Page 50 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“Shut the door behind you,” he orders, and I catch the bitch’s eye as I turn and close the door. She’s smiling full-out now, and I want to throw up.
“You wanted to see me,” I say, and I’m proud of the fact that there’s only a hint of a tremor to be heard in my voice. I look around, and the room isn’t full, but it’s not empty either. Jake, Ryan, Rick, and Gus all stand around. They are an intimidating group of men, I’m not going to lie, but I’m a badass too.
“There’s something you need to see, Jules,” Rick says softly.
“If it’s photos of me leaving a restaurant last night,” I begin and look to Jake, “you should know that while I haven’t seen them, I know it was a setup. I was there to have dinner with my brother, Gil, and your father waylaid me on the way out. It was a photo op ambush.”
“This isn’t photos, Jules,” Jake says, and I tip my head to the side, letting my confusion show on my face.
“If it’s not photos, then what is it?” I ask.
“Come here,” Rick says, handing me an iPad.
I press Play and watch as my entire life implodes.
“Ohhh… yes. Yes!”
I watch as a strong, masculine hand—Ryan’s hand—thrusts two fingers into my pussy. My hips arch up to meet him. Swirling wisps of color tease and twirl around his arm in the form of a tattoo, but from this angle, you can’t tell what it is in the video. But I clearly have firsthand knowledge of the soldier’s cross tattoo that sits on that tan stretch of skin.
“Please!”I hear myself beg. And oh, how I’ve begged for this man’s touch. The way he burns me up from the inside out should be criminal.
“Mmm.”He chuckles, low and throaty, because he was enjoying teasing me, keeping me on the edge. He always loves to torture me, to touch me, and to fuck me. It’s weird standing here, watching this all play out with him standing on the opposite side of the room.
“Please!”I needed him so badly. Truth be told, I still do, and thankfully, he’s inclined to oblige me, because he shows up in the middle of the night almost every night. Even now that I’ve sworn off men, I know that if he comes to me again, I would let him inside me, and I would beg him to do it.
My cheeks heat, and I try to clench my thighs without anyone noticing, but he notices. I see him smirk out the corner of my eye. He knows what he does to me and how well he does it too. There has never been, and I know in my heart of hearts that there never will be another man who knows my body and how to play it like Ryan Black does.
I watch the screen as he grips his thick, veiny cock in his fist before rubbing the flushed tip through my wetness and then up to stroke my clit, making me bite my lip to keep from crying out, because my torture only seems to egg him on. The higher my passion climbs, the more turned on he gets. Ryan seems to thrive on pleasing me, at least in bed. In life, I’m not so sure.
It’s weird being both humiliated and turned on in a roomful of your friends and colleagues, but it’s also nothing I’m new to. I had a full career as a primetime news anchor. You don’t make it that far without a few scars on your arms and knives in your back. Although, even I have to admit this one takes the cake.
My parents are going to kill me. Whatever reprieve I bought myself by blocking them has now been laid to waste. Good news is, I can’t see Senator Chancellor wanting to marry me anymore after this. At least that’s one line item I can check off on my “Julia Fairchild’s Epic Lemons to Lemon Vodka Life List.”
“Ahhh,”I moan as he finally notches the very tip of him at my center and slides in all the way. That sound is embarrassing. It’s a high keening sound kind of like a cat in heat, although I guess that’s what I was. The knowledge that Ryan can turn me into an animal is not a happy one.
“Kill me now,” I mumble under my breath, and I watch as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s a subtle gesture, but it’s also a telling one. He’s not as unaffected as he seems. Good. He should feel as hot and bothered as I do.
I remember the moment so well, not only because he showed me a repeat performance the other night, but because it was that memorable. He had my body strung so tight and pushed me higher and higher. I was like a lit fuse on a bomb.
The muscles in his thighs and ass flex and ripple as he pulls out to the tip only to thrust back in, making my tits bounce like a porn star. Is that what I am now? A porn star? He grips my hips so tight in his hands that I wore marks for days, just like the ones I carry on my skin now under my slacks.
I feel my eyes glaze over. I’m lost in the moment, watching as he pumps into me over and over again. I watch as my hands grip the sheets of the hotel bed tight as I arch my back while he fucks me into oblivion.
And then I watch with everyone else as my jaw drops down on a silent scream and my eyes close when I find completion in the mystery man’s arms.
Jake clears his throat. “I think we’ve seen enough,” he says uncomfortably, and I hit Pause on the iPad.
“The video was released thirty-seven minutes ago,” Rick says. “And has been viewed twenty-six million times.”
Jesus Christ.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Jake says.
“I was looking for Jules,” my assistant says as he pokes his head in the room. “The Press Room is ready for you to brief them on HB 2250.”
“Great,” I say, not feeling it at all. I kind of feel like throwing up. In fact, I think I might.
