by Aubrey Irons
“Go away, Hunter.”
I frown, but as she turns to open her door, I grab her arm again and pull her close.
“How about we put that big bed of yours to the test, princess,” I growl into her ear. “And you can show me exactly what I hope you really slee—”
“Hunter, fuck off,” she says with a snarl as she yanks her arm back and shoves her door open. She turns back to glare at me as she steps inside, giving me just the slightest shake of the head, her jaw set, before she slams the door shut.
So, that’s where we’re at, apparently. I’ve gone from “Oh God, I’m going to come, Hunter” to “you’re a fucking shithead, Hunter.”
Fuck me, huh?
Part of me wonders if it has to do with the announcement, as if somehow that reality has finally caught up with her and now she’s shutting down with me. It’s like now that things are out in the open — well, relatively speaking — she wants nothing to do with me. Like the publicity surrounding our parents makes it all too real.
Or possibly it’s because of what happened yesterday; maybe us actually fucking again jarred her later on or something, or embarrassed her.
Except that’s fucking ridiculous.
In any case, Maddie’s shutting me out, and if I have any pride or sense, I’ll do the same with her. If she wants nothing to do with me, or if she’s pissed about what happened, I should do the same. Self-preservation or some shit.
And besides, what the hell is it between us? So we had this sort of crazy, pent up attraction, and we acted on it. Big fucking deal, it’s not like it makes us boyfriend and girlfriend or anything like that. And it’s not like there aren’t a hundred other women out there I could be and should be fucking. I mean, war vet? Wounded in battle? And now I’m the fucking President’s stepson? Yeah, getting laid was not a problem before, but it’s going to be like fishing with dynamite now.
Except the idea of going out and fucking someone new just does not appeal to me, at all.
I growl as I shut the door to my room and lean back against the door, frowning at the floor. What the fuck is wrong with me? I try and push her out of my head — to forget her like I’ve done with a hundred other women — but I fucking can’t.
Because all I can think of is her sitting there in the kitchen just now; disheveled hair, pajamas, sipping coffee with that cute little scowl on her face. She’s not some dolled-up club girl, or a Senate intern with a wardrobe from daddy’s credit card, she’s just her; plain, perfect, sitting-at-the-breakfast-table-in-pjs her.
And it’s sexy as fucking sin.
Sexy, untouchable, sin.
27.
“Um, so can we talk about your new stepbrother now?”
Can we not?
Jessica whistles on the other end of the line, a line that’s much clearer than the last time we talked now that she’s back in L.A. “Girl, he is sex on a platter.”
I roll my eyes. “He is not.”
“Oh please, it’s not like he’s your real brother, you can admit it he’s hot, Mads.”
“He’s…” I trail off. “He’s a jerk.”
“Jerks are hot, Mads.”
“Not this one. Particularly not this one,” I add, feeling the rage building inside me and picturing Anya’s stupid stupid face. “He’s so cocky and domineering, and a total manwhore. And he thinks just because he’s got a big dick that he’s God’s gift to women.”
Shit. Oops.
“Giirrrrl!”
I cringe at Jessica’s squeal, burying my head in my hand.
“Okay, what do you know about his dick?!”
“Nothing!”
“Well what was that supposed to mean then!?” she says, giggling.
I feel my face burn hot, “It’s nothing! I just heard it was big, okay? Some stupid White House rumor.”
Jess snorts. “Well, that’s a way better rumor than I thought went on in that place.”
I swallow thickly. “Yeah, my PA mentioned it, I think.”
My PA who was fooling around with someone I still haven’t identified, I might add.
“Okay, so let’s just recap then. Not your real brother, hot, sexy as fuck, war veteran, cocky, domineering and likes to fuck? Oh, and he’s hung?” Jess laughs into the phone. “Maddie, what is the problem with any of that?”
“Um, national scandal? Embarrassment? Ruin of reputation?” I’m ticking them off on my fingers as I spit them into the phone, as if I’m keeping tally myself.
“So, you have thought about it.”
I groan. “Oh my God, no.”
“Fine, then when I’m finally allowed to come visit you, I’m certainly jumping on that.” Jess snorts. “Literally.”
For a second, I see red. The very idea of Jessica with Hunter like that gets me suddenly furious, but I stuff it deep down inside. But that little piece of rage is enough to have me sitting there on the edge of my bed thinking of him and his ex, and that gets me even madder.
Oh, excuse me, “Anya”, the apparently very much NOT ex.
Anya, who I want to hate, but I know I may have played a part in her being cheated on. The first daughter, and the second girl.
Ugh.
And then I start thinking of Harry back at school, and how fucking shitty it felt to be in those shoes, and I squeeze my eyes shut and drop back onto the bed, somehow feeling even worse.
“Jess I have to go, something’s come up.”
“Is it Hunter’s big cock?”
I snort and grin in spite of myself. “Goodbye, Jess.”
“Put in a good word for me, okay?”
I laugh as I hang up and then slump back onto the bed, letting the myriad of thoughts in my head flood over me.
Because if Hunter is nothing, and just this ‘thing’, then why does the thought of him with anyone else in the world get me so mad that I see red?
28.
Without the job, and now without the distraction of fucking around with Maddie, there’s one word for days spent at the White House: boring.
I’m bored; bored out of my fucking mind, even with the crazy amount of distractions this place has. I mean there’s a movie theatre, and a pool, and a gym; shit, there’s even a damn shooting range in the sub-basement of the place.
Except none of those things can possibly get my mind out of the funk of kicking around this place with her avoiding me like she is. And I’m still not even really sure why.
I’m lost in thought when I duck into one of the random study rooms somewhere in the south-east corner of the house. Dexter suddenly comes tumbling out of the door hidden behind a floor-to-ceiling portrait of Washington. He’s grinning and out of breath, but he freezes and quickly shuts the painting behind him as he nods his chin at me.
“Whats up?”
I frown; he looks guilty as fuck. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing, man.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Dude, this isn’t private school. If you get busted with weed in this place, it’s going to be some serious shit.”
Like I’m not guilty of worse.
Dexter gives me a look. “I’m not an idiot, Hunt.”
I raise my brow at him.
“Oh c’mon, give me some credit.”
I sigh. “Just don’t be an idiot, okay?”
“Says you.”
I furrow my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl out, feeling a cold chill run up my back.
Dex rolls his eyes and grins at me, “Hunt, I’m not fucking retarded.”
I bristle, and he steps towards me, his hands up.
“Hey, I’m not saying shit, man, I’m just saying I’m not fucking blind.” He arches a brow at me, “You’re my brother, and I know you.”
“Look, whatever you think—”
“Hey, like I said, it’s not my business and I’m not saying shit.” He punches me in the arm, “I’m just looking out for you, bro.”
“Hey, you take care of you, okay? I’m watching out for both of us.”
Dexter shrugs
and pull his fucking cigarettes out of his pants and puts one in his mouth.
I yank it away.
“Hunt—”
“You know mom hated those fucking things.”
I narrow my gaze at him, as if daring him to say something sharp back with mom involved, but he just sighs and nods.
“Yeah, I know.” He grins, “I think she’d be happy with all this, you know,” he chuckles.
“I think she’d be laughing her ass off that Dad’s going to be the first First Husband.”
I snort, “Yeah, she’d probably get a kick out of that.”
Dex grins again. “Big bad Major Alec Ryan hosting a charity luncheon, huh?”
I crack up. “Book drives, for sure.”
“Maybe he’ll start an elementary school exercise program.” Dexter starts scowling comically and strikes a wide-stanced pose. “Drop and give me twenty, you fucking second grade pussies!”
And then we both lose it completely, holding our sides, and I’m actually wiping a tear away by the time we’re finished.
“This is going to be a good thing man, I think,” my brother says with a shrug. “It’s going to be different, but good.”
I nod, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He grins and start to turn for the door when my eye catches something and I grin.
“Hey, Dex?”
“Yeah?”
“On the subject of watching out for each other,” I clear my throat, grinning at him. “You got some lipstick on your pants there, buddy.”
His face goes a little red, but he just shrugs and grins at me, “Thanks. Oh, and on the same subject, that thing I don’t know about and have zero possible notion, clue, or hunch about?”
I clench my jaw and he holds his hands up again.
“Hey, just thought you should know that she met Anya.”
My jaw drops, “Fucking what?”
Dex grimaces, “Yeah, Eleanor fucking had her come to the White House or some shit.”
I groan and feel my fists tighten at my side.
“I don’t exactly think she and that thing I don’t know shit about are going to be pals anytime soon.” He shrugs, “Just thought you should know,” he’s says, before he ducks out of the room.
I drop into the chair behind the desk, one that’s far smaller and far less important than the Resolute desk in the Oval Office.
I also haven’t fucked Maddie on this one.
Fuck. So that’s where all this shit came from; fucking Anya. Anya the attention-whore, Anya who doesn’t actually love me, or even particularly like me. I’m sure she has some sort of angle here, pretending we’re an item again.
Some sort of angle like my new stepmom: the President.
So that explains the sudden frost from Maddie. Honestly, it’s almost funny though, in a way. I mean, is she actually jealous of my ex? The thought is almost adorable, and not altogether unsexy. Actually, I think with a grin as I lean back in the chair, it’s sort of hot to think of her being that possessive of me.
We’re not even a thing.
I mean to boil it down to brass tacks, we’ve had sex twice. Okay, sure, incredibly hot, mind-blowing, fucking insane sex, but that the idea of another woman with me gets her that jealous is actually sort of cool. And that’s obviously what it is.
I shake my head at how silly it is, except when I think of her with another guy, it suddenly clicks.
It clicks as I see a flash of red rage across my mind. The idea of any other man on the planet touching her has my blood boiling and the fury welling up inside. Because she’s mine.
I’m fully aware of how weirdly and crazy possessive that sounds, and how backwards it is. It makes me sound like I’m some sort of ancient lord or whatever, claiming my right.
But claiming is what I want to do with Madison Adams. I want every part of her; I want to consume her. I want to make her mine; every part of her.
I growl as I take that to its fullest extent in my mind, and it gets me hard as a rock. Every part of her; all of her. I feel my cock swell in my pants as I wonder briefly if she’s ever…
Yeah, no, of course she hasn’t.
But she might.
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?
Maddie gasps as she jerks her head up to see me crouched on the edge of the pool, where she’s just come up from her lap. Yeah, like I said, the White House has a pool in the basement.
“What?” She sputters, pushing her hair back and wiping the water from her eyes.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s kind of adorable how mad you got, but that is it, right?”
She shakes her head, “Get over yourself, I am no such thing.”
She reaches for the handrail to the ladder and starts to pull herself out of the pool.
“Sure you are, it’s obvious.”
She steps up the ladder and out of the pool, and my jaw drops just little bit. She’s dripping wet, and she’s wearing this hot, black bikini.
Jesus, talk about a scandal: “President’s Sexy as Sin Hot Daughter Caught Giving Heart Attacks In World’s Skimpiest Bikini: Hottest Thing To Ever Happen At The White House?”
I’m aching my brow at her, freely letting my eyes roam over her body as she goes red and rolls her eyes before she snatches the towel out of my hand.
“What do you want, Hunter?”
“Oh, me?” I grin, “Nothing, I just wanted to let you know I’d figured out your little possessive jealousy problem.”
“You are such an ass,” she mutters, pushing past me as she wraps the towel around her body. She shoves the door to the women’s changing room open and waltzes inside. I start to follow before she jerks her head around and glares at me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not done talking with you.”
She sighs heavily. “Don’t you have a job to do?”
“Not anymore, remember?”
She rolls her eyes, “How about a fiancé to attend to?”
I grin broadly. “And here I was thinking you weren’t jealous.”
“I’m not jealous, you ass, I’m just allergic to douchebags.” She marches into the locker room, and I follow.
“I’m going into the steam room, so fuck off, okay?” She says, storming away from me once we’re inside. She’s heading for the glass door of the sauna. I shrug and start to unbutton my shirt and she rolls her eyes.
“Oh my God, you’re incorrigible.”
I strip all the way down to my briefs, fully aware that little miss wants-nothing-to-do-with-me is standing there watching me the whole time. I look up and wink at her as I start to pull on my boxer briefs just to get a rise out of her. Which of course, works; she makes this huffing sound and whirls to the sauna.
I follow.
It’s hot, and the air is thick as we sit on the wooden benches inside. “So, that’s it then?”
“What are you talking about?” She spits out, sitting on the far side of the bench away from me, which is almost a cute gesture considering the whole room is hardly bigger than a bathroom.
“I’m talking about you being jealous.”
“Hunter,” she says, leveling her eyes at me, “I am not.”
“She’s an ex.”
“I don’t care. I’m not jealous.”
I grin as I start to slide towards her on the bench, seeing her stiffen and tug the towel tighter around herself.
“Sure you aren’t,” I say, moving closer. “The idea of me fucking someone else doesn’t get you…” I trail off as I see the spark in her smoldering green eyes. I grin widely, “I like you mad.”
“I’m not mad,” she hisses out.
“It’s sexy.”
“I am not mad!”
Yeah, she’s mad. I can see it rippling there beneath the surface, see it flaring up in her eyes as she glares at me, and see it in the way her chest flushes pink and how she grips the towel tight across her wet, practically naked body.
I m
ove even closer, “I like you fired up.”
“I’m n—”
“Right. Not mad,” I say lowly, cutting her off as I reach up to push a strand of wet hair behind her ear. I let my other hand rest on her bare knee, and I watch her eyes flutter for a moment as she sharply takes in a breath of air. I let my hand trail higher to the edge of her towel, and she whimpers.
“I’m not fired up,” she gasps in a whisper.
I push my hand right under her towel, and she’s subtly opening her legs, letting my fingers wander all the way up until I find the soaking wet heat of her pussy through her bikini bottoms. I growl as I stroke my fingers across her, seeing her body shudder with a halted breath as the flush spreads across her chest and face.
“I beg to differ,” I say, pushing her suit to the side and letting two fingers spread her open as I trail a third across her opening. “You’re so wet for me.”
“It’s the pool,” she says quietly, her eyes flashing at me as she bites at her lower lip.
“Uh-huh, so is this,” I growl, taking her hand and placing it on the raging hard-on in my lap.
“I thought it’s supposed to get smaller in the pool,” she says with a small grin.
I lean closer, easing into her neck and letting my lips brush across her earlobe. “I didn’t go in. But somehow, doll, I don’t think it could ever get small around you.”
Her breath catches and she chews her lip. “I’m not jealous,” she says weakly.
“Just like you’re not dripping wet for me right now, right?”
“Uh-huh, exactly,” she croaks out, and then she gasps as I slide my finger deep inside her. She moans, and her hand on my lap starts to tug at the waist of my shorts before she reaches inside and wraps her fingers around my cock.
“Uh-uh, princess,” I say, nipping at her ear. “I want to hear you admit you were jealous.”
“Why’s that,” she says haltingly, letting her head fall back as my lips move across her collarbone.
“Call it a power trip.”
“Well, I wasn’t, because that would be ridiculous.”
I start to lower her back on the wooden sauna bench, and with a growl, I pull her towel away and let it drop behind her. The beast inside of me roars at the sight of her spread out like this for me. I reach down and hook my fingers into the sides of her bikini as I start to pull it down over her hips and down her thighs. She allows me to slip it off her feet, blushing, and I groan as my eyes lock onto the perfect, wet slit of her pussy.