Jesus Christ, get ahold of yourself.
Because honestly, what the fuck is it about this girl? Why am I even doing this to myself? Yes, the sex was good — okay, fucking fantastic — but I’m still trying to figure out why I’m so hung up on it. Is it because she’s so off limits? Or is it because for once, there’s a girl that said no?
Maybe it’s because for once, I know this is a girl I should say no to.
*****
“So, how’s guarding the princess up at the castle.”
It’s the next day, and I finally get a reprieve from all the shit with Maddie. Yeah, even Secret Service guys get a day off now and then.
I’m with Sean and Darren, both guys I know from the Marines who’ve moved into private security since coming home. And I’m trying to have fun, and trying to let loose after the fucking week I’ve had, but there’s a cloud looming over this whole night that I can’t seem to shake.
Pretty soon, there’s not going to be any “going out for a quick beer.” This is all going to end soon, after the announcement. Once I’m the Presidential step-son - as fucking stupid a name as that is - this is all going to change. No more job, no more fun with friends out at the bar, and no more teasing and trying to get into Madison’s panties once that goes down.
Well, we’ll see about that last one.
Darren slides me a fresh beer and punches my shoulder. “Hey, douchebag, you still paying attention?”
I look up with a start and flip him off as I take a pull from my beer. “What?”
“I said how’s playing guard dog to the princess going?”
It’s worth mentioning that I can’t even tell these guys about what’s going to happen. I can’t even tell the two buddies I went to war with about the fact that my dad’s about to marry the fucking President. And honestly, it’d probably improve my damn mood if I could.
“It’s fine, man.” I shrug. “It’s fine.”
“Dude, she’s fine, you mean.”
I scowl at Sean. “Hey, easy.”
“What, she is. C’mon, Hunt, it’s us, drop the Service act.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” I say shrugging again and looking into my beer. “She’s—”
What, under my skin and into my head? The bane of my existence and the girl I can’t stop thinking about? The girl whose body I crave like a drug I can’t get?
My stepsister?
“She’s okay I guess.”
Sean and Darren erupt into snorts and shake their heads at me.
“Whatever man,” Darren says, shaking his head. “Props for being so into the job you can’t see the hottest ass to walk into that place since Marilyn Monroe.”
“Pretty sure that was a rumor,” I say, arching my eyebrows at him but also suddenly picturing Madison standing over an especially windy vent with a white dress on.
“Well, I’d say sack up and go start a few new rumors with Madison Adams, but they’d probably fuckin’ execute you if you even made a pass at that.”
You have no idea.
Sean slides his empty beer across the bar and stands from his seat. “Hunt, you’ve been cooped up in there too long, and I’m willing to bet you can’t even remember the last time you got laid.
No, actually that's the fucking problem. It’s ALL I can remember.
Sean grins at me. “Let’s get lit up and go pick up some girls, alright?”
I shrug. “Nah, not feeling it tonight.”
He rolls his eyes. “Will you fucking listen to yourself? Jesus, Hunt! What sort of brainwashing do they make you go through for the Service, man? You’ve got two A-list wingmen, a fat White House paycheck, and a medal for getting wounded defending your fucking country. Getting you laid tonight is going to be entirely too easy.”
And he’s right, it would be. A month ago, I’d have been all over that. A month ago, I’d have torn this town up with these two assholes and fucked each and every rich socialite, sorority chick, government aide, summer intern, and bartender in this whole fucking town. But now? Now I can’t even think about other girls.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Darren suddenly grows serious as he leans in. “Listen, dude, what about that fucking party you were telling us about? The one Congressman Este’s kid got you into?” His eyes light up. “Hunt, I heard that place is fucking insane!”
Yeah, it was. Hot girls, great drugs, crazy atmosphere…Oh, right, and then I fucked my new stepsister with a mask on and now I’m around her every fucking day and it's messing with my head.
Sean leans in. “How the hell did you pull off even getting in there?”
Easy. You grow up with enough rich little shitheads and children of Congressmen and Senators and doors open for you that just don’t to normal mortals.
“Eh, it’s complicated.”
“But not so complicated that you can’t get your two war buddies in, right?” Darren grins at me.
“Afraid that ship has sailed, bud. The way is shut.”
“Weak, man; super weak,” Darren says, rolling his eyes as he sips his beer. “Sounds like you got a taste of something good you don’t want to let us in on.”
Yeah, I got a taste alright, and now I just want fucking more.
Now I’ve got her on the brain bad. Now she's all I’m fucking thinking about, and not just because it's my job to do so. It’s my job to think about schedules and security threats, and escape vectors and all that shit. It’s not my job to wonder if she’s wearing a thong or not. It’s not my job to wonder if she’s still as wound up on edge from earlier as I am. And it's certainly not my job to wonder if she’s back in her big Presidential bedroom right now on her four-post bed with her legs spread and her fingers slipping into her dripping wet pussy.
Yep, definitely not my job to do that, but here I am.
What I should do is go out with these two and pick up something young, hot, and strange. And I need to fuck that girl until I can’t move anymore. I need to fuck her until any trace of Madison is fucked right out of my damn head.
Except I don’t do that. I’m in my damn prime; cocked and loaded and ready to go. And I know full well that in this town, dropping my last name, or my war record, or even my current job could get me laid six ways ’til Sunday if I chose to. Shit, dropping those has gotten me laid more times than I can count. Except what do I do?
I say goodnight to my buddies, drop some cash on the bar, and head back to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. I nod to the security guys, scan my card, and head back to my rooms up in the East Wing.
And once I’m there, I lock the door before I slump back against it, slip my rock hard cock out of my pants and groan as I stroke it. I growl as I lean back again the door and just fucking slide my hand up and down my cock, jerking off while thinking of the fucking girl on the other side of this damn house that just won’t get out of my head.
I close my eyes and picture her back in that room at that place, letting the straps of her little black dress slide off her shoulders before the whole thing pools at her feet. I’m picturing those perfect, full tits, and those little pink nipples that come to hard little nubs under my fingers and my tongue. I’m remembering tearing her panties off and inhaling the intoxicating scent of her pussy before sliding my tongue through her honey and tasting her until she’s pulling at my hair and writhing for me.
And I’m picturing her face, twisting so fucking beautifully in raw ecstasy when she comes for me; when she comes begging me to fill her up, scratching her nails down my back.
That’s the last thing that roars through my mind before I’m blasting my cum across the carpet, grunting as my cock erupts in my hand and Madison’s perfect body dances through my head.
I gasp as I open my eyes, panting and feeling the muscles in my chest and arm flex as I lean back against the door after I come.
Except I want more; I want a lot more. Shit, I could sit here in this room jerking off to thoughts of Madison Adams until the sun comes up, but I still wouldn’t be satiated.
/> I know I shouldn’t, but I just don’t care. If I was just anyone, sneaking across the White House to the Presidential family quarters would be a shitty move. Except I’m not just anyone, I think, as I tuck my cock back into my pants and turn to head back out my door. I’m the Secret fucking Service.
Hey, besides, I’m family, right?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The room is dark, the music low, throbbing and muted. I feel the glass of champagne offered to me upon entering already racing through my bloodstream. I might be wearing a mask, but it feels like every single person here is looking right through me and seeing who I REALLY am. It’s thrilling, and a rush…
…And also terrifying.
The whole place is rich and elegant, and full of rich and elegant people, some of whom are already pairing off in dark corners. Some aren’t even going to the dark corners, and I can feel myself blush under the mask as a man slowly begins to disrobe a woman in a deep blue dress right in the middle of the room on a couch.
Jesus, what on Earth am I doing here, and how the hell did I let Jessica talk me into this? This isn’t even “out of my element”, this is another PLANET far away from normalcy.
I feel a shiver that isn’t quite the good kind run up my back as see more than a few men around the room looking my way. They’re peering at me through masks in the sultry light of the room and grinning wolfishly at me, as if they can smell how nervous I am and know damn well that I don’t belong here.
The pang of sudden uncomfortable fear strikes deep inside me, and suddenly, I have more than a few reservations about coming here tonight. This isn’t me, at all, and suddenly I’m not so sure I should be here at all.
I whirl to look for Jess, but she’s already being led away to another room by a man in a tuxedo and a mask. Then the fear, the hungry looks, the music, the champagne, and the lights start to blur as I feel panic rising in my chest. Twosomes, threesomes and moresomes disrobe out in the open and I’m frozen, just staring at them.
One of the men from across the room grins at me wolfishly as he starts to move towards me, and I whirl again, desperately seeking an exit.
And I whirl into HIM.
“Hey,” his voice is deep and gruff, and yet somehow it eases me as he puts his hand up, palms out as he peers into my face.
“Hey, are you okay?” He’s actually concerned, or at least looks that way with his mask on. I can see white teeth flash across his strong, chiseled jaw, and my eyes drop to the tuxedo he wears and the way it stretches tight across muscular shoulders and a strong-looking chest.
But it’s the eyes that grab me the most; the brightest, most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.
And somehow, I feel safe with him. Somehow in the middle of this madness unfolding around us, I suddenly feel grounded with him there in front of me.
“I’m— Yeah, I’m fine.”
He grins at me. A roguish sort of smirk that somehow has me grinning right back before his eyes suddenly dart to something behind me.
“Walk the fuck away, right now.”
I freeze as I feel his hand slide possessively over my hip, but when he pulls me close, I can feel my heart skip as my hand instinctively goes to rest on his muscular chest.
I turn to see the man with the wolfish grin standing there, glaring at my stranger.
“She’s with me,” my mysterious knight in shining armor growls, and the man finally gives another sneer before simply walking away.
I don’t actually know what it is that finally has me tearing at his clothes and hungrily kissing him like we’re the last people on Earth not twenty minutes later. The fear turned to something more urgent? The place itself and viewing that whole night through shades of sex? Or maybe just the raw power of my stranger; the way he makes me feel utterly protected, and yet totally dominated at the same time. The way he makes me feel ALIVE when he looks at me, or on fire when he touches me.
Or maybe I really did just want to get laid that night.
In any case, it’s not the why that I’m thinking about later that night in the present, there in the Lincoln bedroom of the White House, it’s the what.
Because as much as I hate to admit it even to myself, that night and what happened are all I can think about as I lie there, naked in my bed.
Hunter is all I can think about like some sort of sex-starved maniac as I slide a finger deep into my pussy and toss my head back against the sheets to moan while picturing his fat cock driving deep inside of me.
I picture us back in that private room, and I’m tearing that tuxedo off his perfect body, and he’s yanking the dress down over my shoulders and letting it drop to my feet. His mouth is on mine, bruising my lips with a raw, animal hunger that has me melting into him. He stirs to life this aching desire pooling between my legs.
I’m hungry for him, so wet and so ready to have him take me any way he wants. It’s crazy and wild, but I want this more than anything. I want something wild, and something crazy before it all gets shut away.
He’s my wild and crazy that night. He’s my wicked, naughty, dirty little secret before I shut him and that night away forever.
Guess that didn’t turn out as expected.
But right then, I don’t care a bit about all that. I don’t care about the drama and the scandal and the wild fear of what not being able to stop thinking about Hunter Ryan might mean, because I’m too busy thinking about how he feels.
I’m too busy sinking a second finger into my dripping wet pussy, and gasping as I rub my thumb over my clit.
I want to say it’s wrong, and I want to deny how he makes me feel, but I just can’t. Especially right now, fantasizing about those arms, that chest and that perfect cock of his.
Jesus, who am I? I’m playing with myself and literally dreaming of Hunter’s cock; his perfect, thick, not small cock. I’m picturing it in my hand. I’m playing with my clit as I fantasize about taking it in my mouth. And as I plunge my fingers deep inside, I’m imagining him driving into me. I’m remembering how he felt as he pounded me, as he throbbed inside of me and made me come again and again.
I’m so lost in it all that I don’t even hear the knock on my door until it comes a second time, and then the moment is shattered.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before I jump out of bed and grab my robe. The knock pounds again on the door, and I have no idea what time it is, but I’m flustered and still out of breath as I near the door. The thought enters my mind that I should probably go wash my hands, but the knocking comes again, kicking the thought from my head.
Just get rid of whoever it is then go to bed. Go to bed and enough of fucking yourself thinking of your damn stepbrother.
I unlatch the door and fling it open with a deep scowl on my face. “Yes, what is—”
Fuck.
It’s Hunter, of course. Hunter grinning at me with that damned knowing, arrogant smirk and those wicked, piercing blue eyes.
“Evening, princess,” he says, winking at me as he leans agent the the doorframe. He’s wearing civilian clothes, the dark jeans and the tight white t-shirt molded perfectly to his frame. His eyes drop to my robe, and I blush as I feel his gaze linger there for a second.
“What do you want, Hunter?”
“Nighttime checks.”
I roll my eyes. “What happened to Ron who was just standing out here?” I glare at him, thinking about what he interrupted just for some of our now patented banter. “Isn’t it your night off?”
He shrugs. “Eh, not anymore.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Since when?”
“Since now. Oh and I sent Ron home.” He grins at me as she spreads his hands wide. “Honestly, not my decision, but rules are rules, right?”
“Oh right, because you’re always so very concerned with the rules.”
He laughs. “Hey, I just like that it’s my job to know where you are.” He winks, “And what you’re doing.”
I blush before I can stop mys
elf, and he smirks at me. “So, what were you doing?”
“Going to bed, before you banged on my door like a psycho.”
“Oh, going to to bed, huh? That all?”
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to tell him to go away when he suddenly pushes right past me into the room. I whirl, my mouth open.
“Um excuse me? You can’t just fucking barge in here, you know!”
“Sure I can,” he says, turning and winking at me. “Gotta make sure you’re safe.”
Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance Page 10
