Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Rayne
Within forty-eight hours, I drop in the general polls by three points. Not significant, but enough to remind me that no matter how carefully I explained myself, some people were always going to see the woman and her sexuality before they saw the candidate.
Our campaign phone lines and social media accounts flood with messages calling me “unfit for office” and “scandalous.” There are comments about my body that Anika tries to shield me from, but the ones I see, I delete. That doesn’t stop the momentary sting.
Bayside Truth Watch goes into overdrive, working desperately to salvage its narrative. The page posts edited memes trying to paint my press conference as a bid for sympathy votes from women while demanding the immediate release of the photos.
Fucking Hollis. He’s still convinced he’s the smartest person in the room.
I took away some of his power by speaking first, but that doesn’t mean he won’t post the pictures at some point.
Images that would live on the internet forever.
One Google search of my name, and that’s what would pop up first, as though that’s my identity.
I’d be devastated. Not because I’ve done anything wrong, but because they’re private, personal, and mine.
God, just thinking about Diablo seeing them makes my whole body cringe. Facing him at tomorrow’s debate when he knows exactly what I look like in my most intimate moments is going to be spectacularly awkward, to say the least.
But if I dwell on that and if I obsess over the photos leaking, I will give Hollis exactly what he wants. The power to keep me afraid.
Through all of it, DK has been his usual incredible self.
When the comments get mean, my phone lights up with another text reminding me that I’m not facing this alone.
That I have him. That I have people who love me.
That I have a groundswell of supporters standing behind me posting: Rayne serves and We’re still Making it Rayne over here.
His latest text finally cracks through the tension. I’m getting ready for bed when I receive a selfie. He’s wearing a light blue Post-it note on his bare chest with TEAM LUNA! written in black block letters and sporting the cheesiest grin ever.
I slide into bed and hit him up on FaceTime.
He answers, framed him from the chest up, his shoulders relaxing against the dark headboard of his bed. The Post-it note is still stuck to his chest, a ridiculous, perfect contrast to the sexiness of him topless and wearing a black durag. Pleasure flutters through me.
“There’s that beautiful smile,” he says, grinning back.
“Light blue is definitely your color.”
“I’ll wear it everyday if it keeps that smile on your face. I’ve missed it.” His expression softens, his gaze searching mine through the screen. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay… mostly,” I admit. “Tired. A little bruised by the comments, but ready to move forward. I’m not letting him steal anything else from me.”
“He doesn’t own a thing of yours,” DK says firmly.
“He actually still does.”
“What?”
I stare at him, looking at the steady, fierce devotion in his eyes. Hollis tried to turn my phone, my camera, and my private expression of desire into a weapon of shame. He made me afraid to share this intimacy with DK.
A spark of defiance flares in my chest. If I’m taking my power back, I’m taking all of it. Every single piece.
I prop my phone against the headboard on top of some pillows. Sitting up in front of the camera, I undo the first button on my pajama top.
“Luna.” His voice drops into that deeper, smoky register. “Are you sure?”
“Completely sure.” My hand shakes a little, but I keep going. I pop another button. “I trust you.” Then another. “And I trust myself.” I release the final one and slide the panels apart, baring my breasts.
I look at the box on the screen with me in the corner. I’m no longer shaking. I want DK to see everything. I want to see everything. I’m in control here. My decision. The screen is a window, and the man on the other side of it is the only one invited in.
I slip off the satin top and the matching bottoms. Naked, just as I’d been that day. But I’m not that same woman.
DK exhales a raspy breath. “Fuck, Luna.”
For a second, the old instinct to cover myself creeps in—the echo of a past that told me my body wasn’t good enough. But I fight against it. Leaning into the moment, I arch my back, letting my chest rise, letting the full, rich curves of my hips and the soft, heavy drape of my belly rest naturally.
DK’s hand reaches forward, his thumb brushing over his own camera lens as if he could feel the texture of my skin through the glass. “I want my hands on you so bad.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“Here?” I fill my hands with my breasts, tracing the dark points of my nipples while keeping my eyes locked on our spliced images. Seeing his reaction and mine.
“Fuck yes.” DK lets out a low groan, his head dropping back against the headboard, his gaze tracking the movement, his eyes darker and hungrier than before.
“Right there,” he murmurs. “Feel how soft and full you are. I want to bury my face between your tits. In the valley that smells like roses. I want to suck your hard nipples into my mouth. Bite them… lick them.”
My pussy throbs with each word, with every hitch of his breath. There is no shame here. His gaze is pure, holy worship.
I slide my hand down past my ribs, over the pouch of my stomach, and guide my fingers lower, shooting him a seductive grin. “You just going to watch, or are you going to play too?”
“I’ve been with you every second.”
“Show me.”
He positions the camera where I can see him from head to thigh. His boxers are pushed below his shaft—thick, erect, and gorgeous.
“I love your dick,” I rasp. “How it feels, so big and heavy. The way it tastes, slick and salty on my tongue.”
“Luna… fuck.” He fists the length, and I’m consumed by smoldering heat. He pushes back harder against the headboard, his groan husky. My gaze follows a thick drop of pre-cum rolling down from his crown to pool at the top of his fist.
Lust courses like a hot river through me. This mutual self-pleasure is different from the time in his bedroom in Chicago. This is close up, nothing else but us on the screen. It’s somehow even more intimate.
His solid chest and soft stomach flex as he strokes himself in a long, slow pumping motion.
“You make me so hot,” I breathe, unable to bear the ache of my tightened nipples. I cup my breasts harder and squeeze.
“There you go, Luna. Take me with you.”
I want this image of us to be burned into his brain the way it will be burned into mine. No video documentation. Just the unforgettable memory of it.
With my eyes locked on his, I glide my hands over my body, feeling the way it moves and flows beneath my hands.
He envelopes the wide head of his dick in his palm. His thumb rubs over his nipple, making me salivate. He’s uninhibited in the way he touches himself, which turns me on even more.
I pinch one of my nipples hard enough to gasp, and knowing the things that drive him wild, I spread my legs, letting him see how wet I am.
DK’s eyes darken to obsidian. “I want to bury my face in your pussy and eat you up. Then slide my dick inside. Feel your tight heat milking me.”
“Yes,” I cry, pushing in two fingers and fucking myself. “I wish you were here. I wish I could feel you filling me, stretching me. Pounding hard into my pussy until I come all over you.”
His breathing intensifies, turning into harsh stabs of sound through the phone speaker. A line of sweat trickles down the center of his torso.
We move together, syncing up our rhythms.
His fist tightens while he jacks himself with brutal speed. My fingertips rub my clit in rapid circles, my hips grinding into my touch. Needing to see his undoing.
“Luna,” he roars at that first burst of semen, then another—a copious stream repeatedly jets against his belly.
The sight of him losing it torches my arousal. My chest heaves as the tension winds tight, tight, and tighter. My heart pounds. My moans grow louder, filling every corner of the room.
“DK.” I break. A deep, pulling orgasm explodes into dazzling pleasure. My body quakes, and I pinch my nipple harder, dragging my other fingers through my wetness as the climax turns my limbs to water.
His heavy-lidded gaze never leaves me. For a long minute, the only sound in both of our bedrooms is the rasping of our breaths.
Slowly, the world stops spinning, and a soft, triumphant smile blooms on my face.
He sweeps his hand across the sheets until he finds it. Then he lifts the Post-it note, which is now slightly crumpled, and pats it back into place with a sated grin.
I love this man. Cum on his stomach and Team Luna on his damp chest.
“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice laced with emotion.
“Free.” That’s the word that comes to mind. Simple. Just that.
The camera is once again only a camera. My body is only a body. And Hollis Brown officially has nothing left of me.