followed behind Royce. I didn’t mind her taking the lead because it meant I had a full view of what was waiting for me post-election.
We reached the double doors far too soon. Our time together was coming to a screeching halt. The tightening in my chest returned. I wasn’t prepared. I needed more time.
More time with Royce.
More time not worrying.
More time not thinking about a damn thing but her.
“Royce,” I called out as we reached the doors that led to the parking lot.
“Yes, Ishmael?” She asked, stepping outside.
Flashing cameras met us. Indifference gripped my heart, squeezing until it was near explosion.
“Smile, your annoyance is showing, honey.” Royce chuckled with her back toward the cameras.
“You knew?”
“I always know,” she assured me.
I pulled her inside.
“Royce, your face will be all–”
“It’s already all over Berkeley, Ishmael.”
Protecting her image was the main source of my indifference. Exposing her to the public at the current capacity was unsettling.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I just– well…”
She slid a hand across my shirt, clearing meaningless dust particles.
“Well what, Royce?”
She was mesmerizing. Naturally and utterly spectacular. A piece of hair hung in her face, next to bangs that covered her forehead. Her identity was partially concealed with black Prada shades. Her lips were shiny and she smelled like something in a summer catalog.
“I was wondering if I could catch a ride,” she asked, gnawing on her bottom lip.
In the next breath, Royce pushed the door open, forcing me to grab ahold of it. She had planned this spa visit down to a science. No stone was left unturned.
Flashing cameras sealed my lips. I took Royce’s hand into mine, shielding her from the group of reporters with microphones pointed in our direction. She leaned into me.
More things inside of me shifted. Moving to make space for her.
Because for the first time since I’d encountered her, I didn’t feel like I was chasing the intangible. Something I wanted was at the tip of my fingers. In my hands.
Victories had been few and far apart since that night in Clarke. However, Royce’s head on my shoulder as I covered her face from the cameras deemed me victorious. Her submission was far more invigorating than any part of my mayoral campaign or the idea of heading an entire city.
Truthfully, leading Royce had become my ultimate goal. But, I had a feeling Berkeley would be much easier. Simpler. Less entertaining. Still, I wanted both seats. I deserved both seats.