Total pages in book: 189
Estimated words: 174749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Whatever the outcome, there is one thing that is certain—it is expected that should the Boltiador family be refused the right to invest in New Kingston, they will most likely open their factories in Shanghai.
30
VIVIAN
S
ixty.
That’s how many days ago I first got the call from the President asking me to go sort out a feud between a small town mayor and the Governor of New York State before it became a big mess. Well, I did something. I don’t know if ‘sorting it out’ is exactly the right word for it.
I’ve taken to not commenting to the Press. I’m not worried about myself. Well, actually, hun, don’t tell anyone, but I kind of am. I’ve never been so reviled in the political world as I am right now. And it’s not just the Daily Journal. It’s like all the media sense blood, and so they’re piling on. Trying to find any angle at all that will sell more papers—or glue more eyeballs to the television or computer screen and raise more ad revenue.
The heart of this matter is pretty simple. Jobs, or the environment. I don’t know how sex became a part of it. But you take any woman who likes sex in this political climate and you place her between two men like Carter and Liam, and the press is going to salivate.
Sometimes I wonder if we just shouldn’t put up a mattress on the corner of Broadway and 42ndStreet and have sex right there. Let the world get it out of its system. Trust me, if I thought that there was a chance it could work to get everyone off of our backs, I’d do it. Because I guarantee you the ethics investigations, the impeachment, all of that would stop. People wouldn’t be whipped into a frenzy anymore. But all it would do would probably be to whet their appetites. They’d want to take close up shots of Liam’s cock going into my pussy. They’d want to see my lips wrap around Carter’s cock. And then they’d paste it all over the Daily Journal and sell more copies.
No, the only way to confront this is going to have to be head on.
TWO.
That’s how many men I’ve fallen in love with. I know, hun. You’re shaking your head with a smile at me, aren’t you. Thinking that I need to grow up to fully understand what love is. That I’m 29 years old, how can I even think that I’m in love? Just because I’ve gotten orgasms that leave me breathless. Getting shot into orbit and coming back into a sex haze doesn’t mean I’ve fallen in love, I bet you’re thinking. It means I’ve fallen in lust.
Well, the lust is definitely there. Don’t get me wrong. You know that tingling you get between your legs when you think about a big cock stretching you open? Feeling filled up? The dampness that you feel. How you can feel your panties stick to your lips when you read about or imagine wrapping your lips around the tip of a nice, thick, large cock? As someone grabs your nipples and twists them. Smacks your ass? The drippiness you feel and the flush that goes through your body? How all you want to do at that point is find a quiet corner and just touch yourself, even if it’s one finger against the clit. You just want more of that feeling, but you know you’re headed to the precipice and you’re going to explode the more you push yourself? You know that feeling, babe?
Yeah, imagine that times two. Because that’s Liam and Carter. But what you don’t see, and what you haven’t really gotten, because Alexis probably hasn’t included it, are those times in the month where the three of us have basically moved into Liam’s sprawling house in New Kingston and really lived together.
How Liam makes us breakfast in the morning. He gives Carter extra bacon. He makes sure to get a grapefruit cut for me. Every. Single. Morning.
How Carter explains the remote to me. I swear to God I don’t understand why there are three. Apparently one for the television. One for the Roku. And one for the sound. It sounds like the entire system was thought up by men, you know? Give it to a woman, and you’d have one remote.
The way both of them hide the newspapers from me some mornings. Or my tablet. As if they don’t understand that I’ve been called a lot worse than ‘The Whore of Washington’. That I’ve gone through a lot more and have thicker skin than they realize. So the prospect of a Daily Journal headline that simply has my picture with the world ‘SLUT’ doesn’t faze me. It startles me. It makes me wonder what kind of a world we live in. But I can move on.