by Hamel, B. B.
She laughs a little. “Not much to say, really.”
“Try me.”
“My mom was a paralegal, my dad worked in insurance. Grew up middle class. I was a huge dork in school, got good grades.”
“And ended up at Harvard?”
She nods. “Right. Half scholarship, half loans. Still paying those off.” She laughs a little bit.
“Typical Millennial.”
“Except I started that blog, and it…”
“Took off.”
“Yeah. Unexpectedly.”
“And here you are.”
“Right. Holding hands with the President.”
I turn toward her, pull her against me. “Calling him Daddy.”
She grins. “That too.”
I kiss her quickly. I love the feeling of her lips against mine. It gives me a thrill every time.
But I catch an agent lurking nearby. I squeeze her hand. “Come on. Let’s walk a little longer.”
We head down along the path, moving slowly together. I ask her about how her work’s going, and she tells me about her friend Iris, and how high-strung her boss is.
We laugh about other staff, about news coverage, about the world. I’m smiling the whole time, and for twenty minutes, I feel normal.
I feel like a regular person, like any other man.
But I know that’s not for me. It’s always temporary.
Ramirez comes up quickly behind us, hand on an earpiece. “Sir,” he says. “Situation back at the White House.”
I sigh. “We have to go?”
He nods. “Now.” A car comes down the road suddenly and pulls over nearby. Ramirez nods at it. “Sir.”
I look at Maggie. “Well, that’s about right,” I say.
She grins at me. “Go be important. I’ll make my way back.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”
She nods. I squeeze her hand and walk away. The agents rush me into the car and we speed off, back toward the White House, and whatever crisis is waiting for me there.
I close my eyes in the back seat. I pretend that I’m still out walking with Maggie. That I’m a regular man having a regular time with his girl.
It feels good. I can almost taste her lips. I can almost feel her body.
I crave it so badly. But for now, the world is waiting.
11
Maggie
The next time I see the President, he looks absolutely exhausted.
Well, that’s not really fair. I mean, he always looks tired.
And even exhausted, the man is beautiful.
Gorgeous, really. Square jaw, precise, startling eyes. There’s something about him that keeps people absolutely engaged.
I know I can’t look away, not for a second.
We don’t speak for a couple weeks. I dive into my projects, working on things Roger assigns me along with the healthcare issues, waiting for my next opportunity to see Adam.
I’m impatient. I’m frustrated.
But I know what’s going on. Everyone does.
More problems in Pakistan. There was some retaliation on the local American embassy for the raids that rescued the French commandos. Nobody got hurt, thankfully, but it’s all over the news.
Everyone’s talking about it. People mention Benghazi in the same sentence, although they’re not even remotely the same.
I can tell it’s wearing on him. Even in his interviews and speeches, Adam looks more and more tired. He’s dealing with these issues and taking personal flak for things he can’t control.
The thing is, the situation isn’t as bad as people pretend it is. Nobody is dead, nobody is even hurt. There was an attack, but it was stopped by American troops alongside local police.
The aftermath is what’s really driving him nuts.
Day after day of hunting down the people responsible. And the press is ruthless, merciless.
I wish I could see him. I know he’s stressed to the max, and I think I know how I can help.
But I also know not to push. We’re still hiding this relationship, even if the Secret Service knows about it. I can’t approach him any more than he can approach me in broad daylight.
So I’m left waiting, watching the news, wishing I could talk to him. Wishing he’d at least call me.
Two weeks drag past until one night, that call finally comes.
I’m working late in the office when the number pops up. Private, like always, and my heart’s beating fast when I answer.
“Hello?”
“President for you.” His secretary sounds short this time. The line clicks over immediately.
“Hi, Maggie,” he says softly.
“Adam.” I suck in a breath, barely able to control myself. “How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Just juggling an international crisis, so pretty great.”
I laugh softly. “I’ve been watching the news. I’m so sorry this has been so hard on you.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s my job. They have to place blame somewhere, and it might as well be with me.”
“It’s just not fair.”
“Don’t worry, Maggie, really. I’m fine.”
I sigh, biting my lip. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and I won’t press the issue.
“Where are you right now?” he asks. “At home?”
“Actually, no,” I say. “Working late. Again.”
He laughs. “You work too hard. It’s, what, eight?”
“Nine.”
“Shit. Always later than I think it is.”
“I guess I just like it here too much to go home.”
“I doubt that.” He pauses for a second. “Come see me.”
That’s what I’ve been waiting for.
That’s the real reason I’m working late, and have worked late for the past two weeks.
Every day, day after day, on the off chance that I’d see him, that he’d call.
I’ve stayed later than I really wanted, just in case. Waiting for him.
Dreaming of him. Craving him.
“Okay,” I say right away. “Where?”
“Oval office. Come in ten minutes. Susie’s on her way out.”
“Okay,” I say. “Ten minutes.”
“See you then.”
He hangs up. I sit back in my chair.
Ten minutes. What’s ten minutes? I’ve been waiting two weeks, night after night. I can wait ten minutes.
Except my leg’s jostling, bouncing, excitement and nerves coursing through me. I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. I want to run to him, hold him, kiss him.
I want to talk to him, hear about how he’s been feeling.
Or we don’t have to talk. Or I can just kiss him, taste him.
Let his thick cock sink between my legs.
I’m smiling as the minutes tick past, and finally, after ten minutes exactly, I get up from my desk and head to the Oval Office.
It’s a bit of a walk, but I’m able to approach the door without any problems. The Secret Service agent standing nearby just nods at me as I pass.
The door isn’t locked. I walk right in, shutting the door behind me.
Adam looks up from his desk. For a second, my breath catches in my throat.
He’s the shining image of the President. This is the kind of man everyone wants behind this desk.
He smiles, stands. His suit, the jacket on the back of the chair, fits him perfectly. The shirt clings to his muscular body, though it isn’t too tight.
He looks like a king.
He looks like my Daddy.
“Maggie,” he says, like my name is some kind of magical incantation. “Come here.”
My momentary awkwardness melts away. We haven’t seen each other in two weeks, but at that single command, it all clicks back together. It’s like we’ve been seeing each other every day.
I walk to him, around the desk, and press my body against his.
He wraps his arms around me, pulls me tight again
st his chest. He breathes in the smell of my hair and I breathe in the smell of his body.
We stay there for a moment. No words pass between us, but I feel like he says everything I need to hear.
His hands on my hips.
His body tight against mine.
Firm, solid, in command.
I can feel how tired he is.
But it doesn’t matter. He’s always in command, always in charge, always in control. Even when he’s tired and it looks like the world is stacked against him.
I look up and meet his gaze. “I missed you,” I say softly.
He smirks, tilts my chin up. “You missed your Daddy?” he asks.
“I really missed my Daddy,” I admit.
He kisses me softly at first. Just lips, soft but still firm. But slowly, it turns into more, his tongue against mine, his taste flooding my body.
It’s what I’ve been needing for so long.
And right in the middle of the Oval Office.
The thought occurs to me, scares me, actually. I feel like we should be running out of here.
But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
I need this. And if I stop, I may never come back.
He turns me and hefts me up. Suddenly I’m sitting on top of the Resolute desk, my legs spread, wrapped around the President’s hips. I groan as he kisses me harder, unbuttoning my blouse, my tight skirt pushed up already
He kisses my neck, desire flooding all through me.
“Even in the middle of a crisis, I can’t stop picturing this,” he whispers. “I can’t get your taste out of my head.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, either,” I admit.
He smirks, pulls back, finishes unbuttoning my blouse. He cups my breasts, opening my bra up, before gripping my hair. He kisses me again, holding one breast, hand in my hair, gripping tight.
“Should we do this?” I groan as he kisses my collarbone.
“Absolutely,” he says.
“But here? Anyone could come in/”
“I told my security detail to stop anyone from entering without my express permission.” He grins at me, cocks his head. “Don’t you want to get fucked on this desk?”
I bite my lip. “It’s a historic desk.”
“I bet Marilyn Monroe was fucked on it.”
“Oh my god. I bet you’re right.”
He kisses my ear, my neck. “You’re better than her, better than anyone else before you,” he whispers.
I don’t care if it’s crazy. I don’t care if it’s baseless flattery.
It’s seductive. It’s intense. He spreads my legs, using a little force.
He grips my hair, pulling my chin up as his other hand slides up my thigh, finding my pussy. He strokes me, making me moan softly, deep in my throat.
“That’s right,” he says softly. “Give yourself over to Daddy. Let me take care of you.”
“It’s all yours,” I whisper, not knowing what I’m saying. “Every inch of me. Use me up, Daddy.”
He groans, slipping my panties aside. He teases my clit, kissing me deep, forcefully. I groan, rolling my hips against his fingertips.
It feels so fucking good. I’ve been dreaming about his touch ever since the last time I saw him, and this…
It’s so much better. My dreams can’t even compare.
He strokes me, slides his fingers inside, pushes them in and out. I grind my hips again, moving faster, moaning. I bite his lip and he grins, pulling my hair. He pushes his fingers in deep, stroking at the roof my pussy, finding that pleasure spot.
My whole body arches, aches. Desire, pleasure, it pushes me into a new place.
“Fuck, Daddy,” I moan.
“That’s right,” he says. “I know what you need. I know how to make you moan.” He bites my lip, grips my hair tight, slides his fingers deeper.
I groan, spreading my legs wider. I forget where we are, who I’m with. I don’t think about the priceless desk under my ass.
I just move my hips, needing the pleasure, the intense desire.
He kisses my chest, fingers pumping in and out, my hips moving in circles.
I’m not with the President. I’m not in the Oval Office.
I’m not on the Resolute desk.
I’m with my Daddy.
I’m getting what I need from my Daddy.
He kisses my lips again and pushes me back onto my elbows. I stare as he drops to his knees and slowly pulls my panties off, stuffing them into one of his drawers.
“For later,” he says, stepping back and unbuckling his belt. I watch as he takes off his pants and his boxer briefs, taking his big, fat cock in his fist, slowly stroking himself.
I’m aching for him as I arch my back. He presses his cock against me, opening my pussy wide, and slowly slips himself in deep.
I gasp as I take him. He’s so damn thick, so damn wide. I groan as he grinds his hips, fucking me nice and slow, getting me used to his size again.
He puts his two fingers in my mouth as he thrusts deep. “Taste yourself,” he says as I lick his fingers clean.
I moan with his fingers in my mouth, sucking them, licking them. I don’t mind my own taste.
It actually makes me that much more excited.
He starts to fuck me faster, one hand on my hips, the other in my hair. I spread my legs wide, taking him deeper. He grins against my pussy, my clit, filling me completely.
I can’t help myself. Moans escape my lips. I know I should be quiet, but it’s impossible. All I want is for him to keep fucking me, keep pushing me, closer and closer.
I gasp, moving my hips. I buck against him as he grabs my hair, pulling me close to him, kissing me deep. I can feel sweat on my skin now as he fucks me faster. I’m dripping wet and he slides so easily in and out, pumping and grinding.
I groan, needing more. He bites my lip, pulls my hair. He wraps his other hand around my throat, pushing slightly, making me groan.
“Fuck, Daddy,” I gasp.
“You’re all mine, you know that? Every inch of your body. Every inch of your skin.”
I groan as he keeps fucking me. “I know,” I say. “Every inch.”
“When I’m done with your pussy, and you’ve come nice and hard on my fat cock, I’m going to fill your ass up. I’m going to fill you and come deep inside.”
“Fuck,” I gasp, looking into his eyes. He’s serious, I can tell. “I don’t think… I don’t know. You’re so big.”
“Every inch,” he reminds me. “Every single inch.”
I groan and nod. “Fuck me,” I beg. “Please. Keep going.”
He moves faster, grinding and thrusting. I roll my hips, pushing tight against him with my arms. I can feel my clit against his body, his cock lodged deep inside my pussy.
Pleasure blooms all through me. Even the scary idea of his monstrous cock inside of my ass just makes me that much more excited.
And having him come inside of me drives me wild.
I’ve never had anyone fuck me in the ass before. I’ve never felt it before.
I should be afraid. But he just makes me excited for absolutely anything.
He pulls me off the desk suddenly, turning me around. I face forward, bent over, as he slaps my ass hard.
“Shit,” I gasp, but I don’t have long to think about it. He presses his cock back inside, grabbing my hips.
He fucks me hard from behind. As he fills me, I feel his finger tease my ass before sliding inside.
I groan. I move my hips. I let him finger my ass as he fucks my pussy, nice and deep and rough. I work my hips, backing up against him, pleasure blooming all through me.
“Just a taste, little Maggie,” he whispers. “Just a taste of my big cock in your tight little ass. That’s what you like, right? You want me to fill you up?”
“I want you inside me, Daddy,” I gasp. “Every single inch of you.”
“That’s right.” He grabs my hair with his other hand, pulls back. I move my ass faster, back arched.
&nb
sp; He fucks me rough, merciless. I’m sweating, groaning, my mind completely blank except for pleasure. I can’t feel anything but pure desire.
I can’t think of anything but my President Daddy fucking my pussy, my tight ass. He keeps thrusting, moving harder, grinding and taking me deep.
I groan, moving back against him. I know I can’t take much more. I’m so fucking close.
I grip the desk. I hold on tight. I move my hips faster, grinding, moving, pleasure blooming, my eyes closed, my mouth open.
He pulls my hair. He slaps my ass. I know I’m close. “Come for Daddy, Maggie,” he whispers in my ear.
That’s all I needed to hear. The orgasm slowly overtakes me, starting off as a tensing, a tightening, before resolving into an explosive pleasure that wracks every inch of my skin.
I’m shaking, groaning, a mess of pleasure and need. I’m like a puddle at his feet, but he’s not done with me.
As I finish, he slowly slides his cock back out, a smile on his lips.
“That’s a good girl,” he says, turning me around, pushing me to my knees. “Now get my cock nice and wet.”
I take him in my mouth, sucking him fast and deep. He groans and I lick every inch, covering him with my spit. I take him into my throat, gag, my own hand between my legs, teasing myself.
He pulls me back to my feet, turns me around, pushing me down. He spreads my ass open and I feel his tongue lick me, top to bottom, before his cock presses against me.
I relax as much as I can as he slowly slides himself inside of me.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “God damn. You’re so fucking tight.”
“Oh, shit, Daddy.” Pain lances through me. I grip the desk.
He leans over me, kisses me lips. “Relax. Let me do the work.”
I take a breath and relax. He slides himself deeper and I take him. I feel so full as he slowly starts to fuck me.
I take him deep into my ass. I love how he groans, moans my name. I move my hips, encouraging him, needing it.
He fucks me faster, deeper. I look over my shoulder and meet his eyes.
That seems to push him over the edge. He cups my breasts and thrusts his cock deep into my ass. I can feel him come, filling my ass up to the brim.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, fucking god damn, Maggie.”
I can’t help but smile as he slides himself out of me. He collapses back into his chair and pulls me down into his lap.
