Page 82 of Power Term

Leaving a trail of her wetness in my wake, I position those two slick fingers against that tight rim. Beneath my chest, her back rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, but she hasn’t asked me to stop. Pressing forward, I breach through her virgin hole to the first knuckle.

Her back arches, a soft cry leaving her lips. Kissing along her neck, I suck at a tender spot and push deeper in to the base knuckle.

“How does that feel?” I whisper against her ear before nipping at the lobe. Between us, my rock-hard cock bobs with excitement, tapping the crease of her ass.

“Strange,” she breathes. Chin to her shoulder, she sighs. “Strange good. Dirty.”

“There’s my dirty girl,” I coo. “Now for the fun part.”

Hard grip around myself, I line up with her pussy and slam forward, burying myself to the hilt in one hard thrust. Seated fully inside her, I pump those two fingers, pressing hard at the base for her to feel the fullness and pressure that makes ass play fucking awesome. Even I can feel how much tighter she is with just two fingers in the opposite hole. I don’t let myself imagine what it will be like with a fuller toy or how tight it will be around my dick once she’s comfortable.

“More,” she cries, slamming her hips back into mine.

I groan, smacking the glass to stay upright and not put my full weight on top of her. Pulling out all the way, I tease her with the head against her clit before thrusting inside. Over and over I push and tease until we’re both slick with sweat.

“Hold on,” I grunt and bite her neck, not releasing as I fuck her hard. Balls tight, I increase my pace even more, chasing my own release. Beneath me, Randi screams, her forehead falling forward and hitting the glass, her hands squeaking down as her hold slips. Arm around her upper waist, I help hold her weight.

With a roar I come undone, burying myself deep inside her. Knees wobbling and legs weak, I guide us both to the floor, hissing a breath from between my teeth as I pull out so she can nestle on my lap. Wayward strands of hair tickle my nose, but exhaustion makes it impossible to swipe them away.

“Okay, now I see what you mean,” she says, still breathing hard.

“Told you. Wait until we get more in there.” She whips her face to mine, eyes wide. “Don’t worry, baby, we won’t until you’re ready. But I have a feeling my dirty little president will want more sooner than later.”

A wide shy smile splits her face. Nodding, she dips to lean a cheek against my chest.

“I love you, Trey,” she whispers. “I had no idea utter happiness felt this good.”

I wrap both arms around her and hold her tighter. “I love you too, Randi. This is just the beginning of our happily ever after. There are many, many more years and experiences to come. Now let’s get cleaned up. I’m hungry for your sweet dessert again.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Trey

The Filson duffel, stuffed to max capacity with dress shoes, slaps to the cement floor beside the other equally as stuffed duffel of non-work shoes. I would say I have a shoe problem based on the fact that there are two more bags already shoved into the SUV, but the number of shoes I’ve collected over the years doesn’t compare to the sheer number of suits I already had sent to the White House earlier.

It’s been a week since I officially proposed, but today is the first day neither of us is drowning in work, offering a small window to officially move my residence from the condo I shared with Gerard and Beth to the White House. Sure, there were a few tears just now as I walked out that condo door with Beth still tightly clinking around my neck. It’s not that they’re sad to see me go, especially since I gifted them the condo the moment the funds from my trust were released. No, they’re so fucking happy for me they can’t even stand it.

Maybe it’s because they know my childhood, saw me desperate for even a sliver of my parents’ love or attention but never receiving it until I did their bidding. Now I have that love I craved in spades from Randi, and they see it. Everyone sees it.

The hard leather handle of the navy Filson duffel digs into my palm as I heft it up into the open trunk. I haul the other in next and stare in dismay at the already full trunk of my Bentley SUV.

Damn, I might have to make two trips. Knew I should’ve made Tank help me.Not that he could right now, because the bastard’s too busy working. The only time I’ve seen my best friend the past week has been on shift. All his spare time is spent with Smith. That should irk me, and it would’ve in the past, but it doesn’t now because I know what they’re working on.

Ponder, or whatever the hell his real name is, is still out there. That’s what they’ve researched, tracked, and obsessed over since Whit and his hooligans were barbecued. We all know Ponder is biding his time, waiting in the shadows like the damn coward he is until he has a chance to take out Randi or me. Too bad for him, we’ve laid our own trap to ensure he’s the one six feet under and not me or my girl.

Not sure what I ever did to the fucker to warrant a bullet in the head, but he sure does hate me. That was one thing Whit was very clear about during our… conversation his last night of living. Maybe it was because I confronted him on his personal questions to Randi, or that I had him moved to the shitty shifts or stations because of said questions to Randi.

I smirk at the memory. Even though it put me in that asshole’s crosshairs, seeing him stationed outside in the damn heat sweating his balls off or in the winter freezing to death was 100 percent worth it. I knew there was something off about him, the arrogance too… violent with him. I couldn’t pinpoint then what it was that urged me to push him away from Randi, but now I can. Good to know my gut instincts still work.

A bang rattles through the packed garage as I slam the trunk closed.

This is the last of my clothes, the rest already at the White House. By the end of the day, I’ll be an official resident of the most iconic house in the world.

Who would have ever fucking thought?

My parents dreamed this day would happen, me in the White House. Too bad for them it’s not the way they hoped. And I’m good with that. More than good with that. I never wanted the politician route—they did.

I swing the key fob around my middle finger, my unseeing stare focused on the shiny black finish of the SUV’s bumper, then pull out the phone vibrating in my pocket.

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