His cum poured out of her like thick milk, trailing down her thighs and saturating her inflamed folds. He’d put a fucking on her she wouldn’t soon forget. That was always his goal. To give her better than he gave before. And from the way Gina’s eyes smiled back at him, from the way she kissed him and looked at him, he knew he had accomplished his goal.
His penis remained inside of her, still pulsating in heavy strikes, waiting for the feelings to end. He looked at Gina and kissed her again. He kissed her with a long, sweet kiss. And when the pulsating finally stopped, he pulled out of her. He lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the bedroom. Where, he already knew, he would fuck her again.
Later that evening, Gina lit the candles, looked over her hard work once more, and then took a long exhale. She was so nervous she could hear the syncopated beats of her own heart. She walked slowly down the long corridor that led into the study. Dutch had been on the phone ever since they woke up from their long, wonderfully restful sleep. But he promised tonight would belong to them. Gina’s prayer was that her meal, her hard work, would start the night off right.
She opened the door of the study slowly and peered inside. And there was Dutch, in his jersey and jeans, his silky black hair flopped down around his forehead like a sexy bang. He was still on the phone, reviewing a document that had been faxed over and writing notes all at the same time. Gina momentarily stood there, admiring the view.
But then she realized her food was getting cold.
“Excuse me, Mr. President,” she finally said. It was clear to her that Dutch didn’t even realize that she was in the room.
Dutch looked up. And his beautiful green eyes went from their usual intensity to a softer,
warmer glare. He lifted two fingers and motioned for her to come on in.
“Yes, Ally, that’s what I’m saying,” he said into the phone. “All twelve. Right. And I want it
on my desk when I get back. Right. Okay, dear. Good work. And you take care. All right.” And he hung up. And then leaned back in his swivel chair, looking at Gina.
She, too, wore jeans and a jersey but she wore hers with that Gina flare he loved. She looked particularly attractive, he thought. The only thing out of place was that apron around her waist.
“Hello there,” he said. “What can I do you for?”
“Dinner is served,” she said.
Dutch looked at that apron, and then back into Gina’s dark brown, anxious-looking face.
“Dinner cooked by you or brought in by the White House Chef?”
“Cooked by me,” Gina said with a smile. Then she frowned. “Oh, Dutch, don’t look so
terrified. Chef Grady has taught me a lot. I can cook now.”
Dutch still looked doubtful. He loved Gina but she was the worse cook he’d ever encountered. Just awful. Just thinking about some of those dishes she cooked up in the past made him nauseous.
“Just come on,” she said, walking around the desk and pulling him up by the hand. “You’ll see.”
Dutch allowed himself to be dragged away from his work, down the corridor, and into
the spacious dining room. The candles were lit, the food was already on the table, and Gina was anxious. To his relief the food at least looked edible.
He pulled her chair out and then took a seat at the head of the table. “It certainly looks
good,” he said as he placed the napkin onto his lap. “What is it?”
“Risotto and lamb.”
They bowed heads, said their prayers, and then Dutch took a bite. Gina stared at him as he
did. He chewed, nodding his head.
“Wow,” he said.
Gina began to smile. “Is it good?”
“That’s the thing,” Dutch said between bites. “It’s even worse than the way you used to
cook.”
Gina’s heart plunged.
Then Dutch smiled. “Psych!” he said with a grin.
“No, you didn’t,” Gina said, happy that he liked it, but angry that he fooled her. She took
her glass of wine and flung it at him.
But Dutch, still laughing, moved his body just enough that he only endured a glancing blow. And when she stood up, to come after him again, he took off running. She grabbed his
glass of wine and took off after him.
Dutch had never laughed harder in his life as Gina chased him through the dining hall,
through the living room, and out onto the lanai. When he ran out of real estate, and was backed up to the massive pool, she kept coming.
“I’ve got you now,” she said, laughing too. “You crafty little---”
But she threw the wine and missed, because Dutch jumped into the pool, splashing her. He laughed so hard as she stood there, her arms flailed out as she withstood the chill of
suddenly being drenched. She looked at him. He was laughing hysterically and pointing as if he got her good.
But then, to his surprise, she jumped into the pool, too. “You forgot you taught me
how to swim,” she said to him, and gave chase.
Dutch took off swimming around the massive pool too. And lap after lap they swam, Gina chasing Dutch, laughing like kids.
Dutch dived underwater, to avoid her, and she didn’t realize he had swam near her until she felt a firm slap against her bottom.
She laughed and took off. The hunter was now the hunted, as they swam around the pool until their arms hurt. And when they agreed on a truce and came together, Dutch, happy beyond measure, moved to kiss his lovely wife. And she moved to kiss her lovely husband. But she turned her head as soon as their lips were to meet. “Psych!” she said, laughing, and swam off again.
Dutch shook his head in amazement. He really had him a dynamo on his hands. But he should have seen that one coming.
He didn’t dwell on it, however. He was having too much fun. He gave chase again.
That night, in the library, Dutch sat on the floor with his back against the chair, and Gina lay prone on that floor, her head on his lap. Dutch sipped wine, stroked his wife’s hair, and read over some documents that couldn’t wait. Gina understood that world events waited for no man, so she didn’t complain too much. A little, but not too much. They were both in bathrobes now, after showering together and then finishing their dinner, and now all they wanted to do was enjoy the easiness of life away from DC.
Finally, he put the documents aside, along with his glass, and laid behind his wife and they spooned.
Gina snuggled her ass against his front. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m beyond enjoying myself, babe. I’m having a blast actually.”
Gina smiled. “Good. That’s what I’ve wanted. You deserve a break today. After all that time in Finland, and then Jade calling you in the middle of the night for essentially nothing at all. You deserve to have a day off.”
Dutch kissed her on the back of her neck. He pulled her closer against him, his hand on her waist. “What do you make of Jade?” he asked Gina.
Gina shrugged her shoulders. Talking about Jade these days wasn’t something she was comfortable doing. Dutch was so protective of her, as if he was still blaming himself for not being there for her childhood, and she rarely wanted to go there. “She loves her daddy, what can I say?” she said.
“I’m concerned about her,” Dutch said. “She’s getting to behave a tad too inappropriately.”
“How so?”
“She’s constantly in my face, constantly comparing me to her husband. And while we were in Finland she was standing in my bathroom when I got out of the shower.” Dutch couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he remembered distinctly how she stared at his dick when he stepped out of that shower, and how she attempted to lean her body against his. He understood she was still starved for his affection, he understood that. But she was beginning, he also understood, to take it too far.
“And the way she would cry and fall into my arms,” he continued, “and then she’d forget
the tears so easily and smile as if she’s the happiest girl in the world. I’m getting concerned.”
“Jade has always been different, Dutch. Maybe not as odd as her mother, but different. There’s a part of her that’s the same girl that came to us from South Carolina. She was sweet, and kind, and a devoted schoolteacher. I always felt as if she was trying to overcome something even then.”
“Her childhood undoubtedly,” Dutch said as Gina’s ass against him awakened his dick. “Her physically absent father and emotionally absent mother. She didn’t stand a chance.”
Dutch lifted the bottom of his wife’s robe and slid his penis between her legs. He rested it at the front entry of her folds, prepping her.
“Yeah, but something changed in her. She used to like me. We had, I thought, a very good relationship. Now she treats me as if I’m her enemy. I don’t know what happened to her.”
“My job happened to her, as it’s happened to all of us. She suddenly realized she was the daughter of the President of the United States and she started behaving as if she had this sense of entitlement.”
“The press doesn’t help,” Gina agreed. “They love to talk about the president’s beautiful, sexy, drop dead gorgeous daughter. And she loves it.”
“You know what I love?” Dutch asked.
“What?”
“This,” Dutch said and shoved his penis into her with one hard shove.
“Whoa!” Gina reacted to his shove. And just like that they were at it again.
“I’ll say it again,” Gina said as he fucked her.
“Say what again?” Dutch asked as he pulled her small frame closer against him to get the full angle he needed to thrash into her. She was soaking wet already.
“The way you go at that thang of mine,” Gina said with a smile. “You’re going to wear it out, Dutch!”
“That’s the idea,” Dutch said as his hips thrust harder and harder against her, leveraging his penis. “Every time I fuck you I want you to feel as if I’m wearing you out.”
“Oh, you are,” Gina said sensually as his gyrations increased, creating loud mashing sounds of saturation between his dick and her pussy. “I want you to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you belong to me,” Dutch said, pounding her. “And I’ll kill the first prick who even thinks about touching you!”
And Gina didn’t doubt it, she thought, the way he was going at it. She loved the way he went at it. She loved his style. She loved the fact that this man could fuck her all night, as he had all day, and she still would want more. There was no way, no way at all, she thought, that she could ever tire of Dutch Harber’s sex. He could wear her down, he often did that, but he could never wear her out.
And as they came, and eventually settled into another restful sleep, she knew her instincts had been right: get the man out of the fishbowl, and the fishbowl would get out of him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
That next morning, Dutch was refreshed and back at work. He was seated behind the historic Resolute Desk in the Oval Office, his suit coat over the back of his chair, reviewing a series of press conference cliff notes. He knew that everything from his trip to Helsinki, to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, to the floods in Tennessee would be hot topics when he faced the press later that morning. His staff knew not to disturb him frivolously during this review. Because he wanted to be prepared. To Dutch Harber, the secret to a successful encounter with the always skeptical DC press corps, was always preparation.
That was why he was more than a little perturbed when his desk intercom buzzed. He leaned forward and quickly pressed the button.
“Yes?” he said to his secretary. Why are you disturbing me, he wanted to add, but didn’t. She was only doing her job.
“Your son-in-law is here to see you, sir,” she said.
Dutch hesitated. He was relatively certain what this visit was about. “Send him in,” he said, and leaned back in his big, executive chair.
Christian entered the office cautiously. He was getting more comfortable with Dutch, but his heart still pounded every time he was in his presence. And it wasn’t just because Dutch was the most powerful man in the world. It was Dutch himself. He could have been a farmer on a farm as far as Christian was concerned, and he’d still be intimidated by the man.
He walked slowly toward the big desk. Unlike his father-in-law, who always dressed immaculately, the suit Christian wore fitted him as if it were a size too big. And although Christian had biceps almost as muscular as Dutch’s, his oversized outfit concealed his remarkably fit physique. What it didn’t conceal, however, was his lack of confidence. Because when Dutch looked up, he almost stopped in his tracks.
“Good morning, sir,” Christian said nervously, his blue eyes in a hard stare at the president.
“Good morning,” Dutch said and looked back down at his notes. “What can I do for you, Chris?”
Christian didn’t expect to launch right into it, but he also knew the president was a very busy man. “I came by last night to talk with you, but you and the First Lady weren’t available.” Christian waited for an explanation regarding their whereabouts. None came. He swallowed hard. “It’s Jade,” he finally said.
Dutch hesitated, and then looked at him. Christian was a mild-mannered young man in his mid-twenties, and Dutch was a tough, older man who’d never been mild about anything. But he knew they had one thing in common: they wanted the best for Jade. That was why he always listened intensely to Christian’s concerns.
Christian had hoped Dutch would ask for more information, or something to get him going, but he just sat there. Which he usually did whenever Christian was ranting about that wife of his.
“I’m concerned about Jade,” he went on. “She’s becoming so disrespectful, sir. Especially in front of Uncle Marcus and her mother. And other people too. She won’t listen to anything I have to say, no matter what it is, and I just don’t know what to do about it. Like early yesterday morning. I told her not to call you. I told her you needed your rest. Even Miss Redding told her not to call you, that she was just fine. She just had a bad nightmare, she said. It was nothing. But Jade phoned you anyway.”
Dutch continued to look at him. It was damn uncomfortable for Christian. Dutch’s big green eyes always seemed so laser-focused. But he kept on. “Even when you and the First Lady came over, and you went into the back to speak with her mother, she tried to go back there with you. I told her no, she should let you handle it. But she snatched away from me. Then Uncle Marcus tells her not to go back there and she doesn’t go. It’s like he has more sway over her than I do, sir.”
Dutch leaned back in his chair. Christian didn’t realize it, but Dutch was seriously considering every word he spoke. “You’re coming to me with this why?” he asked.
That wasn’t exactly the ringing bell of support Christian had hoped for. But he didn’t buckle. “I’m coming to you because you have more sway over her than any human being on the face of this earth. I’m coming to you because I have nowhere else to go.”
Dutch could feel Christian’s distress. And he couldn’t argue with his logic, either. Jade was certainly enamored with her father, even Dutch would have to admit that.
He tossed his review sheets onto his desk. “How do you think she feels about you, Chris?” he bluntly asked his wide-eyed son-in-law.
Christian had to think about this. “You mean Miss Redding?”
“How does your wife feel about you?” Dutch corrected.
“Oh, yes sir. I see. Well, I think she . . . I’m not sure but I think she loves me. Somewhat.”
Dutch frowned. “She loves you somewhat? What the hell kind of answer is that?”
“What I mean is that Jade isn’t a touchy-feely kind of woman. She doesn’t like to discuss love and stuff like that. She never even wants to have. . .” Christian was turning beet red. He didn’t mean to reveal so much. He looked at Dutch.
Dutch stared at him. “She doesn’t have sex with you on a regular basis?” he asked.
>
Christian was embarrassed, but the truth was the truth. He exhaled. “No, sir, she doesn’t.”
“How often?”
Christian thought about this. “Used to be once a week or so. But now that Uncle Marcus is staying with us, it’s been kind of like never.”
Never? Dutch could hardly believe it. How could the young man take it? All Dutch’s life he had to have it, and certainly more than once a week at that. Even now if his dick wasn’t sliding inside of Gina’s warm folds at least every other day he was antsy. And this kid was standing before him talking about getting it maybe once a week, or now not even that regular? Dutch could hardly believe it. That daughter of his needed a swift kick in the ass for torturing young Christian the way she was doing.
“I don’t know, sir,” Christian continued, attempting to make sense out of what Dutch saw as nonsense, “but she just doesn’t seem to find me very interesting anymore.”
Dutch thought about that response. Was careful in his reply. “Does she find Marcus Rance interesting?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Christian replied without hesitation. “They get along great. They play cards together and cook meals together and talk about all sorts of things. She loves his company.”
“Does she?”
“She does very much, sir. I mean, I like Uncle Marcus too. He’s a real upfront guy. He talks about the old days when he was a drug dealer and it’s real fascinating how he’s turned his life around. I mean, Uncle Marcus used to be a straight-up gangster.” Christian said this with a laugh, as if he, too, was mesmerized by the attractive Marcus Rance.
“And Jade asks him all kinds of questions,” Christian continued. “I talk about my job here at the White House and she’s bored to tears. Marcus talks about his days selling drugs and she’s blown away with excitement. I don’t know, sir. I think she’s just thrilled to have her uncle in her life.”
“The thing is,” Dutch said, leaning forward, his voice measured and slow, “Marcus Rance is my wife’s half-brother, that’s true. They do have the same father. He is most definitely some kin to Gina. But he is also, most definitely, no kin to Jade.”
DUTCH AND GINA: THE SINS OF THE FATHERS Page 8
