I move my body back and let go of all three cocks, throwing my head back and squeezing my breasts while Parker and the masked men unleash their never ending load over my exhausted body.
I keep frozen in place as they finish off, and by the time that happens I’m completely covered in their seed. I let a wild smile take over my lips and, almost as if that turned a switch inside Parker’s head, his knees buckle under his weight and he kneels right in front of me.
“So? How did you like Python?” he asks me, taking his hand to the nape of my neck and grabbing at my hair, forcing me to look straight into his eyes.
“Loved it,” I tell him, but then I reach for his still hard cock and give it a squeeze. “But I’ll always prefer your python.”
“Thought so,” he laughs, leaning into me and pressing his lips on mine, a thick barrier of cum between our bodies.
I close my eyes as the masked men turn on their heels and get out of the bedroom, leaving Parker and I alone, and that’s when I surrender completely to his kiss, my tongue dancing around his own.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For this, for everything… For being you.”
He just smiles at me, and that’s the only reaction I need from him.
Sometimes a smile is worth more than a thousand words.
21
Amy
Stretching, I let out one big yawn. I stare down at the clock on my laptop, which tells me I’ve been working for almost twelve hours straight, and then close the lid. My days are now a retreading of what came before—work, work, and then some more work. Thankfully, I make sure to keep my spirits up by taking a hefty dose of Parker’s naked body. It seems that’s all I do nowadays, work and fuck. Hey, work hard; play hard. Isn’t that how the saying goes?
But Parker has been busy the whole day, meeting with some of the big names of New York politics, and I’ve spent the whole day holed up in my apartment, reading through a mountain of legal briefings and strategy documents for his campaign. Seriously, you’d say half of the Amazonian rainforest has been cut down in order to create this much paper. But I’m done now; it’s already 10 pm, and I have to meet Parker’s staff early in the morning.
I get up from the desk I’ve set up in my living room and start dragging my feet toward the bedroom when there’s a loud knock at my door. I glance at my cellphone, still sitting by the side of my laptop, but Parker hasn’t called or texted me. He’s still in a meeting, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten out earlier and decided to drop in as a surprise.
I smile, remembering how he surprised me last time, and then saunter over to the door. Already expecting to see Parker on the other side, I turn the handle and open the door. Except it isn’t Parker standing in the doorway—it’s my mother.
High heels, a formal pencil skirt, a blouse more expensive than my whole furniture collection put together, and, of course, a smile that I can only translate as trouble. Hi, mom.
“What are you --” I start, not even kno
wing what to say, but she just cuts me short and walks past me and inside my apartment, her shoulder bumping harshly against mine.
Without saying a word, she walks with her sure step toward the drink cabinet I have on the corner and she grabs two short glasses of whisky. She takes the cork out of a bottle of aged malt and then pours the whisky onto the glasses.
“Here, drink this,” she says, pushing one glass into my hands.
“What are you doing?” I finally manage to say, wrapping both my hands around the cold glass of whisky.
“You’ve done your job, Amy,” she tells me, looking straight into my eyes with an icy expression, and then drinking half of her whisky in one single gulp. “And you’ve done it perfectly.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, not quite sure of what’s going on. “Did you come for these?” I continue, waving my hand at the stack of documents piled up on my desk. “Because there’s nothing in there that --”
“Oh, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes, Amy,” she whispers, finishing off her drink and then pouring some more whisky. She’s in a celebratory mood, which isn’t really good—for me and for Parker.
“Then what? What are you talking about?”
“Do you think I care about Parker’s strategies or whatever documents his staff passes back and forth? Believe me, if I wanted to go down that route, I wouldn’t need you. What I wanted was for you to give Parker’s life an air of… indecency. Impropriety. Which you’ve done wonderfully,” she smiles, raising her glass at me as if she were giving a toast.
So this was her game all along. And, just like a fool, I played straight into her hand. How could I have not seen this coming?
“Your bid for the senate is in ruins… After that veteran thing it’s going to be impossible for you to --”