Red & Blue Read Online Alexis Angel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 189
Estimated words: 174749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
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I would have told this to Liam over dinner yesterday night, but we both decided over text that if Carter was in trouble, maybe we should just postpone by one night. I mean, we’ve actually done a lot of progress on getting these guys to see eye to eye. And I think we’ll like the outcome.

But dinner tonight? I got a phone call from Liam a couple hours ago, where he politely begged off.

“I just need some stuff I gotta fucking do,” he said into the phone.

I thought to myself that either something else has happened or he’s a bit worried. Maybe even someone on his team is telling him to put some distance between him and I.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. Sure, I’m a bit worried.

“It’s fine…” Liam says and trails off. “Just some things I got to sort out.”

Well, that leaves me with no plans for dinner, you know? I mean, if I had known, I’d have flown back to DC. I was really hoping to let our relationship—or whatever we have going between both men—grow and evolve.

I know, I know. I’ve been hot and cold with both of them. First I sleep with Liam. Then I have sex with Carter. But, you got to understand, hun, after each time, I just couldn’t decide.

I still can’t choose.

Liam has qualities that are irresistible. Carter has facets that make me want him more than anyone else. I can’t get either men out of my head.

That’s why I pulled away from both of them.

That’s why I stayed away.

And then…in the limo?

Let’s just say I got tired of not being able to decide. And let me tell you, babe—indecision paid off.

But I don’t know if I can keep doing this.

I mean, have you ever heard of a public servant—a Mayor, a Governor, or even a Senator having a relationship like this? Who would even vote for me? The Anti-Monogamy Party? Yes, it really does exist, by the way.

This entire situation is wrong. It’s immoral. It’ll cost me votes. It’ll give fuel to the fire for those people who paint me as this oversexed corrupter of Western democratic values. The Conservatives will hate me for sleeping with a Liberal. The Liberals won’t like that I’m sleeping with a Conservative. Pretty much the only people who will be in my camp are women who like hot men.

Don’t smile. This is serious.

This is what I’ve been thinking about all night—after a quick salad for dinner and a few glasses of wine.

I’m lying in bed, lounging after a long hot bath, and wondering just where in the hell I’m supposed to go.

I haven’t watched any television today. Cut myself off from the news. All so I could think about what kind of a grave I’m digging for myself.

I mean, imagine a life with Liam and Carter as we try to juggle our political careers.

Mmmm. Actually, let’s just imagine Liam and Carter first.

Imagination—it might not be as good as the real thing, but it’s pretty close. Especially when you’re all by yourself and the memories start bubbling up to the surface.

Laying in bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy nightgown and a lace thong, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The memories start to flood me, and I remember how it felt to run my fingertips over Liam’s and Carter’s naked bodies… Pressing my legs together, I feel that familiar wetness grow between my thighs as the memories become more vivid. My nipples become hard and sensitive, and the rosy tips brush against the fabric of my satin gown as my chest rises and falls steadily.

Vivian. I hear them whisper my name, their voices echoing inside my mind. Vivian, they repeat, the sound of my own name making my throat grow dry. I run my tongue over my lips, wetting them, and remember the taste of both men’s mouths. They tasted like a man should taste—leather, and salt, and warm desire—and their lips fit against mine as if the whole world had conspired for us to kiss.

I take one hand to my shoulder, my skin prickling as I push the strap of my gown down my arm. The fabric droops over my right breast, baring it, and I brush two fingers against my hard nipple. I don’t even dare open my eyes, afraid that reality might push away the dream state I’m in—I imagine both men here, lying next to me, their hands on my body as they explore every curve of my body.

Rubbing my nipple between my thumb and index finger, I sigh heavily, that familiar electric feeling spreading from my nipple toward my inner thighs. My pulse quickens, and with every beat of my heart, my pussy grows wetter. I press harder on my nipple, pinching it, and I start to feel the wet fabric of my thong sticking to my skin.


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