Politics - Sex Stories

Politics

... dress for the Grammy’s last year, yes?” “She did.” Ginger’s chin lifted. A smile hinted at her mouth. “Your mother is an amazing artist.” His wife’s lips curved into a smile. “She is.” “Ginger, I’m terribly sorry, but do you mind if I steal your husband for a moment to talk business? It won’t take long.” Sunlight peered through the window and caught the glint of her white teeth, making Tamara’s permanent smile flash. She glanced at Brad before her gaze returned to his wife. Seconds passed. Ginger batted her eyelashes. Turned to face him. Deep brown eyes meeting his, she slipped her hand out of his grasp and cupped his face in her palms. Jesus. His body weakened. The depth of her eyes never failed to escape his notice. A soothing tornado of fierce protectiveness and acceptance. What’s she thinking? His wife nodded, a slow, rocking motion that made even the fabric of her dress waver. Her gaze insistent. “Take all the time you need to do whatever it takes, my love. I’ll be waiting.” “Of course.” Her mouth covered his moving lips with the softest of touches, making his breath catch. The temperature of his skin hiked, his muscles straining against propriety as he ignored the call of her body and kept her at arm’s length. She broke away. “I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” The whisper seemed to go straight to his balls as she turned away and glided back outside, the cloth of her skirt cupping her ass. “Shall we?” Tamara’s silky voice shattered the spell of his wife’s body. ...

... He felt the muscles in his face tighten, lips mash together. Tilting his chin up, he met her soulless blue eyes. Her painted mouth stretched upward in something resembling a smile, but it didn’t touch the rest of her polished face. “Of course. Follow me.” He turned his back on her, leading her to his office. It was one of his favorite rooms in the house. The wall panels were a muted echo of the gleaming dark wood floor. Tall, narrow windows on the shorter sides of the room met the longer one, with glass double doors leading to the outside. Creme colored blinds filtered the sunlight. Brad stepped onto the ornate, colorful rug and walked toward his desk chair. Rolling it backward, he extended his free arm to the chair in front of the sprawling desk. “Please. Sit.” Tamara sauntered past the desk, continuing on to the glass door. White light slatted over the curves of her body as she reached the little pulley for the blinds. She looked back at him, her breasts highlighted in her silhouette. “It was smart of you to invite me here. Whichever one of us won the primary, we both look like we support the party and therefore each other.” “Don’t we?” Her eyes narrowed, the slit of her smile flashing again before she turned back to the outside. “Right. The good of the party and all that shit. World peace. Do you know how much I’ve had that drilled into my head throughout my life?” “No, I don’t.” “Yes, well. That’s what happens when you’re in beauty pageants your entire life.” Tamara pulled ...