Page 67 of Power Play

Taut energy coils in my gut, sending tremors through my legs. My toes curl, digging into the fluffy, suffocating duvet. Hips rocketing off the bed, I match his thrusts, pushing him deeper. With a lust-filled snarl, he grips both hips, lifting them higher, hitting my elusive G-spot.

“Fuck,” I cry out. His palm seals against my lips effectively quieting my curses.

My nostrils flare with each erratic inhale.

“You have to be quiet, baby,” Trey says, his voice rough with need. “Can you do that?”

The duvet slips beneath my hair at my urgent nod.

“Good girl.” His fingers trace down my chin and along my neck before moving lower. The brush of his thumb against my clit shoots bursts of sparkling sensations to each nerve. My teeth sink into the tip of my tongue, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

Then I shatter, every cell exploding in insistent throbs. Forearm pressed against my parted lips, I scream against my skin. The outside world fades to white noise, my intense pleasure dangling me over an empty chasm where nothing but my orgasm exists.

Trouble grunts a curse, his hips thrusting fast and wild.

I huff a forced exhale at the unexpected weight of him falling above me, pressing my entire body into the mattress.

“I know I'm smothering you,” he says into the geometric fabric of the duvet, “but I can't move. Sorry if you die.”

My face splits into a wide smile, my cheeks bunching so tight they ache. I stroke up and down his back, slipping lower to brush across his tight ass.

Everything is perfect, calm.

Tomorrow, I'll fight to regain the traction I lost with the failed debate.

Tomorrow, I fight to win.

Because there's no way in hell I can go back now. Not after tonight. Not after him.

Maybe not ever.

* * *

Could a moment be any more perfect? I trace the outline of his pouty lower lip, brushing the pad of my finger back and forth. The softness of sleep eases the worry lines of his forehead, relaxing the normal intense focus. His neat brow shifts beneath my stroking.

Sunlight hasn’t even begun to peek around the curtains it’s so early, but this being the first night he's slept over, I can't find it in me to waste a minute of it sleeping. The past couple weeks of us finding time alone and keeping T's suspicions at bay have been a well-coordinated dance. But even then, moments like this are few and far between.

I trace the shell of his ear, shifting a lock of brown hair to tuck it back.

I've worked my ass off since the disastrous debate. Flying across the country, visiting state after state, trying to raise our poll numbers. And it's working. Our ranking, once steady, now rises with each preliminary poll. Which means we still have a shot to win.

T and Trey are at my side each step of the way, always encouraging and keeping me on point. The whole team has been, really. We've grown close, forming a familial bond since they saved my life two months ago. I'm not ready for that to stop.

I inhale a shaky breath and burrow deeper into the cloud-like pillow.

I'm not ready for any of this to end. It's exhausting, yes, and more work than I expected, but the relationships, the friendships I've built here, I’m not ready to give up. Not yet. It feels like we're all on the verge of something great, something bigger than all of us.

We have to win.

“What are you doing?” Trey mutters into the mattress.

Who sleeps without a pillow?

“Early voting starts today,” I whisper into the darkness. Bits of light stream around the blackout curtains. “It's not that early. Look, the sun is starting to come out.”

“Tell the sun to hit Snooze. It's my day off.” Without opening his eyes, he shifts on the bed, turning his head from my ministrations. “This was not part of the deal of me staying over.”

The bed shakes as I silently laugh. There was no deal. Last night, after he pinned me to the wall and had his way with me—three times—I asked him to stay, so he did.

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