Electing For her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 2

  Yearning to go further.

  Dying to grip both her knees and pry them open, bury my face between them to quench my thirst for her.

  But I can’t.

  Not yet.

  Standing and turning suddenly, I don’t even mind she sees the effect she’s having on me.

  The sooner she sees how fucking hard she makes me the better, but I only let her catch a glimpse, my heightened senses telling me we won’t be completely alone for very much longer.

  Settling myself behind my desk, I sit stunned as I notice her own hand absently stray between her legs as she sits across from me.

  Trying to tell myself she’s just shy or nervous, I can’t believe it for a moment but once I see the flushed look on her face.

  The wide, dark look in her clear eyes that tell me she’s just as turned on as I am, just from the two of us sitting here in my office.

  I can see her thick chest stiffening under her pure white blouse, the thin cotton hiding nothing now.

  Everything I want is on display.

  Almost.

  Her own legs move to open slightly as her hand strays there again, almost like she’s in a trance.

  I command her to do it all again, shocking myself with my tone of voice, but only noting how much she’s still affected by everything, her legs only widening further as I hear myself swallow hard as I gaze from her chest to her crotch.

  My own hand is moving under my desk, palming the thick line of my own arousal through my pants as I struggle to fight the urge to just free it… to show her proudly just how hard she’s made me and so soon.

  I feel a wet slickness around the throbbing tip of my cock, the natural lube that wants to guide all of me balls deep inside of her.

  To claim her right here and now.

  To make her mine.

  But all this is so short lived. Our first encounter not lasting anywhere near long enough for me to feel satisfied before we’re interrupted.

  That other sensation I had, pressing in from the outside makes its appearance.

  It’s only natural though, her father.

  My electoral adversary has come to say hi, and by the looks, return another box or three of all those leaflets I‘ve had printed and sent to his office instead of my own.

  He’s slick, friendly, and worst of all… Genuine.

  I pump his hand in mine without moving from behind my desk, not the best look to be meeting the other candidate with a raging hard on courtesy of his daughter, but he barely notices.

  Although, I have to say a senseless idiot would pick up on the electricity in the room. I’m even sure I can hear jungle sounds from the nearest woods beyond my office.

  But daddy to his number one girl isn’t going to suspect all that flashes across his mind in the first meeting.

  Is he?

  I’m not sure, once he steps back after shaking my hand, I’m grateful for the fact I’ve stayed seated as he surveys me.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Silverthorn. All good too! Our little town welcomes you and I welcome you to the Mayoral candidacy. To our fine town of Woods End!”

  He leaves a deliberate gap in the conversation as he holds his hand out again, waiting for me to say something, but my eyes only move past him, moving back up Krystal’s calves and thighs… Hoping for another glimpse of her…

  “Uh. Thank you,” I murmur, pumping his hand as I wince, leaning against the hardness in my boxers.

  All for her.

  Krystal.

  “Well now,” he exclaims, laughing jovially, looking around and noticing the lack of staff and the obvious slip-shod state of my office.

  “I thought you might have even deliberately sent all these leaflets to my office to unnerve me, to bring me here to see what diabolical plans you had against my own campaign,” he says proudly. Almost accusingly.

  “But…?” I ask, stealing another glance of his daughter, feet away. The only thing and the person I really want out of all of this.

  “But I can see I was mistaken.” He laughs aloud, deliberately pumping my hand again, pretending to look relieved as I notice some color return to his face as a bead of sweat runs down the side of his face.

  Not much older than me, maybe even the same age. But nowhere near my own physical condition.

  He coughs a dry cough, moving my eyes back to his from his daughter’s again.

  “I see you’ve met my campaign assistant. And don’t you try and steal her away from me as well as my Mayor’s seat,” he warns me, wagging a finger and laughing again, but turning to look at Krystal before he suddenly looks as flushed as she does.

  “Well. We’ve taken enough of your time, Mr. Silverthorn,” he explains, motioning towards the door and daughter.

  The only thing I wish would stay.

  “I’m sorry about the mix-up,” I lie. “The flyers, I mean,” I add, glancing one more time at Krystal as she moves to go.

  Every fiber of my being wanting to fight to keep her here for just moments longer.

  But as quickly as it feels like she’s come to me.

  She’s gone.

  The door slams and the French panes rattle. A late afternoon fall storm rumbles in the distance and I feel more alone than ever.

  But the swollen heat in my pants reminds me that everything is going to plan.

  Perfectly.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Krystal

  “What the hell was all that about?” Dad snaps after he slams the car door shut, almost forcing me back into our family station wagon.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him in the same accusing tone.

  “Don’t lie to me, Krystal,” he hisses, leaning in close as he glances back at James’ office with venom in his eyes and voice.

  “The wrong fliers got sent to our office? I mean, c’mon. What the hell kind of cheap stunt is that?” Dad asks me, holding my gaze for a second before squealing the tires out of the long driveway of James Silverthorn’s office.

  I’ve been by my dad’s side, every election for as long as I can remember but I’ve never seen him rattled like this.

  And I know why.

  It’s not because he senses an election loss.

  It might have something to do with how I feel about James Silverthorn.

  A squirrel two miles away could sense the heat between us, and my dad’s intuition is no different.

  He’s no dummy.

  I almost wished he was. Just until…

  Dammit! Why do I have to be so set on an older man, old enough to be my father and also the one who just happens to be my own father’s political opponent?

  But I can’t help it.

  I know that no matter whether I fight it or race towards it… I know I’m already his.

  I’ll belong to James Silverthorn sooner or later. Sooner rather than later, if this feeling between my legs is anything to go by.

  “I rang Herb right after you left, he’s printed every piece of promotion, hell even the damned menus for every gala dinner and dance we’ve ever held in the town,” my dad keeps ranting, making me grip the side of my seat he’s driving so fast.

  “Herb told me that Silverman told him to send all the fliers to my office… He told him to do it.”

  “Dad, slow down, you’re scaring me,” I tell him honestly, relieved when I feel the car slowing once he looks down at his speedometer, his own breathing coming down a notch too.

  “Well, I don’t like it, Krystal.” He groans, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a long breath to calm himself down further.

  “I’ve never had an opponent from out of town and I certainly don’t trust him, I want you to go over every single leaflet, flier, and menu when we get back,” he says matter of fact, making me groan quietly to myself.

  “Make sure he hasn’t ordered Herb to do or change anything else,” he says without looking at me, a little calmer, but still gripping the wheel tightly.

  “Don’t you think that’s being a little paranoid, dad?” I ask, lo
oking over and catching the expression on his face.

  He’s worried.

  Never lost an election yet, and being Mayor is his whole life.

  But I see something else when he glances over for a second.

  The look a Father has when he knows something or someone has designs on his only daughter.

  The look an adult male has when a new Alpha comes into his territory, marking it.

  Staking his claim.

  Waiting at the only set of traffic lights in the town to turn green, dad pats my knee. Making me jump.

  The sensation of another hand on me that isn’t James feels odd.

  Almost unnatural.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I guess I’m overtired. But can we please just go over those fliers? I’ll do it with you,” he says, creasing a smile and trying hard to look like he’s recovered, but somehow we both know a wedge has already been driven between us on some level.

  I’ll always love my dad, support him in anything.

  But I also know I belong to James Silverthorn now.

  No more daddy’s little girl.

  Once we’re both back at dad’s office, which is also our home, it’s clear to me my mind is permanently fractured from dad’s campaign and solely focused on James Silverthorn.

  Checking emails and phone messages since being out, there’s quite a stir in town and indeed, the wider county media about the new player vying for the title of Mayor of Woods End.

  The arrival of James Silverthorn has captured more than just my heart and imagination, and it looks like everyone wants to know what dad has to say about the man too.

  The gala dinner and dance is tomorrow, so there’s some local as well as a statewide press to deal with, as well as all the final arrangements to be made.

  My job.

  But seeing dad opening another box of fliers, a few more of James’ on top before he tosses them onto the floor right in front of me… Cursing.

  Those piercing hazel eyes of James commanding me all over again.

  Commanding me to open my legs for him, ordering me to show him what belongs to him.

  “See! I told ya,” My dad mutters, clawing through the box until he’s certain there are no more pictures of James looking up at him. But he relaxes once he finds his usual fliers with his picture on them.

  He holds his own picture up, examining it and pinching the emerging double chin on his own neck.

  “You don’t think this guy could win, do you?” he asks absently, looking past his photo and even past me.

  Out the window and to the woods beyond the outhouse outside the windows.

  I feel my heart go out to my dad.

  It’s not his fault. Not his fault I’ve fallen so hard for a complete stranger and not his fault the outside world is finally encroaching on our little township either.

  Nothing stays the same in this day and age, but I feel for my dad whose life has always been Mayor of little old Woods End. A position he’s filled and cherished every day since before I was even born.

  I sigh, mustering some enthusiasm, and trot over to him, taking his flier from his hand so it won’t crease, and put it back with the others before pecking his cheek as he stares out the window.

  “Anyone would think you were worried about a little competition, Mayor Newland,” I announce formally as I move in front of him and adjust his tie, smooth out his lapel before pecking his cheek again.

  “I… I don’t know what you mean,” he blushes, looking at his feet, a tremor in his hands as I take them in my own.

  “It’ll be alright, dad. I just know it will,” I tell him.

  “Promise?” he asks me, nearly gulping a breath, sounding like a child himself.

  “Positive,” I chime. Although I don’t know if my idea of alright is aligned with my dad’s anymore.

  I sure hope it does work out okay for him though.

  Without his position as Mayor, I don’t know what he’d do.

  I don’t know what I’d do either.

  But at the same time, I feel the only important thing in my life suddenly is seeing James again.

  I need to see him. I need to have his hands on me again.

  The office phone rings and I move over to it and answer, almost relieved at the break in my latest obsessive fantasy, which I can feel working its way through my veins like the effect of the man himself.

  “James Silverthorn,” I say absently once I pick up the phone, saying the only thing that’s on my mind.

  “How did you guess?” The deep, familiar voice on the other end says cheerfully.

  “James,” I almost squeal, keeping my voice to a sudden whisper as I sit down at my own desk, feeling weak in the knees all over again as I double-check my dad hasn’t heard me.

  He hasn’t. He’s slumped his shoulders and gone into his own office, closing the door loudly behind him.

  “I need to see you again, Krystal,” James says firmly. Not asking, telling me what I already know. What I already feel deep inside myself.

  I feel my breath shiver, and twirling the phone’s cord in my fingers I wonder just how long it’ll be before I’m throwing myself in front of him, hitching my skirt up above my dripping pussy and begging him to take me like I know I need him to.

  “Krystal?” he finally asks, bringing me back down to earth with one word, but it’s his tone of voice that does it for me.

  “I said I need to see you again… Right away,” he adds before making a low sound of his own and the line goes dead.

  My mind races, suddenly wondering if he’s hurt or sick. If something tribble’s happened and he has no one else to call.

  But I know.

  Deep down, or rather, deep inside.

  I know why.

  There’ll be hell to pay if I slip out, with so much to organize before tomorrow, but I can’t help it.

  James has called me and I have to go to him.

  I simply must.

  Whatever the consequences.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  James

  I thought I’d be able to wait.

  Thought I’d manage things a little better once she left, but watching Krystal leave is so unreal. So unnatural.

  It goes against every instinct I have for her, even if she is just going home with her dad.

  It feels wrong.

  I’ve got a full day of planned events, meetings, and interviews to deal with myself.

  But somehow none of it matters anymore.

  I only want Krystal, she’s the reason I’m here after all.

  The whole running for Mayor thing though? That’s not something that even makes me blink when I think about it.

  But it’s my access to her. It’s the whole reason I came here and the same reason I nearly came in my own fucking pants just now.

  That’s how potent her effect is on me.

  I growl loudly, pacing for a bit before settling down at my desk, pushing aside the schedule with red underlined appointments and phone calls I need to make.

  I don’t want to, not right now.

  I can’t.

  Drumming my thick fingers on the green leather of the desktop, I feel my jaw tighten and relax in time with my leg which is doing double time as it punches out its own impatience on the floor as it shakes.

  Before I know it, I’ve dialed the number written on one of the boxes, praying it’s hers, when she does pick up, I practically order her to come right back here.

  To me, where she belongs.

  I don’t even have a reasonable excuse or story this time.

  I just tell her I need to see her and hang up, watching the driveway straight away, as if she’ll suddenly be there.

  Like I know she should be, she should never have left.

  My hand strays to my aching dick all over again, wanting to free it. To pleasure myself with her memory, but I know it would be useless.

  Everything I have is for her now.

  My seed is for her alone, needs to be inside her. With her coming hard o
n my cock as I plant it inside her fine body, running my hands all over her and telling her just how special she really is.

  The phone rings loudly, breaking my concentration, and I snatch it up.

  “Krystal?” I hear myself asking, but it’s not her.

  It’s the dry cleaner, reminding me my suits and tuxedo are ready, something I’ll be needing for the official diner and ball tomorrow.

  They won’t deliver for some reason, and judging from the short reception I get when I ask if they do, I’m starting to see just how much outsiders aren’t welcome if they plan on becoming Mayor.

  Or helping themselves to the current Mayor’s only daughter…

  “Well, I’ll pick them up tomorrow,” I announce, trying to sound cheerful but feeling the phone creak in my hand.

  “We’re closed tomorrow. Close today at four,” they drawl with a fake apology before hanging up.

  Guess I’ll collect them today, after all, can’t go to an official function dressed like this.

  Dry cleaning isn’t at the forefront of my mind though, it’s not what I was thinking about.

  Seems like the moment I saw her in person, Krystal is the only thing I can think about.

  I find myself pacing again not soon after and being such a small town I don’t have to wait long to see Krystal again, who I assume has come straight over.

  Hearing her car pull up and seeing her coming up those steps again so soon makes my chest ache and my groin start to swell all over again.

  But what am I doing?

  What possible reason can I give to demand she come straight back after leaving?

  Seeing her chewing her lip at the door, looking like she’s almost pressing her legs together like she needs the bathroom sees I let her in without any questions from either of us.

  A part of me wants to doubt a younger girl as hot as Krystal would ever go for an older guy like me, but at the same time…

  The only thing I really feel like doing is bending her over my desk and stuffing my now hard again cock right up into her until she screams my name, coming hard on it as I fill her with my seed.

  “You wanted me?” she practically whimpers, looking like she’s weak again, almost faint like before.

  Ignoring my own arousal, which is obvious now, I try to think of a reason.