The crowd hushed and turned to Brad, their simultaneous movements like a wave rushing the sea. Their eyes were wide. Brows raised. Waiting for him to fall on his face. To give them the final nail in his coffin.

He wasn’t going to.

Brad kept a smile plastered over his face even though his heart felt like it dropped into his stomach.

Ginger squeezed his hand.

They stood on the back lawn of their sprawling mansion on the bank of one of the biggest harbors in the world. He looked over at his wife as sunlight glanced over her bare arms and highlighted her dark brown hair.

“You had a good run. We’ll be okay,” her eyes seemed to tell him.

Nodding, he pecked her on the lips. Released her hand. His body felt wooden as he turned away. Faced the crowd of murmuring men and women, all in pressed outfits and perfectly manicured bodies. They stepped to either side, lining a path for him to the back porch that overlooked them all.

Brad had been lucky most of his life. Born with an above average intelligence, he’d worked his way up the educational ladder and received a scholarship to Harvard. There hadn’t been much of a choice: get an education or suffer in the streets. He’d chosen the former but unlike these people, he wouldn’t forget the generations of poverty his family came from.

Today would help define the rest of his career, if he did it right. It wouldn’t be about his loss. It would be about his support of the party, a strength for next time.

Grinning wider, he nodded to the crowd and walked forward. Met the eyes of the party’s supporters. Shook their hands. Murmurs rose through the crowd and more answering smiles met his eyes as he waded through the last leg their pathway. When his shoes finally scraped the concrete on the porch, he turned. Waved.

Cheers rose up in front of him.

Stepping onto the little platform to the podium, he spread his arms palms down, motioning everyone to quiet.

“Tamara Coben and I have a lot of the same views. She’s a good friend of mine and a harrowing opponent. Our country needs new leadership...” He told them everything they wanted to hear then pointed at Tamara, his eyes still on the crowd. “...Tamara Coben will bring our interests to Washington.”

Brad fought a cringe from the false jubilation in his own voice.

Diamonds sparkled in the sun as the crowd cheered and applauded. He glanced to the side. Tamara’s perfectly made up blue eyes watched him. A smile twitched on her mauve stained lips.

Battling a frown, he turned back to the crowd.

“Mark this day, my friends. Ms. Coben is a rising star and will be a driving force in our party for change. I stand with you all, and fully support her.” Turning to his graciously smiling victor, he clapped like a fool with the rest of them.

Raising a hand in her trademark beauty queen wave, Tamara Coben stepped across the porch with the slightest twitch of her hips. The applause grew. Even the caterers behind her lowered their trays and watched her walk away.

Brad extended his arm as she grew closer. Mirroring his gesture, she slid her hand into his. Each held each other for a moment at arms’ length, free hands cradling the other’s elbow.

She hooked him closer. “Been a great race, Brad.”

“The best woman won, though, Tamara.”

“The best woman can use some help in the election, if you’re interested.” The blonde pulled back and squeezed his elbow, her pale blue eyes searching his own. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Pressing his lips together to curb a snarl, he turned to the crowd. Grinned and gave a final wave before he retreated from the podium take her place at the side of the porch.

Delicate fingers laced through his. He glanced to the side. The wind lifted a tendril of the red-brown mane of the woman beside him.

Ginger.

Brad took a deep breath. The blonde yapped on. Her words felt inspirational, masking the lack of definitive content. Several times he caught himself entranced by possibilities and hope, only to have no answers as to what that may be.

The crowd cheered as Coben finally descended the podium. She made her way around the buzz of the party, shaking hands and nodding. Talking briefly, she caressed the cherubic faces of children and grasped the elderly’s shaking hands with both of hers.

A merry go round of people flocked to Brad and Ginger. A blur of faces he didn’t want to talk to. Most of them couldn’t possibly understand why the office was so important. It was just a competition to them.

Muscles at the top of Brad’s spine pinched. The more he went along with their charade, the more stiff his face felt. Like with each second, his skin was hardening into plastic.

Ginger squeezed his hand. Pulled him away from the crowd and into the house.

“You okay?” she asked.

Light elongated through the high windows, nudging the soles of his wing tips. “Dandy.”

“Brad.”

He met her brown eyes. Her brows rose.

“I’m fine, baby. There will be other elections.”

She nodded, her gaze not letting up.

Sighing, he pulled the back of her hand to his lips. Kissed her warm, soft skin. “She requested my help in the election.”

“Help.” Voice monotone, her eyes searched his. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, Bradley, there you are,” a feline voice sang.

He watched his wife’s lips purse. She turned to the back door.

Tamara Coben sashayed toward them, make up flawless and hair cinched back in a tight bun. Her pale blue dress brought out the color of her eyes. Its sleek pinch lined every curve with a sensual modesty only she could pull off.

“Hello, Ginger.” His party’s front runner met his wife’s eyes before her gaze traversed down her body. “I do love your beautiful dress. Who made it?”

Bradley loved how his wife’s back straightened. How she turned her body to face the other woman instead of cowering to the side or behind him.

“My mother. Catalina Ferrera. You may know her work?”

Tamara crossed her arms over her chest, letting a lazy forearm hang. She tapped her index finger toward his wife’s figure hugging black dress. “I believe I have. She made Kate Hudson’s 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 the string to shut the blinds with a clang and turned back to him. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?” Brad’s hands slipped over to the back of the chair.

Tamara turned to the side, reaching up to close the second set of blinds. She eased around the room to each set as if she were like performing a ballet. When the last one clamped off the remainder of sunlight, she peeked back at him.

“What I’m about to discuss with you can’t leave this room, and I didn’t want any long range cameras to catch it.”

He inclined his chin again. “Wise. I’m all ears.”

Releasing the cord, she stepped forward to touch the tip of her fingers to the desk. “Nice. Smooth. Cherry?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s why I like you, Bradley.” She peeked up at him under a fan of perfect, fake lashes. “You appreciate quality, and you are classy in every way I’ve come to expect in a man and in ways I’d never dreamed. Like this party.”

Get to the point, princess.

He took a deep breath, straightening his spine and pushing back his shoulders. It was a pose he’d studied from the classiest of men throughout American history; it boasted grace, strength, and importance. Something she should learn to appreciate, even if she had been the winner of the primary. “I strive to be the best person I can be.”

Nodding, her gaze fell to the desk as she stepped toward him, letting her fingers skate along its smooth surface.

What’s she doing? The muscles at the corners of his eyes tightened.

“May I call you Brad?” She looked up, the sudden attention of her pale blue eyes punching him in the gut.

“Of course.”

“Good.” Her lips spread, the grin deepening the shallow perfection of her face. “I like that.”

He shifted his weight away from her. “Okay.”

Tamara nodded, fingers finding the armrest of the chair. Trailing them up its back, she stepped closer until her firm breast grazed his elbow.

“I would like to invite you to my team.” Her thin, sculpted eyebrows rose. “You know every way to entice followers, and you are the embodiment of a perfect politician. I would be very content to have you with me.”

“‘The perfect politician’? The public has decided that is not as true as you believe. They chose you.”

Her lips puckered. “I would prefer not to have a conversation where we kid ourselves. We have the same ideals, but we both know you’re more qualified. I just happen to be prettier.”

“I... I can’t believe you just said that.” Brad’s hand gripped the chair tighter.

Tamara shrugged, dragging a hand from his neck down. Rested her fingers at his sternum. Her gaze never left his. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?”

“You’re a beauty pageant contestant, Tamara. I don’t think you need my affirmation.” He glanced down at her hand before meeting her hypnotic eyes again. “But we are both married.”

“We are. And you’re such the impeccable person, I bet you’ve never been unfaithful.”

His lungs seemed to close with each sucking breath. “Have you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m not such the good girl.”

The fingers on his chest spread. Heat swarmed his veins from his sternum out, into a crescendo that fed the bounding thickness of his cock.

The memory of Ginger’s intense gaze burned into his mind.

“...do whatever it takes,” she’d said.

His wife had never taken anything for granted, was as resolute about him getting a seat in politics as he was. It was a goal they’d shared. When he got into office, they’d take it as a partnership, him as the face. The world was too bruised and chaotic, taken over by ignorant yet over educated people with power problems. It needed soul within the soulless, representatives that cared about its people and its problems.

“Whatever it takes.”

Ginger was anything but clueless. She had to have expected Tamara to flirt with him or throw herself at him. Yet she’d given him permission.

Why?

Tamara’s manicured fingernails dragged down his chest, over his abdomen. Pale blue eyes warm as ice. Everything about her screamed beauty and perfection, though she was nothing but a snake and a whore.

But if there was nothing else pure about Brad, he trusted his wife.

His opponent’s hand drifted over his belt, her fingers squeezing his dick through his soft slacks. “Do you like it when I cup your big cock, Bradley?”

The sheer act of breathing was all he could manage.

Her lips drew together in a pout. Tilting her head to face him fully, her palm slid up and down his cloth covered shaft. Gaze on his mouth. She licked her lips.

She wants me to kiss her. Brad straightened, his grip on the leather chair relaxing.

“What do you want? You want my cock inside you? You want to be a bad girl with me and sleep with your opponent? A married man.”

A gasp escaped her mouth. Licking her lips again, she nodded. Stepped forward. Her breasts pressed against his chest as her hand feverishly worked his exalting dick.

“Say ‘yes, sir.’”

Her hand hesitated then stroked lower, fondling his balls only to slide all the way back up his thriving cock.

Ignoring the pulse of his dick, his gaze never left hers. He waited.

“Yes. Sir.” Her painted eyes narrowed, two paper-thin ridges gathering between her brows.

“Good. Get on your knees.”

Tamara’s hand faltered. Her gaze drifted back and forth from his eyes to his mouth.

“Do you have a problem with that, Tamara?”

A smile ghosted her lips. She shook her head. Cocking her head to the side, she lowered to the floor until his crotch was inches from her perfect face.

“You want me to do this, then?” She reached forward. Wrested the tail of his belt to the side and flicked it from its groove. Clinking it open, she grasped his waistband. Unsheathed the button. Lowered the whimpering zipper and let his pants fall to his ankles.

He nodded. Slow and steady.

“You’re not so perfect after all, are you, Bradley?” Her fingernails scraped his bare skin as she hooked them under the waistband of his boxer briefs and tugged it down. His swollen cock bounced next to her face as she looked up at him. “You want to share this dick with someone other than your wife?”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. And how desperately you want to be something other than perfect.”

Her warm fingers wrapped around his swaying cock. When she looked up at him, her eyes were dilated. Mouth open.

Bingo.

“Go on then, Tamara. You say you’re a bad girl. Prove it. You want that cock? Take it in your mouth and suck it like the bad girl you are. Show me what you’re made of.”

His opponent’s mauve lips opened wider. Holding his gaze and thrusting out her tongue, she leaned forward to suck the tip of his cock inside.

A moan rumbled through through Brad’s throat. His cock jolted at her mouth’s embrace, growing harder with every swipe of her smooth, wet tongue. Her touch was softer than her soul. Gentle and pleading, sucking and laving him like her salvation.

But her eyes were calm, never closing for more than a blink. As if she were thinking, processing, and gauging his reactions.

Unacceptable.

He tried to clear his mind. Focus.

“Tamara.” He shook his head. “Is that all you’ve got? You said you were a bad girl, a dirty girl. I expected more.”

Eyebrows raising, she dragged her lips down his shaft, forming them to the curves of his cockhead before pulling off with a gasp. A translucent string of saliva snapped back to her lips. “What do you know about dirty girls, Bradley?”

Trying find dirt. On me. Not gonna happen.

He shook his head, taking hold of his stalk from her hands.

She startled.

Caressing her face, he stroked his wet dick. Then he pressed it against her soft cheek. Held her head closer to him with his free hand, stray tendrils of her hair flouncing over his wedding band. Precum oozed onto her face and slathered the head of his cock as he moved.

She squinted her eyes shut.

“Dirty girls don’t mind having their make up smeared.” The head of his cock kissed her eyelashes before dragging downward and leaving a trail of mascara. “They deep throat, they pay attention to balls and make love to your ass. I don’t think you’re a dirty girl. Just a pristine beauty queen playing pretend.”

“I don’t touch ass. What are you, gay?” Her lips mouthed against his shaft with every word.

Pressing his dick between her lips, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m gay. That’s why my cock’s in your nasty mouth.”

She sucked in a breath, fresh air cooling the head of his cock. “Sodomy is a sin.”

He stared down at her. Roughed up blonde hair, makeup smeared with her own saliva and his pre-cum. His dick bobbed at her lips before she maneuvered her warm mouth around his dripping head again.

“Sodomy is a sin.” From the married, beauty queen politician who’s blowing me. “Get up.”

Mouth pillowing as she dragged off his cock, her eyebrows raised. She licked her lips. Jacked his dick with her left hand, the diamonds in her wedding ring flashing. “Why?”

Still challenging me. He shook his head. Stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand.

“You know what I bet? I bet your husband treats you like a princess. I bet he wants you waxed and dyed, your nails painted and everything just right.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He smiled. “I bet he opens doors for you, holds your hand all the time, and stands up from the table when you go to the bathroom. I bet he licks your pussy till you mewl and fucks you till you moan.”

“That’s right. That’s what a man should do for his wife.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.” Her attention was on his dick again. Her grip on his cock tightened, pumping back all the way to the base of his cock. The side of her curled fingers formed to the outline of his nuts.

Pursing his lips, he crouched, his dick pulling away from her grip. Stared her eye to eye. “I’d never be a gentleman, never love you. I’d lick you until you screamed and fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.”

She bit her lower lip. Perused his body.

“But you don’t want to be treated like a princess, do you?” He grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her up. “You want to be treated like a whore.”

Her chin tilted up though her gaze moved down as she stepped closer, letting her skirt brush his cock.

He grabbed her wrist before she could touch him again. “Follow me.”

Without waiting for her approval, he pulled her to the bathroom in the corner of the room. Yanking her toward him, he grasped her other wrist. Pinned both hands to her lower back, and forced her to face the mirror. His cock bobbed against the silken outline of her crack.

He looked at her reflection, the perfection ruined by lust. Reporters were surely outside the front gates now, waiting to talk to the new representative elect. No one else would see her like this, maybe never again.

“What are you waiting for?” Her sky blue eyes were wild, those tits stretching the thick fabric of her politically correct dress.

“Just savoring the moment. I like you like this.”

“Wet and starving for your cock?”

His balls tightened. Releasing her wrists, he trailed his hands over her dress and down the soft curves of her body as she held onto the granite counter. “Yes, but what I really like is seeing the real you. None of that pretension, premeditation, or self awareness. Just living in the moment.”

He squeezed the firm humps of her ass. Eased his shaft further into her crack then pulled away, only for her to push the globes of flesh back into his palms.

“Tsk tsk. So needy,” he murmured.

Flattening his hands against her body, he slid them down her tapering legs until he found the hem of her dress. He scraped her bare thighs as he grasped the fabric and slid it up. Further and further, until it stretched over her perfect butt and revealed the scrap of sea-foam thong nestled in her ass crack.

“Couldn’t help yourself? All those uptight opinions and control issues and you had to wear this slutty little thong underneath that icy exterior.” Clutching her ass, he spread her thick cheeks to see the line of bright fabric between them.

Her breath was shaky. “Fuck me.”

“I intend to.” He looked up into the reflection of her eyes. Letting the bunched dress hang at her hips, he grabbed a side of her little thong and ripped it free.

She gasped, straightening and pushing against him. “That was expensive couture!”

He ripped the other side and let the scrap hang between her pussy lips. Shifting his weight to the side, he spanked her ass cheek hard. The slap resounded in the little bathroom and her eyes widened. Snatching the torn panties from her inner thighs, he shoved them into his back pants pocket.

His thick, hot cock rose. Pulsed when it met her bare skin. He stroked his length, batted his steaming cockhead against her wet slit before honing in on her entrance.

Slipping inside her flowering pussy, he looked back up at her to see her mouth open wider with every arriving inch of his dick. He pushed further and she bent over more and more, submitting to his cock. Glancing down, he saw her starred ring staring up at him, her tasteful dress bunched just above her ass dimples.

He needed more. If her slippery soft pussy was anything to judge, she’d been fucked more times than her constituents would approve of. Her asshole seemed to tease him, promising a tight, hot fit and a deplorable pleasure she didn’t know enough about to love yet.

She moaned.

“Shhh. Your people are out there.” He licked his finger. Pressed it to the rim of her ass.

Her back arched, head snapping up to let her gaze meet his. “What are you doing?”

Pushing further, the tip of his finger slipped into the tight grasp of her sphincter. He met her eyes in the mirror. Thrusted deep and buried his finger in her at the same time.

His opponent gasped. Eyes wide.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Her eyes closed, fine wrinkles pressing at the sides. “It’s sodomy. It’s wrong.”

“Yeah?” His balls ached against her puckered pussy lips.

“Yeah.” Her eyes opened, staring at his reflection. “I don’t do anal. I told you that.”

His finger twitched inside her, stroking the thin wall of flesh hugging his cock. Her hot ass relaxed after every plunge, then sucked him as he dragged out.

Mouth open, her chin trembled.

“You want to get fucked, beauty queen? I mean really fucked, like the nasty slut you want to be?” He slipped his finger out of her pulsing rim, letting it fall away as she thrusted back. “You beg me to take your tight little ass. Or... I walk.”

Sweeping his hand over her lower back, he urged her to lean over until her breasts pressed against the countertop. He backed his cock out of her. Thrust back in.

“That’s it. Fuck my slutty little pussy,” his opponent whispered.

Brad seized her ass cheeks, spreading them wide as he drove deep inside her gaping twat. He leaned over her, his tie trailing along her back, until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“You have five seconds to beg before I leave you wet, hot, and all alone.”

Twisting her head forward, she exhaled. Condensated breath fumed the mirror. Wrinkles drove into her forehead as the reflection of her eyes met his again.

“Fuck my pussy or nothing.”

He smiled. Stood. Grasped her hips with one hand while the other followed the dip of her pelvis. Over the soft hump of her shaven mound and between the soft embrace of her swollen lips. Slipping over her natural lube, he found the protruding pearl of her clit. Pressed.

She gasped.

“Five.”

“You love this. Fucking the woman who beat you to Congress.” Her pussy became wetter. Tighter.

“I do.” He thrust harder, pounding his cock into her. Her honey splashed his balls. Lacquered his fingers. “Four, bitch.”

“Fuck me into an orgasm and I’ll suck the cum right out of your cock.”

“Three.”

“I’ll go out there to those goddamn reporters with the taste of your sperm still on my tongue. You like that? Huh, Bradley?”

His balls screamed for release, tightening more than he could ever remember. His dick felt like it might pull away from him and fuck her brains out itself. “Two.”

“Give me that dick, baby.” The control in her voice faltered. “Fuck me. Fuck me like the dirty bitch I am.”

“One.”

“Oh god.” Her pussy contracted around him just as he pulled out, denying her release. “No!”

Tamara’s eyes flew open. She wrenched up and around, grabbing his forearm as he turned to leave.

“Where do you think you’re you going?” Her breasts heaved with the feral tone of her voice.

He grinned.

“You’re going to beg me to take that prissy little ass of yours or I walk. What’s the matter, Tamara? Afraid of some cock? You’re a little fucking whore who cares nothing for anyone else but yourself. Your pleasure. Your command.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as his cock throbbed. “I don’t want your whore buffet. I want your delicacy. I want to open up that little asshole and fuck you the way you deserve.”

Her gaze lowered to his cock. She reached down.

He caught her wrist, circling his hand around her skinny gold watch. Tamara looked up, eyes focusing on his. Bit her lip.

Brad raised his eyebrows. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

“Fuck... my ass.” Softness held her voice, as if the mere plea had broken her.

Guilt tugged at his heart, but his hand was already pumping his wet, swollen cock. “Turn around, Tamara. Hold onto the counter top. I’ll go easy on you.”

Breath fluttered from her open lips as she glanced down at his cock. Then met his eyes again. She nodded. Slipped her arm from his grip and stepped back. Turning around to face the mirror again, she looked at him in the reflection. Her nails rapped against the sink as she held on and bent over.

Fuck.

Brad’s gaze slid down to her spread ass. Perfection. The same clear honey that soaked her swollen pussy smeared her little star. She widened her stance, ass wiggling, and bent over further. Her asshole gasped open with the movement, the little opening promising snug heat and liberation.

Walking behind her, he slid his cock between her legs, his cockhead basking in the wet heat of her pussy. He glanced at her rosy face in the mirror. Looked at the demure dress covering her breasts in the reflection. The way her body curved like a violin.

He swept his hands up and down her silhouette, bringing his fingers to a rest at her bunched dress. Then he trailed his palms over the humps of her ass, fingers splayed and thumbs meeting at her rim.

Wrapping a hand around his throbbing cock, he crouched to line himself with her. Rested the tip of his cock against the kiss of her asshole. Looking up, he met her dilated eyes in the reflection and pushed.

Heat sucked at his dick, beckoning him further even as she threw back her head. She winced in the reflection.

Brad stopped, his cock protesting at the thought of retreating from her hot, welcoming tightness. He thrust in shallowly, circling his hand around her body to her damp clit.

Tamara moaned. The grip of her asshole relaxed into a grasp.

“Fuck, that’s right.” He pushed more of himself in, until his balls relaxed against her seeping hot pussy and a whimper escaped her lips. Barely able to keep his eyes focused on hers in the mirror, he leaned forward. Lips brushed her delicate ear. “You like being my little asswhore?”

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Stop.” She gasped between each word, turning her head to press against his lips.

Swiping his finger back and forth over her clit, he slowly fucked her ass. She faltered, lowering toward the counter with every thrust. Moans escaped her open lips, climbing until they absorbed their bodies, clapping together harder and harder.

Fuck.

Reality fell into the abyss that held their morals and he found himself pumping hard into her ass. She writhed on the end of his cock, body laying out against the countertop as she breathed moans into the swirl of granite.

“You love being a whore?” he prompted.

“Yes.”

“You dream of gangbangs, don’t you? Gangbangs, men, and women. Anal. Fucking. Sex.” He slammed home with each word, lifting a cry from her throat. Bending over her, he put his lips to her ear again. “You love this dirty shit, don’t you? You want this and more. Double penetration. A fucking line of fuck buddies waiting for their turns at your body.”

“Yes! Oh God, oh...” Long, manicured nails clicked at the countertop until they found a place to hold. Tamara’s eyes rolled, mouth open wide as her whimpers dragged into a long, high pitched moan. Her asshole tightened.

Brad’s balls clenched. “Fuck!”

Yanking his cock from her spasming ass, he gripped her hips. Swung her around and shoved her to the floor.

Her mouth opened as her made up face, streaked with sweat and tears, faced him. She reached for his cock.

Twisting from her grasp, he palmed her head. Sank his fingers into her hair-spray crusted coif to still her. He snapped his hips to the side, slapping her soft cheek with his cock.

She flinched, tried to pull back.

Free hand pumping his slick cock, he held her head in place. “Want to be a whore, beauty queen? Open that pretty little mouth. Now.”

Her lips parted, pink tongue protruding as she peered up at him.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Cheating on his wife, fucking this woman’s ass and about to cover her tongue with cum. Guilt weighed on his conscious, but he was too far gone to stop now.

The perfect princess had bent her uptight moral ass code for him and was now surely smelling the musty aroma of herself.

“Dirty whore,” he whispered, stroking his thick, throbbing length. Pre-cum licked the side of his fingers, spread down his cock with each pump. “Want to taste my cock again? Taste us together? How far do you want to go to be my nasty bitch?”

She blinked, cleared the drunk lust from her blue eyes. Her eyes narrowed as the corners of her smudged lips turned up. She curled her hands curled around his, pulling him off his dick only to cover this length with her mouth.

His balls spasmed as her cheeks caved with a suck. Everything went blurry, his body drugged by orgasm, and he felt her hand slip around his ass. A little nudge at his virgin back door and her finger thrust inside.

“Fuck!” Brad grabbed her head, heat blazing his skin. Cum burst through his cock, erupting into her hot, ready throat.

She gagged and kept coming. Licked, sucked, fucked his cock with her mouth, finger working his prostate, like she needed everything he had just to breathe.

His knees weakened. Thrusting a hand to the side, his sweaty palm slipped against the porcelain sink. Fumbled at the edge of the counter before he could grab hold and steady himself.

Moments passed. The beauty queen slid her finger from his ass, slipping the wet digit over his perineum until she gripped the front of his thighs. Slid off his dick with a pop and licked her lips. She opened her mouth. Stuck out her tongue to show him she’d swallowed, then sucked her dainty fingers inside.

His hazy gaze sharpened in seconds. “Dirty... bitch.”

Giggling, she stood. Looked over his face with an amused smile before leaning toward him. She swiped her tongue over his lips. The musty smell of ass pitched through his nostrils.

“Right back at you, choir boy.” Tamara swept past him.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched her pluck up her clutch from the corner of her desk as he caught his breath. She opened it. Rummaged through it as she glided back, brushing past him again.

Tamara ignored him. Dropped her little bag on the countertop. Squinting, she surveyed her face in the mirror. Wiped a manicured finger around the frame of her lips, sweeping away the smudges. Then went back to her clutch, pulling out a tube of lipstick.

Bradley turned away. Pulled up his pants, zipped and buckled. Tucked in his shirt. He stared around the room, re-familiarizing himself with everything his life.

When he turned back around, she batted the cold water handle on and washed her hands, dabbing at the wayward strands of hair to push them down. As if she could button up the memory of their time together, the sins they’d committed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I am now. By the way, my husband already knows I’m a whore. He loves it.” She twisted off the water with a peep of the handle, then faced him. Her lusty, sexual appeal was gone in favor of the cold and collected version of Tamara Coben, winner of the Congressional seat. “So you’re a part of my team now. Or else I’ll tell your wife.”

His mind went blank, his lips hanging open. Outrage burned his gut.

“Bitch.”

She threw her head back and laughed, then patted his shoulder. Shook her head as if she pitied him but a smile played on her lips. “Everyone always loves to think they're my first. Looks like you're the dirty bitch now.”

Tamara Coben brushed past him. He turned. Watched the sway of her hips. The way the fabric hugged her ample ass. Like the snug feel of being inside it.

“Oh, and Bradley?” Hand curled around the door, she looked back at him over her shoulder. “I expect you to be in my office tomorrow. Early. We’ve got work to do. Well. You do.”

With a disdainful glance over his figure, she threw the door open and glided out.

Bradley wiped her saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand. Stared at the open doorway. The echo of her words stained the rich feel of his office.

The welcome figure of his wife filled the doorway.

“Hey.” His voice was rough. Every fiber of himself conflicted.

Ginger stepped inside. Shut the door carefully, then closed the distance between them. Her warm fingers caressed his face.

He couldn’t look at her. Saw her chin raise in his peripheral vision.

“Bradley. You fucked her, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered. The admission ate at his soul.

“I knew that bitch was a whore.” Her fingers tightened at his chin. Pulled his face down, forcing him look into the deep brown eyes of the woman who’d always been faithful to everything they believed in. “What did you learn?”

His gaze trailed back to the doorway.

“Look at me.”

It took all his willpower to meet her eyes.

“She’s a dirty whore, isn’t she?”

He looked down. Let his mind mix into the blackness of her dress.

“Good. We’ll use it against her. Hire someone, use video. Leak it to the media. Baby.” One finger hooked under his chin, tilting his head toward her flushed face. “That seat is yours.”

Brad cringed, her words careening through his conscience. He looked at his wife.

Ginger’s warm eyes gleamed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, a grin stretching wide across her beautiful face.

Reality took hold, his body frozen to his marrow.

“What have we become?”