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Chapter 2 The Trump Card

Word Count: 1168    |    Released on: 02/03/2024

o way he

nxiety and know the only shot I have at putting him in his place-fearful of what I can do to him and his care

oes no

his congressional session, now don't they?" I lift

d, but the quick dart of his tong

had in safekeeping somehow made their

the gray pallor of his skin tone tells me I've struc

my lashes, the pic

d the muscle in his clenched jaw tics. Even now, there's a manicured attractiven

say sarcastically. "Here's

e off and stuffs his wallet into the b

o . . ." My voice is sing

ow to bogus threats and be

oth of your balls firm

cle in his jaw pulsing-and steps into me. I retreat, my breath h

t pa

I

hat if he could leave those marks on Lola in the pursuit of sex, I can

e another. I can smell the whiskey on his breath. The subtl

uld be so mu

n making a woman sca

quares his shoulders and stands to his full height, his physical presen

get his focus off me-I draw in a measure

liked

sh

right. In fact, in doing that, you've cost me more than a pretty penn

draw out the pause. "Per our contract, you will pick up your phone and deposit an additional ten thousand dollars in my a

of your fu

of his mouth when he opens it and then closes it again, at a loss for words. "And then once they post them, and the attention is

bit

y contested this midterm election with the supposed blue wave and all. I'd hate to see the favor

ng with fir

ned." Our eyes hold, challenge, as silence filters

ear my ear and murmurs, "You're a real ba

Transfer the funds, Carter," I demand, stilling

n't

ca

ar is not an o

uttural groan full of suggestion, his erection bumping against my thigh. "It's inevit

mpt to even mine out. "I'll sa

ted sigh as he steps away from me, and I feel like I c

investment." I chuckle. "And p

tons. It's in the stiffening of his body. The clench of his fist

he funds . . . or to send the pictures . . . and

talks full force toward me, anger

en. Instead, I stand my ground as

hat I want from you or one of your girls. No one says no to me or threatens me-no one-without serio

palms are sweaty. M

I fi

e is. It's protecting

a man to mak

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