Solace (Devastation Trilogy Book 2) Page 2

  I’m apparently spending most of the weekend with George. He had a horrible nightmare Thursday night and called Casey in hysterics. She then rushed over to sit up with him, meaning a nearly sleepless night for her.

  I was supposed to spend last night with Casey, but considering she didn’t get any sleep the night before, and she wanted George refreshed for the fundraiser tonight, she changed the schedule on us so George would have me last night, and she’ll have me tomorrow night.

  I guess if you barely survive something as traumatic as George did, having some lingering after-effects, like nightmares, is to be expected.

  When I start to ease myself out of bed, however, George proves he’s not nearly as asleep as I thought. His fingers unerringly find and tightly coil around my wrist, pulling me back to him.

  Then he starts kissing me.

  Of course I let him. He’s a damn good kisser, and I really don’t know how to tell him no.

  Not that I want to tell him no.

  Finally, I catch a glimpse of the time and realize if I don’t get my ass moving, Casey’s going to be pissed. “Sir, I really need to go.”

  “No,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around me. “Stay with me.”

  Part of me feels horrible about leaving, but I do have shit to do today if I want to be able to enjoy tonight and tomorrow with him. “Sir, I promise I’ll be back later.”

  Except he’s like a warm, sleepy octopus. Every time I try to get free, he comes up with a new way to hold on to me.

  I try one more time. I do not want to safeword, but I literally don’t have it in me to tell him no. I kiss him, distracting him and allowing me to finally untangle myself from him.

  “I’ll be back in time to take a shower and get ready with you tonight, Sir. You’ll have me all night and tomorrow.”

  Success seems within my reach as I manage to get my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet firmly planted on the floor. Now I have a chance of evading him.

  “Promise?” he asks.

  Poor guy is not a morning person, even under the best of circumstances. I’m not either, really, but Casey’s trained it into me over the years, because she absolutely is one.

  “I promise.” I kiss him again, easing the pillow I used into his arms.

  He wraps his arms around it and sighs. “You’d better.”

  I run a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. His blue eyes drop closed as a soft, sleepy sigh escapes him. I do it again, gently rubbing, and it takes less than fifteen seconds before he’s sound asleep once more.

  Moving quickly now, I head to the bathroom, do what I have to do, and brush my teeth. Back in the bedroom, I scoop up my phone and clothes in the dim light and quietly close the bedroom door behind me. I opt to dress in the hall to reduce the chances of waking him again. Downstairs, after presetting the coffee for him, so all he has to do is hit the button when he finally makes it out of bed, I grab my laptop case and walk out to the garage, where I get in my car.

  George started insisting that I park in the garage. Even gave me a clicker for the roll-up door.

  The funny thing is, I honestly don’t think it’s because he wants to hide my car, even though he alluded to that as an excuse.

  I think he really wants my car parked in his garage.

  His is parked in there, too, but normally that’s the only one, and it’s a three-car garage. He rarely drives anymore, because of security concerns. He gave Ellen’s car to Aussie, and she lives on campus in a dorm. The boys are away at school in Knoxville, living there.

  As I wait for the door to roll up, I realize how lonely it must have been for George once Aussie left for school last year. From having a wife and three kids at home to being a widowed bachelor.

  Shit.

  It’s no wonder he wanted me to stay longer. Especially after all the nightmares he’s suffered through alone.

  I back out of the garage and hit the button on the remote to shut the overhead door. Then, because I know Casey will beat me in a bad way if I don’t, I arm the alarm with my phone app. George didn’t give me a chance to set it last night when I arrived, because he’d been too eager to get me upstairs and in bed.

  Yeah, okay, I was pretty damn eager, too.

  That’ll alert Casey that I’m on my way to her house, because she gets alerts for George’s alarm system.

  It’s a chilly morning, overcast, grey. I hope it’s not raining tonight for the fundraiser. We’ve had a lot of rain this winter, an exceptionally wet one, and we’ve had a higher number of emergency road repairs than usual from washouts and flooding. It’s something TDOT and emergency management officials are keeping an eye on, and one more stressor on George’s plate.

  I have to wait for George’s gate to open to let me out. Then I pull out, barely needing to tap the accelerator before I’m turning in at Casey’s driveway. I punch in my gate code at the control box and wait. As the gate swings open, I’m remembering the first time she brought me out here after she bought the place, how impressed I was by it. George and Ellen bought their house at the same time, twelve years ago.

  Right around the time Mom died.

  Part of me still likes Casey’s old house better, even though it was much smaller and not a fraction as fancy as this one. I fondly remember plenty of evenings sitting around in her living room, me reading through whatever she’d assigned to me that day, or helping her with research on cases, or doing home improvement and repair projects for her, things like that.

  It was cozy.

  Although, I can’t deny that, during college, being able to claim I lived here between semesters was pretty sweet, too. Name-dropping the exclusive neighborhood certainly gave me a cachet my classmates didn’t have.

  Not that I used it to impress girls, because I didn’t date when I was in college. I was too busy busting my ass to get good grades and hold on to my scholarship.

  And before long, I had no reason to date, because I had Casey.

  I hit the button on my door clicker for Casey’s garage and pull my Jaguar E-Pace into the three-car garage, to the right of her Mercedes. She teased me because I didn’t buy a Mercedes SUV, but I got a good deal on the Jag, new, and that’s still a prestige brand.

  I might not live in a fancy place, but once I passed the bar, I’ll admit I spent a pretty penny on my ride. Appearances are everything in law and politics, and that was one of the first lessons Casey taught me. I can’t be rolling up to a black-tie fundraiser in a twenty-year-old Chevy that’s seen better days. No one wants to pay an attorney who looks like he’s broke-ass. So, I spend money on my clothes and shoes, and on my car. They’re my uniform, I suppose.

  Along with the Rolex Casey gave to me when I graduated from law school. I alternate wearing that with the Breitling she gave me when she first made this official with me. My mask to the world. I can hide a lot of anxieties and insecurities behind the insulation these trappings provide me.

  I hurry inside, the smell of coffee brewing hitting me as soon as I open the utility room door. Her house is an almost perfect mirror of George’s, with only a couple of minor changes to the layout of the kitchen and some closets and bathrooms upstairs.

  Casey’s not in the kitchen, so I immediately head downstairs to her basement, taking the stairs as fast as I dare so I don’t face-plant.

  Sure enough, she’s already tackling the elliptical this morning. Her earbuds are in, and she’s likely blasting something with a high-octane beat.

  I know she’s aware I’m there because her phone, which is propped in one of the two cup holders on the elliptical machine’s control panel, will have received alerts when I armed George’s alarm, when I opened his gate, opened her gate, and when I opened her garage door. So I drop to my knees on the yoga mat, bow my head, and wait.

  I’ll kneel here until she’s done, or until she’s ready to acknowledge me.

  Doesn’t matter how long that takes, either.

  I close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic sound of the machine, her
soft grunts and panting. It’s soothing to me and lets me set aside the real world for a little longer.

  She soothes me.

  She’s always had a way with me, and I’ve learned not to question the way things are between us, because it works for me. I trust her completely and always have. She’s never given me a reason not to.

  This is another secret relationship I have, although it’s not nearly as scandalous as my relationship with George. While she’s older, and my boss, at least I’d get a wink and nudge from most guys for bagging Nashville’s most eligible cougar.

  We could get in trouble at work but that would be the extent of it. It’d be a minor scandal, at best. The kind of scandal that would only give me extra cachet in this town while it could tarnish her image a little.

  But we’ve been careful. Before George learned about us, only Ellen knew. Casey wanted someone else to know about us in case something happened to her. Casey has far more assets than I do, and she’s left a considerable amount to me in her will.

  Because despite the appearances she puts forward to the world for her own reasons, Casey and I have been exclusive as far as sex goes.

  Until now.

  Until George.

  She’ll frequently go out with other men, or make it look like she’s dating them, but that’s for political reasons or to help the guy out as his beard, or to make an introduction for someone in an innocuous way with a standing quid pro quo in place in case Casey ever needs an introduction—or, of course, as a return for a quid pro quo she struck with someone else.

  But she’s never had sex with anyone else during the eleven years we’ve been together, and until George, neither had I. There’s no reason for us to lie to each other about it, because we have standing permission to sleep with others, if we want to, as long as we let the other person know about it in advance. And we have veto rights with each other.

  Neither of us have exercised that option.

  Until recently, George felt certain she slept around. Easy mistake to make, since he’s known her since college. It also proved to me that Ellen kept our secret for us. If she wouldn’t even tell her husband—her Master—then no way she told anyone else.

  I patiently wait for Casey to finish her workout, because in this situation it wouldn’t do me any good to be impatient, anyway. Casey will take as long as she takes, and it’s on her schedule, not mine.

  This was also part of the deal I agreed to with her—that she’s totally in charge.

  Of everything.

  She helped me apply to college, and for scholarships, and helped me earn my degrees. She’s helped me with my career, first at the law firm and then in government. She’s introduced me to political operatives who’ve mentored me and taught me more than I could ever learn in any classroom. I am what and who I am now mostly due to her intercession and guidance.

  She’s eventually going to help me achieve my revenge, too, but again that’s in her timeframe, not mine. It has to be a plan that won’t snag either of us—or now George—in its shadow.

  It’s a long game I’m willing to play because I know Casey is a woman of her word, and a cunning tactician and long-term strategist.

  Finally, I hear her pace slow as she enters her cool-down phase. Once she finishes, the machine stops and she steps off of it, walking over to me.

  Her feet come into view and she stops immediately front of me. “Greeting, boy.”

  I rest my head on the tops of her sneakers and cup the backs of her heels in my hands. “Good morning, Ma’am.”

  “You’re late.”

  “George was a little clingy, Ma’am. He woke up when I was trying to get out of bed. He didn’t want me to leave. I promised I’d be back this evening in time to take a shower and get ready with him.”

  She softly snorts, but it sounds amused, not mean, and her hand scratches the top of my head much in the same way I rubbed George’s earlier. “He take care of you last night?”

  I smile against her sneakers. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Sit up.”

  I do, knowing I’m still smiling as I do.

  She studies me as she looks down into my face. “He beat you?”

  “Boy, did he.”

  She motions with her head. “Let me see.”

  I stand and quickly strip.

  She has a hell of a poker face, but I’m an expert in reading her. “Holy fuck,” she mutters, her eyes scanning my body. With a finger she motions for me to turn.

  My smile widens when I hear her sharp intake of breath as she gets a look at my back and ass. I took a peek in the mirror in the bathroom over at George’s. I look like I had the crap beaten out of me.

  My cock also gives an interested twitch. I doubt that she’s going to give me any relief this morning, although she might have me take care of her.

  “Goddamn,” she finally says. “Did you safeword?”

  “No, Ma’am.” I finish turning, facing her, feeling proud of myself. “I loved every second of it.”

  She now stands with her arms crossed over her chest and a practiced mask in place. “I take it he bred you?”

  “Mouth and ass.” Even that now feels normal in my world. Which tells me that maybe, despite the risks to our careers, this is absolutely the right path for my life. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have so readily and rapidly adapted to it and come to enjoy it, would I?

  It’s not just the sex—it’s the sadism, and George’s dominance, and the way he seems to cherish me when we’re done with all that and he cuddles with me in the aftermath.

  I love and am in love with Casey. Absolutely. It’s not an exaggeration to say I’d kill or die for this woman.

  But there’s always been a wall within her soul I’ve never managed to penetrate, a wall around her heart. I know she loves me, that isn’t it. I also know she will never marry me. That was something she was honest about with me from the start.

  I had to be okay with that reality to do this with her, and I am. I get it. It’s wrapped up in her old pain and is tied to the secret of what happened to her in her past, a secret she might never tell me about. She holds her secrets extremely close, including from me.

  But I love her, and I’m happy with the status quo.

  Or, I was, before she shook things up and brought George into the mix.

  Whether she intended it or not, it opened my eyes to seeing a different side of the man and pointed a spotlight at a void in my life I had no idea was there.

  Feeling needed.

  Then I see her gaze narrow and she leans in, staring at my throat. “What happened there?” She indicates her own throat.

  I feel the blush immediately rise in my cheeks. “From our play, Ma’am.”

  She continues staring at my throat while I watch her mind working, calculating, trying to put it together in her head before she even asks it.

  Which, of course, she does.

  She plays with the necklace she always wears. She does that a lot now. It’s a small, round, silver and blue pendant, almost like a little locket, on a stainless chain. I rarely see her without it. I’m not sure what it is, but she started wearing it after the crash and Ellen’s body was retrieved, so I have my suspicions.

  Finally, she speaks. “How, exactly, did those marks get on your throat?”

  “George’s hand, Ma’am. When he choked—”

  “WHAT?”

  Ohhhhh, fuuuuuck.

  In all the years I’ve known Casey, I can count on one hand with fingers to spare the occasions I’ve seen her lose her composure. Two of those times really don’t count, because they were triggered by the news of the crash and confirmation of Ellen’s death. Something like that would make even the strongest man break.

  Fury doesn’t come close to describing her current mood.

  Therefore, I opt to shut my mouth until she says otherwise.

  I watch her force a composed mask back into position. When she next speaks, it’s in a terrifying whisper that wilts my cock and makes my balls wan
t to shrivel and crawl up inside my abdomen.

  “What, exactly, did he do? When did this become part of the menu?”

  Lying to her is forbidden. That means I start with the DC trip, which we really haven’t had a chance to discuss beyond the business end of things.

  It was for the National Governors Association. He gave their keynote address Saturday night after a weekend of seminars and meetings. A lot of people see giving that keynote speech as a stepping stone to higher office. In some cases, that’s true, but they’d wanted George to deliver it last year and he’d declined. This year, Casey intercepted the invitation and accepted for him, before he could turn them down.

  It was also Casey’s test run for George and for me, to see if I could keep him calm on the flight—I did, barely—and shepherd him through the stressful weekend. With us gearing up for a war footing with the campaign, there will be a lot of times where Casey can’t go with him, meaning it’ll be up to me to be in charge of George. Officially, I’ll be his body man.

  Ironic title, yes, I know. For his last campaign, when he ran for re-election to the state senate, I was his body man then, too.

  Just not so…intimately.

  When she booked our room, she got us a suite and paid for it out of George’s personal funds, so it wouldn’t look suspicious or fall under deeper scrutiny at some future time.

  After my retelling of the events—of the weekend and of last night—she turns from me and takes a couple of steps away.

  I don’t speak. Damn, I barely even breathe.

  Finally, I hear her sigh. She returns to me and reaches in to cup my cheek. “No more breath play. Period.”

  I swallow back my disappointment. ‘Yes, Ma’am.”

  “I should fucking punish you for letting him do that to you. I told you no on that. But that was before George, and I never clarified it, so I suppose I can’t fault you for allowing it. But never again. I’ll tell him so you don’t have to, don’t worry.”