President Daddy: A Dark Daddy Romance

by Hamel, B. B.

  And he becomes a man.

  A really, really hot man.

  The hottest man I’ve ever kissed, by far. And a really fantastic kisser.

  Everything about him drives me wild. The amount of tongue, the taste, the pressure, his lips. I let him pull me closer and kiss me deeper, let myself drop into this deep dark hole of desire.

  I let myself go to a place of need that I know I shouldn’t.

  The kiss doesn’t last long. Maybe ten seconds, maybe fifteen. It feels like longer though.

  The sound of knocking at the door interrupts us. I pull back like he’s a hot iron.

  He smirks at me. “Yes?” he calls out.

  Charles steps in through the back. He looks at me for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing me, and looks back at Adam.

  “Briefing,” he grunts. “Something happened.”

  Adam frowns. “Right now?”

  “Right now,” Charles confirms.

  He sighs and looks at me. “Well, thanks for coming to see me, Maggie.”

  “Of course,” I manage to say, clearing my throat. I stand, straightening myself, my cheeks flaming red.

  Charles knows.

  Of course he knows. It’s so obvious.

  I smile one more time at Adam before leaving through the other door, hurrying back to my office, heart beating so fast I can barely keep myself under control.

  I just kissed the President.

  Oh my god.

  I just kissed the freaking President.

  6

  Adam

  Of course, as soon as I finally kiss a woman I’m fucking attracted to, some crisis far across the globe threatens to blow up.

  That’s just my luck. Pretty much how things always go.

  A couple of French commandos get caught by a local radical Pakistani separatist group, taking them hostage. Since we’re allies, the French call us in to help out.

  The crisis lasts days. I don’t get out much, following the action in the situation room closely. I barely have time to shower and sleep, let alone see Maggie.

  But I keep thinking about her. I can’t help it. Every time I want to stop, there she is again, still on my mind.

  I can feel her lips against mine, her tongue against my tongue. I can taste her, feel her skin, hear her breathing.

  It drives me fucking insane, just thinking about her. I know I should be more invested in the crisis, but…

  Fucking hell.

  I haven’t felt like this in a long, long time.

  Several days pass. I float in and out of the situation room. Things get tense, and for a while, it doesn’t look good. I’m worried about war, the sort of thing that could completely derail all of my domestic policy ideas.

  But fortunately, it comes to a dramatic conclusion. Nobody gets killed, at least on our side, and the French commandos get rescued.

  And I get some fucking well-deserved sleep.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, being President never stops.

  “What’s this for again?” I ask Charles as he ushers me into the ballroom. The Secret Service fans out around me as people turn in my direction.

  “Fundraiser,” he grunts.

  “Yeah, right, I know. But for what?”

  “The party,” he grunts.

  I sigh. That’s about as much as I’ll get out of him. I guess it doesn’t matter.

  I’ve been to these things before. I feel like I still have the stink of sweat and anxiety all over my body, even though the crisis has been resolved for the time being. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not totally over.

  Doesn’t matter. I shake hands, smile, make small talk. I ask questions about people I barely know.

  All because the party wants them to write big, fat checks.

  This is how politics really works. Politicians are fundraisers, through and through. Sure, we work on some policy stuff.

  But mostly we kiss rich people’s asses and beg them for money.

  No wonder politics works the way it does. Rich people run this show, so they get all the benefits.

  Sure, we’ve thrown poor people and average people some bones over the years, usually little things like tiny tax cuts and stupid deregulations that don’t really help them but we pretend like they do. Mostly though, they get nothing.

  And this is why.

  I hate it, honestly. I hate the money and the bullshit. I know that’s politics, but it doesn’t feel good.

  “Glad you made it out,” Griff McDonald says to me.

  He’s the leader of the party in the Senate, the head of the snake. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  He grins. “We know you hate this stuff, sir. But we’re glad you’re here anyway.”

  “Anything to help the party.”

  “Well, you enjoy yourself now, ya hear?”

  I nod and walk away. Griff has an absurd name and acts like a cowboy, but he’s as shrewd as they come.

  I sigh and head over to the bar. Charles lingers nearby, chatting with donors, shaking hands like a good soldier. I wish I had half his dedication to the job. I’d be much better at this.

  “Whiskey,” I say to the bartender. A secret service guy lingers nearby. “You want a drink?” I ask him.

  He grins, but doesn’t respond.

  I take my glass and sip it, turning to oversee the hall. It’s filled with people, more than I expected. I catch a few glances coming my way and I can sense at least three old ladies that want a moment of my time.

  I wish I could fucking run away.

  “Hello, Mr. President.”

  I stand still, not sure if my ears are deceiving me. I turn to my left and, sure enough, my eyes are telling the same story.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I say.

  Maggie smiles. “I half expected you not to show up.”

  “I wouldn’t have, if I had a choice.”

  She laughs a little and I can’t help but smile. I know I shouldn’t stand here and talk with her… but I can’t help myself.

  She looks beautiful. Black dress that fits her body perfectly, hair down and simple, makeup almost nonexistent. Her skin practically glows.

  It’s taking all my self-control not to tear off that dress right now.

  “How’d you get stuck at this?” I ask her.

  “Roger wants to court some big donors for a project he’s cooking up,” she says. “He made the whole department show up.”

  I laugh softly. “That’s pretty bold.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s Roger, I guess.”

  “You’re not out shaking hands, though?”

  “Not my thing. He keeps calling me his ‘whiz kid’ and I swear I’m going to kick his teeth in if he says it one more time.”

  I laugh again. I almost forgot how funny she can be.

  “Let’s get out of here together,” I say suddenly.

  She blinks, frowns. “Is that a good idea?”

  “No,” I say, leaning toward her. “It’s a terrible idea.”

  She looks up at me, eyes wide.

  “There’s a door in the back left corner, it’s a fire exit. I’ll go first. You follow after. Give me ten minutes.”

  She nods slowly. I don’t know if she’ll do it or not, but I can’t stand around and wait to find out.

  I have old ladies to woo on behalf of the party.

  I walk away without another word. The Secret Service hovers nearby as I say hello to a few billionaire heiresses that’ve seen better days, but still have bank accounts like you wouldn’t believe.

  I put on my best smile, the smile that won me the fucking election. I play it up, give them the pitch, make them feel special.

  I play the fucking game. For ten minutes, I give it my all.

  And after that ten minutes, I split.

  The Secret Service trails behind me. I don’t care if they see something. They follow me through the fire door.

  “Sir?” One of the agents steps forward. I recognize him.

  “It’s f
ine, Ramirez,” I say.

  “We don’t have this area secured.”

  “Then secure it for me. I’ll be having a meeting shortly.”

  He frowns, but nods. He says something into his walkie as I head down a short corridor.

  This is clearly a back area where servers go. Some of them bustle past me, and I get a few double-takes. That stinks, but can’t be helped.

  Finally, I find an empty office. There’s a table in the middle and a projection screen on the wall. I’m guessing the hotel rents these rooms for business meetings or whatever.

  Ramirez follows me inside. “You stay out there,” I tell him. “There’s a girl coming from the White House. Maggie.”

  Ramirez nods.

  “Send her my way,” I tell him.

  He nods again.

  “And please, never breathe a word of this.”

  “Sir, I’d take a bullet for you. And I personally think you deserve to have a life, even if you have to hide it.”

  I blink, surprised. I’ve never heard an agent speak that much before, let alone give his personal opinion. “Thank you,” I say.

  He nods one last time and exits the room.

  I sit down on top of the table and wait. I don’t have to sit around long, though. I hear footsteps in the hall, and then Maggie appears.

  Still looking beautiful in her black dress.

  “Nice place,” she says.

  “Only the finest for the President.”

  She laughs as the door shuts behind her.

  I hop down off the table. “We don’t have long,” I say softly.

  Her eyebrows raise. “I thought we were running away together.”

  I smile. “There’s no running away from the office. You know that.”

  She laughs gently. “I guess not. A girl can pretend.”

  I step right up to her and kiss her. I don’t hesitate or pretend like this is something else. We both know why she’s here.

  I can feel my stress slowly melt away. I’ve been needing this so fucking badly. My existence has been one long string of crisis stress, uninterrupted and unceasing.

  It’s impossible to explain how that wears at a person. The constant, unceasing uncertainty, the fear of death, the fear of failure. Everything hanging in the balance, and I’m the one making all the decisions.

  It ages you. I understand how Presidents in the past have taken the job and left the office looking like they aged twenty years after only eight.

  But with Maggie, that can all drift away into the night. All I need is her touch, her taste.

  I turn her, push her back to the table. I lift her up, sit her down. She wraps her legs around my waist as I kiss her hard.

  Fucking hell. I needed this so goddamn badly.

  Her taste floods me. I feel her body, her breasts, down to the hem of her dress. I lift it up, making her gasp.

  My heart’s pounding. Desire floods me.

  I slide my hands up her bare thighs. Smooth and creamy, perfect and long. I stop as my right hand slowly finds her pussy, caressing her over her panties, sliding along her mound.

  She groans. I slip them side, finding her wet spot. She’s soaked, excited. I rub her clit, rolling it, making her groan even more. I kiss her neck, her ear, her lips.

  “I can’t stop thinking about this,” I whisper to her. “Fuck, ever since I first saw you. I knew I had to taste you.”

  “Mr. President,” she whispers.

  I laugh softly. “No, don’t call me that. I want you to call me something else.” I slide my fingers deep inside of her.

  She groans. I pull them back out, teasing her clit, push her back, make her support herself on her hands as I slide my fingers back inside her pussy.

  She opens her legs wide. “What do you want me to call you?” she asks between moans.

  I fuck her pussy with my fingers. “You’re not ready for that yet.”

  “Please,” she begs. “I’m ready. I’m ready for whatever you want, Adam.”

  I smirk at her, pushing my fingers deep. I curl my fingers, stroking the roof of her pussy, finding her soft spot. She gasps in pure pleasure as I stroke it more.

  “Fuck,” she groans, full breasts shaking as her whole body shudders. “Please, Adam. I need it.”

  “You need it?” I smirk, kissing her neck. “You want to know what I want you to call me?”

  “Please,” she groans.

  I slide my fingers in deep again. “I want you to call me Daddy.”

  She bites her lip as I pull back, teasing her pussy, stroking her clit. “Daddy?” she asks.

  “That’s right. You’re half my age. I want you to call me Daddy when I make you come.”

  She bites her lip again as I slide my fingers deep again. “You’ll take care of me?”

  “Of course,” I say softly. “I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

  “Fuck,” she whispers. “President Daddy.”

  I smirk and drop to my knees. I tug her to the edge of the table, push her legs open, and slide her panties to the side.

  I start slowly at first, licking her clit, sucking it softly. She grabs my hair, clearly loving it, one hand behind her to support her weight. I taste her, tease her, give her a little bit of pleasure before I push her too far.

  I love her delicious little pussy. I the way she tastes, the way I can roll her around my tongue and get her moaning, the way I can push my tongue inside her tight cunt and lick her all up.

  I suck and work her clit, moving faster, tongue tight against her skin. Her fingers tighten in my hair.

  I squeeze her ass, push her tighter against my mouth. I suck and lick faster, tasting her, loving her. I need it so badly I can barely stand it myself.

  Her moans drive me wild. Loud and deep and full. She’s not afraid of someone hearing. I don’t care, either.

  I want her to feel this. I want her to reach it.

  Pure, deep ecstasy.

  I slide my fingers inside her pussy as I lick and suck her clit. She gasps. Her fingers tighten in my hair.

  I grunt, fuck her with my fingers, suck her clit. I want to get her off so badly I can hardly stand it. My cock’s rock hard, but that’ll have to wait.

  We don’t have a lot of time. I know I have to get back eventually.

  And all I need is for her to come. I suck her, licking and rolling her clit while my fingers slide in and out, faster and faster, deeper and harder.

  She groans, legs tightening. I push them apart again, squeeze her ass.

  “Fuck, Daddy,” she gasps. “I’m so close. Keep doing that.”

  I lick just like that, faster, faster. She groans, head thrown back.

  “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” she gasps. I can barely control myself. I’m going fucking wild as she comes.

  It tastes so fucking good. I love the way she gets off, her body tensing, shaking slightly, a smile on her lips. “Ah, ah, fuck, ah,” she gasps, moans barely audible.

  I lick her through it, past her orgasm, deeper than I bet she’s ever been before. Slowly, she climbs back out from whatever pleasure space she went to, taking deep, gasping breaths.

  “Fuck,” she groans. “God damn. Fuck.”

  I tease her through it before slowly pulling my fingers back out. I put her panties back into place and stand up, cleaning her off my fingers with my tongue.

  She leans back, breathing fast, staring at me. I smirk.

  “Good girl,” I say.

  She laughs a little, clearly flustered. “That was, uh…”

  “That was the best fucking orgasm of your life,” I say. I lean forward and kiss her lips. I know she can taste herself.

  I want her to.

  She stares at me as I step away.

  “Come and see me again soon,” I say.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she says.

  I grin at her and leave the room. Ramirez is standing at the end of the all and he nods as I approach.

  I nod back, unable to stop myself from smiling.

  7
r />   Maggie

  I’m buzzing with him for the rest of the night. I can barely concentrate on anything else around me.

  “You okay?” Iris asks at one point.

  I just nod. “Fine.”

  “Uh huh. You keep spacing out.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And you were staring at the President.” She gives me a huge grin.

  I turn slightly red. “Really?”

  “Nah, just messing with you. But now I know you’re thinking about him.”

  I glare at her. “Cut it out.”

  “No, you cut it out. Get out there and mingle like the rest of us.”

  I sigh, but I get my butt into gear. I shake hands, talk about the polling projects Roger’s interested in, the whole thing. I can’t help but keep one eye on the President, though.

  I still have his spit between my legs, and my panties are absolutely ruined, thanks to him.

  I get home late that night. I don’t speak to Adam again, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I manage to take my dress off and get into the bathtub around midnight.

  I ease myself into the water, sighing, just as my phone starts to ring.

  “Of course,” I grumble, but it’s within reach. I sit up and stare at the private number again before answering.

  “Hello, Maggie.”

  I bite my lip. It’s him. Of course it’s him. “Hello yourself.”

  “Long time, no see.”

  “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Well, I had to come right home and take a bath.”

  He snorts. “Bath?”

  “Right. Since you left me dirty.”

  “Hardly. I cleaned you right up.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Please. And baths don’t clean anything, anyway.”

  “Sure they do.”

  “Not at all. You just sit in it.”

  “Well, I shower after.”

  “So what’s the point of the bath?”

  “Relaxation.” I sigh. “Did you just call to annoy me about my bath habit?”

  “No,” he admits. “I just called to hear your voice.”

  “How did you do tonight?”

  “Good,” he admits. “Hated every second of it. You?”