by Aubrey Irons
She slides off the desk, her face bright red as she smooths her skirt down and reaches up to pull her perfectly tousled hair into this stern looking ponytail. “Not the fucking of my life.”
I wink at her. “Sure it wasn’t.”
Because that wild look in her eyes says differently. The glow that just emanates from her is in pretty strong disagreement with her mouth, and that look says it was, in fact, the fucking of her life.
Fuck, it was for me.
“We just need to get out of here, okay?” she says hurriedly. She bites her lip as she look down. “And hide that,” she says, nodding at my cock still poking through the fly of my pants.
I grin. “Hide my cock? What, tired of it already?”
She blushes. “And hide that,” she says, gesturing at the condom in my hands.
I sigh. “Darlin, you need to calm—” The sound of giggling outside in the hallway suddenly has us both jerking our heads around.
“Okay, don’t panic.”
She panics, of course. She starts to hyperventilate actually, her eyes going wide in fear as she looks frantically around the room.
“In here,” I growl quickly, yanking her wrist towards the shelving unit on the wall next to the big curtained window. I yank out the copy of “Civil Disobedience” and punch in the key code on the hidden keypad, breathing a sigh of relief that it hasn’t been changed since I was removed from the Service. The bookcase swings in, and I’m pulling her through into the darkness inside.
“Wait!” She hisses. “My underwear!”
Fuck. Her panties are still lying right underneath the fucking desk. I grin at the thought of calling it the “fucking” desk, but then the side door to the office stars to open and it’s too late to do a damn thing about it. I swing the hidden door shut behind us just as the side door to the office starts to open, and then we’re hidden away as the voices enter the office.
The voices are hushed and giggling, and I turn to her, my brow raised.
“We shouldn’t be here!” A woman’s voice suddenly says with a giggle, and we both look at each other in shock at the same time.
Emma?
What the fuck is Maddie’s PA doing in the Oval Office?
I can’t really hear the murmured male response, but then there’s the very distinct sound of moaning and kissing, and then I don’t think either of us have any further questions about what exactly Emma is doing in there.
“Popular place,” I whisper in Maddie’s ear with a grin, before she frowns and pushes me away.
Outside in the office, we hear Emma gasp, and then she’s actually moaning. I raise an eyebrow at the sound of it. I mean, Maddie is uptight, but that girl makes her seem like well…you get the idea.
I turn to see Maddie’s eyes go wide in the dark of the passageway as she brings a hand to her mouth to hold in the gasp.
There’s something supremely sexy about seeing the girl that just got laid on the President’s desk in the Goddamn Oval Office suddenly get shocked by hearing Emma and whoever her paramour might be fooling around like that not four feet from where we’re hiding.
So sexy, in fact, that I very quickly can’t keep my damn hands off of her.
She jumps as I slide my hand over her ass, searching for the hem at the back of her skirt.
Maddie turns and shoots me a look as she swats my hand away, but I’m instantly putting it right back. This time, she doesn’t push me away. This time, I slide my hand down until I find the edge of the garment and snag it in my fingers, slowly pulling it over her bare ass.
Outside the room, Emma moans again, whispering something to whoever is out there with her before gasping out loud. My hand slides over the bare skin of Maddie’s ass, trailing down between her legs until I find the heat of her pussy.
She’s wet, and I can practically see her blush in the dark as I discover it.
“Hunter—” she whispers as I move close to her, my other hand sliding over her tits and up to her face. I cut off her protests with my lips against hers as my fingers sink into her soaking wet pussy and I feel her moan into my mouth.
Outside in the office, the sounds of panting and gasps of pleasure trickle through the bookshelf. Here in our dark little retreat, I silence Maddie’s wanton cries with my lips and my tongue as I curl my fingers forward inside her pussy and let my thumb circle her clit purposefully.
Her breath is staggered, short gasps in between our kisses, and she melts against my hand as she puts a hand on the wall next to her. Her nails scratch at the wood-paneled walls as she throws her head back in a silent cry of pleasure while my fingers push her towards the edge.
I can’t tell if it’s the thrill of being caught, like before when it was us out there in that office, or if it’s the illicit dirtiness of listening in on Emma as her moans start to hit a crescendo.
It could be both.
But either way, I know Maddie’s going to explode one more time, and I want to taste her when she does.
I shove her forward, both her palms flat against the wall as I drop to my knees behind her, pull her ass back, and bury my face in her sweet pussy. She starts to shake immediately, and I know it’s taking everything she has not to cry out as her knees buckle and her hand reaches back to rake through my hair.
Out in the office, Emma’s gasps hit their peak, and suddenly, she’s crying out. “I’m coming!”
It’s like flipping the switch on Maddie, because suddenly her legs practically give out as she takes a sharp intake of breath and collapses against the wall. Her orgasm erupts through her, at the same time Emma’s does on the other side of the wall.
I catch her as she stumbles to her knees, bringing her back into me and holding her close as her breathing goes ragged.
“Oh my God, the time!” Emma’s voice sounds tight, and much more like her normal demeanor than when she was coming moments before. There’s the sound of more giggling, the rustle of clothes, and the jangle of a belt buckle. Then the whispered words of the two in the other room fade away.
Maddie whirls to me. “You’re fucking insane, do you know that?”
“Maybe you just bring out the crazy in me.”
She bites her lip. “We have to get out of here before someone comes looking for—”
“This way,” I tug her arm further down the hallway.
She halts, her eyes going wide at me in the darkness. “There’s another exit?!”
I grin. “Well, yeah.”
“But! But we just sat there and listened to them! And we could have been exiting this way?”
I wag my eyebrows at her and I shoot her another grin. “Yeah, but wasn’t that a whole lot more fun?”
She sighs dramatically as she brushes past me and stalks down the hallway.
Yeah, WAY more fun.
25.
Hours later, I’ve managed to detach myself from Hunter and head to my room — alone, thank you very much — to catch my breath.
Catch my breath and take a much needed shower, I might add.
Oh my God, I did it again. Just like the first time, I let go with him, and God did it feel good to feel him like that again.
I catch and then hold my reflection in the bathroom mirror after I start the shower, and I grin at what I see. God, I look flushed, and I’m grinning like a big idiot. It’s like I’m high off of being fucked liked like that by him; like a chemical rush from feeling him drive into me like that, from feeling his mouth on me.
I can still feel him between my legs, and I can still feel how he filled me and made me come.
“Relax, no one’s going to know you just got the fucking of your life.”
“NOT the fucking of my life.”
Yeah, wrong; so very very wrong. Because that back there was beyond the “fucking of my life.” I can’t even imagine getting fucked better than that. And it sounds so crude to say out loud, but that’s actually exactly what it was: getting fucked.
It was raw, and hot, and so dirty, and fucking incredible, to the poi
nt where I can’t even imagine something better.
I can’t imagine a cock better than his for that matter.
I let the scalding water of the shower seep into my skin, and inhale slowly, letting the steam fill me.
I know later when I step out, that the warm tingle I feel is from much more than the shower. I know the naughty, erotic shiver that tingles over my skin as I dry off has nothing to do with water temperature or hotel-soft towels.
It’s the lingering memory of his touch, and the way my body still craves more.
And I do want more. It’s that thought that’s going through my head as I start to pull panties on before I grin and place them back in my dresser, knowing I’ll be seeing him later.
God, who ARE you, Madison Adams?
I’m grinning as I step out of my room, and I’m glowing as I practically float down the stairs in the cute but sexy skirt and sweater I’ve picked out, because that’s the girl I’ve apparently become. The girl who goes all gaga after getting the fucking she needed, apparently.
I roll my eyes at myself as I round the corner towards the main living area of the family quarters and bump squarely into my mother.
“You’re home!”
She frowns as she smiles peculiarly at me, and it’s then that I realize she’s standing with someone else.
“Yes, Madison, I’ve just landed,” she laughs and shakes her head as she gives me a quizzical look. After a beat, she moves past my peculiar greeting before she turns beaming to the young woman next to her. The gorgeous leggy blonde looks bored as she smiles thinly at me.
“Madison, you’ll never guess who I just learned was staying here in D.C. for a little while!” My mother smiles again at the girl. “I just had to have her come to the House and visit.”
I frown and my mother suddenly shakes her head.
“Oh, sorry, I thought you’d recognize her,” she smiles at the girl and then back to me. “Madison, this is Anya Carle, your stepbrother’s very mysterious fiancé!”
“I thought you broke up?”
The words blurt out of my mouth before I can stop myself, and my mother scowls as she shoots me a stern look. “Madison!”
Anya smiles, her perfect white teeth flash behind flawless painted lips as she reaches up to push a lock of perfect fucking blonde hair behind her stupid perfect little ear.
“Oh, well, Hunty and I have quite the backstory, but I think we both always knew this is where we’d finally end up.”
What?
And it just takes one look at her face, that smile, and this whole thing for me to see it.
Holy shit, she’s being serious.
That’s when the other shoe drops: Hunter has a girlfriend, and that hot, dirty sex I just had with him just got a whole lot dirtier, and not in a good way. It’s more in the ‘I’m the other woman’ kind of way; in the cheating way.
That fucking asshole. What was I, the side piece? The girl he couldn’t have so he took anyways?
“I’d call it being pissed at being played into being your little side dish.”
“Where do you get these terms, by the way?”
I want to hit myself for falling or his bullshit charm and his cocky, cavalier, bad boy attitude. I want to hit myself for swallowing all those outright lies of his.
That’s not the only thing you swallowed.
My face burns in shame at the little voice in my head.
“Madame President, your cabinet meeting starts in fifteen minutes,” one of my mother’s security detail says quietly, leaning forward from behind her.
She turns and makes a face at Anya, “Oh, dear, I lost track of time.”
“Oh, that’s fine, Eleanor, I’ll be in town all week!” She tosses her hair back, “Well, maybe a bit longer, actually.”
Eleanor? Oh fuck off, I growl to myself, feeling my hands tighten into fists at my side.
Anya turns and smiles this big plastic smile at me. “Lovely to meet you, hon.”
“Charmed,” I say sweetly, forcing the same plastic-y grin to my face that slowly drops into a grimace as a Secret Service agent escorts her away.
Suddenly, the agents around us stiffen, their fingers all on their earpieces. One of them suddenly mutters “code nine,” and they all reach for their guns. And my heart jumps up into my throat.
“Ma’am, I need you to come with us,” one of them says evenly, his face stern and frozen as he addresses my mother. “Both of you, if you would.”
My mother scowls. “Oh what is it?”
“Security threat in your office, ma’am.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is it ticking? Covered with white powder?”
“Ma’am, I’m not at liberty to—”
My mother sighs, “Oh, give me that,” she holds her hand out and, with a quick dart of his eyes to the other agents, the man hands her his side radio.
“This is President Adams,” she says authoritatively into the radio. “What exactly is in my office?”
She frowns as the earpiece she holds to her ear squawks, and then she’s rolling her eyes and pursing her lips.
“We’re fine,” she says, raising her brow to the other agents. “Let’s get to that cabinet meeting, shall we?”
I frown. “Mom?”
“Oh,” my mother’s cheeks flush a little as she makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I appears your stepbrother and his lady friend…” She trails off and chuckles. “It appears I need to talk with him about what’s appropriate behavior in this place, and where.”
“Huh?”
My mother’s shakes her head and purses her lips. “Apparently the Service just found a pair of Ms. Carle’s, well, undergarments in my damn office.”
Oh my God.
She wants to talk with Hunter about “what’s appropriate”? What’s appropriate? Because what the two of us just did in that office is most certainly not appropriate, and now my panties are in Federal custody. My fucking ripped thong is probably now in an anti-terror evidence lab being analyzed by the Goddamn CIA or something.
Yeah, we left appropriate behind a long freaking time ago, and we are now officially in free fall.
26.
What the…
I frown as I try and push open the secret door into Maddie’s room via the bookshelf, only to confirm that it’s just not opening. I narrow my eyes at it and try shoving with my shoulder, but the damned thing is fucking not moving, like it’s accidentally locked or something. Of course, that’s not true, because I happen to know it doesn’t lock. And that can only mean there’s something holding it shut, and something suddenly tells me that there’s nothing accidental about it.
Which means she’s purposefully keeping me out.
Well, shit.
I stop pushing at the door and sit there fuming in the dark with my cock half-hard in my pants and my plans of burying it deep inside Maddie’s pussy vanishing in the air around me.
It’s been six hours, tops, since the explosive afternoon in the Oval Office. I’m trying to wrack my brain about anything stupid or out of line I may have said or done since then, but I actually haven’t even seen her since then.
What, did she want me to send fucking flowers or some shit?
I let out a long sigh as I frown once more at the closed door before I shake my head and go back to my room.
There’s something strange about seeing the President of the United States in a bathrobe. It’s like seeing your teachers outside of class as a kid, or watching the Santa Claus in the mall take his fake beard off to light a cigarette. It’s a little weird.
I’ve been at the breakfast table with Eleanor and my dad before, but that was before this was all public. I mean, I’m sure people had their hunches and their guesses, but dad and her still made a point of keeping things as professional as possible, which, I have to say, I can get behind.
But the cat’s out the bag now, the media is devouring the story, and honestly, I’m not sure I’ve seen my dad this happy in a long fucking time. They’re
both in bathrobes, actually, drinking coffee, reading the Post, and generally acting like a couple. I’m even about to say something nice about it, when Maddie walks in looking like the ice-queen herself.
She doesn’t even glare at me, or shoot me a look, or say shit to me. She flat out ignores me, which is even more obnoxious since I still don’t know what the fuck crawled up her ass.
She grabs a mug of coffee and drags a section of the paper over to the far end of the counter, where she slumps onto a stool.
I give it about three whole seconds before I roll my eyes and move down towards her.
“Suddenly a Nationals fan?”
She looks up with a scowl on her face as I grin and nod at the sports section in her hand.
“Not a great season to jump on that bandwagon, you know.”
She sighs and snatches the paper away from me, turning her back to me.
Ooookay.
“Look, were you expecting flowers or something?” I hiss into her ear, glancing towards our parents who are lost in some sappy grinning conversation on the other side of the kitchen.
“I was expecting the impossible, so, jokes on me,” she mutters under her breath, sneering at me.
“Gonna have to translate that one for me, doll.”
“No problem, how about ‘you’re a fucking shithead’? You get that okay?”
“Yo comprendo,” I mutter back, furrowing my brow at her. “Look what’s your fucking problem?”
“You, Hunter; you’re my fucking problem.” She snatches up her coffee mug, scoots the stool back, and breezes out of the room.
“Oh, are you a Nationals fan, Hunter?” I jerk my head up to see Eleanor smiling at me in her bathrobe as she pours more coffee into her mug. “Terrible season, isn’t it?”
I corner her at the top of the stairs by the doors to both our rooms, and she jerks her arm back when I grab her.
“What, Hunter?”
“You better not have anything on under those PJs, you know.”
She rolls her eyes, but this time, it’s not that cute little embarrassed flirty eye roll. It’s a ‘fuck off’ eye roll.
