He undressed down to his briefs and got in bed with his family. He wrapped his arms around Gina and Little Walt as they stirred, but they both continued to sleep. This country was his responsibility, and he accepted that. But he felt responsible for this woman and this child even more.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning Dutch was standing at the mirror inside the master bedroom buttoning his dress shirt. It was just after six a.m. and although Dutch had already showered and shaved and was getting ready to begin his day, Gina and Little Walt were still asleep. But Dutch had scheduled one big meeting for seven a.m. and then several separate meetings with each one of his cabinet secretaries and their senior staffs. He needed more answers than they were offering, and he had to make certain that every one of them understood his resolve. He would not rest, and therefore they could not rest, until those bastards were brought to justice.
But his eyes kept roaming to Gina. She was covered by the silk sheet on the bed, but he could clearly make out the outline of her body. And the more he looked at that body, the more he wanted that body. The more he looked at her beautiful sleeping face, the more he wanted her.
By the time he was fully dressed and had combed his hair, and looked at her once again, he knew where it was heading. Sometimes he felt like a teenager in heat when it came to Gina. He’d always had a ferocious sexual appetite, but just seeing her sometimes took even that to newer and higher heights.
He removed the cover from her sleeping form and lifted her into his arms. When she opened her eyes, and was about to speak, he gently shushed her. And then they both looked down at Little Walt. The boy was still fast asleep.
Dutch therefore carried Gina into the adjacent dressing room and locked the door.
She smiled. “Not again,” she said.
“Yes, again,” Dutch replied with a smile of his own. “Don’t you miss me?”
“Always,” she said and he gave her a playful kiss that turned serious almost immediately. And he began kissing her passionately, turning her serious too. Not that it was unexpected. Gina knew Dutch was always serious when it came to matters like this. He would joke around just so much. Their sexual encounters were never taken lightly by him.
That was why she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he continued to kiss her in long French kisses that made her love waking up this way. And when his fingers reached under her gown and he began massaging her clit and rubbing along her folds, making her moist with sensuality, she stopped kissing him and laid her head on his shoulder. The feeling was too intense to do anything else.
Dutch, however, had far more in mind. He knew a long day was ahead of him. He knew this would probably be the only time he could spend this kind of time with his wife all day, and he wanted to make it worthy of her. It took a lot for Gina to change her mind and come to DC with him, and he appreciated her even more for doing so. He wanted to show her just how much he appreciated her. He also had a boner the size of boulder that he had to unleash.
He carried her to the sidewall and then lifted her gown up and completely off of her now naked body. And as his fingers worked over her cunt, his mouth worked over her breasts.
Gina lifted her head backwards as Dutch made love to her breasts. As soon as he sucked the life out of one nipple, and moved to the other one, the one he left was screaming for his return. And he didn’t disappoint. He moved from one to the other with such deftness that he eventually had both nipples in his mouth at the same time. He continued sucking her for as long as he could, and then he carried her to the bed.
Even though his suit was expensive and tailor made; and even though he remained the most powerful man in the world; and even though he had a fan base of blue-haired old ladies who would be shocked by his behavior, none of it deterred Dutch in the least. He got on his knees in front of his wife, opened her legs as wide as she could bear it, and began licking her in those long ice cream licks that made Gina arch in unbridled joy. Every time she felt the wetness of his tongue, she felt the fire deep within her. He licked her in a way that had his tongue moving slowly from the bottom of her folds up to her clit, and then kissing her there. On just that right spot. Over and over again. Gina felt the passion with every lick. She moaned and moved her body in waves of motion, as if she was simulating sex while he was performing it. She couldn’t keep still.
And the more she moved, the more hungry Dutch became. And he knew an oral would not be enough.
He stood up, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled out a dick that was in full erection. Gina’s legs had closed, as she was now moist with his licks and massages and her own vagina juices, and she was rubbing her thighs together as the feelings continued to ripple through her body. When she saw Dutch unzip his pants and pull out his rod, she wanted to take him in her mouth. But he didn’t give her the opportunity.
He opened her legs again as the moistness could be seen glistening on the lips of her vagina. And he entered her raw and big.
“Dutch,” she said in a drawn-out moan as soon as she felt that rod touch her and begin its penetrating insertion. The further he pushed in, the fuller, more sensual, she felt. Until he was pushing in and out, and rubbing against her friction until he was creating even more friction. Dutch’s dick inside of her felt like an explosion of fire inside of her. And she lifted her legs over his shoulders, and enjoyed the flames.
Dutch felt the fire too. He felt it stronger and stronger with every inch he penetrated. He looked at Gina’s face as he fucked her. Her eyes were closed, revealing her beautiful and naturally flowing eyelashes, and her tongue was licking her African lips in a way that was so sensual that he leaned down and kissed her long and hard on those same lips.
And then his mouth returned to her breasts. He never stopped fucking her for a second as he sucked her, and that ability Dutch had to keep every inch of her body satisfied all at the same time caused Gina to lift her breasts further up to his mouth and cry out in ecstasy. And she knew it would only get better from here. Because she knew a pounding was coming. Any time Dutch was especially stressed, he would put a pounding on her that was always unlike their usual lovemaking.
And this morning he was beyond stressed.
And this morning he pounded her hard and long.
Gina’s entire body shook, and the bed springs creaked and creaked as Dutch put it on her. He laid down on top of her, and wrapped her into his loving arms, as he fucked her hard. He was whispering her name, over and over, as he thrashed into her.
And she loved the thrashing he put on her. She loved him and she loved his sex. Her love for him became so acute, and her body became so wet and full and so aware of this big, masculine man on top of her, that she could hold out no longer. She came sooner than normal. And although she always came hard, this was really hard. It felt like a burst of a bubble that was filled with love and passion and devotion to her husband. And her body arched and buckled and released all she had to release.
Dutch felt her release. He felt it as soon as he penetrated to his deepest point and hit her at that wall that always seemed to make her clamp down on his rod. And the harder she clamped down, the harder he thrashed her. Until his dick was so filled with love for this woman that he couldn’t bear it any longer. And he released, too.
His entire body shook as he let it go. He wasn’t concerned about terrorists or this country or even what he was going to do in the next hour. He was only concerned about his wife. And how much he felt her. And how much he needed her.
Tears were in his eyes as he poured into her.
Later that morning, after Dutch had fucked Gina so hard that she could barely walk, he walked into the Situation Room looking as if he had just stepped out of the shower rather than a wet bed of passion with his beloved wife. He was dressed to the nines in his double-breasted suit and imported shoes, and his hair that Gina had sufficiently ruffled, did not have a single strand out of place.
All of the principals had assembled,
including the vice president, the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, the Director of National Intelligence, the Director of Homeland Security, and the Director of the CIA.
Dutch sat in the middle seat at the table, between his SecState and SecDef, as he listened to every cabinet official give him a threat assessment based on the assignments he had given to them the previous day. All of them were convinced that the culprits were foreign enemy combatants, such as Al-Qaeda or, at the least, an Al-Qaeda cell working inside of the U.S. But Al-Qaeda was the likely culprit. None of them believed the terrorists were homegrown. But regardless of their beliefs, it was all a guessing game. And because of that, Dutch wasn’t nearly as certain as they were.
“What you’re telling me,” he said to his cabinet heads when the last one, the Director of National Intelligence, completed his assessment, “is that you don’t know any more today than you did yesterday. Is that what I’m hearing?”
“That’s what you’re hearing,” the Defense Secretary said. “There’s just no chatter out there. We’ve tried and tried to connect the dots, but there’s no dots to connect.”
“Since none of your agencies have any solid leads whatsoever,” Dutch asked, “why are you certain that the attackers were foreign and not homegrown?”
“Because of the way they attacked,” the DNI said. “Every bomb was synchronized to explode precisely one hour apart. They wanted each bomb to get news coverage and then, bam, another attack. They wanted to disturb the peace of America. This attack has Al-Qaeda written all over it.”
“Or an Al-Qaeda copycat,” Dutch said.
Crader looked at him. But all of the cabinet secretaries pushed back hard. They weren’t willing to accept that Americans would have done this to their fellow Americans.
“And why not?” Dutch asked. “Timothy McVey did it out in Oklahoma City to his fellow Americans. You think there’s no evil in America? These attacks smell more like that bombing in OK City than a 911 type of strike to me.”
“But the multiple hits, Mr. President,” the DNI said. “McVey hit one federal building. These attackers hit forty-eight.”
“They wanted an Oklahoma City on steroids kind of attack,” Dutch said irritably. He was sometimes amazed at how hermetic his department heads often viewed the world. “Multiple strikes aren’t convincing me of anything either way.”
“Additionally,” the DNI added as if Dutch hadn’t said a word, “if we go down that homegrown terrorists road, we’re screwed as an administration.”
Dutch and Crader both looked at him. “What do you mean?”
The DNI looked to the Defense Secretary for cover. He received it. “What Les means,” the SecDef said, “is that the American people will not forgive us if we allowed an enemy right inside our borders to attack us on this large a scale. We can justify foreigners coming in. But we can’t justify Americans doing this to Americans. The opposition will bury us if we even think about making these terrorists homegrown.”
Dutch stared at his cabinet head. “Are you telling me that we should find a foreign terrorist, regardless of guilt, and arrest him because we may pay a political price if the real criminal is American?”
The Defense Secretary did not back down. “That’s exactly what we’re saying, sir. That’s what all of us are saying,” he added, looking around at his colleagues at the table.
Dutch looked at them, too. “Let me say this to all of you,” he said. “If I find out that any member of my cabinet blamed these attacks on some foreign group for political expediency, that individual will be fired on the spot and publicly humiliated. I don’t give a good gotdamn about paying some political price and every one at this table should know that by now! This is America, not some banana republic where we grab somebody off the street and declare them the culprit just to take the heat off of us! I want those fuckers captured, you understand me? I want them locked up like the dogs they are so that this never happens again to our country. And I vow to remain president until those assholes are brought to justice. But I’ll destroy you personally if any one of you manipulate this situation. You will answer to me. Do I make myself clear?”
Everyone at the table voiced that he made himself perfectly clear. Then Dutch stood up, prompting them to stand, too.
“Stay here,” he said, “and get your act together. I want as vigorous a search inside this country as you’re searching outside, and I want results, ladies and gentlemen.” Then he added, “Honest results,” and left.
All of them then looked at Crader, whom they viewed as having more to lose politically if they go the homegrown route. But Crader was nobody’s fool. He would never betray Dutch.
“You heard the president,” he said. “No bullshit.” And then he left, too.
He caught up with Dutch walking in the corridor, and as they began talking their respective aides fell further back.
“Can you believe Donald and Les?” Crader asked him. “They were willing to arrest some foreign innocent just to cover their asses. It makes you wonder if these people have any morals left at all.”
“They don’t,” Dutch said bluntly. “I would suggest, after I leave office, that you clean house completely. At least at the top. They’ve been around too long.”
“I hear you,” Crader said.
“And I also want you to be the point person on this, Cray. I need you to stay on their asses and make sure they follow the leads rather than their own political ambitions.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then Dutch hesitated. He began thinking about Crader’s career after his resignation was official.
“Something else?” Crader asked.
“Actually there is,” Dutch said. “I want you to get each cabinet head to make the rounds with the media so that they can plant the suggestion that those who attacked us could have been homegrown. Let them show their outrage if the culprits turns out to be American, and get their outrage to be the story. Get them to change the story, in fact.”
“From what to what?”
“From why didn’t our administration protect them from these American terrorists, to why are these Americans terrorizing their own country.”
Crader grinned. Dutch was the most moral, yet the most ruthless man he’d ever met. “Yes, sir,” he said.
And then Dutch and his entourage of aides veered right, and Crader and his aides stopped walking.
Crader continued to shake his head. “That sonafabitch,” he said with a laugh.
Dutch didn’t hear his response or his laughter as his stride was, as usual, fast. But he did pass by an office that caused him to do a stop and back up. He left his aides in the hall, and went inside, closing the door behind him.
LaLa was seated at the small conference table in her small office, attempting to review documents and breastfeed little Nicole. As the vice president’s wife, she had her own office and staff that mainly consisted of a social secretary and a few aides. When she looked up and saw Dutch, she smiled.
“Hello, Mr. President.”
“How are you, young lady?” Dutch made his way to her side.
“I’m . . . okay,” she said. Then her look turned serious. “How are you is the question?”
Dutch leaned his tall frame down and kissed LaLa on the lips, and Baby Nicole on the forehead. Then he took a seat beside them. “I’m praying that there’s a resolution sooner rather than later.”
“Crader says they’re turning up blanks with every stone unturned.”
“Crader’s right. There’s nothing yet. And I mean nothing. But I’m hopeful.”
That was what LaLa loved most about Dutch Harber: he never gave up hope. “After you addressed the nation and answered all of those questions, I think the panic eased up some,” she said. “I think they sincerely believe that you won’t let anything like this happen again. They now believe that the worse is over.”
The idea that he could stop some lone bomber somewhere was absurd, and a burden no human being should ever have to bear. But that
was his burden.
He looked at the juicy mound of LaLa’s ample brown breast as Nicole feasted on it, and he began to get a hard on. But then he leaned forward in his chair, both feet planted on the floor, his arms resting on his thighs. “How are you and Crader managing?” he asked her.
She batted her sweet eyes and then looked at him. “We’re coming,” she said. “He’s trying to accept what happened, but I don’t think he’s fully there yet.”
“Are you fully there?”
“What do you mean?”
“By sleeping with Christian, you did something I know you would never have dreamed you would ever do. Have you accepted the reality of that situation?”
She shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I ever will. The idea that I cheated on my husband is so painful, Dutch. It makes me feel like a. . . like something dirty and untrustworthy.”
“That’s nonsense, Loretta.”
“But that’s how I feel! Especially after I saw how it hurt Crader so deeply. He’s still hurt by it.”
“Don’t work up too much sympathy for Crader,” Dutch warned her. “He doesn’t deserve it. He’s the one who should be burdened down with guilt, not you. I’m not condoning what you and Christian did. I could never condone it. It was wrong on every level. But you realized you were wrong and you asked your husband for forgiveness. And he forgave you. That has to be the end of it. He can’t keep dredging it up.”
“But you should see him, Dutch. He doesn’t look at me the same anymore. It’s as if I broke his trust and I can never get it back.”
“Do you trust him?”
LaLa thought about that. “I decided that I have to.”
Dutch frowned. “You decided that you have to? What the hell does that mean?”
“I mean I have no choice. If I want to make this marriage work, I have to accept the fact that my husband isn’t. . . That he isn’t that kind of perfect man you are.”
DUTCH AND GINA: WHAT HE DID FOR LOVE Page 13
