My 3 Rockstar Bosses

Hmm, very clever. Answering a question with a question. I took a deep breath.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” was my honest response. “I know I was supposed to meet a client for maybe dinner or drinks. I figured he’d put the moves on me, but that’s where everything went off track. Because I never figured he’d be you,” was my slow reply.

Thomas swirled his glass thoughtfully, the amber liquid forming graceful waves.

“Well, why don’t you pretend that I’m just another guy?” he asked. “Someone who’s interested in getting to know you?”

I took a deep breath.

“Honestly sir, I don’t know if I can do that. After all, how? You’re you, and I’m just me.”

“That’s it exactly,” he said, his gaze suddenly direct. “You’re you and I’m me. Nothing’s different. You’re a very beautiful woman whom I’d like to get to know, and this shouldn’t be different from any other interaction. Within reason, of course.”

I swallowed heavily because the truth was that I was insanely attracted to this man, but I had no idea how to behave. He was the leader of the free world for crying out loud! What was I supposed to do?

But President Burke is used to fame and adulation and he knows how to make people comfortable around him. So the big man leaned back and smiled.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you dance for me?” he suggested, that massive form relaxed. “I’d like to see more of what you have.”

I gulped.

“Um sure,” was my hesitant reply. “Should I set my drink down here?”

He nodded silently, blue gaze already deepening to a cobalt.

“Anywhere is fine,” came that slightly sibilant rasp. “Just get comfortable sweetheart. Do what you do best.”

I took a deep breath because dancing isn’t what I do best. In fact, my ambition is to get a master’s in library science, and to maybe become a writer after that. Or an academic librarian. But this didn’t seem like the right time to share my aspirations. After all, he only knew me as Pearl Evanescence from the Pink Flamingo. Oh wait. Maybe he knew everything about me already, given that they’d already done some type of stealth background check.

Stop over-thinking things, the voice in my head warned. You’re driving yourself crazy with all this back and forth. Just get out there and dance. That’s what the client wants, and you need to deliver, especially because this is the President of the United States.

So I took a deep breath and smiled once more, putting down my purse before standing.

“Um, is there any music?” I asked. “Or I can dance to no music, it’s no problem.”

In return, Thomas flicked a console by his side and the latest strains of a jazz piece came on. Perfect. Usually, I danced to pre-chosen songs during my sets, but this was fine. There was a workable beat, and the strains of the melody were classy and refined.

So taking a deep breath, I began to sway my hips, front and back and then from side to side. My hands found the tie of my trench coat and making eye contact with the big man, I loosened the stays before slipping the canvas material off my narrow shoulders.

“Atta girl,” the alpha breathed, letting his eyes roam all over my form. “You got it, sweetheart.”

Because I knew what he was seeing. I’ve put on weight since moving to the city, but fortunately, it’s mostly gone to all the right parts. My boobs are huge Double Ds, swinging along in time the music, and I’ve got a giant ass that bumps when I walk. Plus, my thighs. They’re meaty but luscious, and more than one customer has tried to take a bite while I dance onstage.

But right now, there was only one client and I took a deep breath, trying to center myself even as I moved in time to the music. Calm, came the voice in my head. Just because he’s our country’s commander-in-chief doesn’t mean he’s any different from a normal man. That was true. I needed to do what I did best, so I closed my eyes and focused on the music, letting the beat take over.

Running my hands through the curls draped over my back, I swung around so that my back was to the man before reaching behind and slowly, unsnapping my bra. Oh yeah. The lacey fabric almost popped free, my ta-tas wanted to be out. And slowly, I slid the material down my arms before dropping the brassiere to the floor.

“You wanna see, big guy?” I teased, looking over my shoulder slyly while still swaying my hips. “You want the goods?

Thomas didn’t even reply. Instead, one hand crept down to his waistband, popping the button on his pants. Oh good. He was into it and I smirked a bit before swinging around to face him and dropping my hands.

And shit, but my boobs practically exploded in his face then, they were so huge and luscious.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned, now stroking the massive pole at his waist. “Fuck yeah, sweetheart.”

I tittered a little although my heart had started racing. Because oh my god, his shaft was huge. And I mean, extra-extra large. Who knew that our president was packing? They usually say that powerful men have small wieners, but definitely not in this case.

And the more I looked at him, the more my pussy ran. Because the man was gorgeous, hands down. Those eyes shot pure blue fire, roaming all over my curves, as his chest and abs hardened with lust. Plus I just couldn’t ignore the missile between his hands. It was locked, loaded, and ready to fire, and I couldn’t wait to get a taste.