“You and me,” she whispers. “I can’t think of anything else.” She pushes my pants down below my ass. “All I can think about is how good your cock tastes in my mouth.”

  Fiona drops to her knees. I inhale, thinking it would be best to try and stop her, but a moment of weakness curls around my chest like a snake. I watch her kneel before me as my blood pounds. I’m hard as a rock before she even gives my cock a full stroke.

  “Kingston, fill my mouth,” she says, her warm breath grazing my thick crown. “I want to taste you on my tongue all night long.”

  I gasp as she opens her mouth. The last bit of restraint in me melts away. I watch helplessly as Fiona bobs her head, taking me in as deep as her throat will allow. Even then, she pushes herself further, briefly choking on me, and I’m more than a little ashamed to admit how much I enjoy it.

  My pulse quickens. My loins ache. Every graze of her tongue brings paradise and weaker knees. Every stroke of her hand makes me want to groan her name. Every vibrating moan brings me closer to giving her what she wants. Tonight, tomorrow.

  Forever.

  Fiona slides me out and takes hold of my shaft in her wet palm. “I want you to know, Kingston…” she looks up at me with big eyes and a lipstick-smeared mouth, “that I am yours. And that this is mine.” She gives my cock a stroke, her hand easily sliding from base-to-tip. “No other man could ever make me feel like this… and I’ll be damned if I let any other woman make you feel this way again.”

  I place my hand on her head, quickly guiding her mouth back to my cock as her words force me over the edge. I come the moment her tongue touches my skin again, pumping strings of cum into her little, pink throat. She moans for more and continues bobbing her head as if to milk every last drop of it. I flinch from the heightened sensitivity but, I manage to hold out a few moments longer just to watch my shaft pulsating between her swollen lips.

  Fiona pulls me out and covers her mouth her with hand. She swallows me down, her little throat bobbing twice to make sure she takes it all. I fight the urge to throw her down and fill her pussy full of it, too.

  “Fiona…”

  She looks at me as she wipes her lips. I grab her wrist and yank her up off the floor, quickly wrapping my other arm around her waist to hold her up as I carry her toward the bed.

  “Go to your dinner,” I say.

  I stop at the foot of the bed and turn her around to face it. With a firm touch, I guide her forward. She places her palms on the pure white bedspread.

  “Then…” I draw her dress upward, slowly scratching along her thigh. “I want you here, on this bed at ten o’clock, naked… and wet.”

  I push her panties aside and slide my thumb inside of her. Fiona gasps loudly, her back arching as I fuck her as slowly as possible.

  I loosen my tie with my other hand and pull it off. “And I want this over your eyes.” I dangle the tie over her shoulders. “Do you understand me, my queen?”

  Fiona shudders. “Yes,” she says.

  I bend over to kiss her spine, unable to resist giving her just a little extra torture before setting her free. As I pull my thumb out, she quivers softly on her hands and waits a moment to steady her knees before standing up. I wipe her moisture on my lips and lick them clean, coating my tongue with her sweet flavor.

  She turns around. I smile at the state of her. Her hair, perfectly styled just moments ago, is now in desperate need of a brush. Her lipstick is worn and faded. A touch of mascara has run down her cheek. She’ll fix it all before she leaves, though a part of me wants to send her to dinner like this just so Roland can sit across from her and know exactly where her allegiance lies.

  I lay a kiss on her forehead, and she smiles back.

  15

  Fiona

  There are cameras everywhere.

  It’s not uncommon for a restaurant manager to call the press and let them know that someone special will be dining with them that night. Suddenly, you find yourself eating as carefully as possible just in case some rather unfortunate photo of you scarfing down prime rib appears in the gossip columns the following day.

  But this is more suspect than that.

  They were here before we arrived.

  Roland certainly seems to be enjoying the attention. He made a big show of opening my door and taking my hand to help me out of the car. He waved to them with a big smile, his arm tightly wound around mine. All I could do was grin and bear it until we finally took our seats in the center-most table in the entire place.

  It’s almost as if he wants the world to see us together.

  How very annoying.

  I maintain an easy half-smile throughout the appetizers, doing my part of this charade by laughing at Roland’s dry humor whenever appropriate. As shitty as this is for me, I can’t deny how much wholesome crap like this in the papers will help Daddy’s re-election chances.

  So, I smile. I sip at my soup, being extra careful not to drip any down my dress. I pat my mouth with my napkin after every bite and cutely cover my mouth with each fake chuckle.

  And the entire time, the world swoons.

  Just look at them!

  Aren’t they cute?

  They’re made for each other.

  Gag me, please.

  I stare straight ahead, trying not to make it too obvious how much I’m focusing on the ornate clock on the wall above Roland’s shoulder. It’s not even eight o’clock yet. There’s still two hours before I’m to be back in my suite, naked and wet with Kingston’s tie over my eyes…

  My sex tingles at the thought. I absently lick my lips, still a bit raw from being wrapped around Kingston’s cock just an hour ago.

  I think about that as Roland drones on and on about his future plans. The House in ‘88. Again in ‘90. The Senate in ‘92, naturally taking Daddy’s place. Again in ‘98 and ‘04. After that? I can practically hear the cadence of Hail to the Chief in his fucking voice.

  I chuckle to myself. Why would he think I’d be impressed with a President when I’ve already been taken by a King?

  The waitress delivers a slice of tiramisu — one plate, two forks — and shuffles off as if the thing were a nuclear bomb. Roland picks up his fork and gestures for me to do the same, obviously wanting this photo to make the front page. The two of us with our forks pushed halfway through the dessert and our faces softly lit by romantic candlelight.

  Whatever. I’ll indulge him in his little fantasy for a few more minutes.

  I smile as I pinch my fork, enjoying my own quiet fantasy of stabbing him with it.

  “Fiona, I want you to know something,” Roland says as he picks off the smallest corner of the cake.

  “What?” I ask.

  He takes his bite. I cringe at the sound of metal scraping against his teeth. “I think that you are a truly remarkable woman,” he says.

  Ah, jeez.

  I stab the corner of the cake closest to myself. “Thank you,” I say.

  “It’s been… a very trying year for us on the campaign trail. Your father and I really appreciate the work you’ve done for us. Don’t tell him I said this, but I don’t think he could have made it this far again without you tagging along.”

  I nod with a covered mouth, softly chewing and taking the excuse not to respond.

  “But I also know that it’s been hard on you,” he continues. “A young woman like you, putting her entire life on hold to serve her father’s career ambitions?” He chuckles. “I’m sure you’d be at home right now shining your husband’s shoes if you hadn’t have agreed to help. That’s time you’ll never get back.”

  I instinctively raise a brow. “Uh-huh,” I say, barely hiding my annoyance.

  “So…” he briefly glances at the cake, “I wanted you to know that your sacrifice hasn’t gone unnoticed. It would be an honor if you’d allow me to make it up to you.”

  I give the cake another purposeful stab and my fork grinds against something other than flour and sugar. I spot the round, golden object caught along the spoke of my fork. I dig it out to confirm the ugly suspicion taking over my gut.

  A diamond ring falls out onto the plate.

  No.

  Roland instantly rises from his chair and picks it up along with a napkin to wipe the thing off.

  No. No.

  My ears twitch with the clicking of camera shutters. I realize they all knew this was coming as Roland lowers down on one knee beside me.

  “Fiona Garland,” he says, presenting the sparkling ring, “will you marry me?”

  Hell no.

  16

  Kingston

  You never realize how insecure you really are until you have to wait for your lover to return from a date with another man.

  It’s more complicated than that, I know. Logically, I know that this is merely a comedy of circumstance, but I can’t shake the unease from my gut when I think about how it should be me out there with Fiona. Not him.

  The whole city will see them. Suddenly, the idea of them will be planted in their collective consciousness forever.

  Roland and Fiona. Fiona and Roland.

  Over my dead body.

  However, I’m not one to beat myself up over something I can’t control. She’s out there now. That’s fine. She was here with me earlier. That’s even better. She’s sitting across from him with a stomach full of my seed and our families are none the wiser.

  You know, I’m suddenly feeling a whole lot better about this.

  Ten o’clock comes at a snail’s pace but, when it finally arrives, I’m out my door with a freshly shaved face and a skip in my step. I picture the beautiful image awaiting me as I ride the elevator down to the 18th floor. My gorgeous lover lying on the bed wearing nothing but her porcelain skin and my tie.

  I realize I’m grinning like a madman in an elevator with two other men.

  I straighten my face and clear my throat, giving them a nod in the reflective wall before stepping off and taking a hard right toward Fiona’s room.

  I don’t even bother knocking.

  She knows who’s coming.

  I open the door, walk right inside, and my stomach plummets to my knees.

  Fiona sits at the writing desk, fully clothed with her head in her hands. Mildred is with her, kneeling on the floor beside her with a sour face. They both turn in my direction at the sound of the door. Fiona attempts to wipe away the mascara stains on her cheeks.

  Mildred rises to her feet. “Fiona’s not good for visitors tonight,” she tells me.

  “It’s all right, Mildred,” Fiona says, her voice as weak as a kitten. “He can stay.”

  I close the door and give the lock a quick turn. Each step forward is like a bolt of adrenaline up my legs. A wicked churn tightens around my core. The tears in Fiona’s eyes. The painful sob in her throat. It’s the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever witnessed before in my life.

  My fists roll on their own. A dozen questions flash in my mind, but there are only two answers I really want right now.

  Who did this?

  And where are they now so I can kill them?

  “What happened?” I manage to ask.

  Fiona sniffs and banishes a falling tear off her face. Her face pinches and she hesitates, prolonging the moment a few more unbearable seconds.

  “Roland has asked me to marry him,” she says.

  I look at Mildred, hoping for some crack of a smile to confirm it’s all a joke, but her face remains as hard as always.

  “Why?” I ask.

  Fiona scoffs. “All part of the plan.” She stands off the chair and pauses as if she forgot why she stood up in the first place. “Poll numbers aren’t looking too great right now. Daddy’s—” She pauses, cringing slightly at the word. “My father’s competitor has managed to catch up and after the mediocre response to the debate, they needed to do something to tilt the needle back, so…” She makes a wide armed gesture and twitches with annoyance. “Everyone loves a wedding.”

  I stand still, admiring her body language. Even now with red eyes and sagging posture she’s still the strongest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  Fiona takes a deep breath and tilts toward Mildred. “Would you give us a moment, please?” she asks her.

  A new tension stiffens my spine. Mildred stares back at Fiona, her eyes working to confirm the request, and Fiona merely nods once.

  “I’ll be in my room,” Mildred says.

  “Thank you,” Fiona says, her voice tired and cracked.

  I shift out of the way, giving Mildred enough space to walk out. When she closes the door behind her, I lock it again and turn back to face Fiona.

  “I said yes,” she answers.

  At first, it’s hell on earth. It’s needles in my blood. A knife through my heart.

  It’s the worst feeling in the world until I see the fresh tears building on her lashes. Then, I feel even worse.

  “Yes?” I repeat.

  “They told the press in advance,” she says. “A dozen cameras were there before we even arrived at the restaurant. Yes or no, it would have been front page news tomorrow morning.”

  “Then, you should have said no,” I say.

  “I couldn’t say no,” she says, calmly. “I say no, my father’s campaign takes another hit and I take the blame for sinking everything.” She lowers to sit on the edge of the bed. “I managed to make it through the rest of dinner with a smile and that thing on my finger…” I check her left hand. No ring. “Then, I came back here and called my father. I tried to tell him how I felt, but he was just so… happy. He started talking about winning and not just this election. The next one, too. Nothing looks better for a Presidential candidate than little grandchildren tugging at his heels. I just…” A fresh tear runs down her cheek. “I’ve never felt so trapped in my life. Roland has my father wrapped around his finger. What I want doesn’t matter. Maybe it never did.”

  I lower to my knees in front of her. “Fiona…”

  “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “That’s not true.” I lay my hands over hers. “Don’t be sad, Fiona. We’ll figure this out.”

  “Sad?” She scoffs. “These aren’t tears of sadness, Kingston. I’m angry. I just want to… break something, but I can’t…” Her voice quivers with rage. “I don’t know what else to do but cry because I have nothing else.”

  “You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I embrace her. She leans forward to rest her head on my shoulder. Her perfume tingles my nostrils and a little bit of heaven seeps inside of me with each new breath I take.

  Fiona. My darling Fiona.

  A comedy of circumstance indeed.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, muddled and defeated in my ear.

  I take another breath, succumbing to an excellent new clarity taking over me.

  “Marry me instead,” I say.

  Fiona scoffs. “What?” she asks, raising her head.

  I take hold of her elbows, keeping her close. “Marry me,” I say again as the warm rush of fate fires through me. “They can’t marry you off if you’re already married.”

  “But…” She blinks and shakes her head. “Okay. That’s technically true in a legal sense, but—”

  “They can’t force you into this,” I say. “And I don’t care if I do make an enemy of the future President of the United States, I won’t let him.”

  She exhales the smallest laugh. “Kingston—”

  “Marry me, Fiona,” I say. “If anything, it’ll buy you time to get away. We can get it annulled and part as friends after that if you want, I don’t care. I just want to help you escape.”

  Her eyes fall. “You would do that?” she asks.

  I touch her cheek to make her look at me again. “Yes,” I say. “You’re damned right I would.”

  “What about your family?” she asks. “Beau hates my father just as much. I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to make your relationship with him any worse.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” I smile. “And my mother would never let him hear the end of it if he slighted me. There’s a clear favorite in the Botsford house, believe me.”

  Her eyes glimmer with excitement, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by nerves. “But, how?” she asks. “When?”

  “Anytime,” I answer. “Tonight, even.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “That’s Vegas.” I smirk. “It’ll be easy.”

  She cocks her head at the word easy. Even I doubt how easy something like this would be, but there’s no turning back now. Not after saying it all out loud and feeling my world fall into place.

  Mrs. Fiona Botsford.

  “I don’t know,” she whispers with panic. “When they find out, I’ll be ruined.”

  “They’ll have to get through me.” I take hold of her hands, entwining our fingers together. “You’re my world, Fiona. Ever since that night on the roof, you’ve been like a guiding light pulling me in the right direction. Now, it’s time for me to help you.”

  The panic fades from her eyes. She looks at me the way she always does with that amused squint and gentle curl of her lip. Not unlike the way an adult humors a silly child, but I couldn’t be more serious.

  To be able to call her my wife, to hold her and care for her the way no one else can, even if just for a little while…

  Fiona cups my face and draws me forward to kiss my forehead. I close my eyes, relishing in her comforting lips and her warm touch. Even if she rejects me, at least I’ll have this moment for all time.

  “Kingston,” she whispers.

  I swallow hard before opening my eyes again and tilting my head up.

  She slips off the bed and kneels onto the floor with me. Our bodies align, firmly pressed together on our knees. She lays one more gentle kiss on my mouth and smiles, sending a blissful flutter throughout my chest.

  “Yes,” she finally says. “Yes, Kingston, I will marry you—”

  I kiss her, sealing her words. Some foolish part of me even thinks that doing so means she can never leave again, that she’s forever mine now, but even I know it won’t ever be that easy.

 

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