Sacred devout trilogy bo.., p.1
Sacred (Devout Trilogy Book 1), page 1
Table of Contents
Description
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also by the Author
Author's Note
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
The World of the Governor Trilogy
Preview: Profane (Devout Trilogy 2)
About the Author
Sacred…
In college, I made the mistake of falling in love with Ward, who was deep in the closet and terrified to come out to his conservative, religious family.
He called me Master. Said he loved me. Said he’d be mine forever.
I guess he lied, because he ghosted and didn’t even attend graduation. It broke my heart and f*cked my head.
Eventually, I moved on, married a great guy, and became a US senator.
Guess who just showed up as a freshman senator? And guess who’s my hall-pass f*ck?
Did I say I moved on?
I guess I lied.
Ward can’t run from me now.
Sacred
Devout Trilogy
Book 1
Lesli Richardson
http://www.LesliRichardson.com
Sacred
Devout Trilogy Book 1
Copyright © 2020 by Lesli Richardson
First E-book Publication: June, 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This work may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means currently available or available in the future, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, for free or for sale, without express written permission from the publisher and author.
Distributing copies of this e-book to others is a violation of international copyright law and infringes the rights of the legal copyright holder. This e-book may not be shared, copied, sold, given away, offered as a contest prize, or otherwise distributed to anyone other than the original purchaser. Distributing this e-book as part of any collection, or with any type of resale permission, is also strictly forbidden and a violation of copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This is my livelihood. PLEASE do NOT share, upload, or otherwise distribute this book. When people buy my books, it pays my bills. Please don’t steal from me. If you want me to keep bringing you more stories, I need to be able to pay my bills, so I ask that you please legally purchase my books. If you want to give this file to someone else, please purchase them a copy from a legal retailer. The links are on my website. Thank you.
www.LesliRichardson.com
Also by the Author
Please sign up for my author newsletter, where I post info about both my Lesli Richardson and Tymber Dalton pen names, and never miss a new release or update:
https://tymberdalton.com/newsletter/
Writing as Lesli Richardson:
The Bleacke Shifter Series:
1) Bleacke’s Geek
2) Geek Chic
3) A Bleacke Wind
4) Bleacke Spirit
5) A Bleacke Christmas
6) Geek-Speak
7) Bleacke Expectations
The Great Turning Series:
1) The Great Turning
2) The Great Turning: Into the Turn
3) The Great Turning: Future Ages
Governor Trilogy:
1) Governor
2) Lieutenant
3) Chief
4) Yes, Governor
5) Pet
Determination Trilogy:
(A stand-alone trilogy set in the same world as the Governor Trilogy.)
1) Dignity
2) Diligence
3) Desire
Devastation Trilogy:
(A stand-alone trilogy set in the same world as the Governor Trilogy.)
1) Dirge
2) Solace
3) Release
Inequitable Trilogy:
(A stand-alone trilogy set in the same world as the Governor Trilogy.)
1) Indiscretion
2) Innocent
3) Incisive
Devout Trilogy:
(A stand-alone trilogy set in the same world as the Governor Trilogy.)
1) Sacred
2) Profane
3) Penance
Maxim Colonies:
1) Jailmates
2) Farborn
3) Saudade
Of Boardwalks and Bison
Cross Country Chaos
Poly
Her Vampire Obsession (Midnight Doms Series)
Coming Soon:
Deviant Trilogy
How Many Times Do I Have to Say I’m Sorry?
Lesli Richardson is better known by her more prolific Tymber Dalton pen name. Please check out her website for more info on all her titles under both her pen names, including full book and series listings, trivia, character information, and more.
http://www.tymberdalton.com
Author's Note
Politics are messy, nasty, sexy, brutal, funny, impossibly complex, and a lot of fun to write about. (Mostly because they’re messy, nasty, sexy, brutal, funny, and impossibly complex.)
Since the focus of this trilogy isn’t the politics so much as it is the people, I’ve taken certain liberties and simplified a few things here and there.
But the kinky shit is absolutely realistic.
The Devout Trilogy is a spin-off featuring characters first introduced in the Determination Trilogy and Inequitable Trilogy, and is set in the same world as the books in the Governor Trilogy and others. It is a standalone trilogy that can be read separately from those books.
It is suggested the books in the Devout Trilogy be read in order:
Sacred
Profane
Penance
Dedication
This one’s for the Viking. He knows why.
Chapter One
Now — January 1
I know that by nearly all standards I am a lucky man leading a blessed life. Sitting in church today, listening to our minister give her sermon about blessings, helps me reflect upon that.
Blessings.
My biggest and brightest of blessings currently sits at my right side, his left hand resting on my thigh and my right arm draped around his shoulders.
Glancing down, the gold wedding band on his left ring finger is also proof positive of my blessings.
The ring I put there ten years ago, when I finally yanked my head out of my ass and realized the only person I needed stood right there in front of me, patiently waiting for me to move past my old trauma.
No matter what the ghosts of my past chattered at me at the time, and no matter how my wounded, aching heart scolded me for not moving on sooner.
No matter what my soul still cried out for. Here this man, after I confessed to him how fucked up I was, still wanted to be mine. Despite his own reservations about the institution of marriage, he willingly accepted the choice to live with me and the phantom shadows in my soul, assuring me he was strong enough to share me with those noisy ghosts.
Which have quieted, finally, thanks in no small part to Daniel’s love and devotion. Although there were countless days I never thought they would stop tormenting me.
One particular ghost, actually.
I shove that thought away and focus on Reverend Ormand’s words. I like this UU church and miss it when we’re in DC and can’t make it home to Massachusetts. We’ve attended it for most of our marriage, although Daniel wasn’t certain about it, at first. He was raised in a liberal Methodist church, and Reverend Ormand frequently blends in bits and pieces from other beliefs, not just Christianity.
Like me, it eventually grew on him, I suppose.
When we’re in DC, we attend an Episcopal church with a very inclusive minister and congregation, although we don’t manage to make it to services every Sunday. Frequently, work interferes, or one or both of us are too tired to make it.
We’re both members of a couple of prayer groups on the Hill, and sometimes making it to one or more of those is all we can cram in on any given week. I don’t like to attend church alone. I did enough of that before I met and married Daniel. Sometimes, it’s better for our personal well-being—and our marriage—to sleep late on a Sunday morning when we can and spend it focused on each other.
I’m reasonably certain God won’t hold it against either of us.
Especially since there are plenty of times Daniel’s on the road on Sundays, traveling to events with his boss, Congressman Marlowe Effings. Unlike senators such as myself, the US House reps are running for re-election every other year. Seems like they spend most of their time in campaign and fundraising mode.
I miss Daniel when he’s not home, but at least we work in the same town and can eat lunch or dinner together on the regular. We’ve made it work all these years, and I
But when he is home?
Then he’s all mine, and my boy gives me his undivided attention.
At least, until work calls him.
More than once, I’ve had to hold his phone up to his ear for him because I literally had him tied up and wasn’t about to untie him and ruin our play, but he needed to deal with an issue in one of the offices.
Daniel’s an old hat at this, though. He’s worked for Effings for years and is now his chief of staff. Started out as a campaign volunteer, which is what he was doing when we first met.
I’m getting ready to begin year three of my second term in the US Senate. And when we return to DC in three days, I won’t need to engage in office musical chairs. I was able to keep my current office, happy to swap my offered new assignment to larger digs with a re-elected former GOP senator from Wyoming, who’s already said this is his last term. He became a persona non grata to the GOP after switching from GOP to Independent when he filed to run for re-election for his fourth term. Due to his popularity, he still handily won re-election.
His margin of victory only rubbed salt in the GOP’s wound. For years, he frequently crossed the aisle and voted with Democrats regarding social issues, which vexed his fellow party members.
In exchange for trading him the larger office, I received his tiny “hideaway” office in the Capitol building. He lost his old office due to construction and has been desperate to find somewhere larger than the tiny space he’d been assigned. None of his former GOP colleagues would make a deal with him. From what I heard, incoming freshmen GOP senators were warned not to trade with him, either.
The incoming GOP freshman who would have gotten my current office is now getting the one the senior senator would’ve been assigned, because fuck you, that’s why.
Didn’t hurt that President-elect ShaeLynn Samuels—former Senator ShaeLynn Samuels—put in a word to let the horse-trade go through.
Hey, I’m always willing to reach across the aisle. Especially if it’ll benefit me or my constituents. Otherwise, it’d be unheard of for a second-term senator, majority party or not, to score one of those little gems. The hideaway office is literally smaller than the walk-in closet in our master bedroom here, but it’s convenient for quick, private meetings.
And quick, private blowjobs.
Believe me, my hubby and I plan on making good use of it for that.
Sometimes, I wonder if I hadn’t survived the pain and loss I endured early on, if I’d be able to appreciate what and who I have now.
Daniel.
As if he knows I’m thinking about him, he tips his head against mine and I kiss the top of it. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for his healing love and strength.
Blessings.
Something I’m smart enough to never take for granted again.
* * * *
“Your mind was far away, Master,” Daniel teases later as we leave church and hold hands for the walk to our SUV. We each carry our Bibles in the other. His breath billows and freezes in the cold air. “Did you even hear the sermon?”
Sometimes, he can read me too well.
I squeeze his hand and pull him back, almost behind me, when I spot an oncoming car I think is approaching a little too fast to stop in time for the slushy road conditions. We pause, waiting for it to pass or stop before crossing the street to where I parked our SUV.
“I was listening. She had me thinking, though.”
“Did she, now?”
“Yes.” The car nosedives as the driver brakes hard and comes to a stop, then waves us and a few others waiting cross to go ahead. Only then do I step forward and lead the way across the street. I take no risks with Daniel’s safety, as corny as that might sound. Yes, he’s a grown-ass man of thirty-eight, but this is one of the few ways I can show my love for him.
“Thinking about what?” he asks.
We round the Mercedes SUV’s front and I click the button on the key fob to unlock the doors. I open his door for him and hold it while he climbs in. Then I wait until I’m satisfied he’s safely tucked in to close it and walk around so I can slide behind the wheel. The Mercedes is comfortable for my six-five frame. I get cranky trying to cram myself into a small car.
Daniel prefers his tiny Honda. He won’t let me upgrade him into something better and it’s one of the few things I won’t overrule him on.
Yet.
It was the first new-new car he’d ever purchased. When we were dating and things grew serious between us, and we were negotiating limits and protocols, he made it a hard limit. I promised him then I’d never make him sell it.
I try to be a man of my word. Doesn’t mean I haven’t taken him window shopping at car dealerships every chance I get. It’s over twelve years old now. It’s in good shape, though, because he takes excellent care of it, and it’s got low miles.
Still haven’t tempted him into a larger, safer car.
If we’re going somewhere together, we take my Mercedes regardless of who’s driving, because I don’t like having my knees jammed into my chin. That’s what it feels like, to me anyway, when riding in his car.
When we’re in DC, we take cabs or ride-share services or walk. A car in DC is impractical for us. Rarely, when we actually need a car, we rent one.
I adjust the heat with his question still lingering in my mind, but he’s my good boy and knows I heard him. He doesn’t have to repeat himself.
He patiently waits me out.
“About blessings,” I say, meeting his gaze. “About how you’re my greatest blessing.”
He blushes, an adorable reaction I don’t get to see enough of because he’s damned hard to rattle. He reaches over and squeezes my wrist. “You’re my greatest blessing, too, Master.”
I lean in and kiss him but quickly disengage when my cock thickens in my slacks.
A decade married or not, it’d be bad form for a US senator to get caught fucking his husband in their car just outside their church.
* * * *
Our ride home is companionably quiet. We hold hands as I drive, accompanied by only the sound of the radio playing a jazz station. One of the many things I love so much about Daniel is there’s no need to fill silences with him. I don’t nervously chatter, I don’t feel anxious. His peaceful energy flows through me.
I revel in the quiet and soak in his calm. As if just by being in his presence helps soothe me and dampens the noisy chatter in my soul. No matter how crazy the world around him, he is always safely within the center of the storm, the calm and peaceful eye of the hurricane.
The anchor that prevents everyone else from breaking loose from their moorings, going adrift, and crashing into the rocky shoals.
Especially me. I didn’t realize how emotionally untethered I was until he reached out and pulled me to safety.
My soul has healed in infinite ways I never dreamed possible with his love. Just because I’m his Master doesn’t mean he doesn’t own me, too.
At home, I park in the garage and my good boy waits for me to get out and walk around to open his door. It’s a protocol I insisted on from day one, and it’s one I treasure because I don’t get to do it enough with him.
Catching his hand as he steps out, we pause, staring into each other’s eyes. My heart makes that clichéd little skip all the romance books and Hallmark movies are so fond of.
But it’s true.
He’s only the second person in my life to make that happen. It’s a miracle I can even feel it after what I endured.
I count it as another blessing.
His lips part as I lean in, but I only nuzzle my nose against his. “Don’t strip,” I whisper.
He smiles. “Yes, Master.”
Instead, I lift his hand to my lips and kiss it, then send him inside with a hard swat to his ass.
He knows what I want, and wastes no time hurrying on ahead.
