Electing For her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 4

  “It should be unlocked,” I tell them absently, hanging up once I hear they’re inside and have what they need to get on with the job.

  Good old country living. You can leave your doors unlocked and folks will still call to ask if it’s alright before they walk inside.

  I feel myself flush a little with embarrassment, having just walked into the Mayor’s office uninvited, but replacing the picture of Krystal I’ve picked up and studied for some time now, I know it’s an exception and not the rule.

  I find my way out again and like in a dream, with the image and memory of Krystal so fresh in my mind, I drive aimlessly until I find myself parked right out front of her house.

  The Mayor’s residence too, as well as his home office and campaign center which looks eerily quiet considering there’s a town election in a couple of days’ time.

  I could call, make an excuse to drop by. But I kill the motor and just sit quietly, studying the upstairs windows and wondering which room might be Krystal’s.

  Wondering just how much longer I can contain this feeling inside. How much longer I can pretend that what’s rightfully mine is in another man’s house, even if he is her father.

  It’s almost dark before the lights of another vehicle make me shift my attention from the house to the road.

  A van.

  Delivery guy.

  The huge gift basket I’d ordered, one for each of my fellow candidates.

  Mayor Newland swings his door open, and after accepting his delivery he glances around, scowling before he slams the front door.

  The delivery guy will be back in the morning, but that’s not why I’m here.

  I ordered the baskets before I even left the city, just being nice.

  What’s drawn me here this evening is the ache I feel inside. The pain of being separated from Krystal.

  Since meeting her, since feeling her body so close to mine and almost having my mouth on hers, it’s impossible for me to think about anything else now.

  I can’t see much of anything that’s going on inside her house, but it’s all I can do to be closer to her by parking out front on the corner.

  I have a clear view of both the front and side of the house, telling myself it’s as much as I can do right now to watch over her unless I want to risk trouble by letting myself in.

  The trouble coming if I get caught that is.

  That would be too much to endanger my position with Krystal right now, although it is tempting.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Krystal

  The days leading up to the town election for Mayor are usually the best for my dad. He’s usually in such a good mood.

  This year everything’s different and I know why as well as he does, but he won’t admit it.

  Not that I feel like pressing him either. I’ve never seen him so grouchy as well as on edge, barking at me when I ask him what he’d like for dinner with the final straw being when we both hear the doorbell.

  “I’ll get it,” I squeal, leaping up from behind my desk and almost skipping to the door before he stops me.

  “I’ll get the door, Krystal. Maybe you could see about some dinner after all. Maybe just reheat the lasagna from yesterday,” he says with such coldness in his voice it stops me in my tracks.

  I can see the shadowy outline of a man at the front door, a looming and large shadow cast by the porch lights.

  My heart starts to beat wildly, and not just because dad’s yelled at me again, but because I’m sure it’s James at the door.

  I can feel him close by.

  I knew it. I thought it was my imagination or just wishful thinking, but I knew I could sense him.

  I swear I can even still smell his cologne in the air.

  The heart that’s in my throat sinks once dad flings the front door open.

  Just a regular delivery guy. Some huge fruit basket or something.

  Not the worst looming man either, not by any stretch.

  But he’s no James Silverthorn, and that’s who I was sure it was.

  I groan to myself, slinking off to the kitchen, wondering just how far all this James stuff is actually gonna go before he either kisses me for real or I lose my mind completely.

  Resigning myself to getting some dinner ready, I jump when I hear the front door slam and hear dad storming towards the kitchen door, which he throws open too.

  “Dad, what is wrong with you?” I shout, finally having enough of his tantrums for one day.

  “Look!” he hisses, shoving a small white card under my nose as if I can read it that close up.

  I sigh loudly and take the card, reading the sender’s signature before anything else and feel my knees buckle just slightly from seeing his name.

  James Silverthorn.

  I try to hide my smile from dad, but it’s too late, he’s turned on his heel and started to pace around the kitchen like a caged animal.

  The message is for dad, so is the basket.

  It’s a pretty standard gesture for candidates to wish each other well.

  “See what he’s doing now?” Dad mutters to himself. “This is psychological warfare, he’s trying to mess with my mind.”

  I feel my brow crease deeply and examining the card a little closer, I can see it was dated a couple of days ago.

  “Dad, why don’t you go lay down,” I advise him gently, taking his arm and leading him back to the lounge room, deliberately not going past that huge gift basket which looks like it cost more than a small car now that I think about it.

  “He’s up to something, Krystal. I can feel it… It’s like I can… I can almost sense the man lurking nearby somewhere,” he says absently to himself as I lift his legs up onto the leather couch and slip his shoes off.

  Pulling a blanket over him, I kiss his forehead and dim the lights.

  “I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready, Dad. Just have a little nap. Rest your eyes for half an hour okay,” I whisper, and before I reach the kitchen door I can hear the first of his snoring breaths.

  The man’s exhausted.

  Still feeling some sort of presence, like someone’s watching me, I double-lock the front door and check that the back door in the kitchen is bolted too.

  I decide to get changed upstairs, into something fresher and more comfortable, closing my curtains in my room when I still feel that presence.

  Still feel those eyes on me.

  My mind turns from fear of prowlers to wishing it was James himself doing the prowling, climbing up the eaves and letting himself in through my bedroom window while dad’s asleep downstairs.

  Maybe I’m the one who needs a laydown.

  It’s an effort to even think of food over James Silverthorn, but I distract myself by trying to find something more exciting than leftover lasagna for dinner.

  Unfortunately, my culinary skills don’t extend much further than reheated store bought food or using the phone to order some take out, so lasagna it is.

  Nuking myself some lasagna, I realize how hungry I really am once it’s in front of me, and I even have a second helping before setting a plate for my dad.

  My plan is to get him something to eat and try and get him to have an early night before treating myself to a long, hot and James Silverthorn filled bath before hitting the hay myself.

  But once I see how deeply asleep dad still is, my own energy wanes and sleep feels like the easiest and quickest option given the amount of Lasagna in my belly.

  Flicking off the main kitchen lights, I figure dad can help himself if he does get up, but I know his snore.

  He’ll be out for the rest of the night so it’s for the best if we both get a proper night’s sleep before the big day tomorrow.

  Problem is, once I get into bed after checking everything’s locked again, I feel wide awake.

  Sounds stupid, but I can feel James’ eyes on me all over again. Like he’s somehow part of the darkness outside, the world out there.

  I toss and I turn. I have a half-asleep fever dream abou
t James and lasagna, but after feeling hot and cold sweats for hours on end, I’m glad I never took my bath after all.

  Grinding my teeth as I see the gray dawn peeking through the curtains, I will myself to sleep but it’s no use.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever eat or sleep properly again as long as I’m left wondering just what it is that James Silverthorn actually wants with me.

  And if I can even deliver the goods to satisfy him, even though I know I really am supposed to be his in this life somehow.

  Eventually, like every other time I’ve never slept properly or at all, by the time I really do have to get up I slip into the deepest possible sleep and want to stay there for a year.

  Hearing dad thundering around downstairs slowly draws me back to the land of the living though, and it isn’t long before I hear him using the upstairs bathroom to have his shower.

  The smell of coffee and burnt toast eventually forcing me out of my bed.

  I’m a lousy cook, but my dad is even worse.

  Leaving him alone near a kitchen is a bad idea, and I’m already dreading the dishes I know he will have made dirty so far.

  Coffee and toast, not so bad though. And as I pour myself a cup I hear the doorbell, which sets my heart pounding all over again.

  Convinced it has to be James, I race to the door and swing it open, all ready to forgive him for not coming last night or even trying to contact me again.

  But it’s not James.

  It’s another delivery.

  The large, flat box is gold with a white ribbon. I wonder what it could be for dad this time.

  Until the courier asks for my name, telling me I need to sign for it.

  It’s for me.

  I ease the huge box through the front door and listening to make sure Dad’s still in the shower, I make straight for my room.

  Tearing off the ribbon and clawing at the tissue paper inside, I just know it’s from James.

  Before I even see the fabric, before I even lift the gown from the box, I can feel him oozing out from it, as if the whole gown was made from the man himself.

  “It’s just beautiful,” I gasp, holding it against myself carefully with one hand as I shift the only full-size mirror I have into position to get a better look.

  There’s even a matching pair of shoes in the box and a simple but elegant mask made from the same material for the masked ball.

  But a part of me is dying.

  I know it won’t fit. Nothing this beautiful ever fits. The gown I wore for my graduation cut me in half and that was a year ago, and I know I’ve put on more weight since then.

  A lot more.

  Not wanting to ruin it by even trying, I start to try and layer it back into the box, but I can’t.

  I sigh bitterly, but then I notice the card inside the box from James.

  I want you in this.

  And what’s owed, my kiss.

  See you at the ball.

  James.

  I press it to my heart and then to my lips. The image of him so close to me yesterday sends me fluttering back onto my bed, hugging the gown to my body as if it was made of-

  “Honey, who was at the door?”

  My dad’s at my door, I can see the handle turning.

  “I’m not decent,” I call out, hearing my voice crack like it does when I lie to my dad.

  “Oh, sorry… Who was at the door though?” he asks again, waiting for an answer as I scramble to try and figure out what to do with the gown, the box. With everything.

  “Honey?” he asks again, impatiently. “Just put a robe on will ya, I need to get moving. I can’t be talking through doors all day.”

  I freeze. I don’t know what else to do.

  “Honey?” he asks again, opening the door and putting his head around without looking.

  “Hi,” I murmur, feeling like I’ve been caught doing the worst thing in the world when really I’m just standing in my pajamas in my room clutching a ball gown.

  Opening his eyes, he looks surprised for a moment, but the look on my face tells him everything.

  One glance at the box, the ribbon, even without him seeing the card. It’s pretty clear what’s happened.

  His face goes from surprise to confusion, shock then angry all in a second.

  “You’re not going, I forbid it,” he says in a low, calm voice that gives me a chill as his eyes narrow on the box again before he slams my door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  James

  I don’t recall ever sitting up all night in a rental car, even one as nice as this but for Krystal, I’d do a lot more if it meant I knew she was safe and I could be close to her.

  I watch her figure move across an upstairs window after a while, before she draws the curtains.

  At least I know which room is hers now.

  It feels like for the rest of the night I’m replaying every single one of her movements in my mind. Every word she’s spoken to me so far.

  Each one gives me such a thrill that only seems to get more intense as time goes on.

  Once her lights go out and the chill of the night sets in, it’s those same memories that keep me focused until I can hardly keep my eyes open.

  It feels like too long to be apart from her, but the time goes so fast I know even if I was in her bed it wouldn’t be long enough to give her everything I know I want to.

  Give her everything I know she needs.

  A part of me feels at peace though, and I can finally rest for today knowing that Krystal’s safe in her bed and hopefully dreaming about what I want to do to her once we’re alone.

  It’s not the early morning traffic, or even the car leaving Krystal’s driveway that wakes me.

  It’s my cell phone.

  “Krystal?” I answer, half-asleep until I realize one car is missing from her driveway, instantly worrying me.

  Shit! I fucking fell asleep, now I don’t know if she’s left or her old man… Dammit!

  “Uh… No Sir, not Krystal,” The familiar voice of one of my business managers says politely.

  “Oh, hi Mark. I was expecting-”

  I was expecting to stay awake all night, keeping watch over what’s rightfully mine, and now I don’t know if she’s home alone or if her dad’s inside because I’ve seen her drive both cars that were in the fucking driveway.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Sir. But we have an issue with-” Mark starts to tell me, but I cut him off.

  “Mark. Remember when I said you were the manager? That even if it was life or death it was your call?” I remind him.

  “I know you did Sir, I just-”

  “You just need to make a decision, Mark. Get it right and you’ll go far. Get it wrong and we’ll go over how you could’ve done better next time, okay?” I ask him curtly before hanging up, knowing he won’t dare call me back.

  I’ve told all my team that while I’m here in Woods End that I’m not to be disturbed. Not for any reason.

  My biggest concern right now is where is Krystal? And I’m kicking myself for falling asleep but I also need to take a leaf out of my own book.

  I either make a decision to call or go to the door myself and see just who is inside or I carry on with my day which I know has a full schedule.

  But I don’t want to face any of it until I know where Krystal is.

  If she got the gown I had made.

  How she looks in it.

  “Are you sure about these measurements?”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I smile. Going over every single one of her curves with my eyes half-closed as I relay the specifics to the dressmaker in town.

  But no.

  I decide I can wait, I’ll let it be a surprise.

  There’s no doubt the dress would be finished, probably already delivered. I made sure to make it worth their while to fulfill every one of my requests which they did happily.

  Money always makes things happen, but I’ve noticed already how the sight of crisp hundred dollar bills in little piles makes friendly folk
bend over backward.

  Until this evening, if not before, I tell her, glancing over at the house one last time, still not knowing if she’s even home.

  Telling myself she probably left already to do whatever she needs to do for her dad today.

  All the things I’m supposed to be doing myself as a candidate for Mayor.

  My first stop will be my own office where I plan to shower, shave, and change before heading over to the town hall.

  Along the way, I hear myself laughing with satisfaction.

  The elves have been out overnight.

  Every second lamp post in town has a poster or placard for Mayor Newland telling me and everyone else to ‘Vote #1’.

  Now, every other lamp post, empty window, or spare space it seems has an even bigger image of yours truly.

  The fliers were a part of it, but I also had a fair amount of other promotional stuff printed off.

  Just an image of me, smiling my winning smile. A thousand dollar suit and a Rolex.

  No need to beg or even ask for votes.

  It’s a statement more than a request. I’m not asking to be Mayor, I’m telling ‘em I’m the new Mayor.

  Pulling up to my own office, I can see the last sign going up and I give a stoic nod of approval as the bleary-eyed helpers tip their hats in recognition before I disappear inside.

  Trying not to look like a guy who’s been out all night sleeping in a car.

  People do what they’re paid to do, and these guys sure earned their share of money last night.

  The office phone’s flashing with a ton of messages which I play as I grab a quick coffee and some Danish from the refrigerator.

  All work and no play by the looks, with a nervous sounding organizer wondering where I am, plus a string of messages from the other candidates who want a meeting this morning to ‘discuss my campaign’.

  Not a peep from Mayor Newland, which is interesting because I know he would’ve seen just as much of my face this morning already as I have of his.

  I whistle cheerfully as I shave and shower, deliberately keeping my mind above my waist even though I feel my cock throbbing to life when I have uninvited thoughts about Krystal in that gown.

  Her heavy chest spilling free from the top as I hitch up the bottom, thrusting two fingers straight into her quivering pussy before she comes hard in my hand which I taste…