He closed his eyes, then, as he held me poised, up against the wall. I felt as his dick pulsed into me; I felt as the pulsing penetration of his cock pushed my body into another orgasm. I closed my eyes, feeling my brain grow crazy as I rode the amazing waves rollicking in my stomach, through my eyes. I gasped, clutching his neck so tightly. After many lost, rolling moments, we were finished, together.
Xavier brought me back to the bed. He tucked me into the covers. I watched his careful movements through my half-open, fatigued eyes. He tucked his body in beside mine, and he brought his arm around my neck, allowing me to come closer to his naked, steaming body. Our legs were entwined.
“That was beautiful,” I whispered, my eyes gleaming up toward him.
Xavier nodded, kissing my forehead. I could tell he was about to fall asleep, that I was losing him. I had to act fast. I had to tell him my last piece, rather than allowing it to die at our feet, never to be spoken of (and resulting in problems down the line).
“Baby,” I began. He turned toward me, his face open to whatever I had to say. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I want this relationship to bloom, to grow.”
Xavier nodded, kissing my cheek. “Me, too.”
My mind tried to calculate what I should say next. I cleared my throat. “If this is going to grow appropriately, then we need to work out a schedule. We need to care for this relationship, like people care for animals, for plants, for jobs. We need to treat this relationship appropriately. Otherwise, it could falter.”
Xavier frowned. He leaned up on his elbow, gazing toward me. “You don’t actually think it will falter, do you?” He breathed.
“I don’t even want to give it a chance,” I answered, considering his question. “I want it to be beautiful, to last a long time. And I don’t think that means we can continue to sneak in and out of White House passageways. I don’t think we can continue having meetings that involve—both sexual elements of our relationship as well as what some campaign donator is doing in California.” I sighed, trying to rally my thoughts. “I just think we need better communication, better organization. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.”
Xavier nodded, considering my words. “I understand. And I agree. I think we need to give this time to sort itself out, time to develop a plan organically. But we can agree to no more relationship things during work hours?”
I nodded, my eyes brimming. “That’s a start,” I whispered. I smiled at him.
“Although, you can’t blame me if I occasionally set a wayward meeting, just so I can talk to you. Just so I can be next to you. Days are long, Amanda,” Xavier said, laughing.
“I know. I know,” I murmured. I kissed him once more. “But that goes the other way, as well. No work talk during relationship time.” My eyes were large, serious.
Xavier held his hands up to me, nodding supremely. “Of course. Of course.”
We took a moment to laugh with each other. What a silly thing we had to do—plan our relationship around our all-too-serious running of the greater American people. But it was what we had to do in order to survive, to live with greater sanity. I brought my hand up toward Xavier’s ear and played with it lightly, feeling its delicate hairs.
Xavier’s eyes had grown serious, as well. “Baby, listen to me.”
“Hmm?”
“I want to tell you how happy I am. I can’t remember a time in which I felt happier. I have you in my life, and I am incredibly grateful for that. I wish—I wish I could help you understand. You’ve changed my life for the better in nearly every single way.”
My heart leaped as he said the words. In many ways, I felt the same. Suddenly, he wrapped his naked arms around me, bringing my body close to his. We kissed with such passion, such drive. I felt my body prepare for him once more. We descended into a night filled with lovemaking, with champagne, with good conversation.
In many ways, this was the first night on the road to the rest of our lives.
EPILOGUE
5 YEARS LATER
I sat in the back of the taxi as it coursed across town, my suitcases filled beside me. I cleared my throat, directing the taxi driver, who had made a wrong turn a few roads back.
“I am so sorry, Miss,” he declared, gesturing with his hands.
But I laughed evenly. “It’s okay. I usually get lost on my way out here. Don’t worry about it for a moment.”
He pulled up outside of the grand house. Brick, old, with this sort of other-century charm. I smiled at it, bringing my fingers to the glass. Home.
The taxi driver stood outside, helping me gather my suitcases, my boxes.
“You don’t have much stuff,” he said, shrugging. “You are moving here?”
I nodded, bringing my hair around my ear. “This is when I can start accumulating stuff, I suppose,” I said, laughing.
“All right, Congresswoman,” the taxi driver said. “I suppose you know best, no?”