Governor Read online

  Table of Contents

  Description

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also by the Author

  Author's Note

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Preview - Lieutenant (Governor Trilogy 2)

  About the Author

  Meet the Governor…

  I kneel for only one man—Carter Wilson, my best friend, chief of staff, and bastard extraordinaire.

  It’s a price I willingly pay to be owned by Her.

  His wife.

  Who is also, as of when we were sworn in this morning, my lieutenant governor.

  I am Owen Taylor, governor of the great state of Florida.

  Governor

  Governor Trilogy

  Book 1

  Lesli Richardson

  http://www.LesliRichardson.com

  Governor

  Governor Trilogy Book 1

  Copyright © 2018 by Lesli Richardson

  First E-book Publication: August, 2018

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This work may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means currently available or available in the future, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, for free or for sale, without express written permission from the publisher and author.

  Distributing copies of this e-book to others is a violation of international copyright law and infringes the rights of the legal copyright holder. This e-book may not be shared, copied, sold, given away, offered as a contest prize, or otherwise distributed to anyone other than the original purchaser. Distributing this e-book as part of any collection, or with any type of resale permission, is also strictly forbidden and a violation of copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This is my livelihood. PLEASE do NOT share, upload, or otherwise distribute this book. When people buy my books, it pays my bills. Please don’t steal from me. If you want me to keep bringing you more stories, I need to be able to pay my bills, so I ask that you please legally purchase my books. If you want to give this file to someone else, please purchase them a copy from a legal retailer. The links are on my website. Thank you.

  www.LesliRichardson.com

  Also by the Author

  Sign up for my author newsletter, where I post info about both my Lesli Richardson and Tymber Dalton pen names, and never miss a new release or update!

  http://eepurl.com/cXKR7v

  Writing as Lesli Richardson:

  The Bleacke Shifter Series

  Bleacke’s Geek

  Geek Chic

  A Bleacke Wind

  Bleacke Spirit

  A Bleacke Christmas (Coming May, 2019)

  The Great Turning Series

  The Great Turning

  The Great Turning: Into the Turn

  The Great Turning: Future Ages

  Governor Trilogy

  Governor

  Lieutenant

  Chief

  Determination Trilogy

  Dignity

  Diligence

  Desire

  Devastation Trilogy (Coming April, 2019)

  Dirge

  Solace

  Release

  Of Boardwalks and Bison

  Cross Country Chaos

  Poly (Coming February, 2019)

  Jailmates (Coming April, 2019)

  Lesli Richardson is better known by her more prolific Tymber Dalton pen name. Check out her website for more info on all her titles under both her pen names, including full book and series listings, trivia, character information, and more.

  http://www.tymberdalton.com

  Honest reviews are greatly appreciated and can help boost a book’s rankings on retail sites. Thank you!

  Author's Note

  Florida politics are messy, nasty, sexy, brutal, funny, insane, impossibly complex, and a lot of fun to write about. (Mostly because they’re messy, nasty, sexy, brutal, funny, insane, and impossibly complex.)

  Since the focus of this trilogy isn’t the politics so much as it is the people, I’ve taken certain liberties and simplified a few things here and there.

  The kinky shit, however, is absolutely realistic.

  Note: The books in this trilogy should be read in order.

  Dedication

  For Hubby, who keeps me going, for believing in me, and for putting up with me when I’m in frantic mega-bitch mode from working on insane deadlines.

  For Trish, my bestie and PA, who also helps keep me sane(ish), and who when I first told her about Carter the bastard extraordinaire said I needed to write him ASAP.

  To all my readers—thank you for continuing to buy my books, and your patience with me.

  And for Sir—He knows why.

  Chapter One

  Now

  It’s hard not to shiver when the AC kicks on as I kneel, naked, on the floor of my new office, the carpet doing little to cushion my knees. My hands remain clasped behind my head, back straight, elbows out.

  This is how he’s trained me, and what he expects of me.

  My knees are spread as wide as I can manage and still keep my heels tucked under my ass.

  He circles me, inspecting me as he smiles and tugs on his shirt cuffs, adjusting the lay of the cufflinks. I know he wants to strip off that suit he’s wearing and fuck me right here, spread over my new desk, but he’s holding himself back.

  Waiting.

  I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, even though my hard cock has a will of its own and is probably dribbling a puddle all over the towel Carter thought to put down before ordering me to kneel.

  He might be a bastard extraordinaire, but he’s also very practical.

  He looks pleased with himself, and he has every right to be. He’s the only man I kneel for and he damn well knows it.

  It’s a price I willingly pay to be owned by Her.

  His wife.

  Who is also, as of when we were sworn in at one o’clock this very afternoon, my lieutenant governor for the great state of Florida.

  * * * *

  Carter Wilson, bastard extraordinaire, is eight years older than me, a decorated Army veteran, my best friend, college roommate, one of my two closest confidants, my chief of staff…

  An
d he’s the Master and husband of Susannah Evans.

  Susa owns me—mind, heart, soul, and body—and has ever since I first met her in college.

  Since she owns me, that means I belong to Carter by default. It was the deal I willingly accepted all those years ago.

  Susa grew up the daughter of a lawyer, a progressive Republican who pretty much ran the state GOP for decades. Still does, unofficially now. Benchley Evans was a county administrator, then a county commissioner, followed by four terms as a state rep, and two more as a state senator. The only reason he didn’t run for the big G or a national office was a massive heart attack that made his wife put her foot down and demand he choose his family over party and politics for once in his damn life.

  He also hailed from a family that first made their fortune in citrus and cattle. As freezes and canker and greening took down the citrus industry, and the exploding housing market chipped away at cattle lands, he’d already moved on to land development, jumping in early when acreage was still cheap.

  That meant he could easily afford to send his only daughter to any college she chose, for any degree she wanted.

  It was my luck—good or bad, you decide—that we ended up in Tampa together, selecting majors and minors that would help us with law degrees.

  But she’s also smarter than me in many ways. Far more ruthless politically. That’s why, when Carter decided we could change our home state in good ways, Susa insisted it should be me who ran for governor on a third-party ticket.

  This time.

  After eight years—if I win re-election, that is—she’ll be perfectly positioned for her own gubernatorial bid.

  I’ll do my best to get her elected. Once I’m out of office, I’ll return to the private sector while still championing a few key causes that are near and dear to my heart.

  But what I’ll be looking forward to most by then is time out of the public eye.

  For at least the next four years, my official residence is the Florida Governor’s Mansion in Tallahassee. I can’t simply choose to not live there, because it’d be a logistics nightmare for my security detail, as well as an unnecessary expense for taxpayers.

  Considering two of the key planks in the platform we ran on were better budgeting and smarter spending, I can’t do something that would so blatantly fly in the face of those ideals.

  I especially can’t cite wanting to be with Susa and Carter whenever I choose as the reason.

  I still own my house just outside Tampa, next door to Carter and Susa’s house and sharing the same backyard fence. But for the most part, I won’t be staying there during my term. Besides, there’s already a calendar full of official state functions, and many of them will be held at the mansion that is now my home.

  My only consolation is that Carter, as my chief of staff, is expected to either be with me or be on call for me twenty-four/seven. No one will suspect anything untoward if he’s spotted coming and going at odd hours. Susa’s presence, both as Carter’s wife and my lieutenant governor, will not raise many eyebrows, unless she regularly shows up at the mansion at an unusually late hour without Carter or staff of her own. One of the trade-offs we’d already talked about and figured into our plans was that by embarking on this path we’d lose privacy.

  Carter is more than ready and willing to give me what I need and crave when Susannah is unable to. He’s also ready and willing to be a warm body in my bed so I won’t feel so alone every night.

  Because before the whirlwind that was my campaign to become governor, the three of us shared a bed nearly every night.

  * * * *

  Where I’m kneeling about three feet from the far end of my desk, I can’t be seen when Carter answers the knock on my office door after unlocking it and cracking it open to see who it is. He moves aside just enough to allow someone else to step in, and my breath catches, my pulse races.

  Her.

  “I only have a few minutes,” Susa says in her usual clipped, all-business tone.

  Carter closes and locks the door behind her and, moving faster than it seems possible for a human to manage, grabs a handful of hair, tipping her head back.

  “What was that, pet?” he softly growls.

  She’s never allowed to use that tone on Carter and she damn well knows it.

  Her entire posture and voice change, needy and soft, even as my own body responds to Carter’s tone. “I only have a few minutes, Sir.”

  I struggle not to smile, not to laugh. With today’s craziness, she likely forgot herself.

  I only wish I could be there later tonight to watch when Carter reminds her who she belongs to.

  He marches her around behind my desk and I allow my gaze to follow them. He bends her forward over the desk, making her put her hands flat on it, and hikes up her skirt. Since she’s also wearing three-inch heels, it means her gorgeous ass sticks out nicely.

  “Who said you could wear panties today, pet?” I hear the fabric rip and a quiet meep from her.

  “Sorry, Sir. I thought—”

  “You thought wrong.”

  Another violation.

  She’s going to have fun sitting tomorrow.

  She’s lucky we already did a sound check one evening last week, before I took office, and we discovered Carter can’t spank us in here if someone’s in the outer office.

  Like Julia, my administrative assistant.

  Who, right now, is sitting out there at her desk, along with a trooper from my security detail.

  Holding out the offending material, Carter walks over to me with a playful smile on his face. “Do you believe this shit? Looks like a certain pet has forgotten her place.”

  “I see that, Sir.”

  He turns from me, stuffing her ruined panties into his left front slacks pocket. I have a feeling they’ll probably end up in my mouth later.

  Not the first time he’s gagged me with her panties.

  Not saying I mind it, either.

  “Loyalty.”

  I immediately relax into the position, knees still wide, but my back now rounded, my left hand on my thigh, my right flat on the floor, my gaze focused down.

  It’s a Carter thing.

  It works—that’s all that matters. Countless times he’s put me into this position during the day behind a locked office door, but with my clothes on. Especially if it’s been a rough day and I need a quick reset.

  I can think about Him, about what we have together.

  It’s not a one-way street. Carter is loyal to us, always putting us first no matter what. That might sound odd to someone who doesn’t know the three of us. There’s a lot of bullshit out there about what people “should” or “shouldn’t” do.

  Carter sets his own path, trims his sails, and we follow.

  Loyalty.

  When I first idly floated what at the time I thought was a ridiculous proposition—running for governor—it was Carter, and then Susannah, who had my back and were my most vocal and vicious supporters.

  Loyalty.

  She is my queen, my heart and soul, my sun and my moon, all rolled into one. My muse, my reason for living. I would kill or die for her if it came down to it. I would—and have—embarrassed the hell out of myself just to make her smile.

  Loyalty.

  All of these things I think of as I slow my breathing and my back muscles loosen, enjoying a break from the more formal Primed position.

  Primed is always performed naked. Frequently for long stretches of time. The bastard extraordinaire takes great pride in sometimes torturing me while in that position, expecting me to maintain it.

  Or expecting me to fail to maintain it, which brings punishment.

  Win-win.

  But that’s life with Carter.

  I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.

  * * * *

  In Loyalty, I can hear what’s going on but, because of where I’m kneeling and with my head bowed, I can’t see.

  But I can imagine, based on the sounds.

  Her low, p
ained grunts as she struggles to stay quiet probably means he’s pinching or maybe even biting the insides of her thighs.

  Which are now, most likely, covered with her own juices.

  She enjoys life with Carter, too. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. While this is not a place I ever envisioned myself being, now that I’m here I cannot imagine being anywhere else.

  I don’t even mean this office.

  I mean with these two people, and especially with Carter.

  Carter at his best is a loving, kind, gentle, compassionate, funny, brilliant, gorgeous, sexy man.

  Since I consider myself straight, those last two are pretty damn fine compliments.

  Carter at his worst is evil, sadistic, mean, brilliant, gorgeous, and…

  Yeah, sexy.

  It pains me to admit that.

  No, I’m usually literally in pain when I admit it.

  Not that he would consider any of those descriptors an insult.

  And, again, not that I’m complaining, because I’m not. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.

  I know I don’t have to speak up and remind him of the time. It might not seem like he’s watching the clock, but I’m sure he’s calculating exactly how much he can cram into what little time the three of us have alone together right now.

  Maybe perhaps literally cram.

  That doesn’t even bother me anymore.

  After a few minutes of him torturing her, he speaks.

  “Boy.”

  I’m on deck. I smoothly rise to my feet even as they sting, full of pins and needles and protesting they still need a moment to recover.

  Carter smiles at me and my cock twitches. “Come here.”

  His fist is buried in her hair, her cheek is pressed against the desk, and her skirt is now rucked up around her waist. She’s gorgeous and mussed, her blue eyes wild with that special kind of energy Carter has a particular way of building in both of us.