President Daddy (Dark Daddies 4) - Page 32

And I do. Except I’m panting his name. “Daddy, oh, fuck, President Daddy.”

He growls at this, fucks me harder in response. He’s merciless, intense, undaunted. I love a big, strong man, and he’s the biggest I’ve ever had.

He rocks into me. Just when I don’t think I can handle anymore, he pulls back, sits on the edge of the bed, and drags me on top of him.

I straddle his cock and slowly sink down. He makes me ride him, untying my hands and letting me balance myself with them. He uses the tie to push into my mouth, not tying it off like a gag, but letting the ends hang loose.

I bite down onto it. I like the taste of the silk on my tongue.

I ride his cock, hands on his legs, working myself up and down his shaft. I grind my clit against him as he slaps my ass, lifts my shirt up, teases my breasts and nipples.

I groan and bear down on him, grinding my hips harder, his cock buried inside me. He pulls me down, closer to him, kissing me as he starts to work his hips, grinding against me.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pleasure peaking through my body. It’s like electricity, riding along my skin. My eyes are turning black, my world dripping into a pinpoint of pure pleasure.

I ride him harder, grinding away, getting into that rhythm. I know what it means, the rhythm that I can’t stop, like a pulse inside my chest. He keeps up with me, whispers in my ear. “Fucking come for me, Maggie,” he says. “Come for your Daddy, you dirty fucking girl. Come on my big, fat cock.”

I gasp, groaning. I work faster, sweat on my skin.

I come hard, my hands squeezing his legs, my teeth biting down on the tie. I groan through it, rolling my hips and he moves with me, rolling at my pace.

Slowly I start to finish. He rolls me over, pushing me down onto my back.

“You’re not done yet,” he says, smirking. He pulls the tie from my lips and kisses me.

I groan as he fucks me, rough and steady. I know what he wants, and I want it just as badly.

“Fill me, Daddy,” I moan for him. I want him to come deep inside of me, leave himself inside my tight little pussy.

He strokes harder, harder, fucking me rough. His whole body tenses, and I can feel him coming.

He fills me, coming deep inside my pussy. I gasp and arch my back, loving the sensation.

When he finishes, I roll him onto his back. I lean against his chest, listening to his heart beating.

He kisses the top of my head.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I doubt it. You were in France.”

“Fuck the French.”

I laugh softly and kiss him again.

We stay like that for a while, longer than I would’ve guessed. But by the time two in the morning rolls around, he slips out of bed. I watch him dress. He leaves with only a kiss on my lips and nothing else.

I’m left alone in my bed, his body still lingering, his impression still in my sheets.16AdamI’m in the residence the following morning, enjoying a late breakfast for once in my fucking life.

I can still practically taste Maggie on my lips when Ramirez knocks softly. “Sir, your press secretary is here.”

I frown. “Mason?”

Ramirez nods.

“Send him in,” I say, putting down my newspaper. I sip my coffee as Mason comes into my private living room, standing near the door.

It’s around ten in the morning, and I can tell he’s been working for a few hours already. He frowns, looking uncomfortable.

“Mason, how are you? Coffee?”

“Fine, sir. No, thank you.”

“Sit down. You’re making me fucking nervous.”

He hesitates, but takes a seat across from me. “I’ve been on the phone with Linda Torres all morning,” he blurts out.

I stare for a second and slowly put my cup of coffee down. “Okay,” I say slowly. “What did she say?”

“Sir, I don’t think I can kill this story. I’m sorry. I tried, I really did. I offered her whatever she wanted, offered her access, interviews—”

“What story?” I cut him off.

He looks away. “About Maggie.”

I sit there, stock-still. I didn’t think Linda had enough to publish, at least not yet. Otherwise, she would have.

“What changed?” I ask him softly.

“She says she has very credible evidence of a meeting last night,” he says slowly. “She says she has photographic proof.”

“Fuck,” I say out loud.

Mason winces. I guess I just confirmed it for him.

“Sir, this is bad. This is very bad. She says she’s trying to protect Maggie.”

“By dragging her into the fucking spotlight?” I stand up, pacing away. Anger rolls through my whole body. “She’s not in danger from me, she’s in danger from that fucking stupid journalist.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mason says, standing. “I tried to stop her. I tried to explain.”

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