Read Jaid Black Online

Authors: One Dark Night

Jaid Black (22 page)

BOOK: Jaid Black
3.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
With the Harrington name came more social pressure than most people could imagine. Children of poorer or middle-class families who aspired to have the sort of money Cilla had been born into liked to point out how hard they’d had to work, how ambitious they’d had to be, in order to climb to the top. That was no doubt true, but what most of them failed to realize was that the burden of performance was just as dramatic for the children born to the moneyed. Or, at least, that was how she felt.
Everything Cilla had ever done—from her first date, to her first job, to what napkins she laid out for guests to make use of at holiday parties—was scrutinized and criticized. If the napkins were too dainty, it was proof she was a social snob not in touch with the masses. If the napkins were too plain and blasé, then clearly she had no taste. (Or, worse yet, her family didn’t have as much money as they let on.)
No matter what she did, no matter what she said, somebody was always there, waiting to evaluate it and her. That those had been her experiences since she’d been old enough to crawl should have been enough to waylay her from further burdening herself. The deeply seeded desire to serve humankind, to help those less fortunate than herself, had, however, called to her from adolescence onward.
And so Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth, daughter of former Senator Maxwell Harrington, granddaughter of former Secretary of State Toddsworth Harrington, wife of shipping magnate Otis Barnsworth IV, had announced her candidacy for the House of Representatives on her twenty-fifth birthday. It was no contest. She had won the race, served her constituency from the elite, moneyed Cleveland suburb well, and had been re-elected in every subsequent match.
When Cilla turned thirty-one she turned her attention toward the Senate. That contest had been tougher, a lot tougher, in fact, but again she had emerged the winner. The voting trend in Ohio had been largely Democratic at the time, so it had taken quite a few well-spent campaign dollars to ensure that the wealthy Republican daughter of an even wealthier Republican father came across as an everyday woman worthy of everyday votes. Not an easy feat, but she’d done it.
Truth be told, Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth considered herself to be neither a Republican nor a Democrat, but unless your name was Jesse “The Body” Ventura, you didn’t have a shot at winning a serious race running as an independent. Cilla had, therefore, done the only sane thing she could think to do and run on the very ticket her father had.
Ironically enough, entering the contest as a Republican had been the best choice she, as a woman, could have made. It was Cilla’s belief that many moderate voters, the very people whose votes she needed the most, tended to view female Democrats as too liberal and male Republicans as too conservative, even if the exact opposite was true where the individuals themselves were concerned. But a female Republican . . .
So here Cilla was, five years later, a Republican senator from a largely Democratic state, spending grueling hours on the campaign trail in preparation for the election in November. She held no doubts but that she would win. She’d been bred for this her entire life. She would serve in the Senate for four more years, then run for the governorship of Ohio after that. Who knows. Maybe she’d even run for president someday.
It didn’t matter. Not really. Not anymore. Because politics, she’d soon learned, wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Her father and grandfather had passed on foolishly idyllic notions of what it meant to be a public servant to Cilla as a child, ridiculous flights of fancy that were as far off in the reality department as a non-medicated schizophrenic’s thought processes.
Cilla had thought to use her money and familial influence to effect meaningful changes. She wanted to force deadbeat dads to pay child support, lower the crime rate, feed the hungry, educate the masses, and get tough on terrorism to boot. She wanted to serve humankind, to make a real difference in the lives of those who had little hope left to them.
Her dreams had been smashed to bitter pieces within two weeks of arriving in Washington. She was no public servant, she’d soon learned. The public served her. What she was, she now knew, was a corporate servant. Corporations told her what to do, and she, the mediator, decided how much the public would let said corporations get away with. It was as simple and ugly as that.
It was probably, she mused, little wonder that her sexual fantasies had evolved into the complexly submissive scenarios that they had. Every day, every hour, every minute,
someone
was kissing her ass. From other senators who needed a favor, to oil barons who needed a favor, to the janitor down the hall who needed a favor . . .
Cilla sighed as she logged on to her
SpankMeImANaughtyGirl
account. Somebody was always kissing her ass because somebody always needed a favor.
She smiled when she saw that Claude had emailed her again. Claude—
He was sexy, if he looked anything like his photograph. She could have had him checked out, she supposed, but to what purpose? It wasn’t like she was
really
going to meet him. Yeah right! Of course, Claude didn’t know that. Yet.
Cilla would cyber-play with Claude until he realized she had no intention of meeting in R/T (online lingo for “real time” ), then he would “dump” her, and she’d move on to a new online Master. She’d repeated this particular performance more times than she could count, so she already knew how it would play out.
It amused her to talk—or type—dirty things to men online. Sometimes she even giggled, which she never did in real life, when she allowed herself to imagine the dumbfounded expressions that would have been on the men’s faces had they realized the one talking dirty to them was a “conservative” Republican senator with more money than Midas and more power than the electric company.
She was, of course, careful not to divulge information that could be traced back to her—very careful. Cilla was even in the habit of making up various physical descriptions for herself every time she hunted for a new play Master. She mostly liked being a redhead with fair skin and blue eyes. She didn’t know why, just one of those things, she supposed.
Therefore, she was both amused and stunned by the fact that she’d given her real age and physical description to Claude. She’d even admitted to him that her first name was Priscilla. Truthfully, it didn’t matter much. Hair color, eye color, and a first name hardly made her traceable. It was the very fact that she had given him the information to begin with that stupefied her.
Cilla found herself wondering why—why him, why now? In the three years she’d been playing D/s games online, she had met some terrific men. Men she would have liked to get to know in real life, perhaps even had real sex with. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that Claude was at the top of that list. But Senator Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth could never chance meeting any of them, not even Claude.
Cilla was, after all, a Harrington.
 
 
Thomas stared at Nikki through hooded eyes as he
watched her prepare bacon and eggs for breakfast. Seated at the tiny kitchen table, he was wearing unzipped jeans and nothing else. The good doctor, on the other hand, was totally naked. Just the way he liked her. Just the way he wanted to keep her.
Nikki had flat-out told him she didn’t want to be owned in any way except sexually. Fair enough. He frowned. He’d just have to keep her naked as much as possible to make certain their entire lives revolved around sex, then.
I’m a Neanderthal
.
So shoot me.
Thomas realized he was a difficult man to put up with. Very difficult. His personality had always tended toward the jealous side with women he was serious about, but with Nikki he felt downright possessive. The mere thought of another man kissing her on the cheek let alone doing what he’d done to her last night—and what he’d be doing to her again after breakfast—was enough to make his nostrils flare and his jaw clench.
She wielded a power over him and his emotions in a way he suspected she didn’t yet realize. The irony was not lost on him. He held all the power over her during sex, but she held that power over him outside of it. All the more reason to keep her busy in the bump-and-grind department, he thought grimly.
“What are you snarling about?” Nikki cheerfully asked as she fried up bacon at the stove.
Thomas frowned. As if he’d admit that aloud. “I’m hungry,” he growled. “How long does it take to fry up bacon?”
“As long as it takes to be done,” she replied, her good mood undaunted.
Par for the course, he thought with down-turned lips. She now knew him too well to get put off by his surliness. Sweet lord above, what defenses did he have left to him? He sighed as he absently raked a hand over his jaw. At the rate they were moving, he’d be putty in her hands outside of a week. Surly, snapping putty, but still.
“I’m gonna go check to see if that ad posted yet,” Thomas muttered, standing up and pushing away from the table.
“Okay. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”
He grumbled his agreement and stalked off. Putty, he thought gloomily. Putty.
 
 
The e-book publisher was a dead-end, Ben had said.
Thomas wasn’t surprised and hadn’t expected to find anything. He had hoped that because the e-book publisher specialized in erotic
romances
that most customers would be female and a male buyer would stick out like a sore thumb. Wrong. The gender breakdown was about 60/40 favoring females, so men didn’t stick out at all.
Furthermore, the name Richard Remington was not in the publisher’s customer database. Thomas knew that alias of Lucifer’s was a made-up one anyway, that the real Richard Remington was truly a conservative teacher, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise to find out he wasn’t a customer.
Twenty minutes, a dead-end lead, and no posted ad later, Thomas’s head shot up when Nikki’s voice floated out from the kitchen to announce breakfast. “Be there in a minute,” he told her as he closed down the laptop, wondering how the hell long it would take for the ad to post. He considered simply asking Nikki what the time differential was between posting it and having it go live, but that would only force him to think about the fact she’d put an ad in at
Dom4me.com
before.
He was having a difficult enough time coming to terms with all the feelings he’d allowed himself to mentally admit to in regards to the surgeon. Adding jealousy into the mix was a bit much a bit soon.
Upon arriving in the kitchen, and more specifically upon viewing the object of his desire and affection serving breakfast in the nude, all thoughts of jealousy, psychos, and anything else that wasn’t Nikki flew out the proverbial window. Like the human male version of Pavlov’s dog, his eyes immediately grew heavy-lidded, his cock erect. He pulled down his jeans and stepped out of them, raising an eyebrow when she glanced toward him and stilled.
“I see we’re hungry,” Nikki said with a smile as she dished out bacon and eggs onto the plate before him.
He grunted. Catching the double entendre, he decided to answer like for like. “Come feed me, then,” he growled.
Her cheeks reddened a bit, which Thomas found more adorable now than ever before. Especially considering everything he’d done to her last night. He’d taken her three times before letting her go to sleep. He’d sucked on her pussy again, she’d sucked on his cock, he’d taken her from the front, from behind, and every which way his heart desired. Yet after all that she could still blush. Adorable. Too goddamn adorable, he thought grimly.
“Yes, sir,” Nikki said after setting the pans back down on the stovetop. She rinsed her hands in the sink, then wiped them dry on a towel. “Let me get a fork.”
“Come here,” Thomas murmured. His dark eyes trailed over her well-rounded backside, and then, when she turned around to face him, over her pierced nipples and trimmed pubic hair. “Sit on my lap.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay,” she whispered.
Nikki made to sit down on his knee. He grunted, shaking his head. “Sit on my lap, not my damn knee.”
She blushed, grinning, but did what he said. “Like this?” Nikki murmured, straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, thrusting her breasts into his line of vision.
His eyelids were so heavy with arousal he could barely keep them open. “Almost,” Thomas drawled. “I’ve got the perfect seat for you. Guaranteed you won’t fall off.” He smiled at her chuckle. “Sit on him,” he said thickly, his expression turning serious. “Please,” he rasped.
Nikki’s breath caught in the back of her throat as she sank down onto his erect cock and enveloped him inside of her warmth. His teeth gritted at the exquisite feel of her tight, wet pussy wrapped around him, squeezing him. He could stay like this forever, Thomas thought in a rare moment of unstoppable nostalgia. Buried ten inches deep inside the woman of his dreams.
Bending his head to her breasts, he drew one plump nipple into his mouth and leisurely sucked on it. She shivered, a small breathy moan escaping from between her lips.
Thomas raised his dark head. “Feed me,” he murmured, his gaze snagging hers.
Nikki blinked. She took a deep breath and exhaled. Moving her hips, she slowly began undulating them back and forth, riding up and down the length of him as she stabbed the fork into a pile of eggs. “I think this requires more coordination than I’ve got,” she gasped.
He grunted. “A skill any devoted sex slave should acquire,” he informed her.
She stopped riding him. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “There’s been one before me?” she asked a bit shrilly, making his heart thump.
His eyes widened just a bit, the knowledge that Nikki was jealous somehow making him feel good. She didn’t want another woman touching him. Good.
“No,” Thomas admitted, his gaze boring into hers. “You’re the first and you’d better be the last,” he growled. That was as much of an emotional confession as he was up to, so he was glad and more than a little relieved when she smiled, let the subject go, and continued riding him.
BOOK: Jaid Black
3.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Cherry Harvest by Lucy Sanna
Home Is Where the Heart Is by J A Fielding, Bwwm Romance Dot Com
Through the Dom's Lens by Doris O'Connor
A Week in Paris by Hore, Rachel
Ghost Sword by Jonathan Moeller
The Players And The Game by Julian Symons
Jumpers by Tom Stoppard