Page 98 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“We don’t have titles for mayoral spouses. This isn’t the presidency,” he said, but it was too late. My mind was already thinking of possibilities.

“What about First Dude?”

“I guarantee nobody will ever call you that,” he deadpanned.

“Grand Duke? Oh, can you knight me?”

“I should’ve put the butt plug in your mouth.” Leo shook his head and laughed despite himself.

I burst out in hysterical chuckling, and soon the quiet city council building was alive with riotous laughter, laughter that had echoed over two a.m. phone calls and meals at the college dining hall. We might’ve been naked and covered in each other’s come, but our relationship was as rock-solid as ever. It hadn’t changed. It had evolved into something stronger and more wonderful than I had ever imagined.

Friends.

Lovers.

Mayor and Grand Duke.

These were merely words. The real magic between us couldn’t be contained by a label.

28

LEO

Ionce read that the weather can influence elections. If it’s rainy or cold or even merely cloudy, that can affect turnout and tip the election one way or another.

When I looked out the window on Election Day, I saw a few scattered clouds amid the blue sky, which I hoped bode well for me. But after a second, I drew my attention to something more important than the forecast: the guy sleeping next to me.

Dusty stretched and leaned against me, sending electricity into my core. He wiggled his butt into my crotch, turning my morning wood into an erection with intent. I wrapped my arms around him, curled up in the comforter like he was swallowed up by clouds.

“Good morning,” he purred, eyes still closed.

I kissed his cheek. “Morning. Today’s the day.”

“It’s finally here.” He turned to face me, his sleepy eyes and dopey grin warming my heart. “You nervous?”

“I think we’re in a good position.”

“Whatever happens, you tried your best.”

I snorted. “There are no participation trophies for elections.” I brushed the hair out of his eyes and caressed a thumb through the mature lines in his forehead. “At least I can count on your vote.”

“No. You can’t.”

“I can’t?”

He shook his head no. “I can’t vote for you.”

I leaned back, curious how much of this was actually a bit. “Do you not like my positions?”

“I think we could stand to do doggie style less, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

My cock got even more pokey. I dipped my hand under the blankets and traveled down to his stiff dick. “Well, what do I need to do to win your vote?”

“I won’t be swayed by sex.”

I pulled my hand back. “Wait, I can’t tell if you’re being serious.”

“I am. I can’t vote for you.” His weak half-smile was playing games with me. Was this a bit or not?

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