Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(59)

     



 



Chelsea grins, "Dad would've loved that you're getting into politics you know."



"Not why I'm doing it, but fine." I mutter.



Chelsea huffs and slaps her hand down hard on the bench we're camped out  on in Central Park; "Ok, honestly, when are you going to let all of  that go?"



I scowl and look away from her; "What does it matter?"



"It matters because it's not healthy to keep letting it eat away at you  like that! Ok, fine, we get it! Dad worked a lot, and he missed some  stuff, and you're mad about it!"



"Are you not?" I snap at her.



"We all have regrets, Reagan, but no, I'm not mad at him for working hard, or for Mom dying so young."



I look away again, wordless and angry.



"He did what he could-"



"Well it wasn't good enough, now was it!?"



Chelsea's face tightens as she holds my furious look and shakes her  head; "He's dead, Reagan; you think you can get around to forgiving him  now anyways?"



P R E S E N T



Donald is talking about polling points, or something to do with  "provisional budgeting," but I'm honestly not even hearing a word he  says. It's hardly been a handful of hours since what happened back at  the house in Greenwich, and while we might be back in the City, my mind  is still right back there on that balcony, watching my breath crystalize  in the chill of the air as Hudson's hot mouth devours me-



"Reagan!"



I snap out of my fantasy to see Donald shaking his head and snapping his  fingers at me, Erika tut-tuting behind him like some sort of angry  schoolmarm.



"I need you to be here, Reagan," He huffs, his face red; "If you'd  rather daydream though, let me know now and I'll quit wasting my time  with this damn campaign."



I want to snap at him, but in all honestly, I know he's right. We are  way too deep into this campaign for me to be slacking off like this and  letting myself be carried away by distractions. Fuck, is that what he  is? I mean everything that we said back there at the house was so  nakedly honest, and so real, and God did it feel real when his tongue  slid into my pussy like that. But, Goddamnit, no! How fucking stupid am I  to get involved with Hudson Banks of all freaking people! Never mind  the past; the fact that he works for my largest campaign contributor,  which I'm already going to get shit for sharing the same name with, is  another huge blaring warning sign! I can't even imagine the shit-storm  my run would find itself in if the papers got ahold of the juicy tidbit  that I was fucking my campaign contributor!



Well, not fucking yet. Yet; which means there's still time to end this. I  can stop this train wreck now right here before it goes any further;  before the risk gets any bigger to the campaign, and to me. There's too  much at stake here, and it's just not worth it.



Now, if I could just convince myself of that.



"I'm here, I'm sorry Donald." I let the air out through pursed lips;  "Honestly, I think I'm just tired and worn out from the day. You guys  mind if we break here so I can go take a shower?"



Donald grumbles but nods as I stand; "Just be ready to hit this  tomorrow, ok? You've got that interview in the morning, the other one  later after lunch, and then the gala event with Congressman Kennedy in  the evening."



"I will." Because tomorrow, I'm nipping this in the bud with Hudson and putting an end to the distractions.



"Ooo! Don't forget to use that facial scrub I got you! Reagan!" Erika  say something else about cucumbers and tea-tree oil as I roll my eyes  and leave them in the conference room.



*****



The hotel we're staying at in Midtown is exactly the kind of campaign  expense I don't particularly enjoy, even though I know it's all part of  the pageantry of the race. I've tried to tell Donald a million times  that it's ridiculous for me to be staying here, seeing as I live barely  ten blocks away, but he's insisted that at this point in my campaign, I  need a "headquarters".



Right; what I need is a stiff drink to give me the courage to figure out  what I'm going to say to Hudson. I pause for just a second outside his  door, almost tempted to knock on it and just rip the band-aid off right  then, but I stop myself, of course. Tightening the fist I was about to  pound on his door with, I walk into my own room and close the door  mercifully behind me.



I feel a shiver as I strip off my clothes in the bathroom, still feeling  the lingering graces of his touch on my body as I turn on the water. I  still have no idea what I'm going to say to him, but I'm bracing myself  to do it anyways; it's the only realistic thing to do at this point.



The shower spray is bliss; hot, sudsy, and steamy to the point where I  can just let go a little bit and let it all just take me away. So much  so, in fact, that I don't even hear the door to the bathroom open until  it shuts, at which point I practically jump out of my skin. My scream  freezes in my throat as he yanks the shower curtain back and smirks at  me.



"Hudson!" I gasp, my hands clutching at my chest; "What the fuck!"



He grins wickedly and shushes me.



"Are you fucking insane?!" I husk at him, still meekly covering myself  with my hands as if he hasn't seen me naked before; as if he hadn't just  had his mouth on my pussy barely hours before; "Donald and Erika are in  the conference room right down the hall, get out of here!" I hiss at  him through clenched teeth.



He smirks at me; "Well I guess that means you'd better keep quiet then."



"Hud-"



He pulls off his towel, and he's rock hard, his erection throbbing as he grins at me and steps into the shower with me.



"Hudson, I-" I can feel my resolve cracking; already forgetting all  those poetic words I'd been putting together in my head to tell him why  we couldn't continue this exact behavior anymore. He's steps close to  me, so close I can feel my own body betraying me; warming, and wanting  him nearer still.



"We can't- we can't do this-"



"Reagan," His voice is low and growling; "I'm going to kiss you on the  count of five. And if you don't want me to do that, you're going to have  to tell me, because after that, you're going to have to stop me."



Goddamnit, why won't he listen to me! I can't do this, as much as every  fiber of my being wants to. He steps closer to me, so close that I can  practically feel his skin on mine, though he's still not touching me.  The water trickles over his chiseled and inked chest, over the scars and  the muscles there.



"Hudson-"



"One."



"Dammit, get out of the shower!" I whisper noncommittally, barely believing the words myself.



"Two."



His hand reaches up and he trails his fingertips across the arm I've  still got covering my breasts, making me shiver despite the steam from  the shower. But we can not fucking do this! It could ruin the whole  campaign and everything that I've worked so hard for.



"Three."



I'm wet; so fucking wet and ready for him that it's making my knees feel weak. But we can't-



"Four."



"Hudson, shut up." My resolve crumbles completely and I slide my hands  into his hair and kiss him fiercely, as if I'd fly away without my lips  on his another second. He growls as his strong arms wrap tightly around  me, his hands sliding over my skin and grabbing me as he pulls me tight  against his skin. I moan into his mouth, feeling his cock throb hotly  pressed between us. His hand slides around over my hip and down between  my legs to stroke my clit, and I pull away from his kiss and gasp as I  feel him slip his fingers inside of me. I rock against him, whimpering  his name as the water cascades over our skin; over his scars and ink and  over everything that's ever separated us. I drop my hands to his cock,  shuttling my hand up and down his enormous hardness as he curls his  fingers inside of me, stroking against that sweet spot. I'm so close as I  feel him growl into my neck, and it's taking everything I have not to  cry out loud and scream his name as he coaxes me closer and closer to  that sweet edge.



He bites my earlobe between his teeth; "Come for me, Reagan. Come for me  right now." When I do scream this time, I muffle it into his shoulder.  My whole body shudders against him as my orgasm shatters through me, and  I clutch him to me tightly, as if he might float away.





P A S T



It's the pretending to care that gets old after a while. It's exhausting  really, pretending I'm interested in what they're saying, or their  opinions on the menu, or in them as people when really, I just don't  care. I'm going out with girls because I know I should, and I know it's  something I need to do to get my mind off of her, but it never helps. If  anything, it just makes it worse.



A year later, and here I am out with some other redhead who only even  vaguely looks like her, who's chattering at me across the dinner table  about - fuck, actually I have no idea. I'm dating because I know a man  of my position should be dating cute women in skimpy dresses at fancy  restaurants. I mean let's face it, there's already enough weird shit  about me to make me stand out more than I ever want to; being that weird  guy who never goes out or is never seen with a hot girl on his arm is  just a reputation I don't need if I'm trying to blend in.