by Claire Adams
We arrived at the White House—that joyful beacon of white light. I hopped from the cab and tapped to the front door. However, I suddenly felt a hand on my elbow. I peered up, frightened, at the man beside me. “Nikolay?” I asked him.
“The president has requested we take a side entrance,” Nikolay stated, not a single ounce of happiness in his voice. I followed his lead, down the steps, around the side of the massive house. I had never entered from this particular door. He opened it for me and searched the interior before allowing me to enter.
“Where are we?” I whispered.
“Secret arena. The president holds his top-secret meetings here.”
“And I’m top-secret?” I whispered, unsure of how to feel.
“We certainly don’t think that will be true for long,” NIkolay muttered. Perturbed, I didn’t say anything in response.
His irritation with me made my heart cold, my fingers jittery. I followed behind him, down the steps, noting a soft glow at the back of a small room. He gestured with his massive arm, allowing me to pass him. My eyes were bright, trying to catch his. But he wouldn’t return my eye contact.
I entered the room and found a small table set with long, luxurious candles. The candlelight was the only illumination in the room, casting a soft, ghostly glow over everything. I could see Xavier in the light. He stood before me: the most handsome man I’d ever seen. I swallowed and walked toward him, feeling like I was going to meet my doom.
“Good evening, Amanda,” he stated, then. His voice was deep, filled with such passion for me.
“Hi,” I whispered. My word was so wispy when compared to voice. He brought the chair out for me and allowed me to sit just next to him. I brought the flounces of my dress around the chair. “This is beautiful.”
“I know,” Xavier said, looking only at me.
The chef came, then. He poured the wine and brought out an appetizer course of soup. I felt so on-edge that I couldn’t even eat. I picked up my spoon and then placed it back down once more, upset with myself. Why had I allowed all this to happen to me?
But Xavier started out simply with his conversation.
“You did a marvelous job today on the press release.”
“Thank you,” I murmured back, unsure. He had really ripped it apart during the meeting, and I wasn’t sure how I was meant to feel. I swallowed.
He set his spoon down. “You’re all right, aren’t you, Amanda?” he asked me.
I nodded brightly, falsely. “Of course.”
“Because you’ve been acting so strangely about us—ever since—“
Ever since we made love so passionately on camera? I wanted to ask. I kept my mouth shut.
I bowed my head. “I’m just a little nervous about things, you know.” I laughed it off. “But this—this evening with you is all I want. It’s all I want.” I hadn’t meant for those words to come out of me, but there they were—taking up space at the table, next to the glasses of wine and the simmering soup.
He brought his hand over the table and tapped it over mine, his eyes large. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I blushed, knowing he couldn’t see it in the candlelight. I made a light joke—something I couldn’t even remember right after I said it, I was so nervous. But he laughed so jauntily that he ultimately had to hold his stomach and lurch forward, cackling.
I laughed, too. Our conversation was so fluid together. I felt our connection growing, deepening. In the back of my mind, I knew we had so many problems. I knew that if Jason caught wind of this dinner, he would have the photographs out the door and to the news sources in an instant. But in this moment, laughing with Xavier, I was free. I wasn’t a campaign manager, and he wasn’t Pesident of the United States. We were just people who were falling in love with each other.
I could hardly eat my food, my main course, my dessert. I touched his chest, his arm. “Who were you in college, Xavier? Were you the ‘cool’ guy; were you the frat boy? Who were you?”
“Are you trying to compare me to your former college boyfriends? Because I can assure you, I did a good deal of studying. But with a forty in my backpack at all times, of course.” He winked at me, then. I clutched my stomach and laughed.
I pushed my plate back toward the center of the table, feeling so full even after only a few bites of the plump pumpkin ice cream. I licked my lips and gazed toward him, even as I caught his eyes on me. He blushed. “Would you like to go to the side room? There’s this lovely record player. I think it belonged to Carter.”
“President Carter?” I asked, laughing. “So this is the secret lair of a president. Fine foods and record players.”
Xavier shrugged. “And a few AK47s, but only for the occasional get-together.”
I laughed and followed him into the side room, where a small lamp was already set out next to the record player. I pieced through the records and found one that seemed perfect. “You like the Stones?” I asked the president, bringing the shining black circle into the world. It seemed to have a heart beat, a pulse in my hands.
I placed the record on the player and set the needle, bringing the jiving music into the world. I tapped my feet and swung my dress around, remembering the glory days when music could take you wherever you wanted to go.
“Sit with me,” Xavier stated, then, tapping at the area on the couch just next to him. I raised my eyebrow and tapped toward him, allowing myself to fall into his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling a bit of the alcohol taking hold of my mind.
“I like this music,” he whispered to me. Our noses were so close together. He closed his eyes. I felt like, in this moment, everything was perfect in the world. I didn’t have to think about his wife; I didn’t have to think about Jason and what he wanted me to do. I didn’t even feel his grip around my neck any more.
Suddenly, the president’s lips were on mine. I grew nervous and broke away in an instant, huffing lightly.
Xavier righted himself a bit, still clutching me close to him. “Are you all right? Do you want to go home?”
I shook my head, feeling his dick rising beneath me. I wanted him. I leaned toward him once more and our lips caught each other again, easing us into a strenuous make out session. I felt his tongue over mine, needing me. Wanting me. He wrapped his arms around my body and clutched at my dress, pulling it apart in a supreme ripping motion. I cried out into the world, knowing that the secret service agents could hear us, just a room away.
My breasts spilled into his face and he licked at the hard, red nipples with his tongue, bringing his fingers onto my hot, dripping pussy. I whimpered, feeling the mass of him beneath me. I brought my hands to his belt and began undoing it, allowing him to come free. I held the pulsing bulge in my hand and gazed at Xavier in the eye, not sure if this moment was real. Could it be? I couldn’t be sure.
I stood, bringing him with me. We stood half-naked, kissing each other. “Oh, baby. Yeah,” I called to him as he stuck three, then four of his fingers into my dripping pussy. I felt so hot for him, so natural there before him.
Suddenly, I pushed him down on the couch. I spun around and placed my body over his, my butt toward him.
“Yeah, baby,” he called to me. He grabbed my ass with his broad hands, and I caught his hot, pulsing dick in my pussy. I felt it all the way in my G-spot as I rode him backward, leaning further and further toward his feet. He jerked a bit as he felt the pleasure of it, spanking me all the time. I felt my breasts bouncing; I grabbed his balls with my hand and caught them up around my pussy, making him sigh and call out.
Right when I was about to come, I started calling his name: “Yes, Xavier. Yes!” And he reached up, in that moment, and brought his hand around my mouth. His grip was firm. My heart began to beat so fast. I knew I liked this, in a strange and kinky way. I knew this turned me on. But why--?
“Shh,” he murmured. “Shh.” He loosened his grip over my mouth.
I understood, then. I spun around once more and fo
und myself face-to-face with him, his great dick still in my pussy. I smiled at him. “Sorry, baby,” I whispered.
He nodded, his eyes closed and his eyebrows high on his face. He loved every inch of me, everything I did with my body. He brought his hands up to stroke my breasts, my side. I sighed into him, kissing his chest. I moved my pussy from his dick and instead brought my mouth around it, licking it with my great, dripping tongue. I pulled my whole mouth around it, all the while thinking—god, I’m giving the president a blowie. God, it’s happening.
Xavier brought his hand over my ear, over my hair as I did it, lightly stroking my skin. “God, baby. That’s so good,” he murmured. His dick was pulsing in my mouth.
Just as I sensed he was about to come, I removed my mouth from his dick and took a step back, away from the couch. I watched as he cowered in the pain of it—in the certainty that he would never come, not again. I laughed for a moment.
“Why do you do this to me?” he called, tapping his chest like a gorilla.
I shook my head and leaped into his arms once more. He swung my body around and penetrated me from above, allowing me to rest my head and enjoy his power and process over me as we made love like humans: face to face, with such passion exhibited between us.
“Oh, baby. I’m going to come,” he muttered. I could feel him so deep inside me, and I wanted this. I wanted this. I wanted to be in his arms. I couldn’t remember another time that had ever existed in my life, before this. Never.
Finally, he came, roughing into me until the storm was over. He fell from me and wrapped his arms around me and turned toward me, dipping his nose into mine. I sighed and allowed my head to loll back. We gazed into each other’s eyes. My happiness was growing in my heart, in my lungs. I could feel my toes tingling with it: the strange joy of this.
I knew it couldn’t last forever. But god if it wasn’t good for the occasional evening.
“This doesn’t have to be the last time,” Xavier suddenly blurting, jerking us out of the silence of the moment.
I pulled myself up on my elbow and gazed at him, uncertain of what to say. I sighed. “Xavier. You’re married,” I whispered. I kissed his nose, his mouth once more.
But Xavier didn’t take this excuse. Instead, his eyes grew more intense. He bit his lip and wrapped his fingers tightly around my naked shoulder. “Baby. I don’t think you really understand what I’m saying here,” he murmured.
My heart was racing. I was worried, suddenly, that this was all a scam—that Jason had put him up to this, that they had “caught me in the act” of forcing the president to cheat. I felt the anxiety pushing through my veins, and I pushed back, away from him. I placed my naked foot on the ground, planning my escape. God. I jostled my head. Why did I always let myself get into these terrorizing scrapes?
But he didn’t say anything for a moment. His face seemed completely calm. It wasn’t searching for anything from me. “I have to tell you something, I think,” he whispered.
I swallowed, preparing for the worst. The soft lamp and the music were dwindling in the backdrop of my mind, creating a soft palate, a sort of dream-like world. “What is it?” I whispered. I still felt the urge to run.
He swallowed. “I think—I think I love you.”
My jaw dropped.
My entire body grew so rigid, forcing me into a state of shock. My eyes said it all: I was panicked. I couldn’t be in love with this man—the married President of the United States. What’s more, I couldn’t be in love with anyone. I couldn’t fall in love. It was against my programming. I needed to be on my game all the time. I couldn’t falter away just for some man.
Although, I reminded myself, that was exactly what had been happening the previous few weeks. I’d been wrapped up in Jason’s game, constantly doing his bidding. I’d been too wrapped up with anger and resentment and fear—fear for my love of Xavier, surely—to really notice that I’d fallen for him.
But I had to snap out of it. “Xavier.” I brought my hand across his shoulder. “I really like this. I like what we’re doing here. It’s a great deal of fun.” I watched his eyes as they spoke of such disappointment. I swallowed. “But we’re just having fun. That’s all.”
Xavier righted himself on the couch, removing his arms from around my shoulders, my body. He hung his head in his hands, looking like the very portrait of sadness. He sighed.
Panicked, I flung myself up. I laid my hand on his back. “Xavier, that doesn’t mean I don’t want this—I don’t want this—“
But his face had caved in a bit. He shook his head slightly, biting his lip. “I’m going to leave her.”
My jaw dropped. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, suddenly, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Unsure of what to say, I just began stroking his back with my light fingertips, ready to listen.
“We’ve been growing apart for a long time. And now—with my feelings for you—“ He shook his head, then. His eyes were searching ever around the room. “I can’t turn my back on this.” He brought his hand on my knee and rubbed at the skin, tracing up toward my pussy.
God, how he knew his way around my body.
“With my feelings for you, I’m ready to take the final step.”
I just looked at him, my sexuality stirring. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or smack him across the face. I didn’t know how to tell him that leaving his wife and admitting this affair to the world would officially ruin my career. I didn’t know how to tell him that this—this love of his was exactly what I wanted, in so many words. And yet: it couldn’t be the answer to all my troubles.
“Say something,” Xavier whispered to me, bringing his hand up to my ear, gazing into my eyes. “Please, Amanda. Say something to me. Anything.”
But I couldn’t fid the words. I felt like I was caught between several different worlds, lost in a moment of strain and terror.
And somewhere, in the background, I could somehow hear Jason laughing as he plotted his to ruin my life—to alter the course of my love. I brought my hands around my waist and bit my lip, not ready to say anything at all.
Power #3 comes out April 2nd
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Power release schedule:
Power #1 - March 19th
Power #2 - March 26th
Power #3 - April 2nd
Power #4 - April 9th
Power #5 - April 16th
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams
