CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
I crawled to her, and she met me halfway. She pushed my shirt off my shoulders and let it trap my arms while she ran her hands over my chest and abs. My muscles jumped at her touch.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything,” I said, kissing her and nibbling on her full bottom lip.
“How are you so built? I’ve never seen a politician who looked like you do. You look like an athlete or a model, not a mayor.” She ran her hands over my well-muscled chest.
“Damn, honey,” I said as I flexed a muscle or two, “you know how to stroke a guy’s ego.” I winked at her. Then hissed as she put her hand around my cock and stroked me. I thrust into her hands.
“That feels good, but I want all of you.” I pushed my shirt the rest of the way off and flopped down on my back. I pulled her on top of me, making sure she was straddling my hips.
I grabbed a condom from the drawer of the nightstand.
She distracted me by pulling the T-shirt she’d been sleeping in off over her head. The sight of her breasts bouncing with the movement made all thoughts leave my mind. I laid back with my arms crossed behind my head.
“Ride me, angel.”
She moved forward with her knees until she lined herself up with my dick. I picked her up and pulled her down onto me. “Ah,” I groaned out as she mewled and bucked on top of me.
She used her leg muscles to work herself up and down my cock.
She leaned forward, and I put my hands on her tits, running my thumbs over her nipples.
“Damn,” I said as she started riding me hard, rolling her hips and taking her own pleasure as she rubbed her clit against me.
I looked down at where we were joined and got impossibly harder as I watched us fucking.
“Goddamn,” I moaned as she picked up the pace, riding me like I was a damn horse, her tits shaking and swaying as she bounced up and down on me.
“I can’t hold back, honey,” I cried.
“Give me just a second,” she gasped and then ground her clit against me harder until she cried out.
I flipped her over on her back and lifted one of her legs so I could drive into her hard a few times as I came with her walls pulsing around me.
Then I collapsed beside her.
We both lay there gasping for breath. I looked at her and saw she was amused.
“We sound out of shape,” she giggled.
Soon, we were both laughing for no apparent reason. I rolled over and pressed my face against her hair. “Have I told you that I love the way you smell?”
“No.” She settled her head on my back. “I like the way you smell, too. So clean and…forest-like.”
I barked out a laugh. “Forest-like? What I smell like a damn pine tree?”
“Or several pine trees grouped together. That is what a forest is, Reynolds.”
I stared at her for a second, then grabbed her and tickled her.
“No,” she gasped. “I’m too ticklish! I’ll pee on you!”
I laughed as I kept it up anyway, until she was almost crying from laughter. “Please! I’m not kidding, I’m gonna pee. It’ll be your fault, Reynolds!”
I grudgingly let her up and she ran to the bathroom. She took the time to close the door, so it couldn’t have been that big an emergency. I was still laughing when she came back.
“Are you back for more?”
“No.” She stood back from the bed warily. “I’m tired and want to go to sleep, but I don’t want you to tickle me again…”
I grabbed her, and she screamed with laughter as I tucked her into my side and held onto her. “I want to go to sleep with you beside me,” I admitted to her. “You feel good.”
She nuzzled into me. “You feel good, too.”
And that’s how we fell asleep that night.
***
The first thing I thought about the next morning was that I’d broken two of my rules. I still hadn’t slept with anyone since I’d first seen Nadine. And I had spent the night at her condo.
As I let the hot spray of the shower run down my body, I tried to rationalize it. I wasn’t even attracted to Whitney. If I’d been with some hot girl from Cayenne as my fake relationship, I would’ve totally fucked her. Right? And I was just tired. That’s why I’d spent the night.
It had nothing to do with how beautiful Nadine was or how good she smelled. Or how fun she was. Or how amazing she felt in my arms. Or how hard she made me come. None of that stuff mattered.
I hurried around the condo, but I was quiet. I didn’t want to wake Nadine. Mainly, I wanted to let her sleep since she was tired. But I also didn’t want to talk about the rules I’d broken, even if they were mine to break.
Did I want to wake her up and fuck her once more before I left to start my day? Yes. But I showed remarkable self-control and left her alone.
I was quiet on my ride into the office. The mayor’s office was on the top floor of city hall.
It gave me a remarkable view of downtown West Bay.
It was the ‘old’ part of downtown—the part that had existed before Carlos Salazar came to town, met and fell in love with Gloria Bennett, decided to stay, and created a dynasty.
The ‘new’ downtown was blocks away, and, while it had a certain beauty to it as well, nothing was as pretty to me as the old buildings and architecture of the downtown area which I’d grown up walking around in.
I had memories at every single shop around the square.
Sometimes it felt like West Bay was as much a part of me as an arm or a leg.
A light knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Come in.”
“Your parents are here to see you, sir,” my secretary let me know.
I made a face. “Send them in,” I said, my stomach tightening with nerves.
I really didn’t want to start my day with a lecture from them.
I’d done almost everything they’d wanted me to do my whole life.
I’d gone off to boarding school, even though I’d have rather stayed home in West Bay.
I’d gone to Harvard instead of West Bay University.
I’d played every sport my father had wanted me to and dated every girl my mother had insisted was perfect for me.
Until I’d left home for college, that is.
But there were two things that were pissing them off—my decision to not marry yet, and my lack of interest in declaring a run for governor. They’d expected that instead of me wanting to run for mayor of West Bay again.
“Good morning,” I said to them both as they came in. I shook my father’s hand and kissed my mother’s proffered cheek. We weren’t a family of huggers. “To what do I owe this surprise?”
Instead of answering, they each took a seat in one of the upholstered antique wingback chairs in front of my huge, wooden desk.
I’d hired a decorator to update the office after I’d become mayor for the first time almost four years ago now.
The previous mayor had served forever and was perfectly happy to be surrounded by the turquoise and peach colors that were popular in the nineteen eighties.
That shit had to go.
Now it was modernized. I was surrounded by soothing shades of gray, white, and dusky blue.
The furniture was mine that I’d inherited from my grandparents and great-grandparents.
It was all top-of-the-line antiques, and I’d be taking them with me if I ever had to vacate the mayor’s office.
I liked being surrounded by calming colors and my own things.
It was a soothing place for me to work, and I loved my job.
“Son, have you seen the paper this morning?”
My father still received an actual paper every morning at my parents’ antebellum mansion.
I hurriedly pulled the local paper’s website up on my laptop.
What I saw wasn’t good, but I wasn’t surprised.
It was an article detailing how some of my supporters, namely Thaddeus Clammett, had jumped shipped and were supporting the only other viable candidate, Jasper Hill.
“Why the hell is Thaddeus Clammett backing Jasper Hill?” my father demanded.
Part of me wanted to tell my parents the truth, that I’d beat him out for the right to fuck a beautiful young woman for the next six months, but I didn’t want to give either of them a heart attack.
So, I told them a half truth. “I backed the push to build a new bridge through Bay Park so that the new downtown area would be directly connected to Bay Street.” Clammett had been opposed to the structure at first, but had come around when I’d pointed out it would be easier for tourists to spend money at businesses along the bay walk and at the beachfront shops.
Clammett’s first wife owned a bed-and-breakfast off West Bay beach.
I knew the more money she made, the less he felt he owed her in alimony.
We’d made up after I pointed out how much extra revenue her business would most likely bring in.
“I thought you put that behind you.” Dad frowned and crossed his arms across his thick chest. He was still a big guy. He worked out regularly and had taken good care of himself. Mom was the same way. She’d had work done and looked at least a decade younger than she actually was.
“We did.” I shrugged. “He brought it back up. Who knows? People do strange things, Dad.”
“Word on the street is that you’re not tough enough on crime.” Dad glared at me. “Is that true?”
“Not at all. I’ve come up with several initiatives to combat the rise of crime in West Bay.”
“They’re also calling you a playboy,” Mom added. “You should settle down and marry Whitney Masters as soon as you can before the election. Or at least get engaged.”
I blew out a breath. “I’m not ready to get married, Mom. And I’m not sure I even like Whitney.”
My dad made a humph sound that let me know his opinion.
He’d told me multiple times that it didn’t matter if I liked a woman or not.
As long as she’d further my career, I should lock her down.
Then, he’d told me, I could always cheat on her as much as I wanted.
He couldn’t very well say all of that in front of my mom, though, even if she was thinking the same thing.
“You should’ve run for governor when you had the chance,” Mom said, studying her perfectly polished nails. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t. You’re the youngest mayor in office in Georgia, and you’re certainly the handsomest. You’d win easily.”
I rubbed my temples. It was too early for this shit. They were giving me a headache.
“Well, as I said the last time you brought that up, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run for governor.
I’m still not sure. I love West Bay. I always have.
I don’t want to leave it. Plus, it’s one of the few larger cities left with no term limits to being mayor.
As long as I keep getting elected, I can hold office and try to make it an even better place than it already is. ”
Both my parents looked at me skeptically.
“How’d you turn out to be so optimistic?” Mom asked.
“Idealistic, more like it,” Dad grumbled.
I clapped my hands and stood straight up, startling them both. “Well, this has been great, but I have a city council meeting to prepare for. If you’ll excuse me…”
Dad raised an eyebrow at me. “Your mother’s not wrong. You should marry that Masters girl.”
“Absolutely,” Mom nodded her blonde head in agreement.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” I said with a tight smile. “I’ll have to talk to y’all another time. Maybe next time call me first so I can arrange for us to have lunch together.”
“That sounds nice,” Mom smiled vaguely.
Dad just shook my hand and ignored what I said. “Come up with something to say about crime soon, Reynolds. Something more substantial than what you’ve been saying.”
“I will. Thanks for your concern, Dad.”
He nodded, unaware of the sarcasm in my voice.
Almost as soon as they were gone, Melda Rogers, my campaign manager, burst into my office. I stared at her. “Melda.”
“Did you see the news?”
“About how I’m losing donors, a playboy, and easy on crime?”
She nodded and collapsed into a chair. “Yep.”
“What do you want me to do to combat this?”
She tapped her chin, a nervous habit that I wasn’t sure she knew she had. “Well, as far as I can tell it’s just one donor, though he’s a big one. Do you think you can woo Clammett back to our side?”
“Not a chance.”
She looked disappointed. “Okay, well. Spilled milk and all that. The playboy thing—can you marry that girl you’re fake dating? It could be a fake marriage.”
I laughed. “Sorry, Melda. Also, not a chance.”
“Hmm. Can you just make it appear a bit more serious than it is?”
“I can try, I guess.”
“That would help. I thought we had it under control, but this Jasper Hill just won’t let it go.
” She readjusted in the chair. “As for crime, I’ll get to work on a release to send to the paper about your stance on crime.
We’ll include the new initiatives between campus, downtown, and bay area police precincts. What else should I bring up?”
“Definitely the increased budget to fight crime, the extensive neighborhood watch programs run by our re-developed crime watchers program, and the fact that the arrest rate on violent crime has risen along with the crime rate. Don’t mention the task force I’m working on with the sheriff that targets the new downtown area specifically. It’s not ready yet.”
“I don’t think we want to point out that the crime rate has risen.”
“Why not?” I paced in front of my desk. “Everyone knows it has. We might as well acknowledge it. Then we can compare our numbers to other Southern cities of our size and show that we’re doing better than they are.”
She shook her head. “Nope. We don’t bring it up. We just have that information handy if anyone else brings it up.” She watched me. Her eyes were so light gray that they almost looked colorless. It was unnerving. “I’m thinking we should begin to develop ads for television. What do you think?”
“Like attack ads? I’m against it.” They were tacky, and I hated them. I wanted people to vote for me because they thought I was a good mayor; not because I’d made the other candidate out to seem worse than Jack the Ripper.
“They don’t have to be attack ads, necessarily. You could just compare your experience to Jasper Hill’s lack of it… that sort of thing.”
“Do we really need to do that? It feels unnecessary.”
She gave me a look, but I didn’t back down.
Even though I wasn’t as confident as I was presenting myself to be.