by Aubrey Irons
“Okay, so sorry for not knowing where anything in this giant house is,” Madison says with a roll of her eyes as she sinks into the bench around the table and sips at her coffee. Jesus, fluffy pink robes should not be that fucking hot on someone. Stupid, fluffy pink mom robes should not fit across her tight little ass so perfectly, and should not ride up above her knee so high when she sits that it’s taking every ounce of restraint not to let my eyes drag up those perfect stems of hers.
I briefly imagine her wearing the same black lace bra and slip underneath it that she wore last night.
“You know,” Eleanor says, putting her paper down and breaking my spell. “You’re right, you should know your way around this place since you’re going to be here for the next few months.”
I catch Maddie sending a quick glance my way and hold it, wagging my eyebrows and grinning at her until she hurriedly looks back into her coffee.
“Hunter?”
I jerk my head up to the beaming Madame President. “Ma’am?”
“Why don’t you show Madison around?” She says with a warm smile. “I assume you know this place quite well by now, what with the training exercises and all.”
I mean, she’s right. You know how they say cab drivers in London have to know the name and whereabouts of every street in the city? Well I know every single inch of the White House. Every window, door, secret door, safe room, weapon’s cache, alarm, strike point, and guard post. By heart. Can’t wait to let that wealth of knowledge go to absolute shit when I’m forced off the job.
Eleanor smiles at me before she turns to raise a brow at Maddie. “I’m sure she could get a great tour and lay of the land from you.”
I grin hugely while no one but Maddie is looking my way, and mouth the word “lay” salaciously with a wicked look in my eye, loving the way she goes bright red and shoots me a murderous look before taking a big gulp of her coffee.
I mean, this is a terrible idea. Alone time, with her, with the knowledge I have of secret, un-monitored places in this giant house? Yeah, horrible idea, given my raging hard-on and sinfully inappropriate thoughts about her.
But I smile broadly at the President, acutely aware of Madison glaring at me from behind her mother. “I’d be happy to, Madame President,” I say formally.
She sighs and makes a face. “Oh, Hunter, I’m so sorry for the formalities, you know.”
“No, I know, ma’am.”
She smiles at me. “Give it a few months, both of you, and then ‘Eleanor’ will work just fine.” She puts an arm around her daughter. “Once we’re all one big family.” Her daughter all but audibly groans as I do everything to hold back the chuckle in my throat.
“So!” I say gleefully, rubbing my hands togethers. “Ready for that tour?”
“So, how was your night?” I’m honestly asking just to make small-talk, since she’s insisted on giving me the fucking silent treatment ever since her mom got me to take her on this little tour of the house. Except then she blushes, and suddenly, my cock grows a little tighter in my pants.
It’s not like she goes bright red, but it’s just enough of a pink glow to her cheeks, and just the smallest hint of a smile on those lips that she doesn’t quite hide fast enough that suddenly has my full and fucking undivided attention. Because I’m not actually a mind reader, but I’d know how this girl looks when she’s turned on any day. Any day, or say, last night, for instance.
It’s the eyes that gave it away, really. It’s the way she looked around with that glassy sort of intense look in them. Then of course there was the pink flush, the way she shivered whenever I took the liberty of putting my hand on her, or the way her breath would catch whenever I caught her staring from across the tent.
Yeah, she was turned on last night, and the sudden blush now at my small-talk questions has me way more interested in what went on last night after she slammed the door in my face.
“Oh, that good, huh?” I grin as she whirls at me, her mouth wide open, a look of horror on her face.
“I was not!”
“Not what, I didn’t say anything.”
The flush grows deeper then, and I only grin wider knowing that my suspicions have weight to them. “So, that’s a yes on you breaking in the Lincoln bedroom on a solo mission?”
“You are disgusting, has anyone ever told you that?” She’s glaring at me, her face looking impossibly cute with that adorable little scowl on it. She’s pouting that mouth and those lips at me, but it’s not working as intended. If she’s trying to convey disgust, it ain’t working, because all I want to do is mash my lips against hers and press her up against the wall behind her until she’s moaning into my mouth.
“At times, definitely, but I’m not wrong, am I?”
She rolls her eyes and blows air out her lips. “So wrong, on every level.”
“Liar.”
“And just what am I lying about, Hunter?”
I grab her wrist as she tries to waltz on ahead, and she gives this cute little gasp as I yank her back a step. “You’re lying that you didn’t run into that bedroom last night, lock the door, and think the dirtiest things you could think about yours truly while you put your fingers all over that adorable little pussy of yours.”
I worry for a second that I’ve actually gone too far at the look of absolute shock and disbelief on her face at my words; that is, until she seems to catch herself, and suddenly the corners of her mouth are curling up in this wicked little grin. “Oh, Hunter, what’s the matter? Jealous?” Her eyes flash at me, and I can feel my dick twitch a little under my uniform.
I give her the grin right back though. “Insanely.” I jerk my head to a door next to us in the quiet hallway of the East Wing. “You know, I happen to know this office is open and camera free, if you’d like to show me the highlights.”
She grins and purses her lips, shaking her head at me sadly. “Oh Hunter, Hunter, Hunter; my pussy is actually none of your concern.” She winks as she turns to walk away again. “However adorable it may be,” she tosses over her shoulder.
Well shit, little Maddie Adams has a pair, it seems.
And the fact that this girl can toss it right back has me very, very intrigued. Far more intrigued than I should be.
…Like anything going through my head about this girl so far is anything close to appropriate.
I make it another twenty feet down the hall with her before I can’t stand it anymore. Hearing Madison Adams say the word “pussy” is literally my breaking point, and with a growl, I’m grabbing her arm and yanking her into the next office.
“Hey!” She hisses, but I ignore her as I march us across the empty room to the bookcase.
This bookcase, I happen to know from being in the Service, camouflages the entrance to the hidden escape hallway.
“What the-” Maddie gasps as I pull the copy of “Tom Sawyer” off it’s perch and twist the little brass bust of Teddy Roosevelt, swinging the bookshelf inward to reveal the long, dimly lit tunnel.
“What in the world-” Her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open as she marvels at the doorway. But I don’t give her much time to admire it before I’m pulling us through and shoving the door shut behind us.
“Why would they build this?” She whispers, biting her lip as I slowly push her back against the wall behind her. Her eyes glint something teasing and something needy at me in the low light.
“In case you’re in trouble,” I growl, moving closer to her, my eyes locked on those perfectly pouty pink lips.
“But…I’m not in trouble,” she whispers, her chest rising and falling as I move against her. She smells like honey and vanilla, and something vaguely floral, and I want to bury my face in that scent and drink it in. I want to peel away the layers of her clothes until it’s just her skin I’m smelling; just her that I’m touching, inhaling, and tasting.
“Not yet maybe,” I say, moving my hand up to push her hair back over her ear.
She swallows heavily, and I can feel my cock about re
ady to tear a hole through my pants as I feel her hips just barely arch up to press against me.
Fuck the job, fuck the duty, fuck the situation with our parents; all I want to do is fuck this girl again. All I want to do is wrap those legs around me, and slide every inch of my cock inside that utterly perfect, tight, wet pussy of hers.
“That night was a one time thing, you know,” she says, utterly unconvincing.She looks like she’s one second away from moaning out loud.
“Oh, of course,” I growl, leaning my face closer to hers.
“I’m serious.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I can feel the words breathe across my lips.
“Definitely.”
And I’m about four millimeters away from bruising my lips to hers, when my fucking earpiece squawks.
The moment shatters like glass as she suddenly gasps and shoves me away, wriggling out from between me and the wall as I groan and knock the wall with palm of my hand.
“What?” I growl irritably into my mouthpiece.
A routine check-in. Wonderful.
I’m still okaying everything with the radio op when I glance up to see her glaring at me as she pushed the secret door back open to the office. “Maddie-”
“I’m serious, Hunter,” she spits out. “A one time thing.”
And this time she is serious.
“Get it out of your head, I mean it.” Her eyes flash at me, but not in the way they did moments ago. This time it’s angry and resolute. Then she’s marching out of the hidden hallway and away from me.
Fuck.
9.
Three days later, and we haven’t spoken much. Under normal circumstances of course, that would be easier, but I think we can establish that living in the White House, as the daughter of the President, with a twenty-four hour security detail, is anything but normal circumstances.
And of course, that’s not to say we haven’t talked at all, because that would be impossible seeing as he’s always there. He’s always around, even off the clock, so to speak. He’s there at the breakfast table, smirking at me with that confident, cocky grin, or burning holes in me with those piercingly blue eyes at the dinner table with his dad, my mom, and Dexter.
So when I find myself alone in one of the side libraries off in the West Wing, it’s like taking a timeout from the whirlwind that my mind has been ever since that day behind the secret bookshelf.
Because I haven’t stopped thinking about it for three days. I can’t stop thinking about it, or him, or how he felt that day.
The door creaks open, and I look up sharply from my book with a scowl on my face. Except it’s not the older Ryan boy who pokes his head in; it’s his brother.
“Oh,” Dexter says, frowning. “Are you like, hiding out or something?”
“I-” I shrug and smile. “No, come on in.”
He grins, a look not totally unlike that of his older brother. “You just looking to escape Captain America?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Captain America?”
“Hunter,” he says with a roll of his eyes. He moves to the window and slumps down on the wide sill. “I’ve been calling him that ever since he went full commando and joined the Marines like a complete spazz.”
I grin; the name sort of fits, honestly.
“I mean talk about a buzz-kill. Don’t get me wrong, he’s my brother, but that guy used to so much fun before he got deployed.”
Something about the way Dexter says it makes me think that “fun” maybe means more “reckless and wild” than just knowing how to have a good time.
“Well, he came back, which is always a good thing.”
Dexter shrugs. “Yeah.” He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and draws out a pack of cigarettes, making me raise my eyebrows.
“Um, I don’t think you can actually smoke in here.”
“I’ll crack the window.”
I frown. “I definitely don’t think you can do that either.”
He winks before he pulls something that looks like a paperclip out of his pocket and starts to twist it around some of the security wires leading away from the window. I watch with my mouth open as he slowly cracks the window open, and no alarm goes off.
He turns as I raise my eyebrows at him, and he grins. “Yeah, take a wild guess who taught me how to pull that off.”
Hunter, of course.
He brings a cigarette to his lips and flicks the lighter in his other hand, bringing it to the end as he inhales.
“You know, as your soon to be stepsister, I have to tell you that's a gross habit.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, thanks.”
“And dangerous.”
“Hey, my brother joined the Marines, I smoke. I’d say the life expectancy of my escape is leagues beyond his.” I raise an eyebrow at his shitty choice in wording, but he stops me with a shrug and a raised hand. “And yes, I’m always this difficult, before you ask.”
I grin. “So why did he join the Marines? Your dad?”
Dexter snorts. “Hell no. No, no way. If anything, he’d have not joined just to throw it in the Major’s face.” He slumps back against the window frame, blowing smoke outside into the chilly January afternoon. “Probably my mom. I dunno, I was young when she died, but I know Hunt took it bad.” He takes another pull of his cigarette. “She was pretty awesome though, I remember that.
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, shit happens, right?” Dexter shrugs. “How about your dad, you ever see him?”
“Only in the papers, occasionally.”
He grins at me. “He seems like a tool, no offense.”
“None taken, he is.”
Mom and I don’t actually really ever talk about my dad, because we don’t need to. We don’t need to remember someone who left us like that when I was so young, and especially someone who’s never really made the effort to be a part of either of our lives.
My dad is basically a trust-fund kid run amok. A young hot-head my mom met when she was in law school and fell for. He pretty quickly fell for someone else, or rather many someone elses and left her with law school debt and a four year old. Basically all I know about him is that he spends most of his time in Europe, dates the occasional far-past-her-prime socialite, and sometimes makes appearances in shitty tabloids.
Beyond that, I don’t really need to think about him.
“I can’t believe your mom won not only as a woman but as a divorcée. I mean, I voted for her, but this country is full of douchebags.”
I shrug. “Pretty sure it’s why she won.”
And it is. Single mom? Divorcée? A take-no-shit attitude? Yeah, you better believe that rang true with her core demographic. And really, I get it, and I get why me leaving school the way I did grates on her gears. I also get why even if she wants to marry him, she’s loathe to make the whole thing with Alec Ryan public. Because she’s strong on her own, and she knows it.
I immediately want to change the subject.
“So that’s why Hunter joined the Marines? Escape?”
Dex snorts. “Dude, he and dad both needed to not be around each other; big time.”
“Do either of them know you’re smoking?” I say, nodding with my chin at the smoke curling up from the cigarette between his fingers.
He eyes me, like he’s trying to read me. “Not unless you squeal.”
“What if I do?”
“I think that’d make you a pretty shitty stepsister.”
I laugh. “Agreed. Look, just — I don’t know — cut back or something, okay?”
“Deal.” He grins at me. “You know, you’re not so bad.”
“Oh, gee, thanks,” I say sarcastically.
He laughs again. “No, dude, I mean — I don’t know, you’re not as stuck up as I thought you’d be.” He grins. “Plus it's awesome to have another college reject around to take some the heat off me.”
I flip him off as he laughs in the window. “Hey, I’m just taking some time off. I had a pretty shitty semester last year, you kno
w,” I add, suddenly frowning as I think about Harry. “You should go back and finish your undergrad, you know.”
“Yeah, she says the same thing.”
“Huh?”
Dexter quickly frowns as shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“No, who?”
“Just this girl,” he says with a shrug.
I smirk as I raise my eyebrows; how the heck is Dexter sneaking around?
He snuffs out his cigarette on the windowsill outside and flicks it away before he closes the window and reconnects whatever he undid with the wiring. “Anyways, sorry you’re stuck with Hunter twenty-four-seven.”
“Eh, it’s not so bad.”
“Nah, he’s not bad at all.” He shrugs and flashes that Ryan-brother grin again. “I mean, a huge tool after the military, but he’s a good guy.”
“Were you fucking smoking in here?”
I have no idea how much time has passed when I look up again from my book, this time to see Hunter scowling at me from the doorway. “And hello to you too,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “And no, of course I wasn’t.”
“It smells like it.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
“Dex?”
I say nothing, and his stern looking face suddenly breaks into a grin. “I see you got the ‘be cool and you can be on my team’ shit from him.”
I keep my mouth shut and he rolls his eyes. He steps into the room and shoots a glance at the window where his brother was sitting before and smirks. “You know, I taught him that.”
How the fuck did he see that?
He saunters over and slumps into the arm chair across from me, steepling his hands and grinning wickedly at me like he’s holding something back. I frown and lower the book in my hand. “Oh what.”
The grin spreads across his face. “You know, you’re pretty bad at this.”
I frown. “At what?”
“Avoiding me.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, get over yourself. I’m not avoiding you, dick.”
“Clearly,” he says with a grin, spreading his arms wide.
“There’s no way you’re seriously always this full of yourself.”
