Sleeping with the Senator Pt. 02

Wasn't planning on writing any more of this, but it just wouldn't leave me! Thanks for the positive feedback on the first chapter. This picks up immediately after.

-

So I left the wedding with Blair and Rhett's personal phone numbers in my contact list. I had a few days off in my Wyoming hometown with my family and I waited anxiously to see if either of them would text me first. I didn't want to be that desperate girl.

When I received the brief text from Blair, it shocked me. "Come by the house this afternoon if you can. I'll be home until four."

Of course, I knew what she meant by "house." The senator's mansion at the very edge of Cheyenne.

I made up an excuse for my family and headed out around one, hoping that would be enough time without being too much.

As I sat behind the wheel of the same car I'd driven in high school, the traffic seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, taunting me with its congestion. The red brake lights of countless cars formed a sea of anxiety as my heart pounded. Even though I'd only known Rhett for a few days and Blair even less, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to what could be waiting for me.

The radio hummed softly, playing a mix of calming tunes and classic rock as I switched between stations, but my mind was too preoccupied to focus on anything good that came on. Instead, my focus remained on the road. My foot hovered over the gas pedal, ready to seize any chance to move forward.

I had no idea why the traffic was so heavy at first, but then I remembered, all at once. A scrolling headline from that morning's news pulled itself along my mind. PRESIDENT HAYES SET TO ENDORSE WYATT REELECTION. The actual, literal president was going to be in town the same time as me. Say what you will about his politics, but that made my little law student's heart flutter.

And I was going to the senator's mansion, presumably to have sex with his wife.

What a surreal weekend.

As I approached the gates of the classic marble mansion, a sense of awe washed over me. The wrought iron gates stood tall and majestic, adorned with intricate designs that spoke of a bygone era. They slowly creaked open and it felt like driving through the pages of a fairytale The mansion itself was a sight to behold. Its elegant facade boasted tall pillars and a sweeping staircase, exuding timeless elegance. Ivy crept gracefully up the walls, adding to the charm of the antique architecture.

A second gate -- this one more modern with a call box and small security booth -- separated me from the house. I pulled up and waited. A security guard dressed like a goddamn cowboy knocked on my window, taking off his hat as he spoke. "You must be Ms. Whitehawk?"

I tried to muster all the high-class confidence I lacked. "Yes."

He gestured to the security guy in the booth, who pressed a button that opened the gate. The man by my door said, "You can leave your car with the keys out front. We'll take it back to the private garage."

So I did just that. As he whisked my car away, I took a deep, deep, deep breath and walked up the recently refinished marble steps.

Blair answered the door before I could even knock. I'd only ever seen her in two states: Put together and formal and almost entirely undressed. Safe to say that being struck by her in black yoga pants and an oversized white tee felt almost more intimate than seeing her naked. Her shiny ginger hair was pulled back, half up and half down, behind her head. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed by my uncomfortable flats and tailored skirt that usually made me feel confident.

A playful smile danced on her lips as she leaned against the door frame, her gaze fixing on me with a hint of mischief. "Well, well, look who's here," she purred in that velvety voice that sent shivers down my spine. She gestured, a little sarcastically, to the entryway behind her. "Come on in."

And I stepped into their world, the world that had always been my goal, mesmerized by not only her magnetic charm but the house itself. Even the front room was adorned with contemporary art by local artists and carefully manicured with tasteful, classic furniture that blended decadent with contemporary. It felt both unpretentious and upper-class, an impossible balance. Like the two of them.

I cleared my throat and asked, "Is Rhett home?"

"No," she laughed like it was a stupid question. I remembered that it was. "He's in meetings all day." Then she leaned in close to me and touched the side of my face. "So it's just the two of us, if that's alright."

I sucked in a breath at even that simple, small touch. "More than alright."

"Perfect. Let me show you around so you don't feel...overwhelmed, I guess."

"It's a bit late for that," I offered with a nervous chuckle.

From there, Blair expertly guided me through the various rooms in the mansion I'd always wondered about, sharing intriguing tidbits about the property's past and the families that had lived there. I got the sense she'd rehearsed this countless times as part of her wifely duties. Still, though, her voice was like music, and I hung on to every note, enchanted by her knowledge and poise.

Finally, after seeing multiple sitting rooms and old servants' quarters and countless bathrooms, Blair opened the double doors to the bedroom suite she shared with Senator Rhett Wyatt. Not that it surprised me, but the suite -- a small sitting room with a vanity and boudoir, a huge bedroom, two walk-in closets, and an extensive bathroom -- was magnificent. The warm lighting mixing with crisp clear sunlight through sheer curtains created an undeniably intimate atmosphere.

And, in the center of the main room, stood a California king four-poster bed, draped in sumptuous cream-colored linens that cascaded just to the floor. The thread count was probably higher than my weekly paycheck.

Blair took a few steps toward me, running her fingers along my arm. She looked at me through thick dark lashes and asked, "Should we just skip the small talk?"

In the soft bedroom lighting, her features sang. Her delicate, perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched in a sultry question. Beneath them, those long lashes framed her bright eyes, accentuating their depth and giving them a hint of vulnerability that tugged at my everything. Her coy smile reached up full cheeks that blushed when our eyes met. It was a comforting thought that my presence might make her blush just like hers did to me.

"Yeah, I think that could work for me."

There was a moment of suspended silence, but it felt like an eternity. My heart pounded, hoping she'd feel the same way I did. In that instant, the tension broke, replaced by a shared understanding of our mutual attraction.

As if guided by an invisible force, we inched closer, our breaths quickening in unison. I didn't know how many women she'd been with, nor did she know the same about me, but there was an undeniable magnetism drawing us nearer. The warmth of her hand gently found mine, fingers interlocking gently. She moved intentionally, without rushing, without pouncing on me.

And she kissed me. Or I kissed her. Or it didn't matter in the slightest because then my arms were around her waist and hers around the back of my neck and I felt her breasts against mine and the curve of her ass just below my hands. Our lips moved in sync, exploring each other tentatively but gaining confidence by the moment.

There was no holding back then. The fire between us consumed any sense of restraint. Hunger rose up from deep inside of me as her hands found their way into my hair, pulling me somehow even closer. The heat of her skin against mine, contrasted with the cool air conditioning rooted me in the moment.

I heard her next breath and it shook just slightly. She was nervous. Despite her beauty, despite her status, despite the million miles between her life and mine, Blair Wyatt was nervous. That helped me tap into a confidence I didn't know existed as I drew my hands up her back and then to her shoulders. I pushed her down onto the bed and she sat there expectantly.

I sucked in a deep breath and just let go. I'd been with girls before and knew the broad strokes of what to do and where to start. Every woman was her own puzzle that needed to be unboxed, sorted, organized, and put together to reveal the picture. So I started with what I wanted. Gently but quickly, I lifted her tee over her head.

Underneath, she wasn't exactly wearing a sports bra. Instead, an unlined mesh white bra revealed everything to me. Even though her skin was ten shades lighter than mine, her nipples were nearly as dark, a warm pinkish brown. Like her breasts, they were small but full, almost puffy, much as I hated the word. Perfect to suck on. Which I did, through the slightly rough mesh, until a tiny gasp left her mouth. I knew the tiny scratch on her sensitive tits would get her started.

I reached behind Blair and unhooked the two clasps that held her tits in place. I helped her shrug the bra off and dropped it on the bed next to us. I didn't know her well yet, so I started with the slightest flick of my tongue on her left nipple. That alone caused her to suck in a sharp, yearning breath, which urged me onward. I took her whole nipple in my mouth then, sucking a tiny bit, not too hard, just enough to get her groaning and curling her toes. Her skin tasted perfectly clean like she'd showered while I was driving here. Maybe she had. Maybe the casual clothes were a ruse for how horny and sex-ready she really was.

The trailing thought made me suck harder than I'd meant to and Blair gasped out, "Ridley!"

I eased off. "Sorry, gorgeous."

"Don't be sorry." She breathed deeply. "I'm sensitive but I don't mind some pain."

"Good to know," I practically growled as I took her nipple back into my mouth.

Using my right hand, I held her other breast firmly, slowly rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. The way she arched against me was as delicious as having her skin between my teeth. I dragged my lips to the center of her chest, the valley between her breasts, and drew my tongue down her stomach. She was a mix of toned and soft and smooth. As I kissed her hipbone, her strong ab muscles flexed and her back arched. I'd hit a sweet spot. I grabbed her other hip -- hard, rough, certain -- and squeezed, my nails poking in just a bit. She moaned a little bit louder and I sucked down on her skin, enough to leave a circle of purpling bruise.

I decided to dive straight between her legs. Lust had kindled something in my gut and I couldn't stop myself from ripping her matching mesh panties off, hearing a little rip, and tossing them off to the side. She gasped at my sudden change in pace. But I didn't let up. With two fingers, I grazed the smooth skin of her vulva -- freshly waxed, I noted; she knew exactly what she was getting into today. She was slick wet and my fingers slipped inside of her easily. I wanted to watch as her lips parted in the first, easy pleasure of fingering.

Inside her hot cunt, I curled my two fingers toward myself, against her walls. Each time, I moved my fingers in a slightly different way, until I found the spot that caused Blair to squirm against my grasp. Once I was there, I was ready to go down on her at last. Just the anticipation of her taste -- knowing it would be silvery sweet and salty and butter -- sent a shiver of excitement straight down to my own cunt, which I knew without a doubt she'd take care of next.

Deliberately slow, I parted my lips and took in the aroma of her cunt. Her clit was swollen and pink and inviting. Before I took up my post there, though, I licked deeply from the base of her pussy, up her slit, and to her clit, just to let myself have a real taste of her. Subtle tanginess, slight acidity, delightfully juicy warm and soft and luscious and...I let out a moan around her clit and she responded with the same.

I pressed the flat of my tongue under her hood, right to the bundle of nerves below it, and slowly flicked up and down. I tried that for a while, listening to the way her breaths sped up and slowed down. Then, I switched to firmer, insistent tight circles around her clit, which elicited a deep, shaky sigh.

"Oh, that's perfect," she groaned.

I kept going the way she needed, matching the pace of my fingers to my tongue. Each downstroke from my tongue was met with a press of my fingers against her g-spot. I found the rhythm of it, breathing with her and moaning with her and feeling myself get wet as she did. Her fingers dug into the sheets, gripping the fabric hard enough I thought, absently, distracted, that she might rip them.

After a few minutes of consistent, building pressure, Blair started to grind against my face. Her fingers braided themselves in my hair and I let her use me to get off, keeping my tongue right between soft and rigid for her. I just enjoyed the taste of her washing over my face, growing milder and hotter as seconds ticked by. Her thighs shivered and twitched around my ears.

Then, as she broke into an orgasm, she began to squirm away from me, up the bed. I grabbed her roughly and pulled her back to my mouth, not ready to let her go just yet. She yelped loud enough that anyone else in the house would've heard, gasping and moaning and bucking like a feral animal trying to escape a predator. I savored every millisecond of her orgasming against my tongue and clenching around my fingers. Gradually, I slowed my pace, bringing her back down to reality until, sweating and shaking, she took a proper deep breath.

Blair sat up and kissed me hard. She traced her tongue along my lips, enjoying her own taste, and that made my breath catch in my throat. Then she looked at me seriously with wide, wanting eyes, and said, "My turn."

The way she said it though -- so enthusiastic, so honest, so eager -- was maybe the cutest and sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

I stifled a laugh, not wanting her to think I found her anything but mind-numbingly sexy, and asked, "Where do you want me?"

"Everywhere," she replied instinctively. Then she shook her head and said, "How about over on the chaise? That way I can be on my knees and you can relax."

"Sounds good to me."

I sauntered across the bedroom to the sitting area, feeling like a rockstar with her wetness all over my face, and draped myself on the off-white chaise lounge chair. 'Paint me like one of your French girls' echoed around my head, adding to my borderline drunkenness. As promised, Blair got down on her knees in front of me. Without ceremony or romance, she hiked my skirt up around my waist and began to pull off my nicest pair of black lace panties.

From downstairs, I heard the door swing open and closed. Two men's voices echoed through the walls and into the ceiling. One was definitely Rhett's. I couldn't place the other's but counted my lucky stars that it definitely wasn't the motherfucking president's.

I moved to start covering myself up, but, Instead of stopping, Blair yanked my panties the rest of the way off and shoved them in my mouth. The taste of my pussy -- more bitter and salty than hers -- mingled in my mouth. I stared at her with wide eyes.

"Quiet," she instructed.

I nodded. It wasn't like Rhett would invite the other man into the bedroom without warning, knowing his wife was home. Not very stately. Still, my mind raced with anticipation as I heard their footsteps slowly climbing the stairs, each step bringing them closer to us, separated only by a set of doors. The soft creaking of the floorboards told me they were just outside the bedroom now, and I held my breath, waiting for that final moment when the door handle would inevitably turn and expose me as the greatest slut in the West. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could hear the rush of blood in my ears.

There was the sound of a hand on the doorknob, and Blair, for some reason, took that as a cue to start eating me out as Rhett waited on the other side of the door, giving instructions I couldn't quite make out to the other man. I wondered if they'd coordinated this, if this was their plan for the day, if, if...fuck, who cares? Blair's tongue felt like heaven against my clit.

Somewhere far, far away, I heard the other man walk off. And Rhett walked into the room, which brought me back. His signature black velvet cowboy hat held against his chest, a lingering smile fading off of his face as the conversation outside the door ended, he stopped in his tracks and I realized this had not, in fact, been their plan for the day. That much was plain from the genuinely shocked expression on his face.

"Ridley," he breathed, "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

Blair didn't ease up on my clit and I had a makeshift gag in my mouth, so I just nodded, kind of, and shivered. Blair replaced her tongue with her thumb, continuing to rub firm circles on my clit, and asked her husband, "Was that Beau?" She cut a glance at me, "His brother."

"Yeah, his flight came in early."

Rhett shook off his blazer, dropped it on the floor, and began to take off his pants. They chatted for a minute about their days, acting as though I wasn't even there. All the while, Blair edged me closer and closer to orgasm with relentless rubbing of my clit. She was going too slow to get me off, but I could feel myself getting wetter, especially as they ignored me like I was some kind of toy for them to play with.

Finally, Rhett tapped his wife on the shoulder and said, "Let me take over, darling."

Immediately back in the submissive role she always took with him, Blair backed off. He looked at me and asked, "You care what I do to you?"

I shook my head 'no' because it was the truth. At that moment, Senator Wyatt would've done pretty much anything to me and I wouldn't have minded. He dropped his suit pants, revealing that beautiful cock of his, and my mouth started to water even beyond what the panties caused as they barely gagged me. He gave his cock a few pumps since he was already half-hard from what he'd walked in on.

"Flip over, baby," he said in a perfect smooth drawl.

I turned over onto my knees, presenting my ass to him. Just as he was about to push into me, there was a knock at the door. I could've cried.

"We really need to get going!"

Rhett threw his head back and sighed hard. He tucked his dock back away, squeezing my ass once, and hollered back. "Just one second, still getting changed."

He turned me back around, removed the panties from my mouth, and whispered, "Any interest in meeting the president?"

-