The Daddy Series Books 1 - 4

by Hamel, B. B.

  If I feel like this, I can only imagine what Adam must feel like. On the night of the second day, I get home and put on the TV, tuning in to CNN. They play some stock footage of the President, some stuff from earlier in the day, but nothing new.

  “Probably flying home,” I say to myself. I make dinner, eat at the table, do some work on my laptop, and get ready for bed around nine. Since Adam hasn’t been in the office, I’ve been going to bed early, trying to catch up on sleep.

  Just before I can turn in, there’s a knock at my door. I hesitate, surprised. I’m not expecting anyone, but maybe it’s my neighbor. She’s always losing her key, and she left one with me just in case.

  I head to my door. “Janine, seriously, you gotta—”

  I stop short as I pull my door open. Adam’s standing there, grinning at me.

  “Surprise.”

  “Shit.” I blink and stare.

  His grin gets bigger. “Shit? That’s all you have to say to me?”

  I throw myself at him. I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He laughs, hugging me back.

  “Okay, okay, it’s only been two days,” he says to me.

  I hug him close. I can see figures lingering in the hall behind him, I guess his security. Once I pull away, he tugs me into my apartment and quietly shuts the door behind me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

  He shrugs, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of a chair. “I just got back from France and didn’t feel like waiting.”

  “Linda Torres has been calling me. Three times, actually.”

  He sighs. “I figured that would happen.”

  “I told her to fuck off.”

  He goes still. “You didn’t actually…?”

  I grin at him. “No, I just hung up. I didn’t actually say that.”

  He sighs. “Okay, great.”

  “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

  “I know, I know. We’re just all under pressure.”

  “But my point is, are you sure you should be here? I mean, she could have someone watching my apartment, just in case.”

  He shakes his head. “I definitely should not be here,” he says, coming toward me. He’s loosening his tie, sliding it off. “I should stay far away from here.”

  “But here you are.”

  “Here I am.” He stops in front of me, staring down into my eyes. “Show me your bedroom.”

  “Adam, really—”

  “Maggie,” he says over me, looking stern. “Show me your bedroom.”

  I hesitate, sigh, and turn around. I lead him down a short hall and we step into my room together.

  It’s on the small side, with a single queen bed, a dresser, two night stands, and a closet. It’s nothing special, just your standard apartment bedroom.

  He pulls me against him as soon as we’re in my room, and I realize he’s not there to see my space.

  Excitement runs through me.

  He grabs my wrists behind my back. I can feel him wrap his tie around them, pulling it into a loose knot. He kisses me and tightens the knot, binding my hands together.

  I gasp and groan. “Shit, Daddy,” I say. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting what I need.”

  He pushes me face down on the bed, ass in the air. He tugs down my pajama pants and slides my panties off. My pussy’s in the air for him as he admires me, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

  “Beautiful,” he says. “I dreamed about this pussy every night in France.”

  “I was watching you,” I say to him.

  He raises an eyebrow, finishes unbuttoning his shirt. He takes it off, drops it on the floor.

  “Were you?”

  “On TV. It’s weird, seeing you acting all…”

  “Presidential?”

  I nod a little. “Exactly.”

  He kneels down behind me. “It’s not Presidential when I tease you?” he asks me.

  “Not at all.”

  “I think it is.” He grabs my ass, spreads it wide. “Look at you. Perfect, pristine. Begging for me.”

  I bite my lip. “There’s nothing Presidential about this, Daddy.”

  “You’re right. There isn’t.” He licks me, top to bottom, tongue exploring my pussy, flicking up and back along my clit.

  I groan, roll my hips, getting them up in the air. His tongue slides inside and back out. It feels so fucking good, exploring every inch of my exposed pussy.

  My hands tied behind my back just make this that much more intense. I test my bonds, pushing them a little bit, but they’re tight and firm. I’m not going anywhere.

  Not that I’d want to. I’ve been dreaming about my Daddy coming home for two days now.

  And this is even better than my wildest dreams.

  He slaps my ass, nice and hard. I groan, gasping in a high-pitched moan. He slaps me again, spanking my bare ass, before teasing my clit with his fingers and pulling my hair.

  “You’re all mine, Maggie,” he says. “Tied up like this, vulnerable to whatever I want. You’re mine, every inch of your skin.”

  I groan and wiggle my ass as his fingers slide deep inside my pussy. Pleasure rocks through my body and I can’t stop the moans that come spilling from my lips.

  I need this so badly. Every second I spent staring at him on TV was another second closer to needing him even more. Even his image drives me fucking wild.

  Having him here, though, in the flesh, it’s perfection.

  He steps back and I watch as he takes off his pants. It’s so fucking sexy, being tied up, my pussy soaking wet and up in the air, just waiting for him.

  I stare at the bulge in his boxer briefs. He slowly takes them off, taking his massive cock in one hand and stroking himself.

  “Look how hard you make me,” he says. “Look at this fucking cock. You drive me wild.”

  “I love that cock, Daddy,” I say, wiggling my hips for him. “I love every single inch of it.”

  “I know you do, dirty girl.” He steps closer, slaps my ass. I groan as he grabs my hips and pulls me against him.

  I can feel his cock teasing me, pressing against my pussy. I need it so badly. I push myself back, open my legs, and I feel him slide inside.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “So fucking tight and warm. Do you see what you do to me, Maggie?”

  “Slap my ass, Daddy,” I moan.

  He spanks me hard and starts to fuck me, pumping his cock in and out, nice and slow at first. The pain from his hand on my bare ass stings and mingles with the intense pleasure of his cock pushing deeper and deeper.

  I love having him inside of me. He pulls my hair, one hand wrapped around it, the other grabbing the tie between my wrists. He pulls me tight against him as he fucks me, my ass slapping against him.

  I work my back, moaning, sweat already starting to form on my skin. I love working for my Daddy, love having him push my boundaries. He growls and spanks me again as I look over my shoulder at him.

  “You like watching me fuck you?” he asks, pulling my hair.

  I gasp. “Yes,” I moan. “I love your body. I love staring at your skin.”

  “I know you do,” he growls in my ear. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re hungry for it, for my big fucking cock deep inside your tight little cunt.”

  He roughly fucks me, slamming into me. I groan, backing against him. He pulls harder on my hair, harder on my wrists, shoving me against him.

  Intense pleasure and pain roll through me. I don’t know where one starts and the other stops, and I don’t think I care. I’m completely blank, completely empty.

  The only thing I want is for him to fill me back up.

  He slams his cock, thrusting inside. I roll my hips, riding back along his shaft. He groans and lets me do the work. I get up on my knees, face in my comforter, working myself back along his massive cock.

  I work him harder and faster. I want him deep in my core, slamming against me, filling my every inch, I’m overflowing with him, filled to
the brim, and all I want is more.

  I’m greedy for him, I’m starving for him. He’s water and I’m dying of thirst.

  It feels so fucking good I could scream.

  And I do. Except I’m panting his name. “Daddy, oh, fuck, President Daddy.”

  He growls at this, fucks me harder in response. He’s merciless, intense, undaunted. I love a big, strong man, and he’s the biggest I’ve ever had.

  He rocks into me. Just when I don’t think I can handle anymore, he pulls back, sits on the edge of the bed, and drags me on top of him.

  I straddle his cock and slowly sink down. He makes me ride him, untying my hands and letting me balance myself with them. He uses the tie to push into my mouth, not tying it off like a gag, but letting the ends hang loose.

  I bite down onto it. I like the taste of the silk on my tongue.

  I ride his cock, hands on his legs, working myself up and down his shaft. I grind my clit against him as he slaps my ass, lifts my shirt up, teases my breasts and nipples.

  I groan and bear down on him, grinding my hips harder, his cock buried inside me. He pulls me down, closer to him, kissing me as he starts to work his hips, grinding against me.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, pleasure peaking through my body. It’s like electricity, riding along my skin. My eyes are turning black, my world dripping into a pinpoint of pure pleasure.

  I ride him harder, grinding away, getting into that rhythm. I know what it means, the rhythm that I can’t stop, like a pulse inside my chest. He keeps up with me, whispers in my ear. “Fucking come for me, Maggie,” he says. “Come for your Daddy, you dirty fucking girl. Come on my big, fat cock.”

  I gasp, groaning. I work faster, sweat on my skin.

  I come hard, my hands squeezing his legs, my teeth biting down on the tie. I groan through it, rolling my hips and he moves with me, rolling at my pace.

  Slowly I start to finish. He rolls me over, pushing me down onto my back.

  “You’re not done yet,” he says, smirking. He pulls the tie from my lips and kisses me.

  I groan as he fucks me, rough and steady. I know what he wants, and I want it just as badly.

  “Fill me, Daddy,” I moan for him. I want him to come deep inside of me, leave himself inside my tight little pussy.

  He strokes harder, harder, fucking me rough. His whole body tenses, and I can feel him coming.

  He fills me, coming deep inside my pussy. I gasp and arch my back, loving the sensation.

  When he finishes, I roll him onto his back. I lean against his chest, listening to his heart beating.

  He kisses the top of my head.

  “I missed you,” he says softly.

  “I doubt it. You were in France.”

  “Fuck the French.”

  I laugh softly and kiss him again.

  We stay like that for a while, longer than I would’ve guessed. But by the time two in the morning rolls around, he slips out of bed. I watch him dress. He leaves with only a kiss on my lips and nothing else.

  I’m left alone in my bed, his body still lingering, his impression still in my sheets.

  16

  Adam

  I’m in the residence the following morning, enjoying a late breakfast for once in my fucking life.

  I can still practically taste Maggie on my lips when Ramirez knocks softly. “Sir, your press secretary is here.”

  I frown. “Mason?”

  Ramirez nods.

  “Send him in,” I say, putting down my newspaper. I sip my coffee as Mason comes into my private living room, standing near the door.

  It’s around ten in the morning, and I can tell he’s been working for a few hours already. He frowns, looking uncomfortable.

  “Mason, how are you? Coffee?”

  “Fine, sir. No, thank you.”

  “Sit down. You’re making me fucking nervous.”

  He hesitates, but takes a seat across from me. “I’ve been on the phone with Linda Torres all morning,” he blurts out.

  I stare for a second and slowly put my cup of coffee down. “Okay,” I say slowly. “What did she say?”

  “Sir, I don’t think I can kill this story. I’m sorry. I tried, I really did. I offered her whatever she wanted, offered her access, interviews—”

  “What story?” I cut him off.

  He looks away. “About Maggie.”

  I sit there, stock-still. I didn’t think Linda had enough to publish, at least not yet. Otherwise, she would have.

  “What changed?” I ask him softly.

  “She says she has very credible evidence of a meeting last night,” he says slowly. “She says she has photographic proof.”

  “Fuck,” I say out loud.

  Mason winces. I guess I just confirmed it for him.

  “Sir, this is bad. This is very bad. She says she’s trying to protect Maggie.”

  “By dragging her into the fucking spotlight?” I stand up, pacing away. Anger rolls through my whole body. “She’s not in danger from me, she’s in danger from that fucking stupid journalist.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Mason says, standing. “I tried to stop her. I tried to explain.”

  I whirl on him. “You’re fucking fired. Go pack your shit.”

  He stares. “Sir, I—”

  “Mason, if you say one more thing, I swear to fucking shit I will make sure you don’t land in some cozy fucking lobbyist job after all this is over. Do you hear me?”

  He hesitates but nods, looking resigned.

  “Good. Now get the fuck out.”

  He leaves without another word. I’m left alone in my residence, staring at the wall, trying not to tear it to pieces.

  That fucking asshole Linda Torres. She thinks I’m taking advantage of Maggie, that I’m doing something horrible. Really, we have a real relationship, as strange as it might be.

  But no, I’m the fucking President. I don’t deserve an ounce of happiness, not in this miserable life.

  I ball my fists and slowly relax them.

  I made a mistake. I can admit it. I should’ve done this sooner.

  Ramirez looks up as I open the door. “Get Charles,” I say.

  He nods and leaves without a word. I storm back into my residence and finish my fucking coffee.

  Charles comes up a few minutes later. He looks angry. “You fired Mason? You can’t just—”

  “Charles,” I say coldly, staring at him. “If you don’t shut your mouth and sit down right now, you’re next.”

  He hesitates, clearly taken off guard. “Adam—”

  “Sit the fuck down.”

  He stands there, clearly annoyed, but does as I ask. He sits and glares at me.

  “In all my years—”

  “Fire everyone,” I tell him.

  He stares.

  “Fire every single Secret Service agent on my detail, except those that weren’t with me last night and Ramirez. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  “I’m cleaning house, Charles. More cabinet members are next.”

  “Why?” he asks, exasperated. “They didn’t leak—”

  “They haven’t done shit,” I snap at him, “I hired these people to do something worthwhile, but it’s just been more of the same. We’re starting over, Charles. And this time, we’re bringing in people that’ll make a difference.”

  He doesn’t say anything at first. We sit there, staring at each other. I know the old Marine is trying to decide whether he wants to support this or not.

  I don’t need him. I don’t care.

  I have Maggie. And I’m the fucking President.

  Finally, he takes a deep breath.

  “Start with Susie,” he says.

  I blink, surprised. “My secretary?”

  “Never trusted her. We’ll fire the agents discreetly over a few days.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding.

  He looks grim. “As for the others, well… let’s find replacements before heads roll.”

  “
Get on it.”

  “I will.” He hesitates. “Are you sure about this, Adam? All for a girl?”

  “No, Charles. Not for a girl.” I stand up. “For the fucking country.”

  He sighs. “You’re so melodramatic.”

  I grin at him, shrug a little. “I know. Kills on TV, though.”

  “Sure does.” He gets up, grumbling to himself. “I’ll get on all this.”

  “Good.”

  He nods and leaves.

  I stand there, staring out, down the long hallway.

  I’m staring at the wreckage of my presidency.

  I can see it hanging in the balance. One wrong move and we’re finished. Linda Torres can bring it all crashing down.

  I made a mistake. I never should’ve gone to see Maggie last night. I should’ve been safer, more discreet.

  But it doesn’t matter now. I did what I did because I’m an idiot.

  She said it herself though. We have a chance to make a real difference. I can’t risk that.

  I need to be better, be stronger. I need to figure my shit out.

  And Maggie is a distraction.

  The thought kills me. Breaks me.

  I can’t be weak now. I’m the fucking President.

  I take a deep breath and let it out.

  Time to get to work.

  17

  Maggie

  It’s like a bomb went off in the White House.

  Everyone’s traumatized. It’s like they’re still recovering, limping around, jumping at every noise. People are on edge.

  All because the President is cleaning house.

  He didn’t do anything halfway. One day, we were all buzzing along like normal, and the next, heads were rolling.

  It started with senior staff, but it wasn’t exclusive to them.

  He fired his secretary. Half his security detail. His personal chef.

  And policy people. Half our department, wiped out, with no replacements in sight.

  Iris survived, fortunately.

  “What do you think?” she asks me.

  We’re sitting in the office, staring at the empty desks. “Spooky,” I admit.

  “Scary, really.” She makes a face. “I almost wish I were next. I hate this.”