Page 42 of The Senator

He kissed me and pushed me under the warm spray that surrounded us in the exquisite stall. There were at least ten jets and a rainfall showerhead over us. Kissing him under that deluge was like a dream come true.

I reached for the dispenser affixed to the marble to get shampoo, turning us so Nash was under the spray to wet his beautiful brown hair, intent on washing it. “So, this party, who’s hosting it?”

Nash chuckled. “Well, I think the official host is Elouise Peters, the wife of the managing partner, but she used all of Sean Fitzpatrick’s usual planners and staff, so it might as well be Sean hosting. He’s the only person Naomi works for—or those who he approves—and I work for Naomi, so here I am.”

I refused to judge him for his choice of vocation, but I believed he deserved to have a better job than just a catering server. But, then again, I’d damn sure rather have him tending bar or waiting tables at a private party than escorting anyone around town. That escort shit was far beneath him.

“Ah. Well, I’ll be here when you’re done.” I was prepared to order room service, buy a movie, and relax in the room until Nash finished his job. Then, I planned to have him all to myself. That was my prize for patience.

Nash washed my hair, and after I rinsed it, he filled his hands with body wash, rubbing it over my less-than-impressive chest and down my body, stopping at my cock, which was jutting between us, seeking his attention.

“Looks like someone wants some love,” Nash teased as he slid a slick hand over my erection, taking my breath away at the same time. I’d missed his touch, though I’d only felt it sparingly. It felt righter than my own.

“Gah!” I gasped as he continued to run his strong hand over my length before he filled his right hand with conditioner, not rubbing it into either of our hair. He slid it over my cock, and then he stepped forward and added his own hardness to the mix, nearly making my eyes roll back in my head at the sensation. If I died at that moment, my life would have been perfect.

Nash pulled me forward by my dick and I rested my arms on his shoulders. We were about the same height. He was more muscular, and younger—I couldn’t forget he was younger.

His handsome face left me breathless as he continued to stroke us in tandem. My mind went numb at the sensation, and I shifted to use him for balance.

“Come for me, Spence,” he whispered, the breathiness in his voice causing me to bite his lower lip because it was so fucking enticing.

“Not without you.” I was finally able to groan as he sped up his ministrations which nearly had me on my knees. He applied the perfect amount of pressure, and my balls were aching to release in his hands, but I wanted him to come with me.

I reached out and placed my hands over his, the two of us stroking our joined pricks to the rhythm of our heartbeats. “I’m almost…” I gasped as I was overcome with sensations I’d never experienced in my life.

“Yesss!” He hissed as we both shot off between us.

I couldn’t tell if he was holding me up or I was holding him, but as our mouths met under the rainfall showerhead, I knew in my heart if the man left me, I’d be broken. As crazy as it seemed, I sensed that he was where I was always supposed to end up.

The fact Vani knew it before me sort of pissed me off. Of course, I always thought the woman had a bit of an angel inside her, especially considering the shit that had happened to her over her life. Yes, she was definitely special, and the fact she brought Nash back to me was nothing short of a miracle.

I was reclining on the luxurious king-sized bed, watching a crime show while munching on room service popcorn while sipping a cold beer when my cell buzzed on the nightstand. I paused to dust off my hand with the napkin, feeling like I was on a mini vacation, and who the fuck would dare interrupt it? I picked it up to see a text from Nash.

You should come down for a drink. Your friend, Senator Turner is here with a young brunette who is definitely not Caroline—and he’s hammered. XOXO

That information was enough to get me off my ass. I pulled on my jeans and a sweater I’d brought along, and I grabbed the open beer I’d been drinking, heading to the elevator. If Turner was fucked up, hell yeah, I wanted to see it.

I punched the button for the mezzanine level where the party was held in the large ballroom, skirting around the folks loitering in the hallway where a makeshift bar was serving cocktails to the guests.

I strolled over to the bar to trade my empty bottle for a full one, tossing a twenty at the pretty young lady who asked no questions. I skirted around the perimeter of the room to find Nash at the main bar.

There was a line of people in front of Nash and a young man I recognized from Sean’s birthday party. The two of them worked easily together. I leaned against the wall to watch the two of them moving like a choreographed dance duo.

A live band played some standards, and there were a lot of people on the dance floor, but I could see Sean Fitzpatrick near the front of the room, and he was definitely unhappy. The target of his rancor—Frank Turner. Things were about to get a whole lot better in my life.

I watched the two men argue for a few minutes before Sean shook his head and walked away, heading toward where I was standing on the sidelines sipping a pilsner. When he spotted me, Sean smirked and walked straight in my direction, seemingly on a mission.

When he arrived where I was trying to hide, he laughed. “You’re welcome to come in, Senator. I invited you and your lovely wife, but your aid called to give regrets.”

A month ago, I’d have been pissed, but I found I didn’t give one fuck about it. “I no longer have aids, Sean. What’s that asshole’s problem?”

I pointed the neck of my bottle in the direction of where Turner seemed to be losing his mind as a young woman tried to calm him down. It was comical to watch.

“Seems Caroline has fled the coop, and she’s taken all the money with her. He’s in a tailspin, and when I tried to remind him that he was in public with a sex worker who he was openly fingering at the table, he got pissed at me. I’ve always hated the prick anyway. Come have a drink at the bar with me?” Sean asked.

I glanced toward the bar where Nash was mixing drinks, seeing he was busy. “He’s not going anywhere. We need to talk,” Sean suggested.

I retrieved my phone from my pocket and sent Nash a text that I’d be at the bar downstairs. I followed Sean Fitzpatrick to the elevator, seeing him press the button to take us to the first floor.

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