Page 195 of Catfish

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “But I’m going to come if you don’t do something unattractive.”

"Tell me how much you love to fuck me, and I'll be right with you."

“Too much.” He lifts his eyes to me. “But it’s more than that.”

“Going soft on me, Governor?”

His lips curve. “Don’t think that’s possible.” I pull closer, petitioning another kiss as he fucks me against the wall at his own leisure. Owning a piece of me that I’ve always been too guarded to give.

“Come for me, baby,” he coaxes. “Right in this coat closet...with me. Because fucking you is better than breathing. It’s the most free-for-all, animalistic feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. And I love fucking you.”

I combust into pieces as Wade quickens his pace then removes himself from me. Nothing but heavy breaths and us fill the space.

Which feels so completely and utterly...perfect.

—

I've been complimented more times than I can count tonight on how nicely the party is, how excellent the food was and that the music is perfect.

I’m going to rub that in Emmy’s face.

The affair was only a hundred people, smaller than what I'm generally used to planning, but the details were exquisite and specific—thanks to his assistant. But I didn't mind the extra work, I wanted him to have a night to remember. One without stress and his campaign, without thoughts of speeches and what he has planned for the next debate.

Later, if I can get him away, I have a birthday cake at the house and a particular piece of lingerie I've been wanting to try out for him.

It’s purple.

From the other side of the room, he's drinking his whiskey with a smile on his face as he speaks to two other gentlemen in suits. He looks genuinely happy, and it makes me content that he is.

I don't know all the details of his life since I never did a full-scale background check, because it's not my job to vet clients, but I think it's going to be interesting to learn about him all on my own through conversations and nights on my couch—the normal way.

Emmy shows up at my side with a glass of champagne for me and nudges my arm. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I allude. “Because I did it.”

“Hey—” she nudges me again. “—I helped too.”

“With your terrorism and forceful text messages, yeah, you sure did.” She laughs next to me, looking over the crowd at people talking and dancing, enjoying the night.

“For once, Wade looks like he doesn’t want to flee.” I glance over at him, he’s already looking at me and winks when we make eye contact, returning his attention right back to his fellow whatever they were.

“I blame it on the food and the opening first song of the legendary Frank Sinatra.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emmy admits. “I forget that most of these people were born along with my parents.”

“It’s called class,” I retort. “How can you not like Sinatra?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t say I didn’t like him, I just thought something more hip would get the party started.”

“Study your guests. It’ll make things easier for you.”

“Wade hiring another assistant would make things easier for me.” Slowly, she turns her head in my direction.

“No,” I complain, waving a hand in the air. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

I take a sip of my champagne. “Because I have a job, girl.”

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