27. Yes, Congressman

27

YES, CONGRESSMAN

DARREN

I can finally breathe, but it does little to extinguish the anger that still burns hot inside of me at just the thought of Rausch. When he approached me earlier, acting as if he weren’t harboring a huge secret, I couldn’t hold it in any longer, seeing his smug face while he acted like he was my friend. I’ve never felt more betrayed in my life and everything I’d been holding in the past few days is now on the surface and I feel like I’m ready to implode.

Catharina Hale and her husband enjoy a glass of champagne only a few feet from me on the other side of the glass. I place my hand in front of them and wave ever so slightly, but nothing. They can’t see me, but they could probably hear me if I called out loud enough or banged on the glass.

I turn and my gaze settles on my wife. The look of complete submission in her eyes has my stomach tightening and my cock stirring against the zipper of my slacks.

She slowly walks towards me, her heels clicking against the tile, and the sound her dress makes as she moves has me needy to rip it off. Standing before me, she’s a wicked temptation with her blonde hair pulled back and her red lips parted ever so slightly. The thought of her red lipstick around my cock occupies every corner of my mind.

She pulls on my belt, freeing it from my waist, and I touch the side of her face, softly caressing her cheek.

“On your knees,” I command gruffly, and a wicked smile plays at the corners of her lips.

“Yes,” she obeys, kneeling and looking up at me through her bangs.

“Yes what?”

She blinks innocently. She’s beautiful and has me in knots, and I’d do just about anything to have her. Even on her knees, she owns me. “Yes, Congressman.”

I pull the button free and unzip my pants, my cock already hard and at attention. Wrapping my hand around the base I guide the head to her waiting lips while stroking her temple with the other.

She opens her mouth, the red lipstick glistening in the soft light, and her tongue darts out. As she wraps her lips around me, her blue eyes, like flames, peer up at me through her bangs and the sight of her almost makes me come.

I groan while fisting my cock and guide it in further until she takes all of me. On her knees and with her mouth around my shaft is more than I can bear. I restrain myself from grabbing the back of her head and pumping into her mouth, but I don’t know how long I can last.

I close my eyes, and the orgasm threatens to overtake me. Especially when her tongue swirls against me, causing my head to swell even more.

“Fuck,” I grit out as I stroke her face and feel her hand move from my waist to my ass as she greedily brings me closer to her.

I don’t want to come, not yet, but she feels so good gripping me in her palm while sucking me off. When the temptation becomes too much, I reach down and grab her chin, lifting her up to me. When I kiss her, I taste the salty precum on her tongue and I press her tightly against me, kissing her as if I will never get another chance.

I turn her to face the party, resting my lips against the back of her neck as my cock strains at her backside. Pulling the strap of her dress down, I expose her breast and groan the moment I notice the tight pink bud of her nipple.

Reaching down, I lift her dress up, exposing her G-string, the delicate thread of lace weaving between the firmness of her cheeks. She parts her legs, allowing me access to her already wet cunt.

She tries to turn around to face me, but I stop her by grabbing onto the strand of pearls, tugging just enough to get her attention. With my palm against her back, I push her forward towards the glass.

“Hands on the glass, Queenie,” I command, and she does as she’s told like a good wife while I relieve her of her panties. She steps out of them, while I run my hand along her calf.

I take a step back and admire my wife, her breast exposed, palms pressed to the glass, facing a party with gossipy socialites, and rich old men. Her legs shake and her breathing is labored and God , she is beautiful. My cock juts out from my pants and I stand behind her, reaching around to stroke her clit that pulses under my touch. She leans greedily into me.

“So wet,” I breathe against her neck.

“Darren,” she whines, and I fist my cock, knowing the minute I’m inside her I won’t be able to stop. “Please.”

I slide into her and let out a desperate groan, pressing her further until her breast and cheek are crushed into the glass, her breath leaving an imprint.

She moans and gasps for air as I fuck into her at a desperate pace. I wrap the pearls around my palm and hold onto her.

A guest walks up to the glass mere inches from us, smoothing a stray piece of hair back into place, unaware of the wicked things I’m doing to my wife right now. Evangeline’s eyes grow wide, and she suppresses a moan as she looks behind at me while I thrust into her.

“Don’t take your hands off that glass, Evan,” I demand, and her palm goes flat, eyes hooded, and she turns back to face the party.

Guests mill around nearby tables and even though they can’t see us, there’s something so naughty, so wrong, about fucking her this way. It’s what I needed. She’s what I needed.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I growl, feeling the pull in my stomach and my orgasm beginning to build like a living, breathing thing inside of me.

“Oh God,” she moans as I drag my finger through her wetness and rub at a pace that causes her to shake and shudder, unaware of how her orgasm affects me. I yank hard, breaking the strand, pearls explode into the air and hit the ground, making it sound like pounding rain.

Her cunt grips my fingers, and her legs shake, threatening to give out beneath her. I’m desperate to taste it. I pull out and turn her around, kissing her lips and then her jaw, and make my way down her neck to her breast, the pert nipple just begging for me to pull it between my teeth and suck hard. She gasps and pulls at my hair until I’m level with her cunt. I lift her dress and when I do, my stomach tightens all over again and my cock strains as I latch onto her like a starving man on a deserted island, even though moments ago I was inside her.

I lift her leg over my shoulder and feel her hands in my hair, tugging and pulling on the strands while I fuck her with my tongue. She tastes sweet and I can’t get enough until she starts to shake all over again and her whines become louder—more desperate, I lift her up against the glass and push inside her once more, and this time I don’t hold back. I see the want all over her face, the unequivocable love she holds for me like a real and visceral thing. Her fingernails dig into my skin through my shirt, the tuxedo jacket long since discarded, and when her pussy pulses around me with the first wave of another orgasm, I’m gone—so gone for her that no one else compares or ever could.

My own orgasm crashes into me like a crushing wave and I hold onto her while I ride it out, feeling her teeth bite into my shoulder, making me shudder. I lean against her, and with my heart pounding forcefully, I let out a satisfied laugh. Holding her face in my hands, I kiss her, long and hard as if I hadn’t just fucked her.

“God, I love you,” I rasp, resting my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath as I let her down.

“Do you know how much this cost?” she asks, holding what’s left of the necklace.

“It was worth it.” I smirk. “I’ll buy you a hundred of them if you like, just so I can break them again,” I answer, admiring my freshly fucked wife.

She touches my face and looks at me as if to make sure I’m alright, even though she’s the one that was fucked with the force that threatened to break the one-way glass. And I love her for that. I love her for giving me everything that I need even if I don’t deserve it. Especially when I don’t deserve it.

“What are we going to do with this mess?” she inquires, looking at all the loose pearls that litter the ground. “I can’t possibly pick them all up.”

“Leave them,” I reply, shaking my head.

“We should go,” she says, grabbing her purse. “I need to make closing remarks for the auction and,” she holds the broken necklace in her hand and drops what’s left of it inside. “they’re going to notice my necklace is gone.” She looks at me, flustered.

Her expression changes when she pulls out her phone.

“Don’t read the news,” I tell her, being overprotective and angry that I even have to do so.

“It’s not the news,” she explains, holding the phone for me to read a text notification.

Rebecca: Can you meet for lunch tomorrow?