Mr. Prime Minister

by Jessica Ashe

  Yoga is supposed to clear the mind, but my mind is only on one thing. I can’t breathe deep enough or slow enough to resist the urges coursing through my body. I want to grab his fingers and shove them inside me. I want to drop to my knees and take his cock between my lips. If that’s not a yoga pose already then I’ll add it to the list of new ones I’m creating.

  “Downward dog,” he growls in my ear.

  I drop down to my hands, spread my feet wide, and shove my ass up as far into the air as it will go. Wade walks behind me and stands between my legs, just as I hoped he would. He presses his cock between my ass cheeks. My thin yoga pants have never felt thicker. They’re keeping me from the thing I want most in the world right now.

  His cock is pressed so hard against my entrance, I can feel it throbbing with eagerness. I want to rub my ass up and down the shaft, but he’s ordered me to stay in position, and I don’t break his rules.

  “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks quietly.

  “Yes,” I blurt out before he’s even finished the question. “I want it so much.”

  “Answer ‘yes, Mr. Prime Minister.’ Do you want me to fuck your tight little snatch?”

  “Yes, Mr. Prime Minister.”

  “Good girl.”

  My legs are spread wide, but Wade still manages to pull my yoga pants down enough to expose my pussy. He disappears for a few moments and I hear a foil wrapper open as he sheathes himself. My pussy starts dripping in anticipation and I hope I can hold the pose long enough for him to give me a good fucking.

  He moves behind me slowly, his hands caressing my ass, and fingers teasing my slit. I don’t say a word, even though I’m desperate for him to fuck me.

  Then his cock parts my folds. Wade plunges himself deep inside me, my hands staying firm against the mat as I take his entire length.

  “I can feel your pussy pulsing around my cock,” Wade growls.

  “That’s because your cock drives me insane.”

  He impales me with his cock again, filling me with such pleasure that my arms go weak. I drop to my elbows and knees, unable to hold the pose while my entire body feels like it’s made of jelly.

  Wade thrusts slowly at first, but he quickly builds up a rhythm and starts pounding my pussy hard and deep. I’ve never experienced bliss like this on a yoga mat before, no matter how good the instructor.

  “Do you like having eight inches of thick cock in your tight, wet pussy?”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply. “I want more.”

  Wade thrusts again, and somehow goes even deeper, his cock finding parts of my body no one else—man or machine—has ever explored. I moan again, completely ignoring the potential to be overheard or caught in the act. There’s nothing I can do about that now.

  He grabs hold of my hair and pulls me up towards him. “You’re mine,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you like this every day.”

  “Twice,” I reply with a whimper. “God, Wade, keep going. I want to come all over your cock.”

  He lets go of my hair and his fingers dig into my hips as he fucks me hard and rough. A part of me thinks I shouldn’t love this, but I do. A lot. The room explodes with light as another thrust sends me over the edge.

  I try to tell him I’ve come, but I can’t get out any words. Instead I collapse forward on the mat as Wade keeps pounding my pussy until he groans and slowly comes to a stop. He softens inside me and finally pulls out. We both lay on our mats for the five minutes of meditation.

  Yoga will never be the same again.

  I’m still sticky with sweat when I force myself up off my yoga mat with weak, trembling arms and get dressed. “You have a meeting in five minutes,” I tell Wade.

  “I always have a meeting in five minutes.”

  “You don’t always do that right before a meeting, though.”

  Wade smiles at me, but I can tell it’s forced. If he can’t relax after nearly an hour of yoga and then sex, there might be no hope for him.

  “Do you want me in the meeting?” I ask.

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “I don’t mind being there if it helps.”

  “You should stay away.”

  I frown. “You mean just from the meetings, or generally?”

  The hesitation before his response answers my question. “We need to be more careful,” Wade replies eventually. “I don’t want to get caught with you.”

  “That didn’t stop you fucking me in your office in the middle of the day,” I reply angrily.

  “I couldn’t help myself. I told you yoga wasn’t a good idea.”

  “It’s not the yoga that’s the problem.”

  Wade sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I just…. I want to keep you out of the spotlight. When this goes public, and it’s only a matter of time now, you’re going to be on the front page of every newspaper in the country.”

  Tell me about it. One of them will be the paper I’m supposed to be working for.

  “I don’t care,” I reply.

  “You should care. The press can be brutal when they want to be, and some of them will start sniffing around for a bigger story. If you have any skeletons in your closet, they will come out.”

  Stephanie promised that no one would find out about my involvement with her paper. Only four people know: Stephanie, Meghan, me, and the guy who helped fake my history and get me the interview. Stephanie and Meghan would be committing career suicide if they rat me out, and the forger wouldn’t want law enforcement sniffing around.

  “I’d rather not be the subject of a news story,” I admit, “but I’m not going to go out of my way to avoid it either. If it happens, it happens.”

  “I just thought—”

  “You just thought you could make my decisions for me.”

  “I thought you liked that.”

  “Only in bed. Or on the yoga mat. Otherwise, I decide what I want, and I want you.”

  Wade smiles again, and this time it looks genuine. A little tired, but genuine.

  “I’ll go prepare drinks for your meeting.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I quickly go and get changed back into professional clothes. I’ve made sure everyone knows I do yoga on my lunch break—it’s a great excuse for looking hot and flustered during the afternoon. I’m not completely sure it convinces everyone, but it makes me feel better.

  I get to the café first and have to wait for Stephanie and Meghan. I buy a coffee and sit at a table in the far corner where we have a decent amount of privacy. I didn’t tell Stephanie why I wanted to meet, but we never talk much over text anyway. It’s too risky. She’s probably expecting an exciting update, but I’m not going to give her one.

  They arrive five minutes later and buy drinks of their own before joining me. I put Stephanie out of her misery by skipping the small talk and getting right to the point.

  “There’s no story here,” I insist. “I’ve sat in on countless meetings and never once heard anything suspicious. I’ve eavesdropped on conversations with his Chief of Staff, and I’ve been through his desk. There’s nothing to write about.”

  Stephanie stays silent for a few moments, staring at me like a detective trying to size up a suspect.

  “Did you get inside those locked drawers?” Stephanie asks.

  “Yeah, he left them open once by mistake. There were a few documents on Iraq, but nothing suspicious.”

  I only opened one drawer, and never managed to read the files. I don’t need to. If Wade had anything to hide, he wouldn’t be inviting me to high-level security meetings.

  “Did you ask him about his time in Iraq?” Meghan asks. “He doesn’t talk about it much to the media, but I bet you can find inconsistencies if you probe hard enough.”

  I shake my head. “I did ask, but everything matched up. He’s not hiding anything; he just doesn’t like talking about a time when he saw friends die on a monthly basis.”

  Stephanie’s quiet. I’m not sure she beli
eves me, but she doesn’t have any proof either way.

  “Are you sure you’re not letting personal feelings get in the way here?” Stephanie asks. “Wade Chambers is a smooth operator. You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s fooled.”

  “I am letting my feelings get in the way,” I admit. “My feeling is that he’s innocent and will make a damn good prime minister. Journalism involves judgment, and my judgment is that he’s not done anything wrong. Nothing newsworthy anyway.”

  Stephanie sighs loudly. I don’t know if she’s annoyed with me or at the loss of a huge story. Probably a bit of both.

  “What do you want to do now?” Stephanie asks. “Are you going to hand in your notice?”

  “No, not yet. I don’t want to leave too soon in case it arouses suspicion. Can I assume my secret is still safe?”

  “100%.”

  I’m tempted to leave it there, but I can’t. “Actually, I might stay on permanently.”

  “Permanently? Why?”

  “I like the job. And Wade can make a real difference to this country. I don’t want to bring him down; I want to help him.”

  “You’d rather be a secretary than a journalist?”

  “Depends on the type of journalist and the type of secretary.”

  Stephanie shakes her head and grabs her coffee. “You’re making a mistake. But it’s your mistake to make. Let me know if you still want a job when this is all over.”

  Stephanie stands up, but Meghan stays seated. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she says to Stephanie.

  We wait until Stephanie has left until talking again. “You know, don’t you?” I ask. It’s obvious from the look on her face.

  Meghan nods. “There are rumors. Plus, you look different. Happier, I guess.”

  “I am happier. This whole thing is a huge, confusing mess, but for some reason, I’m still happy.”

  “You’ve landed the most eligible bachelor in the country. You should be happy.” Meghan smiles and sips her coffee. “You trust him?”

  I nod. “Completely. I’m sure he has secrets, but don’t we all?”

  “Life would be rather boring without them. See you around, Janie.”

  “Bye, Meghan.”

  Meghan won’t tell Stephanie, but she’ll find out sooner or later. Either way, Stephanie won’t tell anyone what we did. My secret is safe unless I choose to tell it. A part of me wants to come clean, to tell Wade that I got the job on fraudulent pretenses, and admit that I wanted to unravel his past. He might forgive me.

  Or he might not.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Wade

  I’ve been in the job nearly four months, and I’m finally going to achieve something. A law I kick-started is getting voted on today and should pass with flying colors.

  The Revenge Porn Bill—that name didn’t go down well—outlaws the use of explicit material posted without the consent of those in it. According to my Justice Secretary, this was likely illegal anyway under existing laws, but most prosecutions were relying on copyright infringement to get convictions and that means no prison sentences for the guilty parties. Once this bill is passed, the lowlifes who do this shit will be going to prison for all but the most minor offenses.

  Other than some Members of Parliament wanting to change the name of the bill to something that didn’t have ‘porn’ in the title, the whole process has gone as smoothly as can be hoped for. Charlene Brewer, the Leader of the Opposition, enforced a three-line whip on her party, so the vast majority of MPs will vote in favor. There will always be a couple who vote against the bill just to get some publicity and time on television, but the bill will pass the House of Commons and fly through the House of Lords with barely a second glance.

  A car arrives outside Downing Street to take Janie and me to the House of Commons. I’d like to walk, but the fewer cameras on the two of us together the better. The gossip about the two of us is picking up, but without decent photographs to use, the press has kept it off the front page. To the general public, it’s still a case of ‘Janie who?’ but that won’t last forever.

  The second the car door closes, I pounce on Janie and start pawing at her thighs. I desperately want to rip off her clothes, but that wouldn’t be a good look when we get out of the car at the Houses of Parliament.

  Her palm presses against my cock as she massages it through my trousers, quickly getting me rock hard and desperate to be in her. I grab her arse and pull her on top of me, as she quickly hitches up her skirt. She ducks down to avoid banging her head on the roof and starts grinding her pussy against my cock.

  The heat coming from between her legs drives me crazy; I have to get inside her. Janie opens my fly and reaches in to free my cock, squeezing it firmly in her hand while I slide her panties to one side.

  And then I remember.

  “Fuck,” I yell.

  “That’s the idea,” Janie whispers in my ear.

  “No, I mean, ‘fuck.’ I don’t have any condoms.”

  “Oh no, what on Earth will we do?”

  Janie doesn’t wait for me to reply. She climbs off me and kneels on the floor in front of me. I’m about to put my cock back in my trousers when she leans over and takes me in her mouth. There’s no licking the head, no teasing the shaft. She just opens wide and sends her lips closer to the base of my cock than anyone’s ever managed.

  “Fucking hell,” I yell, gripping hold of the interior door handle, as Janie goes to town on my cock.

  She flicks her tongue against the underside of my shaft, from the base all the way up to the tip.

  “Like?” she asks, looking up at me sweetly.

  “Uh-huh,” I grunt. My fingers weave into her hair and I push her mouth down my cock as she sucks it greedily. Her tongue flicks against my head each time she comes up for air. She’s taking her time, savoring each moment as her hand slowly strokes the base.

  She stops sucking briefly, and for a horrifying moment, I think she’s going to stop when I’m so close to finishing. She looks me in the eyes and smiles, before going back down on my shaft with renewed enthusiasm, sucking and slurping on it so hard that I don’t need to offer her any encouragement.

  As I stroke her hair, I notice that she now has her skirt up around her waist and one hand between her legs. The sloppy noises aren’t just coming from her mouth. She’s got two fingers deep inside her pussy and is fingering herself furiously while sucking me.

  “You’re a dirty girl,” I whisper.

  Janie doesn’t say anything. She responds by wrapping her lips around my head and sucking hard while flicking her tongue against the tip. When she goes back down on my cock, I’m unable to hold back.

  I grab her hair and hold her head in position as I shoot my load into the back of her throat. I feel her gulp one load down just before the second burst replaces it. She keeps swallowing and sucking, and I keep coming.

  The car slows down, which makes Janie panic and quickly sit back in her seat. I take the hand she'd been using to play with herself and suck the fingers to taste her essence.

  “Fucking beautiful.”

  She smiles and we kiss right before the door opens. Time for work.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Wade

  I sign so many documents that after a while they all start blurring into one another. It’s a good job I can trust my secretary because she could easily have me sign away all my possessions and I wouldn’t notice until the trucks turned up at Downing Street to collect the goods.

  This signature is different. I’m signing a document that will launch a formal inquiry into weapons procurement by the UK Government and, more importantly, the private companies that supply them. This will kick off a chain of events that should end with the imprisonment of some very rich, and very influential, figures.

  They deserve it. For years, the CEO and President of DefenceTech have been profiting handsomely off the sale of weapons to terrorist groups in the Middle East. They’ve been careful. I only found out about it through shee
r chance, after overhearing a conversation between a DefenceTech representative and another SAS soldier. They talked about a US soldier being held prisoner in Iraq. Alarm bells started ringing immediately. The SAS had information about a hostage—a US soldier no less—and yet they didn’t tell anyone about it, or attempt a rescue. That’s not normal. The SAS usually jumps at the chance to rescue US troops, even if it’s just for morale and bragging rights.

  So I did it. We did it. Terrell and I rescued Alec Costa and got him back to the US without going through any of the formal channels. We kept him safe in the UK, and I used a decent chunk of my inheritance money from Mum and Dad to get him safely back into the US. Best decision I ever made. Alec helped unravel a US conspiracy that ensured US troops were supplied with shitty weapons that had a propensity to jam and fall apart. He’s not been name-checked in the press, but I know it was him. Alec’s done his part; now it’s my turn to do the same in the UK.

  “Take that to the Defense Secretary, please,” I say to Janie, handing her the signed paper. “I want you to deliver it in person.”

  “Yes, sir,” Janie replies formally. She then smiles quickly, before turning and heading out the door just as Terrell walks into my office.

  “You’ve authorized the investigation?” Terrell asks.

  “Yep. It’ll get underway within the week.”

  “You’re going to get hell from Gwen. She’s been on at me for weeks telling you to hold off on any investigation.”

  “Is she even bothering to come up with a convincing reason? Other than being bought and paid for by DefenceTech, I mean.”

  “She gave a list of reasons longer than a George R.R. Martin novel. She’s just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. Apparently, it will piss off voters who want a strong military and those who want a weak one. Companies will stop doing business with the government because they’ll be worried about overreaching investigations into the private sector. We’ll destroy foreign relations in the Middle East. We’ll get a backbench rebellion from those representing constituencies with a large DefenceTech presence. Oh, and we will lose large donations from DefenceTech and similar companies.”