The President's Secret Baby

by Gage Grayson

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m still completely sure of myself. That’s the only thing in this world you can be sure of: where you stand, what you need to do.

  Anything else is a waste of space in your precious mind.

  The door darkens, and I snap my head up to see who’s there. It’s those two fucking meatheads that were with the Prof. There’re four of them now.

  “Well, look at you pretty ladies all dolled up. Where are we headed, girls? I didn’t bring my tux.”

  No one even cracks a smile. Tough crowd.

  They come in, the guards that run my show looking hard at the floor. They don’t want me to see the deception in their eyes. I’ll make sure they get it—every single one of them.

  Don’t they know who I am?

  I breathe deeply, trying to get myself under control. Trying to remember the certainty I had yesterday morning, holding Ali in my arms.

  We are meant to be. This is just a test of my strength and faith.

  I say nothing, keeping my eyes down as they chain me. I let myself go limp and compliant as they fasten the cuffs tightly on my wrists.

  I don’t notice the walk through the building. I have that sense of dislocation, which occasionally happens—like time has become fluid. Reality isn’t real.

  As the door opens, sunlight breaks across my face, stinging my eyes. I throw my hands up.

  “Don’t you know sunglasses are a basic human right?” I snap at them. No one even looks at me.

  Two guards in front, two behind. All I can see is their hard posture. They look like mannequins or something unreal. Stage actors.

  As we walk across the lot, I see we’re heading for a large, heavily armored truck.

  “What’s happening? Hey! What’s happening?”

  They don’t answer. As we get nearer the truck, two guys head to the front, and I hear locks clicking. One comes back and opens the door. It’s one of those really overdone type of trucks, all hard, grimy metal with benches to sit on, with built-in loops for the chains to go through.

  I plant my feet, head held high. I eyeball the nearest one. He’s wearing sunglasses, the fucker. How I’d like to smash them into his fucking eyeballs.

  “I have a right to know what’s happening. I’m not moving until you explain to me what’s happening. I demand my right to legal counsel.”

  The two behind me don’t move or speak. One is still up in the cab. Mirror Glasses pulls out a clipboard and pen.

  “Your right to legal counsel ended after your initial hearing. This is a matter of security. Standard procedure for a prisoner that escapes from jail. You’re being transferred to maximum security, Mister Covington.”

  There’s something in his expression I don’t like. It’s actually making me feel a bit anxious. Something’s not right here.

  “Standard procedure?”

  “Yes, sir. Standard policy for any prisoner who manages to escape. You must be incarcerated in maximum security for the safety of all involved—including yourself, of course.” The cunt has the nerve to look contrite.

  “But I didn’t escape. I was let out by my doctor.”

  “Your doctor was not authorized. It’s been officially recorded that you influenced her. Isn’t that what you said in your statement?”

  Fuck. I did say that. I wanted to take the heat off Ali.

  Shit. Okay. It’s time to tell the truth again. Nothing works like the truth.

  “Have you met Alison Hughes? Do you know what sort of woman she is? I couldn’t influence her to do anything. Trust me.”

  The guy sighs. He’s tired of this. Probably wants to get the first job done for the day so he can go get a box of donuts or something.

  “You’re preaching to deaf ears, buddy. We got our orders. You’re getting moved, and that’s all there is to it.”

  He starts to haul me towards the truck by the chains. I’m not struggling, but I’m not giving in, either. One of the guys from behind shoves me hard, and I fall forward. I look furiously over my shoulder at him.

  He’s not wearing glasses, and he’s giving me the worst ‘fuck you’ look I’ve ever seen. He’s chewing gum and sneering at me as his jaw pops and crackles.

  “Think you’re fucking good, don’t you? You lily-assed little prick. You’re going to the big house now, fucker. Someone’s going to make use of those soft white hands, for sure. You’ll be in there a long time, Jack old boy.”

  My mind goes icy calm. I feel the rage streaking through me. I can feel the grin creeping across my face as I start to turn around.

  My hands jerk, jingling the chains, and I’m furious at being restrained.

  I’m getting ready to head butt him and get the fucking chains around his throat when I see Alison.

  She’s running towards us, breathless, almost crying.

  “Stop!” she calls. “Stop!”

  I clasp my hands to stop my fingers reaching out for the prick and bow my head, trying to relax my body.

  I think of Ali. Her skin under my hands. Her eyes looking up at me.

  Images of blood and violence still play out inside me, but I don’t react. I don’t move.

  The guards all stop and turn around, looking at Ali and at each other. She’s waving a piece of paper.

  “Stop! Right now.” She gasps as she comes to a halt, catching her breath.

  She looks at me, and it’s like the world has melted away. She smiles, and my hands jerk again, involuntarily. I want to hold her. God, do I want to.

  “I have an official order here. Jaxon Covington is to be released immediately. You have to bring him back inside. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Well, fuck me.” The words just burst out of me with a ripple of laughter. “Check this out, boys! Looks like we’re not going for a ride, after all.”

  “I need to see that, miss,” says Mirror Glasses. Alison hands him the paper. He takes his time reading it over.

  “All we have here is an official medical report. I need orders from up top before I can unlock the chains. It’s my ass on the line, and I certainly can’t do it here in the carpark. It’s against every regulation.”

  “So bring him inside then,” Alison snaps at him, and I can’t hold in a chuckle.

  She’s really becoming a bit like me. I guess some of my impatience with the lesser beings of humanity has rubbed off on her. That’s perfectly okay, since some of her control has rubbed off on me, too.

  Made for each other. Meant to be.

  I take a deep breath. It was just another test—a stupid fucking test. I know I’m right. I know it.

  The guys close up the truck and start walking me back to the building. I’ve got sweat running down my sides in the heavy jumpsuit, even in the cool air. Holding in my rage is a conscious effort of will, and it’s physical, as well as mental. Alison walks nearby, holding her paper like it’s the most important document in the world.

  “What the fuck did you say to Prof?” I ask, grinning.

  She turns her head towards me and smiles. “I had to pull in every technical term I could think of. He tried to convince me I was biased, but the worst thing you can do to a sensitive patient is put him in a situation where he might get worse. Especially if he has shown significant signs of improvement, which you have.”

  Her expression softens further. “You’ve come so far, Jaxon. You’ve overcome your trigger. All I did was convince Doctor Gardener that if we didn’t salvage the progress we’d already made, we would rob society of a very special and influential person who could do a lot of good.”

  “You’re amazing, Ali. I love you,” I whisper, and I know she hears me, even though my voice is soft.

  I look up at the dull, concrete building and I can’t quite believe that in a matter of moments, I’ll be free. I’ll have Ali in my arms.

  Like I said, someone up there really likes me. Don’t they say God protects the mad?

  Alison

  It’s been a few months now since that hard day in the prison parking lot. Jaxon
bought a new place for us, closer to the city central, for me to get to work more easily.

  I insisted on paying my share and having my name on everything. He said he wanted to take care of me, but I said it was my job to take care of him.

  I’m sitting by the wide bay window overlooking the covered garden. I’m pulling various things out—picture frames and books—as a few removals guys cart the last boxes into the living room.

  Jaxon’s sitting curled up in an armchair like a cat, watching me.

  “Are you going to do any work?”

  He grins, sipping his coffee. “Nope. I told you I don’t do manual labor.”

  I laugh at his innocent, wide-eyed expression. “It’s not manual labor. It’s setting up our home, the place we’re going to live in together and build our life in. Surely you don’t want me to do everything?”

  He puts his coffee down and unfolds his long legs from the chair, coming over to me. “When you put it like that, I suppose I should get off my ass.”

  “Fine ass it is, too.”

  He grins and settles behind me as I pull out a silver frame holding a picture of us. It was taken a few days after his release, at a charity benefit.

  Jaxon supported the event—from prison no less—and was able to appear there only because of my quick talking. His name is still famous all over town for his charitable events, which continued even throughout his stay in jail.

  We’re both smiling on the red carpet. I’m wearing a pale green dress, and Jaxon’s wearing a tux with a matching silk green shirt. He places his chin on my shoulder.

  “That’s a great photo.” His voice is soft. “That night, it was like dancing with a princess from a good fairy tale.”

  “Get off it,” I scoff at him.

  He squeezes me gently around the waist. “No, I mean it. You were so surreal to me, Ali. My whole world was tipped upside down. Then you were there. And everything made sense. Everything.”

  He gives me another squeeze. The big lumbering guys haul in a few more boxes.

  “That’s about it there, Mr. Covington. Anything else you need for today?”

  “No, none,” he says with a wave. “Just shut the door on your way out.”

  I lean back into Jaxon’s hard body as the movers leave the room. The house we bought together is a decent size but is much smaller than his other places. He’s currently working on a few plans to have them rented out or sold.

  He wants to run proper rehabilitation programs for prison inmates—including book selections and basic life skills. His time in the joint has only improved him.

  “Hey, that’s a nice one.” He reaches past me into the box, pulling out an old photo of me getting my diploma.

  “Yeah, that was a great day. I felt like I achieved so much. It’s all going nowhere now, though.”

  “What do you mean, honey?”

  “I had it all ahead of me. I worked so hard to get ahead as fast as I could. Now I’m stuck in place, while Doctor Gardener drags his feet finishing my residency.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really. It’s a fucking joke. Even after personally solving the hardest, highest profile case there ever was for the department, he’s just fucking around, saying I’m not competent for private practice.”

  He turns me around and wriggles so our knees are touching.

  “So, Ali, how does that make you feel?”

  I have to laugh. He makes a joke of head shrinking me every chance he gets.

  “Frustrated, Doctor Jaxon. I feel frustrated.”

  “Hmm. It’s a good thing your own private practice will be finished soon.”

  It’s like the silence in the room amplifies into empty spaces. I’m not sure I heard right. I just stare at him.

  “What?”

  He grins widely and happily. “I’ve had the plan in motion for quite some time now. I didn’t want to tell you until it was nearly done. It’s part of my project for improving the rehab for criminals. Your office and private practice is going to be attached to the program.”

  He has that look on his face men get when they know they’ve done well. When they’re sure a reward is coming.

  “Jaxon!” I shriek in delight, throwing my arms around his neck. I push my body against his and let myself fall back into his lap, one hand behind my head, the other on my back.

  “Jaxon.” I whisper as his lips meet mine.

  He’s like electricity…free and wild and contained in hard packaging. Always unpredictable. Always thrilling.

  As his kiss gets deeper and harder, I feel those tingles deep inside. Familiar now, but new and different every time.

  My hands reach up around his neck. I love that spot just under his hair. He’s sensitive there, and when I drag my fingertips across it, he shivers, goosebumps flaring on his arms.

  One hand reaches down and slides up my thigh. As his fingers probe into the hot, wet den there, he laughs against my open mouth.

  “When did you take your panties off?”

  “On the way here.” I kiss him deeply. “On that last run, when you promised to touch me up in the car.”

  Through the slippery movements of our lips, he laughs softly. “I forgot. Helping the guys move the big bookshelf took it out of me.”

  “Not too much, I hope.” I lean my tongue back in, swallowing up as much of him as he will give.

  Spread across his lap, I rock my hips back as he fingers deeper. Two fingers slide in and tease my pussy. He slides me to the floor, crouched over me like a jaguar with its prey.

  He runs his lips over my breasts and stomach, still covered in my light dress, until he reaches my pussy. He raises the skirt up my thighs and gasps softly, reaching out to tease my clit as he watches.

  “You just going to look?” I tease.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He’s breathless, eyes wide.

  I love that look. To him, I’m the most important person in the world. It’s just as I thought from the beginning—he needs me like no one else possibly can. What a surprise—a nice one—to find that I need him, too.

  He leans in, finally pressing his lips to my clit. I gasp, head rolling back, trapped by dozens of cardboard boxes. I’m crushed between them on the floor, legs crumpling the cardboard as I try to get my legs open.

  He grabs my hips, sliding his tongue in, deeper and deeper, lapping at the slit and pressing his top lip to the clit. I start to shake from the hips up, feeling those deep tremors inside. I feel myself getting wetter and wetter with each explosion.

  My muscles spasm, and I grab his head, holding his mouth on my clit as I shamelessly come all over his face. As the orgasm subsides, I let go of him, falling back on the floor. He crawls up my body, slowly, savoring me, taking his time as he goes.

  He’s so big and hard, he doesn’t even have to guide it in—his cock just slides straight into me. I’m tight even after the orgasms loosened me up. He gasps as my muscles reach for him, gripping him, as if guiding him deeper and pushing him away at the same time.

  “Oh, Ali,” he whispers, and just the sound of that gasp, his reverent breaths starts my inner muscles trembling all over again.

  His need for me is what makes me come. He touches me as if I’m a sacred object, infinitely delicate. I reach up, caressing the back of his neck with my nails again, feeling him shiver.

  I pull his head down and graze my lips across his ear. “I love you, Jaxon.”

  He groans, not looking at me, burying his head in my neck. He starts to thrust, harder but not faster, drawing it out, until electric charges of excitement keep happening inside me. I’m trying to buck and writhe, but I’m so trapped by cardboard boxes, I almost laugh.

  Then he pulls back and looks into my eyes, body flush against mine. In as deep as he can go. I feel his cock trembling within me.

  The pressure of his eyes is almost as intense as his cock. I don’t look away, I just let him fall. Let him drown.

  My eyes will never close themselves to you. In my eyes, you are home,
you are safe. I want to see you, all of you, now and every day, until the end of time.

  Jaxon

  She’s staring deeply into my eyes, the gaze as deeply piercing as my cock is inside her. No matter how hard I penetrate her, she penetrates me with that gaze far harder.

  I’ve never known anyone that can pierce me with their eyes. Eye contact and its complexities are for alphas only—you can instantly tell an alpha dog in any room. I’m used to being the only one.

  But now, there’s Ali.

  She looks into me, and I thrust against her slowly but harder. I can feel her hot, wet pussy gripping me, and I marvel at how far she’s come.

  Shy little virgin. Horny little sex queen.

  I slip out of her, crawling up her body and getting on my knees. She grins—oh, she’s gotten so good at this. All it took was a bit of practice.

  Okay, a lot of practice. But when it comes to getting your cock sucked, a guy is going to take every single chance he gets.

  So I pushed the truth a bit and said most women can perform oral on a cock like this multiple times a day. It worked.

  She’s gotten so limber through the jaw; she takes the whole thing easily into her mouth. Kneeling carefully, legs at both sides of her head, I slide my cock in and out of that perfect, delicately red mouth.

  Every stroke, combined with that delirious, happy look on her face just makes me bigger and harder. She gulps at my cock even more, sucking as hard as she can, letting me pound her head into the carpet.

  Then she reaches around my leg and grabs my balls. Shock goes right up my spine, and I jerk in her mouth. I look down at her, and she’s smiling, eyes closed, pinning me between her mouth and her hand.

  I wait for the tingles to settle before I start thrusting again, driven by the pressure of her soft, sweet mouth and the gentle touch of her fingers on my sticky balls.

  She slides her fingers around as her tongue works, squeezing them gently. I go still, cock right down her throat. Finally, I can’t take it and scuttle back.

  “Jaxon?” She doesn’t get up. “Are you okay? Why did you stop?”

  “You’re too hot, Ali, too fucking hot.” I’m almost completely out of breath.