Page 34 of Longing for Liberty

TWENTY-FIVE

STATE NEWS: COMMUNITY THREE MAN WINS FAMILY VACATION THROUGH THE LOTTERY!

So much—too much—was on my mind when I trudged into the penthouse Monday morning. My brain felt scattered, like I couldn’t collect all of the pieces and put them in their proper places so that I might see clearly and move forward. I was thankful Fitzhugh wasn’t there to witness me in this fog.

By midday I was running behind, having absently taken down the curtains when it wasn’t even time to clean them again until next week.

I was a wreck, and my emotions were too close to the surface.

When the Secretary walked into the penthouse, I nearly came out of my skin.

I stood in the center of the sitting room with curtains still spread over the furniture, my face and neck sweating, my hair sticking to me.

His gaze slowly tracked the room and then fell on me, my eyes, then down to my shoes, and back up to my eyes in silence.

“Sir,” I said. “I apologize for the mess. I’ll have these put back up right away.” I began to scramble away until his stern voice stopped me.

“Why are you wearing your shoes when I made it clear you were not to?”

“I…” My heart rate ramped up. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

His jaw clenched, and he said very quietly, “Come here, Liberty.”

I moved forward to stand in front of him, allowing myself to meet his fearsome eyes.

“Take off every piece of clothing.”

Everything in me seemed to rush around, fluttering and pounding all at once as I undressed, tossing each piece down into a pile until I was as naked as he was dressed.

His eyes were locked on mine, and I didn’t dare look away, though I saw his hands moving to his waist, undoing his belt. Then the slide of his zipper.

“On your knees,” he practically growled.

I lowered myself before him and took his exposed erection in my hand, looking up at him.

His fingers dug into the back of my head, tightening his fist around my hair, and he forcefully moved my face forward as I took him into my mouth.

Unlike our other times, he was fast and rough.

I did my best to remain relaxed, but I gagged a couple of times, my eyes watering.

His hold on my hair didn’t ease until after he finished in my mouth and I swallowed.

I pulled back and sat on my heels, catching my breath and wiping my eyes while he tucked himself away.

“Stand.”

I did, keeping my eyes down.

In juxtaposition to his recent roughness, he took my chin between his fingers and lifted my face to look at him. The anger I’d seen when he walked in was gone now.

“I have deleted her code so she cannot walk into this penthouse when I’m not here again. Nothing has changed. You will continue to do what I’ve ordered. Is that clear?”

Though his words were harsh, his tone was not. I nodded and whispered, “Yes, sir.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Amos.”

He lowered his head and took my lips in a soft, but long kiss, then searched my eyes again. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

I started to look down, but he tweaked my chin to keep my attention on him.

When he said nothing more, I felt like he wanted me to speak, so I racked my brain for the right thing to say.

“Every couple is imperfect.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

I looked around at the room and felt a little stressed. “May I dress? I should take care of this.”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “I’m not done with you. Leave all of this for tomorrow.”

“Oh— oh !” He lifted me by the waist, and I automatically wrapped my legs around his middle, feeling the handle of the gun against my thigh, and his already-growing bulge between his legs as Amos walked us back to his room and tossed me on the bed.

I let out a surprised giggle as I flew up and then bounced.

Then I went silent as I watched him fully undress for the first time.

Amos Fitzhugh on full display was quite the image.

Thick, corded muscles. Wide shoulders that tapered into a lean waist. And his arms…

those arms right now were grabbing me by the ankles and yanking me to the edge of the bed.

I gasped and let myself fall back. He held the back of my knees up and lowered his head to my center, swiping his warm tongue all the way through me.

I made a hissing sound and grasped the sheets above my head.

His tongue worked me, building me higher to that apex, and then moved down to my backside. Knowing he had this preoccupation with my ass, I was careful to keep myself very clean at all times, which helped me to be willing to enjoy it.

He pressed his thumb tip against my hole. “Where is your…accessory?”

“In my purse,” I answered. “Do you want me to get it?”

“No need,” he said. “I have the next size up.” Oh, no. That made me nervous.

He reached into his nightstand and took out a red velvet pouch, opening it and letting the sleek silver plug with a blue jewel slide into his hand. It definitely looked bigger.

“Have you, um…” I stopped myself, and he looked at me quizzically. “Never mind.”

“What? Have I used this? Done this?”

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“I’ve never done any of this.”

But clearly it was a fantasy of his.

“Come here,” he said. “Lie on your stomach.” I did as he said, lying facedown along the edge of the bed where he stood.

He took my leg that was closest to him and pulled my knee up a little.

Then he took out a bottle of something clear—an oil or gel of some type—and squeezed it onto his fingers.

He massaged his fingers into me and pressed the metal tip.

For a few minutes, he fucked me lightly with it, back and forth the way he liked to do.

“You are so beautiful,” he told me again as he watched me squirm and move with his rhythm.

I relaxed into it, tensing slightly when he went further, and at the point where it normally went in, it stretched me more, causing a sting of pain. I made a sound, and he stilled, looking at my face.

“That hurt?”

“A little,” I admitted. He went slower, and I lifted up to my elbows, leaning my head against his free arm.

“I’m preparing your body for me, Liberty.”

I knew that, deep down, but he was even thicker than this bulb, so it scared me to think about that as he pushed to that stinging point again, and I grimaced against his arm.

“Roll over.” Amos helped move my body into position on my back with my legs open to the side as he covered my sensitive nub with his mouth again.

This time, he pressed the plug upward rhythmically as he licked and sucked, distracting me from the pain, until he gave it a hard push.

My hips flew up as the stinging ache ebbed from pain into the fullness of pleasure, my body taking to the obstruction and melding around it.

“Good girl. Now scoot back.”

I moved back as he climbed onto the bed, prowling toward me with those giant shoulders and arms, and then covering my whole body with his.

“Amos.” My hands went to his face, and he kissed me as he pushed his cock into me, rocking until he was seated fully inside of me.

The sensations were so much that I shocked myself, throwing back my head and immediately pulsing around him.

“I-I’m coming…” He groaned above me, and I took it as appreciation for the way my body enjoyed his.

“So sexy,” he whispered as I came down.

Amos took his time and fucked me in so many positions, I lost count.

He was able to make me come in positions I’d never even gotten close to coming in before.

He took breaks to keep his own self from coming, going down to kiss between my legs again, and though I felt like I was made of gelatin, his mouth was able to revive me.

Finally, as I held on to the top of his headboard while he pounded me from behind, he came hard deep inside me, his hands likely leaving finger marks on my hips as they dug into my flesh.

His head leaned against my upper back as he caught his breath, and I caught mine.

I’d had amazing, epic sex with Jeremy during those early years before we became parents.

But with him, there had always been a lightness.

We could laugh during sex if our bodies made funny noises.

With Amos, no part of sex was a laughing matter.

He was serious in every way. The differences were stark, but not better or worse. Just…so different.

We lay down, and Amos pulled me into his body, which I hadn’t expected. I lay my head on his chest, feeling strange about this sudden moment of affection, especially as his hand began a lazy trail up and down my spine. I found it hard to relax. And then he spoke.

“I believe my last child, my son Zeek, is actually Samuel’s.”

My head flew up to look at his face.

“Samuel? As in…”

“Samuel Roan.” Oh my God. I blinked as he stared at the ceiling. What was I supposed to say to that? He’d just poured scalding tea into my cup, and it was too hot to hold.

“I’m…that’s…I honestly don’t know what to say. Are you okay?”

He gave a dry huff like a fake laugh. “It was never a marriage of love. Her father chose me for her.”

Their marriage had been arranged? The very notion of not marrying by choice or for love was kind of unheard of in America back when they married. A creepy feeling slithered over me as I realized what this damning information meant. He was definitely one of the Order of Mercy.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said quietly.

He kissed the side of my head and began to sit up, so I did too.

“May I dress?” I asked.

“Yes.”

We climbed from the bed, and I cleaned myself in the hallway bathroom, dressing, and then placed the clean plug on his bedside table while he showered.

In the kitchen, as I made his dinner, Amos came in and nuzzled me from behind, kissing my neck in another domestic, intimate display of affection.

The sex, I could handle. The fond behaviors were much more difficult because they required a level of emotion that was hard to fake.

Those emotions, my love and adoration and comfort, were for Jeremy.

If I were going to cuddle and be lovey with Amos, it would put me in danger of getting emotionally involved, which was stupid and dangerous.

The more I learned about Amos Fitzhugh, the bigger this job became.

When his dinner was prepared and it was time for me to leave, I paused by the door.

“The woman,” I asked. “Shelby Gortund. The prisoner from my neighborhood. I thought they were going to wait until she had the baby.”

His hands were in his pockets as he leaned back against the table. “She lost it.”

I couldn’t help it—I brought my hand up to my mouth in shock but quickly dropped it, forcing a nod. Why should I be shocked when she was starved and kept upright, bent over in stocks for days, during a storm? Did they at least bring her water? An ache of sympathy hit my chest.

“Okay. Well.” I tried to force thoughts of her out of my mind. “Good night, Amos.”

“Good night, Liberty.”