Capitol Submission Read online

  I grit my teeth and look directly into his eyes, only an inch away from mine. “Valdovar,” I say, pressing my weight into his throat, “I’m not like the others. You can’t push me around. Solvane can’t push me around. I know you know who it is and I will find out! I will bring those men home!”

  Valdovar is starting to turn blue. I let go, allowing him to breathe again.

  Then I get up, turn, and walk out past Eversol’s slack-jawed stare.

  On the drive back to the White House, I reflect on this impossible situation. There is something I’m missing. A piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit.

  But I can’t think. I need to think, goddamnit.

  I need to fuck someone.

  Something about rough carnal delight frees my mind enough to come up with solutions. With my cock buried to the hilt ramming a tight pussy is when I’m at my best.

  Back in the Oval Office, I’m about to call Chase in to set up one of my nights at the club, but something stops me.

  It’s that face again. Those breasts. That ass. Oooh, that ass in those tight jeans. High and round.

  I so want to be up inside that gorgeous body with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. Making her shout in ecstasy as I fuck her raw.

  I don’t know what it is about this one.

  I don’t just want any girl.

  I want her.

  I take a step into my private kitchen and shut the door.

  I take out the burner phone, open up “Messaging” and write a text.

  Then I press SEND.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Terissa

  My door opens and in comes Judith. She usually prances around with enough energy to make most people get jittery, but today she slinks like a cat. She even closes the door silently, then sits in my client chair without a sound.

  “So how did it go?” she says in a hushed tone. Even so, I sit at attention.

  “Good. Dreynauld…uh…told me some…interesting things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the fact that he has some very sensitive information on a flash drive.”

  I’m not sure why I’m not telling Judith exactly what’s on the flash drive. Maybe I won’t believe it until I see it for myself. No, that’s not it. I do believe it. What is it then? Do I not trust Judith? No, that’s not it either. Hmmm.

  “We need that flash drive,” she says.

  “He’s going to get it for us. I’m meeting him again tomorrow.”

  “Where?”

  “At some Chinese restaurant. A secret meeting.”

  “Good girl. I’ll go with you.”

  Alarm bells go off in my head. “Um, really?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re Judith Brand. Everybody in Washington knows who you are.”

  She folds her arms and frowns. “Well, I don’t want you going alone, just in case.”

  “Agreed. Why don’t I take Kellan?”

  “Okay.”

  My purse vibrates. Judith looks down at it, then over to my iPhone sitting on my desk. She raises an eyebrow. My heart skips a beat. I smile, trying to look as innocent as possible.

  Judith just smiles and says, “If you want, take the rest of the day off. Think about how you’re going to play this tomorrow morning. We need that flash drive.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I dive into my purse and take out the burner phone.

  There is a text:

  Tonight. 8pm. A car will pick you up from your apartment. Dress formal. Be ready to follow commands.

  While my first thought is that I don’t have time for this, another part of me takes control of my right hand and texts back:

  Yes, commander.

  My life is suddenly becoming incredibly strange.

  * * *

  I can’t believe this.

  Am I really doing this?

  I can’t be really doing this.

  This is the argument I keep having with myself over and over…not to mention over and over…again as I look at myself in the mirror while putting on makeup.

  I’m in a new white dress with little straps that I bought from the Kors boutique. It hugs my curves nicely, keeping everything in proportion.

  Is my eye shadow too much?

  Too late. It’s almost eight o’clock. Can’t do much about it now.

  This is ridiculous.

  What am I thinking?

  I keep getting flashbacks to that man. His scent. His air of power. Am I going to be in his presence again?

  This is so not me.

  This is horribly dangerous, especially considering my job. I’m plugged into so many different things. I’m a target.

  Shit, I should cancel this now.

  I should text back to the mystery masked man that I’m not going to get in the limo.

  How the fuck does he even know where I live?

  This is weird. Almost too weird.

  I keep applying my lipstick, then smack my lips together.

  Nice glow.

  The doorbell rings and I almost jump out of my skin.

  He’s here!

  I look at the alarm clock in my bedroom. 8:00 exactly. Can’t fault the man for lack of precision, that’s for sure.

  I look at myself and take a deep breath.

  Are you seriously going to do this, Terissa? Seriously? Are you really going to get into the limousine of a man you don’t even know?

  The funny thing is, I feel like I do know him. The things he said to me made me think that he really does know me, too.

  But he can’t know me.

  Can he?

  The doorbell rings again, twice this time. Better answer that.

  I walk to the door and look through the peephole. It’s the well-dressed man in the suit who handed me the phone, looking around.

  I open the door. The man looks directly into my eyes then behind me into my apartment.

  “Are you alone?” he says.

  “Um…yes.”

  “May I check, Miss Ivers?”

  “Um…sure. Go ahead.”

  This guy is some sort of serious professional. He moves around my apartment like a slinking cat, recording everything with his eyes. He moves into my kitchen, then into my bedroom.

  Why am I allowing this?

  Because my gut tells me that I’m in good hands, that I’m safe. My gut just knows.

  He comes out, goes to the living room, pauses, leans over, and sniffs. Whatever he thinks he’s detected must be nothing because I see his face relax.

  “We’re good to go,” he says. “Are you ready?”

  “Wait,” I say. “Who are you?”

  “You know me. I gave you the phone outside the club. I work for him. It’s my job to protect him.”

  “Him? Who is he?”

  “Miss Ivers, if you’re ready, we need to go. The limo is waiting.”

  I try to think of something to say. The attorney in me launches into a long-winded speech full of lawyer-isms, but I keep her silent.

  “I just need to grab my purse,” I say.

  He looks around stealthily. “Okay.”

  I go to my bedroom, take my purse, and follow him into the lobby. Then I lock my door and we ride down in the elevator.

  He opens the door to the limo. I look around at my neighborhood as if to say, “Somebody stop me.”

  But nobody stops me. I get in.

  I half-expected my mystery man to be inside, but I’m alone. The limo pulls out onto 19th Street and down to K, where we turn right.

  “Where are we going?” I say to the man, now sitting next to me.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Ivers,” he says. “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

  “Not allowed to tell me? Who is this guy, your guru or something?”

  He stares at me with that expressionless military look. This guy has been trained well. Even though he’s still, he’s recording everything. His steel-blue eyes are marking our location, speed, other cars,
and people passing by. Sexy. He’s pretty fine-looking himself with chestnut hair and a strong chin.

  “So he’s a person of power in Washington, D.C.,” I say as I fold my hands and cross my legs. “Barring the President himself, which is ridiculous, I’m guessing he’s a high-ranking official. State Department? Justice? House? Senate?”

  The guy is like a robot. No flinch. No eye movement. Could make millions playing poker, if he wanted to.

  “Fine,” I say and fold my arms. “You don’t want to talk. I get that. Guess I’ll just be quiet.”

  We turn onto New Hampshire at Washington Circle Park in silence.

  “So what’s your name?” I say.

  The man looks at me for a split second and then continues staring straight ahead. No use. He’s a fortress.

  We pull up behind a long line of other limousines outside the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.

  Ohhhhh, right…tonight is the Concert for ALS Awareness. Oh my God! Everybody in D.C. is here tonight. I had two tickets on my desk, not that I had even thought about going. Not my thing. But invites to Capitol events always land on the desks of anyone having anything to do with Judith Brand.

  Oh my God, is Judith here? I doubt it. She stopped going to these things a while ago.

  A man in a white U.S. Navy dress uniform steps down as a valet opens the door. The guard gets out, looks around, then nods to the uniformed man.

  The face looking in at me is oddly familiar. Completely gorgeous. Is this him?

  He smiles at me, reaches in and takes my hand, guiding me out of the car.

  “I’m Lieutenant Commander Gable,” he says. “I’m here to take you to him, but it looks better if we pretend you’re with me. Take my arm.”

  Part of me is disappointed. I’d seriously be okay with Lieutenant Commander Gable. One thing I love about D.C. is there’s no shortage of good-looking men. I take his arm and he leads me up the steps. Whoever this mysterious stranger is has a vast amount of resources at his command, including Navy officers. An excitement builds within me.

  We walk up the steps and through the crowd past the desk.

  Gable smiles at everyone, then leads me upstairs to a balcony. We arrive at two empty seats and he motions for me to sit, which I do. Then he sits.

  The singer on stage is in the middle of a classic pop song, the one that made her famous. I see many faces I recognize. Rock stars. Movie stars. Politicians. And directly up and to my left on the top balcony, the President of the United States.

  Shit, he’s good-looking. First time I’ve ever seen him in person. If only he knew what I’m doing tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. I push the thought out of my mind.

  The singer leaves the stage and out comes a reunion of two members of a rock band that hasn’t been together for more than thirty years. They launch into one of their greatest hits and the crowd goes wild. The President stands up and claps.

  I catch Gable looking at me.

  “I must go,” he says. “I’ll see you in a while.”

  “Huh? Wha—?”

  But he’s gone.

  The audience applauds. I look over at the President. He’s applauding…and I swear he’s looking directly at me. Is he? Our eyes lock.

  Shit, does he know?

  My heart kicks. This is a setup, isn’t it?

  I look around nervously at the crowd.

  I’m about to get up when I feel a vibration coming from my purse. It’s the burner phone. I pick it up and look at the text message:

  Walk to the alcove on your left outside in the hallway.

  I get up, walk to the exit, and look down the hallway to my left. I don’t see any alcove.

  Out steps the guy who rode with me in the limo.

  I’m about to speak but he puts his finger over his lip in a commanding gesture and then motions for me to turn left. Ahead of me is another well-dressed man way down the other end of the circular corridor.

  The phone vibrates again. I read:

  Acknowledge me the proper way.

  I type: Yes, commander.

  Him: Do as I say. Go to the alcove behind the third pillar and wait.

  Me: Yes, commander.

  I walk further down the hallway. Ah, there’s the alcove. I take a deep breath and walk in. I find myself in a little recessed balcony that overlooks the audience and stage, but hidden from view. If I step to the left and forward, I can look out at the stage and the crowd but they can’t see me here in the shadows. This must be where Secret Service agents hide out to keep an eye on things.

  Before I complete that thought, the phone vibrates again. I read:

  I’m behind you. Close your eyes and stay still.

  My breathing gets shallow and I feel a dab of sweat break out on my upper lip. My muscles tense.

  Again, I can’t believe I’m following his orders without question.

  I close my eyes.

  The rock band goes into another of their classic hits, this one a sultry love song that everyone knows the words to.

  Then I sense a presence behind me, a warmth.

  I’m almost crawling out of my own skin by this time. I want to scream.

  My eyes dart open.

  “I said keep your eyes shut,” says a masculine whisper in my left ear.

  My breathing goes out of control, his hot presence filling the space with the musky scent of masculine power.

  Next thing I know something is going around my eyes.

  Shit, he’s blindfolding me.

  Am I really going to let him do this to me?

  Oh my God, so salacious. So dirty. Not to even know his name. And yet I allow the blindfold to be placed on my face. I sense him as he secures it behind my head.

  I can see a sliver of light, but not much else.

  Time seems to stand still. The band plays on.

  Then I hear the curtain pulled shut behind me.

  Then another eternity passes, as I wait…and wait…and then…

  Hot breath on my neck.

  Every hair on my body stands on end as a hot pooling of energy fires up between my legs.

  Yep, I’m wet.

  His tongue lightly grazes the spot where my shoulder muscle meets my neck in a tiny but firm swish.

  Shaking now, I nearly melt from his touch.

  Then firm hands grip the back of my waist from behind, pressing me into the pillar.

  “Such a good girl,” says his deep masculine voice.

  A lightbulb goes off in my head. I know that voice! Where have I heard that voice before?

  This place is full of famous people. Is this a movie star?

  Pfft, seriously, what would a movie star see in me? No, it’s a Washington man, for sure.

  What if it’s an ugly old man?

  Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. Why hadn’t I thought about that? Because my hormones are on overdrive and I’m not thinking clearly, that’s why!

  He licks my neck again, lightly biting down with his teeth.

  A jolt of yearning fire hits my crotch as I arch back into him, longing to fuse with him.

  I gasp when the fire is met by his touch.

  Oh my god!

  His hand is under my dress, lightly cupping my mound with long fingers from behind.

  The hands, the feeling, the place, the song...it all melds together into a fantasy of sorts. I haven't even had a drink, yet I feel completely buzzed.

  The heady energy of the crowd combined with the power of this stranger...this odd strange power to control me...to make me want to be controlled...is as intoxicating as anything I've ever felt. Even my calf muscles are stretched and tense with excitement as his hands stroke me over my panties.

  Shit, why did I wear panties?

  Because I'm not Carmen, that's why!

  I'm Terissa Ivers! I can't be doing this!

  Then his finger slips under the band of my panties and into my folds.

  Oh!

  My!

  Oh my, oh my, oh my!

  I'm
gone now, drifting in a world with no law degree, no Judith, no Metro, no worries.

  His finger knows exactly what it's doing. It's a very wise and experienced finger, I can tell. It strokes me in just the right spots, like he knows me there.

  His tongue finds my earlobe and bites while licking the soft spot behind it.

  Oh God!

  My hand goes back and finds his thigh. It's unlike any thigh I have ever touched. So hard. So firm. Almost like steel.

  Is this man human?

  I drift my hand back and up, sensing the side of his hard buttock.

  Shit, I'm in trouble. This is a deadly man. Not only is he full of raw sensual sexual energy, but he's got the body to match it.

  Fuck, this isn't going to end well for me.

  His tongue moves forward along my neck until his face is next to mine. He bites my lip as his fingers play my other lips like a piano.

  Long slow strokes, becoming almost unrecognizably faster...every once in a while a tease up to the head of my clit.

  Then...

  Oh!

  A finger inside me.

  I inhale deeply, my head thrown completely back as he bites my chin, licking downward to my neck. My hands are flailing in the air, trying to grasp hold of something. My body has gone slack, my weight fully in the power of his strong arms and thighs. My knees are bent.

  My hands find his hair. It's short, but not too short. I grab a handful as a second finger finds itself inside me.

  Oh. My. Fucking. God.

  Too good. Too fucking good.

  He starts slow, a small back-and-forth rhythm, spreading my inner walls in a way they haven't been spread in so long. Too long.

  Even though he's behind me, he finds my spot masterfully, even maybe a new one I didn't even know I had.

  Then a little faster.

  Oh God, he's completely finger-fucking me now!

  The rock band hits a crescendo and transitions into one of their other most famous songs, a more driving beat.

  He matches the rhythm note-for-note, launching me into a cloudbank of ecstatic frenzied bliss.

  My fingers are clawing through his hair now, pulling on strands as my face leans back trying to find his rough cheek.