Page 126 of The Liar's Reckoning

Eventually, I swipe the streaks from his face with two fingertips, and he opens his mouth again like he expects me to feed it to him. So I do, shivering as he sucks my fingers and stares into my eyes.

There’s a desperate plea in his. “I need to come, baby.”

I nod, ready to make that happen for him.

But without further conversation, he takes his dick out of his pants and jerks himself to orgasm in seconds, squirming on the floor as I watch cum shoot from his tip, listening to his cries of release as he spills and spills in the most humiliating fashion, emerald eyes locked on mine the whole time.

His chin trembles as he begins to come down. I slide to the floor, my legs spread out on either side of him as I cover the hand that’s still wrapped around his own cock with mine.

I don’t know what to say, so I kiss him, my taste heavy on his tongue. His hands cradle my face as we make love to each other’s mouths. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s tender and passionate but not greedy or forceful. Just a deep, slow kiss that lasts for so long I’m consumed. His eyes are red and full of unshed tears when I pull away.

“You okay?” I whisper.

He nods, jaw tense.

“Should we eat?”

Another nod, and we help each other up. We drink our wine in silence while he finishes the steaks, and I set the table, find the salad and some utensils, and take the potatoes out of the oven.

I go to open the shades.

“Don’t,” he practically barks, startling me.

I drop my hand and ask, “Why not?”

He looks like he surprised himself, too. His answer is sort of a scramble about how he wants to be able to focus on us, dinner, he likes the lighting the way it is, et cetera.

“Okay,” I acquiesce, not really caring except for the obvious way he’s upset. I might have to press the issue, but maybe if we both have some more wine—some sex—we’ll both chill out.

Sometimes when he gets home, especially after being in DC, it takes him a day or two to get back to normal. We definitely have a don’t ask, don’t tell thing going on with whatever he gets up toin the senate. I trust him not to be evil, but I don’t expect I’ll love all the things he does in Washington. Since I moved in here, I’ve stopped paying attention to politics at all, not that I did much before. But even the occasional news article on my phone I used to read, I swipe past now. If gay marriage suddenly becomes illegal, or something equally awful happens, I’m sure I’ll hear about it, and that’s pretty much all I care about. The big stuff. The stuff I’m sure he can’t control.

But the longer he’s been a senator, the more I notice the pressure of the office weighing him down. It can’t be easy to represent as many people as he does—as diverse of a population. Not to mention keeping his family satisfied at the same time. I don’t know how he does it, and I honestly admire the hell out of him. He’s fucking amazing, and I’m proud to be his safe space.

Dinner is good. The steak is slightly overcooked, but it’s a filet, so it’s still tender and delicious. The wine gets better with every sip, a perfect buttery compliment to the comfort food.

And I was right, after a few glasses and a full meal, he finally smiles at me.

I return it easily, my own three glasses making me bold. “What would you think about coming out to Queens with me and meeting my mom and Trixie?”

He nearly drops his glass. “What?”

“It’s about time, don’t you think? If you’re worried they can’t keep a secret?—”

“No, I—it’s not that, I just—” he shakes his head. “It’s so amazing that you would ask, but I…can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s…things are crazy right now. It’s not a good time.”

There’s a dismissiveness in his tone that hurts slightly. Like a hair being pulled.

“Not to be too blunt,” I say, “But she’s not gonna live forever.”

And that’s no joke. This has been a bad year for Mom. I don’tknow how she’s still alive except for the fortune I pay to make sure she stays that way.

Graham gives me a stricken look. “Silas…”

“I’m gonna need a better reason,” I tell him.

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