NINE
I walk back out into the living room wearing my silky cerulean dress that I bought for Sterling’s wedding this summer. I argued that I’d look out of place in it while eating at a restaurant, but Rowan insisted the place he is taking me to understands no such thing as being overdressed. So I indulged him.
I coat my lips with a layer of gloss. Approaching him, his eyes roam across my body as he listens to someone talking to him over the phone. I don’t know what he’s thinking—his expression doesn’t offer much.
He crooks a finger in my direction, demanding me to come closer. And when I do, his hand slips through the slit of the fabric that’s covering my legs, trailing up until it reaches my panties. He hooks his finger behind the thin material and pulls it down until it slides off easily from the rest of my thighs and I’m naked underneath my dress.
“Rowan—” I whisper, though I’m not really sure what I’m asking. I missed him all day.
“Just one moment, please, Mr. President,” he says into the phone, and my eyes widen in shock.
It can’t be. Rowan’s messing with me—he can’t possibly be talking to the President of the United States of America right now. Not when his fingers are so close to my pussy and his eyes are devouring me from afar.
But the more I stare at him with my breath held tight in my lungs, the more I realize there’s no trace of pretense in his demeanor. Of course there isn’t. Rowan isn’t the kind of man who hides who he is and what he does—even if the things he does might seem crazy to the rest of us.
This man, he’s so… unpredictable. So unapologetic in everything he does. It’s in this moment that I realize just how addictive being around him is. Suddenly, it’s not just my body longing for him anymore. No. It feels like my heart is slipping through the cracks of my ribcage, wanting to give itself fully over to him.
Lowering the phone to his side, Rowan catches my gaze and I snap out of my thoughts, feeling my cheeks flush and nervousness inundate my veins.
“Leave the panties at home,” he says. “I’m going to have full access to your gorgeous pussy tonight. Is that understood?”
I nod softly, my mind going back to the person waiting for him on the other end of the line.
“Is that… Are you really talking to the president right now?” I whisper.
He only smirks at me, and that is answer enough.
“I want you to get down on your hands and knees. Ass facing me.” He dips his chin toward the floor, indicating the place where he wants me.
“But—”
“Now, angel.”
Fuck. Okay, I guess. It’s not like I’m the one talking to the president, after all. I press my lips together and bite down on my inner cheek, lowering myself to the floor in front of him.
“Good girl,” he says, and when he sees that I’m taking the position he requested, he finally resumes his conversation.
My pussy tingles with excitement at being praised, but I still can’t fathom what’s going on. How can he be so calm… so collected? As if the president is nothing but an old friend he banters with from time to time. I don’t even know. Maybe he is one. I remind myself, once again, that I don’t know much about Rowan’s life.
I breathe in and out, looking straight ahead, with my ass pointing toward him. I don’t know what he wants to do, but I’m glad I didn’t take out that butt plug. Somehow, I was hoping he’d call… that he’d tell me there’s nothing going on between him and Odette. So I kept it there just in case.
Rowan’s hand lifts up my dress, revealing me to him. I gasp when he pushes the plug in further, but my body sags when he pulls it out completely. I feel empty now, and I’m not sure I like it. When I turn to look at what he’s doing, I’m met with a stern look that has me looking back toward the floor in an instant. I whimper, waiting for whatever he wants to do to me.
Cold liquid drips down on my hole and I jolt upright at the surprise sensation. A palm lands on my ass, pain spreading across it, and I understand he wants me to be silent. But it’s hard—it’s really fucking hard when another, much bigger plug pushes at the entrance of my hole, wanting to fill me up again. I press a hand to my mouth to stifle my moans, though I’m not sure how much it helps.
“Rock your body back and forth,” Rowan says, and I presume he’s put his microphone on mute for a second there.
I nod and do as I’m told, the plug entering my tight ass inch by inch whenever I push myself into it. It hurts, but not as much as the first one did. So I brace myself and take it all the way in, my body finally relaxing under the tingles of arousal pulsing through my core.
A finger then slides inside my pussy and it just stays there, unmoving. I take it as a sign to rock my body into Rowan’s touch again, but when I do he removes it and slaps my ass. He slides it back in and this time, when I don’t move, he keeps it there.
I can feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter by the second. There’s something oddly erotic about being wrapped around his finger like that, even if he’s not fucking me. Still, I want more. I want him to make me come. So I look back at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’ll indulge me this time.
“Of course. Send all my best to the First Lady. Yes, hopefully soon. Good night.”
I hear the phone being tossed away on the couch, and I know the call has ended.
“Is there a problem, angel?”
“N-No, sir.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he purrs and caresses my ass with his free hand.
“I just… it feels good. But…”
“But you would very much like to be finger-fucked?”
“Yes,” I gasp, closing my eyes and rocking myself into his touch.
Smack .
“What did I tell you this morning? You’ll stay still and take what I’m giving you. I could keep my finger inside your wet pussy all night long without moving it and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
He offers a hum of approval at the same time as my pussy clenches around his finger, begging him to stop teasing me. But when he finally moves it, he slides it out of me completely, drawing a frown and a few small tears of frustration out of me.
Damn him for punishing me like this. Though I can’t say I don’t deserve it after running from him today.
Don’t cry, angel. When we get back, I’ll fuck your little ass over this desk right here. And then I’ll take a few long hours making this pussy come until you beg me to stop.”
My heels make contact with the pavement as I take Rowan’s hand and let him gently pull me out of the car. I’ve never held his hand before. It feels warm and rough on the edges, and it spurs all sorts of fuzzy feelings inside me. I look up at him through my eyelashes, the sight of him under the moonlight making my heart skip a beat.
Hooded dark green eyes stare back at me, owning me and giving themselves over to me at the same time. His lush lips twist into a subtle smile. I return it, and for a long moment I zone out of everything else around us, seeing him and him only.
He’s so goddamn handsome. And he’s mine.
“Who do you belong to, Dove?” he asks, interlacing his fingers with mine.
I waste no seconds to tell him the truth.
“You. I belong to you.”
“Don’t you dare forget that. We’re about to meet a lot of people, and I want to make sure they all know what you just told me.”
“W-Who are we meeting?”
He pulls my slight hand to his lips and imprints himself on me with a kiss before leading us to the entrance of what looks like another fancy hotel. I walk beside him with my long dress wafting around my legs, making it look as if I’m walking on a moving cloud.
A woman comes out before us, immediately recognizing Rowan. She smiles at him in a way that makes my blood boil while completely overlooking me. My hand tenses in Rowan’s grasp, and he tilts his head toward me as we follow her through the hotel.
“Her name is Vanda,” he whispers, “and all the wives you’re about to meet hate her with a near-homicidal passion.”
I purse my lips to hide my laugh.
“Did she…” I whisper back.
“Oh, yeah. Slept with nearly all the senators and government agents you’re about to meet tonight.”
I open my mouth to say something, but just then, Vanda stops in front of two large doors and extends her hand forward as she keeps fluttering her eyelashes at Rowan. I can hear the tune of a classical song from the room beyond, but nothing more.
“Thank you,” Rowan says without sparing her another glance.
Opening one of the doors, he leads us both inside, and all eyes are on us. Not all of them are happy, which makes me feel even more nervous than I thought I’d have to be.
My pulse hikes up to my throat, but Rowan’s thumb swipes across the back of my hand, reminding me that he’s got me. All I need to do is let him take care of me. Of us.
I’m led toward a large table where men and women wearing suits and dresses talk about God-knows-what. I don’t recognize anyone, though it doesn’t surprise me. Other than watching Rowan on TV before he reached out, I’ve never really followed politics.
A middle-aged man approaches us, grinning as he looks between me and Rowan. A woman follows close behind him, until they both stop in front of us.
“I’ve lived to see the day Rowan King brought a woman to our parties,” the man says. The woman—his wife, I presume—sips on champagne while looking me up and down.
“Senator Gutenberg.” Rowan dips his head, acknowledging his presence. “Mrs. Gutenberg.”
“An outsider, too,” Mrs. Gutenberg muses. Her tone indicates she’s satisfied by the fact.
“This is Dove Finnegan,” Rowan says, letting go of my hand only to snake his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him possessively. “And yes, she’s mine.”
The way he says it makes my cheeks flush, especially when I’m reminded of the plug he pushed inside my ass. Rowan’s promise of fucking it when we get back has me pressing my legs together in anticipation.
“A pleasure to meet you,” I chirp, but it comes out quieter than I would like.
“Finnegan?” the senator asks, both his eyebrows lifting at the same time. “She’s related to Cole?”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry for your loss,” his wife says, leaning in to grab my hand.
So they knew my brother, then.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile.
The senator tsks, looking back at Rowan. “And you’re not worried they’re going to target her?”
There’s a short pause that has me looking back at him, too, for answers. Target who? Me? Who is he talking about? Rowan tightens his grip on me, and I get the feeling something’s not right.
“Like I said,” he drawls, “she’s mine. So other than making sure I’m giving her a perfect evening, I’m not worried about anything else. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
Rowan takes my hand and leads me around the senator and his wife. But just as I’m about to pass them, Mrs. Gutenberg catches my other hand and stops me in my tracks for a brief second.
“Be careful, Dove Finnegan. Or you might not get out of this alive.”