Shameful | Congressman!Kylo x Reader

Chapter 7: Fits Like a Glove

Suffice to say, I spend the rest of my workday in a fucking frenzy. It's taken everything for me to not to peek inside of those bags. They're taunting me, shoved into a corner, crisp and unopened. The small bag of lingerie is tormenting me the most, but that really goes without saying.

I've never been in this kind of situation before, and, the more that I think about it, I start to feel totally sick with guilt. It's one thing to receive a small thank-you present from your employer to, like, boost morale during a particularly hard week. But it's a whole other thing to get a whole department store's worth of luxury bullshit stuffed under your desk one day like a perverted treasure hunt. It's as if he wants me to know that he's capable of dropping a couple racks on any given day like it's nothing. It almost feels degrading. In a matter of hours I've gone from feeling giddy to feeling violated. Who does he think he is?

And I refuse to look in the direction of the glass partition. I can slightly hear Ren's muffled baritone voice as he chats up donors and consultants and pollsters. He's keeping busy on purpose. But I can almost feel his eyes boring into me from behind his desk. I move my hand up to rub my temples in frustration, and sneakily look up toward his office from between my fingers. Lo and fucking behold, he's staring straight at me, leaned all the way back in his desk chair. It's as if this is all just a fucking game to him, and he's winning.

I suddenly get a Slack notification.

Take a look inside. You're hurting my feelings.

Okay, now I'm just plain angry. I glance furtively at the time— it's 3:15pm. A little under two hours before I usually leave the office. Looking back up toward him, I slowly close my laptop. He furrows his brows and narrows his eyes for a second in confusion, clearly trying to figure out where I'm going with this.

I begin fully packing up my stuff, deciding then to avert my eyes until the second I'm ready to leave.

As I sling my bag over my shoulder and stuff my phone in my pocket, I turn toward my door, leaving those unopened bags behind.

I shoot Ren a glance, and he's already halfway out the door of his office, headed straight toward me.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" His raspy voice echoes slightly in the hallway. Is that a hint of desperation I hear?

"Don't think so..." I play clueless, looking up at him. "I finalized next month's GOTV plans, drafted a press release — I Slacked it to you earlier to look at, so you should probably get on it — and checked in with our vol coordinators. So I thought I'd take an early day. See you tomorrow!" With that, I turn around and briskly walk toward the elevator.

I spend the afternoon doing whatever the fuck I please. Anything to get my mind off of the thousands of dollars of shit sitting in my office. I pick up travel-sized toiletries for the campaign tour, call my mom, deep-clean my condo, and schedule a dick appointment after Ryan's shift is over. He'll have to do for now. Like I said, I need as many distractions as possible.

—

A couple hours later, I find myself waddling around Ryan's bedroom, searching for my panties that he'd tossed away indiscriminately. This time, I had an actual orgasm, which is terrific and unexpected. Especially unexpected was the fact that the image of Kylo Ren leaned back in his desk chair was the thing that brought me over the edge.

"That was fun," Ryan says, not moving from his spot on his bed or offering to help me out. Classic. "You're fun. I have a lot of fun with you," he adds wistfully.

As I pull my panties on, I muster a response. "Yeah. Me, too."

"You seem kinda distracted. Did I really fuck you that good? Your brain turn to jelly?" He asks, more to himself than to me.