Page 8 of The Politician Bidder

I kiss him.

It’s soft at first—just lips brushing, slow and exploratory. But then his hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck, and I melt into him. His mouth moves against mine, deeper, more urgent, and suddenly I can’t get close enough.

The wine, the laughter, the years between us—they all blur as heat surges low in my belly.

I pull back just an inch, breathless. “Do you… want to come back to my place?”

His answer is immediate. “Yes.”

We barely speak during the drive. The tension between us crackles like static. In the elevator, his hand finds mine. Not for show. Not for politics.

For me.

My apartment is small but clean, lit by a single lamp in the corner that casts everything in warm honeyed light. I kick off my shoes, turning to face him.

He’s already watching me.

“You look beautiful,” he says, voice low and rough. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

I reach for him, and he meets me halfway.

Our mouths crash together again, this time with no restraint. His hands are on my waist, then sliding down to my hips. My fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel skin. He pulls off his jacket and tosses it into a dark corner.

His chest is broad, warm, and solid under my palms.

I gasp when his lips find my neck. “Bedroom,” I manage, and he lifts his head to look at me, eyes dark with heat.

“Lead the way.”

We stumble into my room, shedding clothes like we’re racing the clock. His hands are everywhere—stroking, exploring, reverent. When he peels off my dress and sees the simple black lace underneath, he makes a sound low in his throat that sends shivers through me.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs.

His touch is confident but careful, and every inch of skin he kisses feels worshipped. He lays me down gently, easing onto the bed beside me, trailing his fingers along the curve of my thigh before pulling my panties down slowly, like he's unwrapping a gift.

I arch toward him, aching for more.

“Please,” I whisper.

And oh, does he listen.

He slides down, spreading me open with his hands, then lowers his mouth to me like it’s his purpose in life. His tongue is warm and skilled, his lips soft, his stubble just rough enough to make me gasp.

I clutch the sheets, panting, thighs trembling as he draws circles, then flicks, then suckles my clit just right until my whole body seizes with pleasure. My moan breaks the quiet, sharp and helpless, and he doesn’t stop until I’m shaking uncontrollably.

When he finally crawls back up, I’m breathless and boneless, but I still reach for him, desperate with need.

“More,” I murmur, pulling at his belt. “I need more.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

He slowly strips the clothes from his body, and I watch in mesmerized awe. Adam has the body of a Greek god. As I take in the sight of his thick cock, my inner walls squeeze in anticipation.

I whistle appreciatively. “You don’t look like a politician.”

He chuckles. “We come in all shapes and sizes, you know.” A wicked grin stretches across his face. “And tonight, I’m coming in you.”

Oh. My. God.

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