by Ivy Jordan
He pulled me into his chest, letting me get a long whiff of his irresistable scent. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”
I let my arms wrap around him, squeezing him tightly into my heart. Our mouths searched for one another, finally landing our lips together for a powerful spark. We fell onto the bed, kissing passionately as we rolled in each other’s arms.
Adam lifted from our embrace. His hands brushed my hair from my face as his lips gently landed on my nose for a sweet kiss. “I plan on flaunting you all over town,” he teased.
I giggled at the thought of being on Adam’s arm in public.
He rose up to his knees, squatting with his legs straddled over me. His hands worked quickly to unbutton my blouse, revealing my tight, full breasts. His eyes soaked me in, and then his mouth consumed my soft skin, paying close attention to my nipples with his skillful tongue.
I arched my back, pushing my body toward him. His hands pulled at my pants, slipping them from my body. I hadn’t bothered to put panties on after my shower that night, and the look in Adam’s eyes proved he was pleased with my decision.
“Damn, you’re sexy,” he gasped, quickly sliding down to let his mouth taste what he had just uncovered.
My moans were filling the room fast as his tongue explored my tight pussy with forceful, long thrusts. I was close to coming when Adam lifted up from between my legs, pouncing from the bed and undressing while I watched with delight.
My body was squirming from his teasing as he worked his way back onto the mattress, and then towards the head of the bed.
His hard cock was long, thick, and smooth. His hand wrapped around it tightly, stroking it until the tip turned purple, and then soft pink as he released.
My mouth watered, working up the saliva to be able to take him into my throat. A salty, sweet taste filled my tongue as it rolled around his member. He let out soft growls as I worked him in deeper and deeper between my lips.
“Don’t make me come,” he whispered between growls.
Soft flesh warmed my fingers as I gripped his balls, massaging them in the same rhythm my mouth pleased his cock.
“Stop,” he whispered, pulling back.
My suction tightened, not willing to lose this delicious flavor so soon. “I want to come together,” he insisted, slowly working himself from my grip.
I let my legs fall apart, spreading my pussy wide open for his viewing pleasure. I loved that he saw me, that he looked at me with such hunger, and that his cock twitched when my fingers slid down my belly to the swollen clit pushing out from my patch of pubic hair.
He pulled a condom from his nightstand drawer and slid it on carefully.
Adam’s strong arms gripped me, pulling me into his chest as he pinned me beneath him on the bed. His cock rested at my pussy, throbbing against the pulsations pushing from between my own legs.
Our eyes locked, never leaving their positions as he pushed into me with one forceful thrust. I let out a moan that could’ve awakened the whole nation, and he growled like a victorious grizzly bear.
Our bodies melted together as we both held on to one another. He didn’t move, and I didn’t dare. Our orgasms exploded into one another without friction, without any movement at all. It was simply from that feeling of finally becoming one.
Chapter Ten
Adam stayed true to his word, no longer hiding our relationship. It was never officially announced, but people were talking.
“Is it true you’re dating Quinn Hamilton?” one reporter asked during a scheduled press conference.
My heart pounded against my chest as Adam turned a soft shade of pink at the podium. “It is true that Ms. Hamilton and I have been exploring some very personal feelings for one another,” he said without hesitation.
Cameras all flashed in my direction, and reporters scrambled to be the next called upon. It was chaos as they yelled out question after question.
“Is that why you brought her with you to the White House?” one asked.
“I brought her to the White House because she is amazing at what she does,” he replied.
Reporters started directing their questions to me. I wasn’t ready. “Do you think this has helped your career?” one reporter asked.
I laughed nervously. “This was a huge risk, but one I’d take again and again if I had to,” I finally answered.
Adam smiled in my direction, his blue eyes lighting up with pride. “That’s all,” he said, and stepped away from the podium.
The press secretary took over, dodging any questions that involved the president’s personal life.
“I’m sorry about that,” Adam said as I followed him from the press room.
My hand slid into his, and I moved closer to him as we walked down the long hallway together. It felt good that everyone knew, and that there was no more worrying about when they’d finally figure it out.
We’d been out on dates, spent time together during events, but since we’d been so close before, no one seemed to really notice, or at least not enough to say something publicly.
“I’m so glad you didn’t deny it, Mr. President,” Michael said, rushing towards us in the hall.
“I am, too,” Adam said, lifting my hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
“No. Sir. You just dodged a huge bullet,” Michael said.
He pushed a book towards Adam, one that was titled “Love on the Campaign Trail, A Prediction of the Next First Lady.”
“What is this?” Adam asked, turning it over to display Sal’s face as the author.
“I told you, it always comes out, one way or another,” I said.
“I read it from front to back before bringing it to you,” Michael said.
“It has nothing derogatory about either of you; in fact, it’s quite flattering. The author is a huge supporter, apparently worked closely with you both on the campaign trail in Minnesota,” Michael added.
“Good. Then no damage control is needed,” Adam said, turning to wink at me. “We have dinner plans,” he added.
Michael let us both know the book would be on the shelves in the morning, probably sold out by noon.
“Should I step down?” I asked, feeling that this could still come back to bite one of us, or both of us, in the ass.
“No. You earned your position here,” Adam stated firmly.
“Yes. I agree,” Michael said quickly.
“Are you certain? Even if only temporarily, until this blows over?” I questioned.
Both men argued that I’d be stepping down for no reason. “You’ve proven yourself, both on the campaign trail and here in the White House,” Adam insisted.
“Yes. And this Sal guy really gives you props for how you worked your ass off for Adam,” Michael added.
“Okay,” I agreed.
The next morning, the book was released and Sal was on every talk show known to man. “Crap,” I growled, switching through the channels.
Adam stepped out of the bathroom, his toothbrush still hanging from his mouth, to see what I was growling about.
“I wanted to scream from the mountain tops that I loved you. It’s good the world knows how important you’ve been to my life,” he said quickly, and then disappeared back into the bathroom.
It wasn’t the first night I’d spent in the White House, in Adam’s personal quarters, but the exit this morning was feeling like a walk of shame.
“Hold your head up high,” Adam encouraged me, giving me a quick kiss before we started our day tackling the latest big news: our love.
The White House staff was gracious, no one offering more than a quick smile, or a nod to show approval, but the reporters were relentless.
Adam decided to schedule a conference, one that would allow only a handful of reporters, and where he and I would tell our story.
It felt awkward at first, like we were on trial as the six reporters lined up in chairs adjacent our seats.
Adam started the conversation off with how we first met, a detail I wan
ted left out because of my age. “Were there romantic feelings then?” one of the reporters asked, to which Adam laughed.
“I was twenty-four, Quinn was twelve. No, of course not,” he stated firmly.
One of the reporters cornered me with the same question, to which I admitted having a school girl crush on the beautiful, blue-eyed man in the Air Force uniform.
The more we talked, the more relaxed I became, actually enjoying hearing some of Adam’s answers.
I’d never heard that he had feelings for me when he left the military, coming home to find the braces gone and the little girl he’d known gone, grown into a beautiful woman. I’d never heard it, because I’d never asked.
“Why didn’t you pursue something then?” one reporter asked.
“She was in college, and had a life ahead of her that I knew may very well not include me,” he replied, smiling in my direction.
The cameras shut down, the reporters thanked us both for our candidness, and that was it. The whole story was out there. No more secrets.
Epilogue
Over three years had passed since Adam’s election, and we were working hard on his new campaign. The American people loved him, loved us, so we knew he had a great chance at a second term.
“Never take anything for granted,” he reminded me as I reassured him he’d be elected again. I poked him in the ribs and smiled. My smile turned to a look of astonishment and wonder as I saw what he did next.
He dropped to one knee, held out a black box, and slowly opened it to reveal a gorgeous diamond engagement ring.
“Quinn, I’ll never take you for granted again for as long as I live. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Adam asked.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I jumped up and down, squealing like a kid at the circus. I’d dreamed of this day ever since we’d told the world about our love, but I figured it would be after re-election, and not a minute before.
“Yes!” I screamed, jumping into his arms.
The people were just as gracious about the proposal when it was announced, as they had been about our relationship. Venues were begging for us to hold our big day there, designers were sending me wedding dresses to try, and the American people were sending notes of encouragement, tips for a long and happy marriage, and even offers to help plan, execute, or clean up on our wedding day. It was overwhelming.
“I love that story,” Rowena sighed, looking at me with a pride that made me feel like our mother was in the room, in her.
My girlfriends from college were all dressed in pink dresses, ready to walk down the aisle of the little church in Minnesota. It was my mother’s church, the one she’d gone to faithfully twice a week until the day she died.
I didn’t want a big fancy wedding, or a big expensive designer gown. A guest list with hundreds of people I didn’t know just didn’t seem right to me, and Adam agreed.
“It’s just about us, our love, and sharing it with those who truly matter,” Adam said sweetly when I told him about my plans.
I couldn’t be happier, and telling the story of our courtship, our engagement, to my dearest friends whom I hadn’t seen since college, or even high school—well, that was my dream.
“So, you didn’t see Adam last night?” Lora asked, my roommate from college.
I blushed, not wanting to admit to Rowena that she hadn’t guarded me as well as she thought. “He snuck over,” I giggled.
Rowena’s eyes widened. “What do you mean he snuck over?” she asked.
The girls all giggled, and I smiled a sly—but shy—smile at my older sister. “I snuck him in the window last night,” I admitted.
She shook her head. “Figures. He can’t stand being away from you,” she sighed lovingly.
The music started playing in the church, an old organ that my mother had played for the Christmas play while the original organist played the role of Mary. It was beautifully out of tune, too loud, and exactly what I wanted to hear on this special day.
The girls all lined up, stepping out of the small room one by one to meet their groomsmen to walk down the aisle.
“Are you okay?” Rowena asked quietly.
I squeezed her hand tightly. “Yes. This is a dream come true,” I said.
“I’m sorry Mom isn’t here,” she said.
“She is,” I told her, feeling in my heart that she was around… somewhere.
Adam wore a black tux and stood at the altar like my Prince Charming, of course—but with the added effect of the Secret Service standing at each door of the church.
Rowena walked me down the aisle, gave me away, and I took my first steps toward my soon-to-be husband.
I couldn’t tell you the words, not the exact ones that the preacher used, but I can relive the feeling of love I felt in that moment every time I see Adam smile.
“Do you have any regrets?” I asked softly as the preacher announced us husband and wife.
“Only that I didn’t marry you sooner,” Adam replied, and then he pulled me in for a long, passionate kiss.
“Who cares who’s watching,” he’d told me during our rehearsal. “I’m gonna kiss you like I always do.”
We were whisked away to a secret honeymoon spot, not one I can mention. I plan to use it again, and again, having all of our yearly anniversaries there, so that secret-that one, we’re keeping.
I was officially the first lady, and with that came great responsibility, so Michael took over my position in the White House, or at least some of it. I was still the person who had the last say on anything involving Adam’s personal appearances, his wardrobe, and his social scheduling.
The people proved to like a working first lady. When election time came around, Adam won by a landslide, of course.
Going to the White House, working in politics, no, it wasn’t my dream. Or, at least I didn’t think it was, or ever could be.
Adam, yes, he was always my dream, and so by accepting my place on his campaign, it was obvious I was hoping—okay, dreaming—for romance.
I found it, and I found that dreams aren’t always what you think they are. They are what you make them.
Click here to get my book Mr. Billionaire for FREE
MR ROOMMATE
By Ivy Jordan
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan
Chapter One
“I’m not sure I can do this, or that I want to do this,” I whined as Lark gripped my hand, pulling me from the couch.
“You need a place to stay, and Benny says he’s a real cool guy,” Lark said.
“But, living with a man?” I sighed, wrinkling my nose to show my disgust.
Lark laughed, pushing her mousy-brown hair off her shoulder, and flashing her large green eyes in my direction.
“At least meet him. Benny said the place is amazing, and you’ll have plenty of privacy,” Lark urged.
“If it’s so great, then why’s he moving out?” I scoffed, pushing my hand to my hip.
Lark rolled her eyes as she smiled. “Willow, he’s getting married. Quit trying to find the bad, and look at the good.”
It was good, almost too good to be true. A place in the city, so close to my photography club, for what he was asking in rent was unheard of. There had to be a catch.
“You need outta here, right?” she asked with a smirk.
I watched her eyes roll around the small apartment where three other girls lived. It was a long commute to the city, which was not only where the photography club met, but was also where most of my clients wanted me to work. This was my first option when I moved to New York after college, and with my income, it felt like my only option. Luckily, Sara, my friend from college, was nice enough to make room for me in her tiny shared apartment.
By ‘room,’ I mean, I have a place on the couch to sleep, and my clothes are stacked on a shelf under the TV stand.
“Yes. I need outta here,” I sighed.
“I honestly don’t know how you’ve lived like this as long as you have,” Lark said.
“It’s only been a month,” I stated.
Her eyes rolled, and she let out a sigh. “I would’ve died.”
She was being dramatic, as Lark often was, but she was right: it wasn’t great. The walls had chipped paint, there were only two bedrooms, and four women living in the apartment, and there had been a smell—one I could neither recognize nor find the source of—ever since I’d moved in.
“Okay. I’ll meet him,” I agreed with half a smile.
“Good. Let’s get outta here. That smell—God, what is it?” she asked, covering her nose.
I shrugged and laughed. “Wish I knew.”
The cab ride into the city gave me plenty of time to come up with a million reasons why this wasn’t a good idea.
Reason one: he’s a man. Reason two: he’s a man. Reason three: well, maybe not a million reasons, but one really good one: he was a man!
“Thank you,” Lark said sweetly, handing the cabbie a twenty.
I followed her into the cozy bar with the large red door, figuring we’d find Theo at one of the tables waiting. I’d already pictured him in my mind as a nerdy, computer-geek type of guy. He probably had greasy hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and pimples, even though he was twenty-four.
Lark pulled me towards the bar, finding two open seats at the corner. A beautiful man with thick, dark hair, steely-blue eyes, and a smile that could melt away my panties moved towards us. “What can I get ya, beautiful ladies?” he asked.
“A pitcher of light draft,” she said quickly.
“Holy shit, he’s hot,” I whispered to Lark as he winked and walked away.
“Well, that’s a bonus,” she smiled.