President Daddy (Dark Daddies 4)

It’s taking all my self-control not to tear off that dress right now.

“How’d you get stuck at this?” I ask her.

“Roger wants to court some big donors for a project he’s cooking up,” she says. “He made the whole department show up.”

I laugh softly. “That’s pretty bold.”

“Yeah, well. That’s Roger, I guess.”

“You’re not out shaking hands, though?”

“Not my thing. He keeps calling me his ‘whiz kid’ and I swear I’m going to kick his teeth in if he says it one more time.”

I laugh again. I almost forgot how funny she can be.

“Let’s get out of here together,” I say suddenly.

She blinks, frowns. “Is that a good idea?”

“No,” I say, leaning toward her. “It’s a terrible idea.”

She looks up at me, eyes wide.

“There’s a door in the back left corner, it’s a fire exit. I’ll go first. You follow after. Give me ten minutes.”

She nods slowly. I don’t know if she’ll do it or not, but I can’t stand around and wait to find out.

I have old ladies to woo on behalf of the party.

I walk away without another word. The Secret Service hovers nearby as I say hello to a few billionaire heiresses that’ve seen better days, but still have bank accounts like you wouldn’t believe.

I put on my best smile, the smile that won me the fucking election. I play it up, give them the pitch, make them feel special.

I play the fucking game. For ten minutes, I give it my all.

And after that ten minutes, I split.

The Secret Service trails behind me. I don’t care if they see something. They follow me through the fire door.

“Sir?” One of the agents steps forward. I recognize him.

“It’s fine, Ramirez,” I say.

“We don’t have this area secured.”

“Then secure it for me. I’ll be having a meeting shortly.”

He frowns, but nods. He says something into his walkie as I head down a short corridor.

This is clearly a back area where servers go. Some of them bustle past me, and I get a few double-takes. That stinks, but can’t be helped.

Finally, I find an empty office. There’s a table in the middle and a projection screen on the wall. I’m guessing the hotel rents these rooms for business meetings or whatever.

Ramirez follows me inside. “You stay out there,” I tell him. “There’s a girl coming from the White House. Maggie.”

Ramirez nods.

“Send her my way,” I tell him.

He nods again.

“And please, never breathe a word of this.”

“Sir, I’d take a bullet for you. And I personally think you deserve to have a life, even if you have to hide it.”

I blink, surprised. I’ve never heard an agent speak that much before, let alone give his personal opinion. “Thank you,” I say.

He nods one last time and exits the room.

I sit down on top of the table and wait. I don’t have to sit around long, though. I hear footsteps in the hall, and then Maggie appears.

Still looking beautiful in her black dress.

“Nice place,” she says.

“Only the finest for the President.”

She laughs as the door shuts behind her.

I hop down off the table. “We don’t have long,” I say softly.

Her eyebrows raise. “I thought we were running away together.”

I smile. “There’s no running away from the office. You know that.”

She laughs gently. “I guess not. A girl can pretend.”

I step right up to her and kiss her. I don’t hesitate or pretend like this is something else. We both know why she’s here.

I can feel my stress slowly melt away. I’ve been needing this so fucking badly. My existence has been one long string of crisis stress, uninterrupted and unceasing.

It’s impossible to explain how that wears at a person. The constant, unceasing uncertainty, the fear of death, the fear of failure. Everything hanging in the balance, and I’m the one making all the decisions.

It ages you. I understand how Presidents in the past have taken the job and left the office looking like they aged twenty years after only eight.

But with Maggie, that can all drift away into the night. All I need is her touch, her taste.

I turn her, push her back to the table. I lift her up, sit her down. She wraps her legs around my waist as I kiss her hard.

Fucking hell. I needed this so goddamn badly.

Her taste floods me. I feel her body, her breasts, down to the hem of her dress. I lift it up, making her gasp.

My heart’s pounding. Desire floods me.

I slide my hands up her bare thighs. Smooth and creamy, perfect and long. I stop as my right hand slowly finds her pussy, caressing her over her panties, sliding along her mound.

She groans. I slip them side, finding her wet spot. She’s soaked, excited. I rub her clit, rolling it, making her groan even more. I kiss her neck, her ear, her lips.

“I can’t stop thinking about this,” I whisper to her. “Fuck, ever since I first saw you. I knew I had to taste you.”