Page 76 of Where the Blacktop Ends

If the paparazzi find out about her, they’ll be relentless. It’s always worse for the person in a relationship with someone who is in politics but more than that, I need her to be ready for me. To be sure she’s aware of what she’s signing up for becomingmine.I’m forty-two years old. I’ve dated, hell, I’ve lived with a woman before and raised a child to adulthood. I knew the next time I found a woman to date, it would be for life.I’m not sure if she’s ready for marriage and commitment like I am just yet.

She lets out a desperate grunt as I push her hand away and seal my mouth over her clit, flicking it with my tongue.

“Where’s your vibrator?” I ask.

Her breath catches. “H-How do you know I have one of those?”

I chuckle, nipping at her clit and earning a squeal. “Where is it, Georgia?”

She fumbles in the dark, opening her bedside drawer and handing it over to me. It’s big, thick, and faux veined—obviously designed for more than just teasing but still not as large as me. I turn it on, dragging it slowly across her entrance and up to her clit, letting it pulse against her there for a few beats.

“Oh, fuck...” she groans, her voice breaking.

“I’m not giving you my cock—yet—but I still want you coming. Only when it’s with me. You don’t use this thing without me from now on. Because this,” I tap the vibrator against her clit for extra emphasis, “isn’t nearly as big or good as me.”

She nods, eyes fluttering shut as I push the vibrator inside her opening with a satisfying squish. I pull it out, watching as itcomes back into view, dripping with her andfuck, I’m jealous of this shit.

“I know,” she sighs, body trembling under my touch. I move my hand downward, pressing down my sweatpants until my cock is in my hand, stroking it while I stoke her with the toy.

Her eyes open, catching a glimpse of what’s near her thigh as she moans. I pump myself harder, my balls tighten until I’m solid and then I press my tongue back to her clit, moving in time with the vibrator inside of her as I twist, focusing the pulsing right at the spot where she’s most sensitive. I can feel her legs start to shake and that familiar tingling in my sack that indicates I’m going to come soon too.

There’s something about Georgia that drags the old me to the surface—the raw, unpolished farm boy I thought I’d left behind in North Carolina. The one I buried beneath expensive suits, slick hair, and a life full of glamour in New York. But with her, it’s all genuine. No pretenses, no polished exterior. I want to take her, possess her, cover her in my scent until she smells like nothing but me. She brings out the part of me that craves something real, something primal.

I’m starting to think both parts of me can exist when I’m with Georgia. And that doesn’t scare me. Because I’m not a boy, I’m a man. And I fucking love that she makes me feel that way even more.

“Come for me, Georgia. And when you do, I want you to scream my name because I’m going to paint your mouth with my seed.”

“Troy!” she screams, her body shaking as I suck harder, shoving the vibrator as deep inside of her as it can reach then moving my body upward until I’m jerking all over her bare chest and face, painting her with my come. The sound of my name on her lipsmight be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard and the view of her covered in my orgasm only enhances it.

I’m still on my knees, hovering over her face, attempting to catch my breath and staring down at the masterpiece I’ve painted on her when her eyes open again, one finger trailing downward to dip into the come, then drag it up to her lips before sucking inside her pretty mouth.

“Fuck,” I’m panting, dick softening in my hand, feeling the most alive I’ve felt in years. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

Her soft pink tongue darts out, licking the mess off her face as I pause, watching.

“Fuck... I’ve made a mess of you.”

But she doesn’t seem to care. I return from the bathroom with a warm cloth and carefully wipe down her body, spending extra time on her tits and between her legs, cleaning up the last of me until I’m satisfied.

Her fingers curl around my biceps, pulling me closer until she’s cocooned to my chest. I listen as her breathing changes, drifting off into a deep sleep while I lay awake, staring at the ceiling as I whisper to her a promise.

“I’m a man, Georgia, and when a man realizes what they want - what they need - they go after it whole heartedly. I know you don’t understand this, but I need you and I don’t intend on letting you go...”

Chapter 29 – Troy

Light filters through the blinds in Georgia’s room, gently waking me.

I blink, turning my head just enough to see the clock on her bedside table.?

It’s already six in the morning. The last time I slept this late was… well, I can’t even remember.?

Instinctively, I reach for my phone but freeze when I catch sight of Georgia’s face. She’s nestled against my chest, fast asleep, her expression peaceful and content.

She doesn’t know the real me. She thinks I’m just her boss, that I’m some hardened, career-driven man who doesn’t have the time or heart for anything beyond my work. She doesn’t know how many things I’ve buried under the weight of those responsibilities. I almost want to let her see it all, but… I’m scared. Scared she’ll walk away the moment she sees the mess I’ve made of my life.

Yet here she is, in her most vulnerable state, pulling closer into my side. Wanting more of me. I wonder if when she realizes all the baggage that comes along with being mine, she’ll still wantme. If she will still look at me with trusting eyes when she understands the number of responsibilities that I carry on my shoulders.

I shake that thought away and pull out my phone to scroll through endless emails—requests for comments, urgent texts from clients. It’s always the same, a constant stream of people needing, taking, demanding from me. But right now, I want to shut it all out. Forget about the chaos and enjoy this rare moment of peace, lying beside the one person who’s never asked anything from me except to make her come.

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