He tapped his glass next to mine and took a step forward. With each step, I felt myself take another back. Back and back and back, like my kitchen went on forever. “Please, Xavier,” I whispered. My voice pleaded with him, but I knew my eyes gave me away. They wanted him. God, I wanted him.
Finally, I was against the door. I could feel my spine wheedle into the wood. His body was so hot against mine. He whispered into my ear: “What is it we can’t do?” His voice rasped with such sensuality.
And then I nearly fell into his arms. He kissed me so passionately, rubbing his hands against my breasts, against my thin waist. I kissed back with such earnestness, as well. I felt my knees give out, and I sighed into him, feeling my hands begin to unbutton his shirt. I ripped open the thing, allowing a few buttons to course wildly through the kitchen.
His immaculate, muscled chest gleamed in the light from my kitchen. He removed his shirt, allowing his upper arms to pulse with each movement. He placed his hands on my neck and began to unzip my dress, slipping it down around my ankles. He revealed me in just my tights; just my bra.
“God. You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
And then, he was on me once more, bringing his hands around my back and unhooking my bra, leaving me to gasp before him, my breasts bouncing into his open hands. He brought his mouth around the nipples, coursing his tongue up and down, over and over. I felt my pussy become so wet in my tights.
He gripped my waist, then, and carried me toward the couch. He sat down and swept me over him, allowing me to straddle him. He grabbed my tights and ripped them all the way down the leg, leaving me to gasp with delight. He separated the lips of my pussy and placed his hand on my clit, making me call out with such pleasure. I closed my eyes, seeing stars.
I reached toward his waist and undid his belt, stripping him naked on the couch along with me. I knelt down and placed my mouth around his huge, pulsing dick and rolled my tongue around and around,
hearing his gasps and sighs as I did it. I couldn’t believe I could make the president orgasm; I couldn’t believe I could make him feel this good.
But then, he pushed me down onto the couch, making me giggle a bit, even as my breasts bounced on my chest. “What are you doing?” I laughed at him, giving myself over once again to emotion.
“You look fucking great,” he said, thrusting his dick into me and bringing my feet up around his stunning face. He fucked me like that, with my legs vertically in the air and my head and back arched. Each penetration made me roar for more. He reached down and clamped my nipples with his strong fingers—the very ones he’d used to sign such important documents, to declare his oath to the presidency. And now—and now—
Each thrust shuddered the couch into the wall, making the entire apartment creak. The neighbors would hear, I knew; but they wouldn’t know who was making the noise. They wouldn’t dare say a thing.
After he nearly crushed the couch into the heaping brick wall, he wasn’t done. He removed his dick from me then, leaving me gasping. He brought me up onto the table. I stood on all fours, allowing him to enter my pulsing, dripping pussy from behind. “Yeah, baby,” I said. “Yeah.” I rubbed my clit from the front, feeling my orgasm revving in me, pushing all doubts of my love for this man aside. “Don’t stop!” I cried to the air around us. I felt like I was going to cry; I felt like this was the culmination of all my lack of feeling over the years. I’d had nothing for too long.
“Come for me, baby. Come for me,” the president said over and over. His hand reached around and helped me rub my clit, over and over again. Finally, I did; I came, allowing my muscles and my head and my thoughts to come free from the constraints of the past several years. I fell to the table in a fit of stars, of feeling. Xavier placed his hand on my ass, allowing me the comfort of coming down from such passion.
Xavier knelt down before me. His face was so serene. Nothing of the leader of the free world was portrayed upon it. I cooed at his face and placed my finger on the tip of his nose, on his mustache. “That, my friend, was brilliant,” I whispered to him, my eyes filled with light.
He knelt and kissed me once more. I could feel the passion digging into my gut. I wanted him to stay; I wanted to continue fucking him, to have him continue fucking me. I reached up and brought my arms around him, and he carried me into the bedroom, tucking me beneath the covers.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to him, my words so sleepy, so disoriented. “Where are you going?”
He was pulling his pants on, buttoning his shirt. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he whispered. “My gorgeous, gorgeous secret.”
I bit my lip and hid beneath the covers for a moment, barely believing what I’d just done. I’d fucked the President of the United States. And I felt my heart falling for him, harder and harder with every single passing second.
What was I going to do?
Chapter Twelve
I rose early, feeling the pulsing headache emanating through my forehead. I brought my legs over to the side, leaning my head into my hands. Every limb throughout my naked body seemed to quake. What the hell had happened last night?
I stood, feeling my nakedness reveal itself to the sunlit room. The open window presented a chorus of birds’ songs that lifted my spirits so readily, making me jump to the coffee machine and begin the brew. I couldn’t believe the previous night had happened. I stood naked in the kitchen, doing a slight dance for myself, my eyes closed.
I took a quick shower and dressed for work, seeing myself in a whole new light. I knew that the president understood the secrecy of the previous night, and for some reason, I wasn’t worried. This was always going to happen. There was something in us that couldn’t resist each other. Why should we fight it?
I took a taxi to work, like normal, and found myself in a sea of phone calls, of flying papers. I smiled to myself, loving the chaos once more. I reminded myself that this was all for the man of my dreams: that each day of my life, I worked to propel his life forward. And in turn, he propelled me forward, as well. We were the perfect political team. Except, of course, that we were completely off the record.
I was sure it had happened before.
I was sitting at my desk, rifling through various memos, when I received the call. I grabbed the phone and sighed into it, knowing that even he couldn’t make me feel strange this day. “Hello, Jason.” I waited for my second-in-command to speak.
His voice was strained. “Listen, Amanda. I need you to come into my office.”
I grew a bit haughty in these moments, admittedly. “I’m sorry, Jason. That will have to wait. I have a phone meeting with Atlanta in 20 minutes.”
But Jason was persistent. “No, Amanda. This is very urgent. I need you to reschedule all of your phone calls for the day. Get in here. Now.”