Page 37 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

I didn’t expect the night to end like this when I was riding the train, scrolling through the photos of Georgia that the paparazzi plastered everywhere today.

Her eyes haunted me—too wide, too damn vulnerable for a woman who’s supposed to be untouchable. I could see it beneath that practiced smile, the pain she was trying to hide after everything that went down with Liam. And I hated that I wasn’t there.

Or maybe, deep down, I knew exactly how this night would go.

Knew I’d have her sweet pussy in my mouth again before the sun set, drinking her down like she’s the only thing that can satisfy this ache inside me.

Knew I’d make her forget every asshole who hurt her and Liam today.

And I will make them pay for that—I’m not done with them yet. But right now?

Right now, I’m here.

What I hadn’t counted on was Georgia surprising me.

Pulling me in like I’m the only thing she’s been craving.

Meeting me stroke for stroke, her hunger matching mine with a desperation that’s got me coming undone.

This isn’t just her giving in to me—this is her taking what she wants. And fuck if I don’t love it.

The women I’ve “dated” in New York? They’ve all been for show—arm candy to keep the press distracted, to play the part of the polished, respectable politician I’m supposed to be.

I’ve fucked a few, sure, but never at my beach house.

Never where it mattered . Casual hookups were for the penthouse I kept in the city—nights when I was too exhausted to make it back to the Hamptons before Liam came to live with me for good and Max was off at college.

The beach house has always been sacred, reserved for home, for family.

Those other women, with their pretty faces and sometimes sharp minds, were mostly for optics.

They couldn’t satisfy my sexual desires nor ever keep my interest for more than a night.

But even those occurrences?

It’s been a long time. Longer than I care to admit.

And none of them— none of them —ever made me feel this.

This raw, unrelenting hunger. This need .

Georgia’s different.

She’s not just in my bed. She’s in my head . And I don’t know if I’ll ever get her out.

She isn’t just for show.

She’s got me. She cares about my family. She understands me in ways that no one else has. I’ve opened up to her only a little, yet it’s still more than any other woman I’ve ever brought into my world.

And none of them have ever given me head like she is.

I look down at her, her cheeks hollowing as she takes me deep, gagging but clearly enjoying every second of it.

A hum of pleasure vibrates against my sensitive skin as she sucks me inward.

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, spit dripping from the corner of her mouth, and it’s like she’s born for this—for taking my control from me, and making me lose mine.

And I fucking love it .

She pulls back just enough to pump me with her hand, staring at my cock like it’s the most desirable thing in the world.

My throat dries as I watch her. Then she does something that catches me completely off guard.

She looks at me, winks, then spits on my cock to wet it before smiling and taking me down her throat again.

When she reaches as far as she can, she swallows and gags, the sensation squeezing me like a vice.

“Georgia,” I warn her. My balls tighten with the sensation.

Without missing a beat, she pulls back, using more spit to wet my shaft, her tongue flicking against the underside, teasing the tip before she swallows me again, all the way to the back of her throat with a tight, forced swallow.

“Fuck me, Georgia,” I curse, trying to think of anything else to stop the orgasm that I know is coming too fast.

What have I been thinking? She’s never been just Liam’s nanny to me.

She’s always been so much more. A wild, barefoot-running, beach-jogging, night-swimming, spit-on-your-cock kind of woman.

And it’s driving me insane that I’ve waited this long to have her.

Denied us both the pleasure that we’re finally indulging in.

Her hands find their way underneath me, gently cupping my balls and tugging, her touch soft but deliberate.

“Fuck…” I grit out, gripping the edge of the tub to steady myself, knuckles white as she swirls her tongue around my tip.

“Do you like that?” she asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You have no fucking idea,” I manage through gritted teeth.

She’s determined, I can see it in her eyes as she pushes herself to take me even deeper.

Her lips stretch impossibly wide, red and swollen, slick with spit and determination.

I can feel the heat of her mouth, the velvety pressure as her throat tightens around me, and fuck—she doesn’t stop.

She takes me deeper, gagging softly, the vibration sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure straight to my spine.

I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, I know I’m thick, but she doesn’t stop.

“Georgia, I’m going to come,” I warn, my voice hoarse.

“Mm, I’d like that,” she hums, her hands pumping faster, her lips pulling me even deeper until I can’t hold back.

My hands tangle in her hair as I lift my hips, fucking her face deeper and then I release.

My cock kicks against her velvet tongue, filling her mouth with warm, streams of my cum as her throat bobs to swallow it all.

She doesn’t let a single drop escape, just keeps sucking me until I’m softer.

She pulls off my tip, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips glistening, her eyes locked on mine. Wide. Innocent. Like she didn’t just blow my fucking mind.

My pulse pounds in my ears, my chest heaving as I look down at her—kneeling there, naked and perfect, her lips swollen and glistening with me. Her hair falls in damp waves over her shoulder, her wide eyes searching mine. And fuck… she’s so damn beautiful. Too beautiful for a man like me.

I should pull away. I should let this be enough. But even now, with her on her knees, wrecked and glowing in the aftermath, I know it’ll never be enough. And fuck… she looks so pretty . So goddamn pretty it makes my chest ache.

My suit is crumpled in a pile in the corner—jacket, tie, pressed shirt, slacks—neatly discarded alongside her T-shirt and that red sports bra I’ve been dying to peel off her since the second I saw her in it.

Our clothes, tangled together like the messy, complicated knot we’re becoming.

Silk and cotton. Power and simplicity. Different worlds… but somehow, impossibly, they fit.

A perfect fucking metaphor for us.

On paper? We don’t make sense. Her world is red dirt roads, fresh-baked pies, and porch swings on hot summer nights. Nannying for children and non-existent schedules.

Mine is polished floors, tailored suits, and power plays in boardrooms where one wrong move can ruin your life.

But none of that matters when she’s looking at me like this.

Because beneath all the surface differences—the silk and denim, the high-rises and open fields—it’s our roots that tie us together.

The values we share. The unwavering loyalty.

The fierce protectiveness for the people we love.

And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough to hold us when everything else tries to pull us apart.

But it’s not just the past that’s pulling us toward each other.

It’s this .

What we’re doing right now—giving in to the pull that’s been there since day one.

The foundation’s already laid, and what we’re building on top of it?

That’s what’s going to keep us together.

And I want all of her. I want to hold her in her bed, wrap her up in my arms, and listen to every story she’s too scared to tell anyone else.

I want to know what makes her laugh, what keeps her up at night.

I want to know what’s brought her to me —and what’s going to keep her here.

I can tell myself this is a mistake. That this can’t go any further. I can pretend that this is just me blowing off steam after a day that left me furious and aching for control. But it’s a goddamn lie.

Because this isn’t just about claiming her body.

It’s about claiming her heart.

And I’m already too far gone to stop now. This won’t be the last time I touch her pussy. Not by a fucking long shot. Because once you’ve had something that good? You don’t let it go. And I won’t fuck her tonight. Not yet. But when I do? It won’t just be a fuck. It’ll be a promise.

Because there’s no way in hell that I’m letting Georgia stay behind when I win governor and move to North Carolina.

She’s coming with me.

Even if I have to fight like hell to make her see that she belongs by my side.

“Come on,” I say softly, helping her to stand. “Let me bandage those cuts on your knees and then get you to bed. It’s been a long day.” I help her stand, my hands steady even though my insides are anything but. “Let me take care of you, baby.” Because that’s what this is.

Not just fucking. Not just claiming her body. Taking care of her. Protecting her. Giving her the safety and love she’s never had before. And if she’ll let me…

I’ll spend the rest of my life doing exactly that.