The Daddy Series Books 1 - 4

by Hamel, B. B.

  He nods. “Okay. I’ll run it past my team.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Now get out of here before Charles loses his mind.”

  I grin and turn away. As I head to the door, he says one more thing.

  “Thank you for your help, Ms. Thomas.”

  I grin at him over my shoulder. “Of course, Mr. President.”

  I leave his office, making sure to wipe my face of my stupid smile before I do.

  Roger glares at me. The other staff all stare.

  I don’t care. I walk past them, head held high.

  10

  Adam

  Charles sits me down in the situation room and clears his throat.

  “Adam, if you keep fucking this girl, you’re going to sink this administration.”

  I frown at him for a second. I thought we were in here to talk about Pakistan again, since there are rumblings from the local militias and terrorist groups about some kind of retaliation.

  But my fucking sex life?

  “Not sure it matters, Charles,” I tell him. “I think people won’t care once we’ve done some good for them.”

  “You won’t have a chance if you can’t keep your dick in your pants.” He sighs. “Sir.”

  I laugh, unable to help myself. “I know it’s a bad idea.”

  “Bad idea? Fucking hell, Adam. It’s so obvious.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just…” I glance away from him for a second. “I’ve given up so much for so long. I’m ready for a change.”

  He grunts softly. “I know you haven’t exactly… put yourself out there, since your wife and son. Since Marci and Travis.”

  I flinch at their names. I don’t think their names, don’t read their names. It hurts still, even to this day.

  But it hurts a lot less than I expected.

  “But you have to realize how important what we’re doing is,” he continues. “We’re doing something real here, Adam. Fucking hell, I’m actually starting to believe in all your horseshit about changing this country and helping people.”

  I grin at him. “You sound like a damn radical, Charles.”

  He gives me a look. “None of it will matter if you don’t stop sleeping with that girl.”

  I stand up and turn my back to him. I stare at the wall, at the blank white, hands clasped behind my back. I look down at my shoes, at their shiny black uppers.

  “When Travis and Marci died, I thought I was dead, too,” I say softly. “I threw myself into politics. Everything I’ve done has led me to this point, and now…” I turn to him. I want him to see my face. “Now, with Maggie, I’m starting to feel again. Like a fucking human being.”

  He sighs. “You can’t stop, can you?”

  “No, I can’t. I’m not going to.”

  He meets my gaze. We stand there for a second. I’m half expecting him to resign right here and now.

  But he just grunts and stands. “Okay then. I guess we’ll figure it out.”

  I nod. “Thank you, Charles.”

  He hesitates at the door. “For the record, I’m against it. But… you’re my friend, and if this will help you, god help me, we’ll make it happen.” He gives me a defeated grin. “At least you won’t be the first President fucking someone you shouldn’t be in this damn place.”

  I laugh and follow him out, heart thumping fast in my chest. I feel heady, high, stupid with desire and excitement. I spot Ramirez at the end of the hall.

  “Get Maggie,” I tell him. “I’m going for a walk.”

  He stares at me. “Sir?”

  “Now.”

  He nods and leaves. I head down a long hall, through a back door, nodding at some guards as I go. I walk along a tunnel through the back of the White House and emerge up at street level, five agents on my tail.

  I lean up against an old brick wall and stare at the traffic. Nobody notices me. I’m just another political guy in a suit to them.

  The agents spread out, so as to blend in a little bit. I wait maybe ten minutes before Ramirez appears with Maggie in tow.

  She looks a little surprised. “Adam?” she asks.

  “Come on,” I say, reaching out my hand.

  She hesitates but takes it. We walk along the sidewalk, heading toward my favorite spot in the city.

  “I just had a talk with Charles,” I tell her.

  “Did he say that we can do this publicly?” She’s looking around, worried.

  I laugh. “Relax. Nobody’s going to notice us out here.”

  She bites her lip. “It’s still a stupid risk to take.”

  “Maybe. But it’s after seven and nobody gives a crap about a guy in a suit holding hands with a girl.”

  She sighs. “That’s all we are out here, huh?”

  “Yep. Although there are a few creepy men in black sunglasses following a little too close.”

  She grins at me, glances at the agents walking nearby.

  “Anyway, Charles said he’d support this. Whatever it is.”

  She looks surprised. “Really?”

  “I think he’s turning into a true believer.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I know, right? If we can convince him, I think we can actually change the damn world.”

  She laughs, squeezes my hand. “You mean, you can change the damn world.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “Just up there?” I gesture with my other hand.

  “The Vietnam Memorial?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  “Huh. I haven’t visited that since… I don’t know. A school trip.”

  “I try to go once a year,” I say softly.

  We walk up to the memorial. It’s a long wall, sunk down into the ground, with the names of all the men that died in Vietnam. We walk together, looking at the wall, the shining black of its face, the recessed names carved into the stone.

  It’ll outlast the both of us, I can be sure of that, at least.

  I stop in front of one row. I reach out and run my fingers over the familiar name. “My father,” I say softly.

  She frowns. “Really?”

  “Really,” I say. “He was a career marine, went to Vietnam when he was a little older. About a year after I was born.”

  She’s quiet for a second. I stare at my father’s name, wondering what life would’ve been like had I grown up with a second parent.

  “My mother did her best,” I say softly. “She worked hard, took more than one job to make ends meet. She instilled in me the need for hard work, sacrifice. All the values I need now.”

  “She must’ve been amazing.”

  “She was. Died ten years ago, and I still miss her.”

  Maggie leans up against my arm, holding my hand tightly. “Thanks for showing me this.”

  “Of course,” I say softly. “I want you to know about me.”

  “I want to know about you, too.”

  “And I want you to share things about yourself.”

  She laughs a little. “Not much to say, really.”

  “Try me.”

  “My mom was a paralegal, my dad worked in insurance. Grew up middle class. I was a huge dork in school, got good grades.”

  “And ended up at Harvard?”

  She nods. “Right. Half scholarship, half loans. Still paying those off.” She laughs a little bit.

  “Typical Millennial.”

  “Except I started that blog, and it…”

  “Took off.”

  “Yeah. Unexpectedly.”

  “And here you are.”

  “Right. Holding hands with the President.”

  I turn toward her, pull her against me. “Calling him Daddy.”

  She grins. “That too.”

  I kiss her quickly. I love the feeling of her lips against mine. It gives me a thrill every time.

  But I catch an agent lurking nearby. I squeeze her hand. “Come on. Let’s walk a little longer.”

  We head down along the p
ath, moving slowly together. I ask her about how her work’s going, and she tells me about her friend Iris, and how high-strung her boss is.

  We laugh about other staff, about news coverage, about the world. I’m smiling the whole time, and for twenty minutes, I feel normal.

  I feel like a regular person, like any other man.

  But I know that’s not for me. It’s always temporary.

  Ramirez comes up quickly behind us, hand on an earpiece. “Sir,” he says. “Situation back at the White House.”

  I sigh. “We have to go?”

  He nods. “Now.” A car comes down the road suddenly and pulls over nearby. Ramirez nods at it. “Sir.”

  I look at Maggie. “Well, that’s about right,” I say.

  She grins at me. “Go be important. I’ll make my way back.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She nods. I squeeze her hand and walk away. The agents rush me into the car and we speed off, back toward the White House, and whatever crisis is waiting for me there.

  I close my eyes in the back seat. I pretend that I’m still out walking with Maggie. That I’m a regular man having a regular time with his girl.

  It feels good. I can almost taste her lips. I can almost feel her body.

  I crave it so badly. But for now, the world is waiting.

  11

  Maggie

  The next time I see the President, he looks absolutely exhausted.

  Well, that’s not really fair. I mean, he always looks tired.

  And even exhausted, the man is beautiful.

  Gorgeous, really. Square jaw, precise, startling eyes. There’s something about him that keeps people absolutely engaged.

  I know I can’t look away, not for a second.

  We don’t speak for a couple weeks. I dive into my projects, working on things Roger assigns me along with the healthcare issues, waiting for my next opportunity to see Adam.

  I’m impatient. I’m frustrated.

  But I know what’s going on. Everyone does.

  More problems in Pakistan. There was some retaliation on the local American embassy for the raids that rescued the French commandos. Nobody got hurt, thankfully, but it’s all over the news.

  Everyone’s talking about it. People mention Benghazi in the same sentence, although they’re not even remotely the same.

  I can tell it’s wearing on him. Even in his interviews and speeches, Adam looks more and more tired. He’s dealing with these issues and taking personal flak for things he can’t control.

  The thing is, the situation isn’t as bad as people pretend it is. Nobody is dead, nobody is even hurt. There was an attack, but it was stopped by American troops alongside local police.

  The aftermath is what’s really driving him nuts.

  Day after day of hunting down the people responsible. And the press is ruthless, merciless.

  I wish I could see him. I know he’s stressed to the max, and I think I know how I can help.

  But I also know not to push. We’re still hiding this relationship, even if the Secret Service knows about it. I can’t approach him any more than he can approach me in broad daylight.

  So I’m left waiting, watching the news, wishing I could talk to him. Wishing he’d at least call me.

  Two weeks drag past until one night, that call finally comes.

  I’m working late in the office when the number pops up. Private, like always, and my heart’s beating fast when I answer.

  “Hello?”

  “President for you.” His secretary sounds short this time. The line clicks over immediately.

  “Hi, Maggie,” he says softly.

  “Adam.” I suck in a breath, barely able to control myself. “How are you?”

  “Oh, you know. Just juggling an international crisis, so pretty great.”

  I laugh softly. “I’ve been watching the news. I’m so sorry this has been so hard on you.”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s my job. They have to place blame somewhere, and it might as well be with me.”

  “It’s just not fair.”

  “Don’t worry, Maggie, really. I’m fine.”

  I sigh, biting my lip. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and I won’t press the issue.

  “Where are you right now?” he asks. “At home?”

  “Actually, no,” I say. “Working late. Again.”

  He laughs. “You work too hard. It’s, what, eight?”

  “Nine.”

  “Shit. Always later than I think it is.”

  “I guess I just like it here too much to go home.”

  “I doubt that.” He pauses for a second. “Come see me.”

  That’s what I’ve been waiting for.

  That’s the real reason I’m working late, and have worked late for the past two weeks.

  Every day, day after day, on the off chance that I’d see him, that he’d call.

  I’ve stayed later than I really wanted, just in case. Waiting for him.

  Dreaming of him. Craving him.

  “Okay,” I say right away. “Where?”

  “Oval office. Come in ten minutes. Susie’s on her way out.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Ten minutes.”

  “See you then.”

  He hangs up. I sit back in my chair.

  Ten minutes. What’s ten minutes? I’ve been waiting two weeks, night after night. I can wait ten minutes.

  Except my leg’s jostling, bouncing, excitement and nerves coursing through me. I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. I want to run to him, hold him, kiss him.

  I want to talk to him, hear about how he’s been feeling.

  Or we don’t have to talk. Or I can just kiss him, taste him.

  Let his thick cock sink between my legs.

  I’m smiling as the minutes tick past, and finally, after ten minutes exactly, I get up from my desk and head to the Oval Office.

  It’s a bit of a walk, but I’m able to approach the door without any problems. The Secret Service agent standing nearby just nods at me as I pass.

  The door isn’t locked. I walk right in, shutting the door behind me.

  Adam looks up from his desk. For a second, my breath catches in my throat.

  He’s the shining image of the President. This is the kind of man everyone wants behind this desk.

  He smiles, stands. His suit, the jacket on the back of the chair, fits him perfectly. The shirt clings to his muscular body, though it isn’t too tight.

  He looks like a king.

  He looks like my Daddy.

  “Maggie,” he says, like my name is some kind of magical incantation. “Come here.”

  My momentary awkwardness melts away. We haven’t seen each other in two weeks, but at that single command, it all clicks back together. It’s like we’ve been seeing each other every day.

  I walk to him, around the desk, and press my body against his.

  He wraps his arms around me, pulls me tight against his chest. He breathes in the smell of my hair and I breathe in the smell of his body.

  We stay there for a moment. No words pass between us, but I feel like he says everything I need to hear.

  His hands on my hips.

  His body tight against mine.

  Firm, solid, in command.

  I can feel how tired he is.

  But it doesn’t matter. He’s always in command, always in charge, always in control. Even when he’s tired and it looks like the world is stacked against him.

  I look up and meet his gaze. “I missed you,” I say softly.

  He smirks, tilts my chin up. “You missed your Daddy?” he asks.

  “I really missed my Daddy,” I admit.

  He kisses me softly at first. Just lips, soft but still firm. But slowly, it turns into more, his tongue against mine, his taste flooding my body.

  It’s what I’ve been needing for so long.

  And right in the middle of the Oval Office.

  The thought o
ccurs to me, scares me, actually. I feel like we should be running out of here.

  But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

  I need this. And if I stop, I may never come back.

  He turns me and hefts me up. Suddenly I’m sitting on top of the Resolute desk, my legs spread, wrapped around the President’s hips. I groan as he kisses me harder, unbuttoning my blouse, my tight skirt pushed up already

  He kisses my neck, desire flooding all through me.

  “Even in the middle of a crisis, I can’t stop picturing this,” he whispers. “I can’t get your taste out of my head.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, either,” I admit.

  He smirks, pulls back, finishes unbuttoning my blouse. He cups my breasts, opening my bra up, before gripping my hair. He kisses me again, holding one breast, hand in my hair, gripping tight.

  “Should we do this?” I groan as he kisses my collarbone.

  “Absolutely,” he says.

  “But here? Anyone could come in.”

  “I told my security detail to stop anyone from entering without my express permission.” He grins at me, cocks his head. “Don’t you want to get fucked on this desk?”

  I bite my lip. “It’s a historic desk.”

  “I bet Marilyn Monroe was fucked on it.”

  “Oh my god. I bet you’re right.”

  He kisses my ear, my neck. “You’re better than her, better than anyone else before you,” he whispers.

  I don’t care if it’s crazy. I don’t care if it’s baseless flattery.

  It’s seductive. It’s intense. He spreads my legs, using a little force.

  He grips my hair, pulling my chin up as his other hand slides up my thigh, finding my pussy. He strokes me, making me moan softly, deep in my throat.

  “That’s right,” he says softly. “Give yourself over to Daddy. Let me take care of you.”

  “It’s all yours,” I whisper, not knowing what I’m saying. “Every inch of me. Use me up, Daddy.”

  He groans, slipping my panties aside. He teases my clit, kissing me deep, forcefully. I groan, rolling my hips against his fingertips.

  It feels so fucking good. I’ve been dreaming about his touch ever since the last time I saw him, and this…

  It’s so much better. My dreams can’t even compare.

  He strokes me, slides his fingers inside, pushes them in and out. I grind my hips again, moving faster, moaning. I bite his lip and he grins, pulling my hair. He pushes his fingers in deep, stroking at the roof my pussy, finding that pleasure spot.