by B. B. Hamel
“I’ll explain soon. Come see me.”
He hangs up the phone.
I hesitate. I think about giving all this up, going home.
But of course, there’s no real choice here. I know what I have to do.
I get up and I head outside, walking quickly.
Ramirez meets me near the subway entrance. I follow him down, through a back service door, and down a series of twisting tunnels. Eventually we go through a heavy, well-guarded door, and walk up into the residence.
A secret tunnel into the subway system. Of course.
I wonder what other secret tunnels exist. I’m sure there are more.
“He’ll see you now,” Ramirez says as I walk up the steps. “Go right up.”
I head down the hall and into his private living room. He’s sitting with his shirt unbuttoned at the top, his jacket hung over the arm of a chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
I shut the door behind me with a soft click. I didn’t notice any other security agents out as I came down the hall, which is odd.
“Adam,” I say. “Are you okay?”
“Long, shit day.” He sighs. “Come here.”
I bite my lip and go to him. I lean down and kiss him, slow and deep. He tastes like whiskey and anxiety and himself. It’s still intoxicating.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I don’t know how she knows that we’re still seeing each other.”
“I do,” he says.
“How?”
“The Secret Service.”
I stare at him stupidly for a second. “Really? I mean, they’re… they’re the Secret Service.”
“I’m aware,” he says, sighing. “But they’re the only ones that knew. Twice now it leaked. It has to be someone on my security detail.”
“Oh, shit, Adam.”
I kiss him again and sit in his lap. He hugs me tight.
“Fucking asshole,” he whispers. “But hey, at least the speech on the Senate floor went well.”
I laugh as he grins at me. “Sure, only a little booing.”
“The media loved it.”
“They did.” I frown. The media’s response has been mixed. Fox News hates the idea of universal healthcare, of course, but other publications are a little more lenient.
I don’t know what the American people are thinking, not yet at least.
“Initial polls are mixed,” I admit. “But I think we can get there.”
“Thanks,” he says, grinning. “I think we can get there, too.”
I sigh, kiss him again. “You’re stressed.”
“I’m stressed,” he confirms. “I’m the damn President. I’m always stressed.”
I push off him, drop to my knees in front of him.
He looks down at me. I can see the desire burning in those beautiful eyes.
“I want to help you,” I say softly. “Can I help you, Daddy?”
“What did you have in mind?” he asks, tipping my chin up.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe I can suck your cock until you come. Maybe I can suck you dry. Swallow every drop.”
I can see the desire overwhelm him. I can see how much he loves it when I talk like that.
And I love it too. I feel a thrill running through me.
He’s been so good to me. He’s taken care of me, given me what I want.
Now it’s my turn to help the President.
This is just what I need to do for my country.
Fortunately, I really, really want to.
“Maybe you can,” he says softly.
I pull at his belt, get it unbuckled. I unbutton his pants, pull down his fly. I start to massage his cock over his boxer briefs as he leans down and kisses me.
“Every day I think about you,” he whispers. “I think about what you feel like from the inside, how you taste when I kiss you, how you taste when I lick your little pussy. I can’t get you off my fucking mind.”
“I feel the same way,” I say. His cock is stiffening under my hand, so I pull it from the slit in his briefs. I take him and slowly stroke him, looking up into his eyes.
“I’m the most powerful man on the planet, at least that’s what they tell me. And yet all I care about is you.”
I bite my lip. I sit up and he kisses me again. I have so many conflicting emotions running through my mind, and I don’t know what’s real.
I don’t know if he means what he’s saying, but I have no reason not to believe him. I don’t know if I should let myself get deeper into this when I know it’s such a risk.
He has a leak. His own security can’t be trusted.
If any of this got out, everything would be over. We could forget about healthcare as we know it.
But he feels too good for me to let go. I can’t drag myself away. Staring up into his eyes, it drives me absolutely insane.
This man, this powerful man. He can do whatever he wants.
Control anything. Destroy whole countries.
And yet here he is, in the palm of my hand.
I dip forward, take his cock between my lips. I lose myself in sucking his cock, taking him as deep as I can manage.
“Fucking hell, Maggie,” he whispers. “This is what Daddy needs. Your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, sucking me nice and hard.”
I push deeper, gag once. I feel his hands grip my hair.
I want to make him feel better. I need to help him get rid of some of this stress, since I know it’s partially my fault.
If I could just stay away from him, he wouldn’t be in this mess. I know that goes both ways, and he has plenty of control over whether we see each other or not, but still.
I could help him. Make this decision easier.
I just don’t want to.
I can’t help myself.
He groans and it drives me wild. It reminds me why I need him so badly.
I suck him faster, listening to his grunts. He grabs my hair and I lose myself, not caring about anything but making my Daddy happy.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Maggie,” he groans. I love his taste, the way he moans my name. I love making him feel this good.
“You’re worth the fucking risk, you know that,” he groans, grabbing my hair, pulling me back. He kisses me, full and deep.
It sends a thrill through my body, hearing him say those words.
Truth is, I’m not sure I’m worth the risk.
I think this country is more important. I think his vision for this country is more important.
He’s the one than can bring about real change. But here I am, distracting him, risking his career.
For what? Because it feels good?
I can’t stop myself. I’m here, I’m on my knees. He’s my Daddy, whether I want it or not. I don’t think he’d let me walk away, not while he still wants me.
So long as he wants me, I’ll be there. I’ll be there no matter what.
I suck him faster, deeper. I push him deeper, letting him gag me, letting him pull my hair.
And when he comes, I take every drop. I swallow every little bit as he groans.
I love it. I love his taste, I love getting him off.
“Shit, Maggie,” he pants. I sit back, smiling, before helping him get dressed again.
When I’m done, he grabs me and pulls me into his lap. “You’re too good to me,” he whispers.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t feel that good.”
“Trust me. You are.” He looks at me, frowning. “I’m your Daddy. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I know, it’s just. Should we be taking this risk?”
He frowns. “It’s a good risk.”
“It’s a bad risk. There’s so much as stake, and we’re just two people.”
“The country won’t collapse if it finds out that a single man is seeing a woman.”
“It might if it finds out that she’s half your age and works for you.”
He sighs. “I understand what you’re saying, Maggie. This is just the only thing right now that doesn�
�t drive me insane. I don’t want to give that up.”
“I know.” I kiss him softly. “I don’t either.”
“I shouldn’t have to give it up. I’m still a man, after all.”
“I know you are.” I smirk and kiss him again.
He sighs. “Fucking hell. This country. Sometimes I think they don’t want to be helped.”
“They don’t. But we’ll do it anyway because it’s the right thing to do.”
“That’s right,” he says.
We kiss again and I cuddle up against his chest. I know I can’t stay forever, but right now, this is good enough.
14
Adam
Mason Oak crosses his arms and sighs. His dark brown eyes look troubled.
“The press isn’t letting this one go,” he says softly.
“What do you mean, the press?”
“Linda Torres.”
“Ignore her.” I wave it away.
Mason is my press secretary. It’s his job to clean up my messes, to deal with reporters. It’s his job to deal with annoying bloodhounds like Linda.
“Still, sir. It’s not that simple.”
“What about healthcare?”
“We’re getting plenty of questions on that as well,” he says. “I was thinking you should do some speeches on it. Start getting people interested.”
“I can do that,” I agree.
“And the Torres issue—”
“Bury it,” I say fiercely.
“Sir,” he says, glancing at Charles before looking back at me. “Can I speak plainly?”
“Speak your mind, son,” Charles snaps.
I nod and Mason takes a breath.
“Sir, is it true? What she’s saying?”
I narrow my eyes. “Why the fuck does that matter?”
“I need to know so I can figure out what my strategy is going to be. Sir, you know I’m loyal. I don’t care if you’re seeing someone, no matter how old she is.”
I take a breath and glance at Charles. He nods slightly at me, his eyes hard.
“Yes, it’s true,” I say.
Mason doesn’t react. “Okay then. So what she’s saying has some basis to it.”
“Yes,” I agree. “I believe she has a source close to me.”
Charles scowls and Mason looks surprised.
“Close, sir?”
“That’s all I’ll say. Charles is working to take care of it. Isn’t that right, Charles?”
“Yes,” he grunts, but doesn’t elaborate. So far, he hasn’t been able to determine which of my Secret Service agents is a mole.
We’ve been slowly reassigning them, one at a time, but it’s difficult. If I get rid of them all at once, the press will go crazy speculating on it. Linda Torres will grab onto that as proof of what she’s saying.
But I can’t just do nothing. Keeping these agents around me is going to be very, very bad if I keep seeing Maggie.
“Very good, sir. I’ll keep that from Torres for now.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“As for healthcare, I’ll work on some messaging and have it on your desk in a few hours.”
“Thank you, Mason.”
He nods and leaves my office. Charles sighs and comes around to sit down on the couch.
“I told you, Torres is going to be a problem.”
“She wouldn’t be if you found that leak.”
He glares at me. “It’s not so easy, getting in with these Secret Service guys. They protect each other.”
“Even if they have a mole?”
“They’re good soldiers,” he grunts.
“I guess you respect that, then.”
“Yes, I do,” he snaps. “There’s nothing wrong with respecting discipline and loyalty.”
“Their loyalty should be to me, not each other,” I remind him.
He glares but doesn’t elaborate.
I sigh and glance at my desk. For a second, I’m tempted to take out the panties that are sitting at the bottom of my lower drawer, but I don’t. Maybe later, maybe when I’m alone.
“We need to talk about Pakistan,” Charles says. “France wants to send more troops. They’re pissed about what happened.”
I sigh. “They’re always pissed.”
“Doesn’t matter. I think they’re serious this time.”
“Who do I need to talk to, then? We can’t have this escalate.”
“I think you need to go in person, sir.”
I hesitate a second. “In person,” I echo. “I don’t know about that.”
“It would only be for a few days. Talk the French President down from this stupid mission, remind him what we’re trying to do globally.”
“And offer to drone strike the fuck out of those terrorist assholes?”
Charles grins. “Yep. Pretty much.”
I sigh, glancing at the window. I can’t have this Pakistan thing escalate, not now, not while I’m trying to work healthcare through.
“Fine,” I say, although I don’t want to go.
The idea of not seeing Maggie for a few days feels far too daunting. Even if it is the safest thing.
“Good. I’ll arrange it. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
I nod again. “Anything else?”
“No, sir. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Good.”
He stands and nods before leaving my office.
I sigh and lean back in my chair. I stare out the window, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.
Stupidly, I pick up my phone. Stupidly, I dial Maggie’s number.
It rings. I shouldn’t be doing this, not in the middle of the day. But this is my executive line. It’s perfectly private and checked all the time for bugs. The Secret Service agents aren’t in the room, since we’re making them stand guard outside these days until we find the mole.
She picks up after four rings. “Hello?”
“Hello, Maggie.”
Short pause. “Adam,” she whispers.
“Listen, I can’t talk long. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“How are you?”
“Stressed, angry, annoyed. So fine, really.”
She laughs at that. “I’d come see you, if you wanted.”
“We can’t,” I say, even though I hate it. “But soon.”
“Good. I miss you.”
I bite my lip. “I’m going to France for a few days.”
“Really?” she sounds surprised.
“The French want to do something stupid and I need to talk them out of it.”
She sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry you have to go all the way out there for that.”
“Me too. But it shouldn’t be too bad. Their President listens to me… sometimes.”
She laughs again. “I’m sure you’ll get him under control.”
“I didn’t want to leave before hearing your voice again,” I say.
“I’m glad you called.”
“And listen… if anyone approaches you. Any reporter at all. Just ignore them, okay?”
She hesitates. “I can do that.”
“Good. Mason knows about us, and he’s dealing with it.”
She hesitates again. “Is that smart, telling someone else?”
“I trust him,” I say. “He’s my guy.”
“Okay, and I trust you.”
“Good.” I bite my lip. “I still have your panties in my desk drawer. Maybe I’ll bring them with me during this trip.”
“Good. Think about me.”
“I will. How it felt to have my cock buried between your legs.”
“Why, Mr. President. That’s very filthy.”
“I know, and I think you like it. In fact, I bet your current panties are dripping wet already, just begging to come off.”
“I bet you’re right.”
I stifle a groan. I want her so badly, it almost hurts.
But self-control. I have to be strong.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say before I let myself go further.
&nbs
p; “See you. Good luck, Daddy.”
I hang up the phone. I sit back and sigh.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper to myself.
Two days without her is going to feel like an eternity.
I don’t know how I got myself in this position, but there’s no turning back now.
15
Maggie
It’s weird watching the guy you’re sleeping with on television.
Adam almost doesn’t look like himself. He’s always composed, always stern. His face is hard as he looks out at the crowds and shakes the hand of the French President.
It’s hard to square the handsome, serious man giving speeches on TV with the man that fucks me and spanks me.
Which isn’t such a bad problem to have.
Although I feel like a stalker, watching CNN all the time, watching for any glimpse of the President. I don’t know what we are to each other, since we’re not technically dating or anything like that.
Still, he’s my Daddy. I get excited to see him, like we have this little secret between us.
Well, huge secret. And not just between us, but now between a bunch of people.
That worries me. I haven’t told a soul, but Adam’s told a few people now. And our meetings have leaked a few times to the press. I know he’s actively trying to fix that, but still.
Linda Torres calls me three times while Adam is overseas. I’m guessing she thinks I’m not protected when he’s not in the States. The first time she calls, she actually sounds pleasant.
“Hi, sweetie, is this Maggie?”
“Hello, yes, this is her.” I’m sitting at my desk, frowning at my computer screen, only half listening. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, this is Linda Torres, calling to ask some questions.”
I hung up on her right away. The next two calls, she dropped the whole nice-girl act and tried to bully me into speaking.
“I know everything, Maggie, and I can help you,” she said the last time she called.
“There’s nothing to know,” I said, and hung up again.
I can’t act like I’m not worried. On my way home, I keep looking around like I’m being followed. I know I’m not, Linda Torres is just a reporter, but still. I feel like a secret agent with a blown cover.
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.