“One of your MIB taking you to the airport?” MIB is code for Men in Black. Sometimes, Devon will even drop down and sing his own version of the Will Smith song.
Yep. Secret services. The president’s daughter gets zero play time. It’s why, occasionally, (maybe like three times), I have done a solid runner. Before I can answer Devon, my phone beeps and I slide it open.
Isa, Jerry will take you straight to the airport. Try to be early, please. You’re a headache for all the workers.
Ahhh, now by workers, I’m guessing she’s talking about my friend Daniel who is also the pilot of our private jet. This is my father’s second league running, so all the workers are well acquainted with me. I send a message back to Lydia.
(rolls eyes)
Not funny, Isa.
(double rolls eyes)
….
See you soon.
I giggle, tossing my phone back onto my bed. She has a point, and I shouldn’t be making the workers’ life extra hard. Truth is, most of them have been around me more than my father because he’s just never home. After gathering up the last of my things and tossing them into my suitcase, I yell out, “Devon!” while scooping my hair into a high ponytail.
He saunters into my room with a towel wrapped around his torso. Water is still cascading down his rippling muscles, and I swear to God, fucking steam I still floating off his skin. The sweet smell of his soap hits me instantly, and I come hither him. “My family stressed me out.” I end with a pout.
Devon grins, gripping the edge of the towel and dropping it, giving me a full display of his athletic body. His thick cock falls into the palm of his hand, all angry and hot.
He pumps himself once, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. “Come wrap your lips around me, Isa, and suck me good like I know you can.”
I walk toward him, dropping to my knees while looking up at him from under my lashes. “Always.” Then I wrap my lips around Devon’s length, sucking on him slowly and licking around the rim of his cock. Peeking up at him, I slowly suck him deep down my throat. He groans, gripping my hair and tugging my hair back until the tip of his cock is resting on my plump lower lip. He grips his dick, rubbing his tip all over my lips.
“God, I want you to be mine, Isa.”
Ice fucking water. Nope. No. I inch back, my mouth slamming shut and my jaw tensing. “You know the rules, Devon. Say something like that again and I’ll find someone else to fuck me.”
He growls softly. “Fine. Get on the bed.”
I obey, and Devon does what he does best. Making me feel good, wanted, sexy. All until I can’t feel my legs and I almost miss my flight. Oops.
3
Slipping on some Jimmy Choos, I straighten my tits in my dress and run my nude lipstick over my lips one last time. As soon as I landed yesterday, I crashed at a hotel. Jerry and his MIB’s probably would have rather I be at the White House, you know, thus making their life and job a little easier, but the less time I spend with my dad, the better. For my own sanity.
“Thanks, Jerry!” I knock on the glass separator in the back of the limo, fluffing up my hair. It cranks down, and Jerry’s eyes come to mine in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be a few minutes. Behave yourself, Isa.”
“Aw,” I tease, giving him a small wink. “I always behave myself, and anyway, what could I possibly get myself into at the palace?”
He sighs, and then the separator is closing. I guess that conversation is over. I shouldn’t give Jerry such a hard time, but I’m guessing he’s used to it now what with almost five years dealing with me. Sighing, I gaze out the window as we pull in. I hate this place. It represents all things that I’m not. I’m not superior, nor do I think I am. I know that not all presidential candidates are like that, but my father, though he has America’s best interest at heart – always—is. He seems to leave his kids—my sister and I—to fend for ourselves almost all of the time. Or, he likes to think that all the men he has employed will do it for him. Which they do – every time. More Jerry than anyone else, but I always have at least three secret service agents following me around twenty-four seven. I’ve played poker with Jerry. He has chased away my one-night stand guys who wouldn’t leave my apartment. He has answered my cell phone when other guys never got a clue that I wasn’t interested, pretending to be my Navy Seal husband. In that regard, though, Jerry would be way scarier than any Navy Seal. My sister, on the other hand, isn’t as much hard work. She has her own MIB’s that follow her around, including her very own Jerry, who goes by the name of Chan. I’m truly not sure whether his actual name is Chan, I’ve just always called him that because he resembles Jackie Chan, and I never cared to know what his real name was. She’s the poster child for my father. Harvard law student, articulate, smart, classy. Everything that I’m not. I don’t think I’m not smart, but I believe more in doing something that sets your soul on fire than something that will make you miserable just to keep your father happy. That’s not me and not what I’m about at all. I tried, when I was younger, to satisfy my father and be something that he could be proud of, but every time my sister was around I would get tossed under the mat, so eventually, I stopped trying. I slowly started to realize that I don’t need to rely on family to make me feel wanted. There are lots of different ways you can make yourself feel good. Never rely on anyone else for that.