I Need You: A Valentine's Anthology Read online

  I Need You – A Valentine’s Anthology

  By Vera Roberts

  For BESM.

  © 2014 Vera Roberts, All Rights Reserved

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Book I –

  Something to Remember

  One

  I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my way in the end.

  Senator Jay Edwards smiled as he remembered the famous quote made by Margaret Thatcher. He was considered to be one of the most welcoming and nice people in office, as long as no one crossed him. Many didn’t. Those who did made sure not to make the same mistake twice.

  His patience had paid off, winning yet another election this past November with loud whispers of a future White House run; his party already started the campaigning, though the election wouldn’t be for another two and a half years. He didn’t mind soaking up the limelight, though. If his face being plastered all over TV, internet, and magazines meant more attention to the causes he was so passionate about, it was great.

  The Beautiful Asshole. It was a nickname he didn’t coin himself but rather, some fellow female colleagues in office. The beautiful part was due to his dashing movie star looks—he stood over six feet tall, kept his ebony hair trimmed, and had a shade of blue eyes that alternated between cobalt and sea blue. His smile boasted of perfect teeth and he made sure he flashed it often; he never knew when there would be a potential photo-op.

  The asshole part of the nickname wasn’t too hard to figure out and it was due to his take-no-prisoners attitude. Did he consider himself an asshole? Well, it depended on the definition. He wasn’t a pushover and he occasionally (in truth, it was often) used emotional and political blackmail to get what he wanted with no fights or complaints. That nickname from his own party, he didn’t mind.

  It was the other nickname—The Breck Girl, after the old beauty advertisements showcasing illustrious hair and styling—that made his anger quiver with impatience. His political rivals called him that at every opportunity and Jay thought it was cute at first until one of them threw shade at him by mentioning a certain time of the month and maybe he should go buy some Tampax. Jay made a silent note—that rival was not only going to be politically killed, Jay was going to make sure he would be burned alive.

  All of that would have to wait until the next day. One of Jay’s biggest supporters was holding a special Valentine’s Day fundraiser for him and while Jay was annoyed it was being held on what he considered to be the most romantic day of the year, it was too important for him to skip it. The excuse of wanting to make love to his wife all night just wouldn’t fly, though it sounded right in his head.

  It was Valentine’s Day and he had planned a special dinner with his wife, Jessica. “Special” as in they both would rather be anywhere else other than attending a fundraiser in his honor. But, money talks and it is quite loud when it wants to be, especially with whispers and nudges of a potential presidential run.

  Pleasing his constituents was in the back of Jay’s mind, though. His only concern was pleasing his wife this particular night. She’d made specific orders—no gift over $25 and Jay could admit he was stumped. Granted, they didn’t need more extravagant and expensive purchases in their homes and they desperately needed to downsize. But a $25 gift was something he hadn’t done since his college days, and even then it was a hard task.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting home to celebrate Valentine’s Day with your wife, Senator?” Jay’s assistant, Aileen, peeked into his office. She glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch, a gift from the senator for her services, and eyeballed the time. “If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the fundraiser on time.”

  “I plan to be fashionably late,” Jay replied, with slight annoyance in his voice. “Who in the hell throws a fundraiser on Valentine’s Day, anyway?”

  “The ones with the biggest mouths and deepest pockets,” Aileen smiled. “Besides, with all of that talk about you being president in a couple of years, it’s better for you to go out now and mingle with all the folks who can make a difference.”

  “Aileen, come here for a minute, will you?” He beckoned her and she closed the door behind her. She sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you think I’ll make a good president?”

  “I think so,” she tilted her head slightly; letting the moonlight hit the amber of her eyes, making them sparkle. “You’re intelligent, have a lot of charisma, and it seems both parties like you. You have the support of the veterans because you are one. You have the support of the inner-city because of all of the work you do there. I’ve heard very few bad things about you.”

  “Bad things about me?” Jay raised an eyebrow. “What bad things? I’m an angel!”

  “I know that and you know that, but sometimes...” Aileen’s voice trailed off.

  “Sometimes...”

  “You’re a little rough around the edges, Sir.” She addressed him properly. “You can be a bit of a hardass if you don’t get your way.”

  “I’m supposed to be,” Jay rubbed Aileen’s back, “you see, if I’m weak, people will take advantage. But, if I tell them to fuck off, no one messes with me.”

  “Very few do, Sir.” She smiled again.

  “And I hope it stays that way,” Jay replied. “But enough about my political ambitions for a short while. I need you to help me with something.”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “I have a task for you. A very short notice task. You need to get this done tonight, before your Mistress and I arrive home.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You know what your Mistress likes, right?”

  “Yes, Master.” Aileen replied.

  “So what in the hell do I give her?” Jay chuckled. “I guess I could run out to the local pharmacy and pick up a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. It might be slim pickings but it’ll do.”

  “May I offer a suggestion, Master?” Aileen offered.

  “You may.”

  “Look in that drawer right there, Master,” she nodded to a lower left side drawer. “There’s your gift to Mistress.”

  Jay reached down and opened the drawer. A bottle of champagne, a box of chocolates, and card awaited him. “You’re a lifesaver, caramellino.”

  “I’ll do anything to please you, Master.” She ran a hand through his hair. “Making you happy is all this girl wants to do.”

  Jay kissed His submissive, their lips meeting over and over in a twist of hunger and desire. “I love that My girl wants to keep Me happy.”

  “Is there anything else this girl can do before You leave for the night?”

  “I know I probably shouldn’t spoil my appetite before dinner,” Jay snapped his fingers and Aileen immediately kneeled before Him and began to unbuckle His pants. She unzipped His trousers and pulled out His hardened cock. She wrapped her lips around Him and began to please her Master. “But I think if I have a small bite, it won’t hurt...”

  Two

  “Jessica,” Senator Thomas Jackson greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, “I must say you look absolutely stunning tonight, as you usually do.”

  “Thank you, Senator,” Sanora smiled at him, “I aim to please.”

  “That you do, as always,” Senator Jackson glanced around, “I don’t see S
enator Edwards here? Is he here tonight?”

  “He’ll be here shortly,” Sanora slightly nodded. She knew where her husband was and she only hoped he would be finished soon. She hated political fundraisers like any normal and sane political wife, but was resigned to the fact that they were a must. If her husband had even an inkling of winning the presidency in a few years, they needed to attend all of the fundraisers in his honor—including the ones they really didn’t want to go to.

  They were all the same, Sanora thought. Rich donors with very deep pockets and influential mouths. You scratch my back and I’ll give you thousands of dollars and have my very rich and stupid friends do the same. It didn’t matter if they believed in Jay’s causes or they supported his beliefs. Oh, no. It was never that easy. There were always strings—long and thick ones—attached to all donations. Jay was merely Pinocchio to someone’s Geppetto.

  Sanora and Jay were masters of fake smiles, air kisses, plastic waves, and perfectly choreographed and rehearsed canned answers. Spontaneity? Forget it! Even a quick bite at a hot dog stand was orchestrated with hidden cameramen taking photos from different angles and printing them instantly online. Sanora had a team comprised of a make-up artist, a PR person, and a fashion stylist with her almost 24/7. Even when she wanted to go out for a jog, her makeup was done so she could look natural.

  She knew what she was getting herself into when she met her husband that fateful evening many years ago. He was only a Congressman at that point in his career, yet he was young and hungry for more. She was impressed by his desire for greatness and his equal thirst for humiliation.

  After doing unimaginable and quite unspeakable things to him, she agreed to go out on a date with him. It was love at first sight for him, though for her it took a bit longer. Still, at the end of the night, he was The One and they had never looked back.

  “Well, when he finally arrives, can you tell him I was looking for him? I need to speak to him before he goes on stage tonight.” Senator Jackson commented.

  “Not a problem,” Sanora smiled, “I’ll let him know.”

  Throughout the night, Sanora hobnobbed and lobbied with fellow Senators and their wives; her plastic smile becoming increasingly worn in the process. She glanced down at her Cartier watch; her husband was now forty-five minutes late. Ooh, you are testing my patience, baby boy. She sipped her champagne and hoped to hell her husband would show up soon or it was going to be a very unhappy Valentine’s for them both.

  She walked outside to the balcony and stared out at the glittering Los Angeles skyline. It had been a whirlwind year for her, and the upcoming trial was going to bring back harsh memories of her mother’s death. It was a day she would never forget and would never publicly speak about. But if she wanted justice, she would need to deal with the media frenzy once again. Her only saving grace was that some of them were owned and controlled by her, so she knew what would be printed and what wouldn’t.

  The others, however, were loose cannons and Sanora kept a very watchful eye on them. Some of them had already started trying to locate her whereabouts, even with some agencies flying to Greece to find her. They’ll never find me, not if I can help it.

  “Now, didn’t someone tell you that a lady should never leave the house without her finest pearl necklace,” a deep voice feathered against Sanora’s ears. Familiar hands caressed her bare collarbone before clasping the necklace together at the nape of her neck. “Mmm... that’s much better.”

  Sanora instinctively caressed the necklace and breathed a sigh of relief. Her husband was good. Fashionably late and showed up with an expensive gift to boot; Jay knew what she wanted before she asked. “This is different from the other pearl necklace you usually give me.”

  “You might get that one as well. The night’s young.” Jay turned his wife to face him. She looked immaculate with her hair in a French roll, red lipstick painted on her lips, and a very expensive designer gown that hugged her curves. He could understand why all of the other senators hated him and their wives hated her—every night he went to bed with their fantasy. “You look incredible, Mistress.”

  “You know what to say to please me,” Sanora smiled, “you’re a good little boy.”

  “You know I’ll do anything for you, Mistress.”

  “After tonight, I most certainly hope so,” Sanora replied, not hiding the frustration and wear from playing the role of a good political wife. “By the way, Thomas Jackson is looking for you.”

  “Heh, he’s always looking for me.” Jay held out his arm and Sanora grabbed it as the couple made their way to their table. “Must be a new donor he wants me to meet.”

  “It’s money you could use, honey,” Sanora waved hello to passers-by.

  “People want me to be president to further their agenda, not mine.” Jay nodded and waved to guests, “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about running for the presidency. If I’m a senator, no one cares, and really no one does. If I’m the president, if I go to take a shit, people will be curious what brand toilet paper I use and if it’s somehow bad for the environment.”

  “The president’s ass is serious business,” Sanora deadpanned.

  “Your ass is serious business,” Jay sensually replied.

  “Ooh,” Sanora smiled, “is that a tingle I feel between my thighs?”

  “You want to feel something else?” He suggestively asked.

  “Only on my command,” she smiled as they arrived at their table and winked at him, “and only on my command.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Three

  The fundraiser went off without a hitch. After plenty of meet and greets and a fired-up speech to act on the promises he’d made during his campaign (none of which came true) and become a different kind of politician (which he didn’t), Jay went home with his wife.

  “Another day, another fundraiser done.” Sanora yawned as she entered the foyer.

  “A fundraiser on Valentine’s Day,” Jay harrumphed as he loosened his tie and collar, “we’d better have raised a lot of money for that bullshit.”

  “Oh, come on,” Sanora led them to their bedroom, “it wasn’t that bad. You spoke with a lot of people you’ve meant to speak with for a while, and everyone seemed fired up for your next term.”

  “The most important piece of business is right here,” Jay walked to his wife and unzipped her gown, “no fancy dinners, fundraisers, and an evening full of ass-kissing suck-ups is going to ruin this.” He walked over to the dresser where there was a bottle of champagne chilled along with two glasses and a small box of chocolates. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mistress.”

  Sanora smiled at the romantic display. “Should I thank you or Aileen?”

  “Our girl helped.” Jay smiled. “Twenty-five dollars, Mistress?”

  “It’s the little things that count.” Sanora stepped out of her dress and revealed a black bustier, matching stockings and garter belt. “Like tonight.”

  Jay stared down his wife’s bedroom attire and felt his cock twitch in anticipation. Large, bountiful breasts, a small waist, and long, shapely legs stood before him. His mouth watered with delight, and breath was forced out of his lungs.

  Sanora owned the room, and at that moment, every part of her husband’s body. “Lord have mercy...” He muttered.

  “So will I,” Sanora grabbed Jay’s crotch and lightly squeezed it, “it’s a special night tonight.”

  “May I ask what you have in mind, Mistress?” Jay asked.

  “Because it’s Valentine’s Day and it’s the most romantic day of the year, I’m going to go easy on you tonight. But only tonight.” She emphasized. “Tonight is all about you. Tomorrow, it’ll be about me as it usually is.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now be a good little boy and get naked for me. I’ll meet you in The Nook.”

  ****

  The Nook was a private room inside their home, located in a secluded and hidden area that was only accessible through the walk-in closet in their master bed
room.

  Other people in the scene referred to their private rooms as dungeons and chambers. Others referred to their rooms with fancy names like Domination Palazzo or Den of Sin. But Sanora wanted something softer and, dare she think, friendlier. Nook sounded like a cozy, warm place out in the country. Let’s go to the nook. Oh, we have a nook in Georgia.

  Cozy. Quaint.

  The room itself was very much a nook with cream walls, lush carpeting, and vaulted ceilings. The room contained hidden walls and with the push of a button, it revealed various implements, restraints, and a bed that was custom-built specifically for BDSM activities.

  Tonight was going to be a special night for the both of them. When Jay arrived at the Nook, he was greeted with a massage table in the middle of the room. Candles were lit everywhere and he briefly wondered if wax play was going to be on the menu tonight.

  “Lay on the table, baby boy,” Sanora instructed.

  Jay lay down on the table. He kept his eyes open until he was instructed to close them. He knew the protocol. Whatever She said, went. Nothing was up for debate or discussion.

  Not that he ever had an issue with anything She did to him. He wanted her to push him to the limit and bring him back from the abyss. Humiliation was the norm between them and Sanora degraded Jay every chance she got, and there were a lot of them.

  But it was what he wanted. Being in power all day and calling the shots with their shared submissives, Jay needed a reminder that he wasn’t anything and was the lowest of the low. Other politicians used reminders to keep them in check—an old photo of the first home they grew up in; a reminder of a worn suit that had seen better days; a strong memory of when they went hungry and didn’t eat for days.

  For Jay? His reminder was his Domme wife. He could remember a time she made him wear her lace panties and garter to a presidential inauguration. He itched and the panties chafed him all day, causing red welts around his groin.

  He loved every minute of it.

  Jay soon heard her enter the room and she immediately went to work. She restrained him on the table, with his ankles separated and his wrists above his head.