President Daddy: A Dark Daddy Romance

by Hamel, B. B.

  “I bet you’re the first woman to get your ass fucked on this desk,” he says, kissing me.

  “I bet you’re right,” I say. “Then again, Presidents are usually disgusting, horny old men.”

  He makes a face. “Old?”

  I grin. “That’s the part you’re offended by?”

  “I am disgusting and horny. Can’t deny that. But I’m not old, not yet.”

  “You’re not old.” I kiss him softly. “Daddy.”

  He grins, hand in my hair, and pulls me tight against him.

  We sit like that for a while, just breathing together. Eventually, we get dressed, although he keeps my panties in his desk drawer. “Just in case I feel like smelling you,” he says.

  I know I have to get going. It’s late, and I’ve been in here for two hours already. Instead, we drift to the couch and sit together.

  He asks about what I’ve been up to. We don’t talk about him much. He seems more interested in what I’ve been doing.

  So I tell him everything, from my work life to what I’m watching on Netflix. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and considering the President just came in my ass over the Resolute desk, it’s surprisingly… normal.

  “Oh, before I forget,” he says after maybe a half hour of chatting. “I’m making a speech on the Senate floor in a few days.”

  I blink, surprised. “You are?”

  “About healthcare.”

  That straight up startles me. “What?”

  He takes a breath and nods. “It’s time, Maggie. I know the polling isn’t great, and you’re coming up with some educational materials, but… it’s time I start talking about it.”

  I stare at him. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “Are you sure?”

  “Not at all,” he admits. “But I’ve gotten this far by following my instincts. So I’m going to keep doing that and hope my instincts don’t betray me.”

  I stare into his eyes. I feel overwhelmed in this moment. All I can do is kiss him.

  He kisses me back.

  Not long later, I leave his office, my head spinning, my panties still in his desk drawer.

  12

  Adam

  I look out at the austere and serious faces staring back at me, at the white-haired old assholes that compose the Senate, and I wish I could tell them all to go fuck themselves.

  A bunch of old bastards in the pocket of lobbyists.

  They’re barely politicians.

  The poorest guy in this room is still worth twenty times what an average person makes in a year. And they’re supposed to represent this country.

  I grip the lectern. I stare at the room. I know what they’re going to say about this speech, but I don’t care. I’ve heard it all before.

  They don’t want Medicare For All. Not because it’ll actually be good for people. Not because other countries have already proven that universal healthcare is the only logical and humane way forward, that guaranteeing healthcare as a right is the duty of any civilized country, but because it’ll cost them money.

  Personally. It’ll cost them, personally, money. Not the government, not the people.

  Them.

  Here’s the thing. Lobbyists pay their bills. It’s fucking public bribery, is what it is. And these bastards are being lobbied like crazy by big insurance companies that don’t want to see the world turn against them.

  But I’m going to change all that.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate,” I begin, staring out at their faces. “I am here to talk about a right every man, woman, and child deserves. Not a privilege, not a thing that will bankrupt people, but a right. Ladies and gentlemen, I speak of healthcare.”

  I can already see the eyes rolling. I can already hear the groans.

  Idealist. Socialist. I know what they’ll say.

  It’s too expensive. It won’t work in America.

  Death panels! Poor care! Long lines! No more innovation!

  Lies, every single one of them.

  As I speak, I can feel them slowly turn on me. I can feel them thinking with their wallets. As I tell them how healthcare has to be universal, guaranteed by the government, I hear some booing. I hear some hissing.

  It does not go well.

  I knew it wouldn’t. I mean, I might as well have gotten up there and told them that there should be term limits for senators, which I do believe, by the way.

  I basically told them that I want to see them all poorer. I basically told them to go sit on a rusty nail and fuck themselves with it.

  When I finish, and the Senate finishes with their backhanded clapping that barely drowns out the booing, I leave the floor. My security detail flanks me as I head out into the hall.

  Out into the rush and flood of waiting reporters.

  I step up to the microphone and I start answer questions.

  “Are you a socialist, President Clark?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to bankrupt the country?”

  “No.”

  “Won’t people be waiting in long lines?”

  “Of course not.”

  I stare at them and I hate them just as much. They parrot back these stupid arguments, because they don’t know any better.

  “President Clark,” Linda Torres says, stepping up in my face. Camera flashes go off.

  I’m angry. I hate the world. I wish they’d see the vision of the future that I have, how this can save so many people.

  “Why has Maggie Thomas been sneaking into the Oval Office late at night?”

  I’m taken aback. I stare at her, eyes wide for a second. I’m not sure that I heard the question right.

  This fucking shit again.

  I thought Charles buried that already.

  But apparently not.

  Apparently, she knows something new.

  “Excuse me?” I ask suddenly.

  Everyone’s dead silent.

  “Maggie Thomas, a member of your polling staff, has allegedly been sneaking into the Oval Office late at night, according to my sources. I’ve brought this up to you before, Mr. President. Do you want to comment on this?”

  I blink. I don’t move.

  Who the fuck told her that?

  Nobody else knows, not even my secretary, not even Charles.

  Nobody knows, except for the Secret Service. And they’re sworn to secrecy. It’s in their fucking name.

  Too bad the Secret Service is made up of people, and people fuck up.

  Just like last time. Only the Secret Service knew.

  It’s crystal clear to me now.

  We have a fucking leak.

  “We’ve been working on healthcare together,” I finally manage to say. “As you know, she’s a talented young staffer. I thought I cleared this up already, Linda.”

  Wrong move. I should’ve fucking denied, and I know it as soon as the words leave my lips. Linda’s eyes light up.

  She wasn’t fucking sure.

  “So you confirm that you’re still seeing her?”

  “Like I said. Maggie is a talented pollster, and she’s been getting data for me on healthcare implementations. We’ve been working late because I’ve been busy with the current crisis in Pakistan during the day. As it turns out, Linda, the President has to work pretty hard at all hours of the day and night.”

  The press corps laughs at that, and I quickly take a new question, moving back to healthcare. But I can see the tightness in Linda’s eyes.

  She fucking knows.

  I don’t know how much, but she knows something’s not right.

  And she’s not going to stop until she digs it all up. Every ugly fucking detail.

  God damn it.

  If it had been any other reporter, I wouldn’t worry too much. News moves fast and most reporters forget about this sort of stuff. But not Linda.

  She has a reputation. She’s dogged, intense. She never backs down when there’s a whiff of news.

  I finish the questions and leave soon after. My security detail co
mes with me, but I suddenly don’t feel so safe around them.

  My mind’s buzzing. Ramirez? Someone else I’m not sure about?

  Charles joins me as we head back to the White House. I don’t know where he even came from, but he materializes out of thin air.

  “It’s almost like we’ve had this discussion before,” he says.

  I stop and turn to him. “Find the leak,” I say.

  He frowns. “How?”

  “Someone on my security detail has been talking to Linda. Find out who and get rid of him. Do you hear me? One week, or you’re finished.”

  He stares at me, eyes hard.

  I stare back. I’m not fucking blinking.

  I’m angry as hell.

  “I’ll get it done,” he grunts, and heads off.

  I nod and start back toward my office.

  I have work to do. Even if there is a fucking traitor on my staff.

  13

  Maggie

  I don’t know which is bigger news: Adam talking about universal healthcare on the Senate floor, or his admission that I’ve been seeing him in secret, late-night, off-the-books meetings.

  It’s madness. My phone blows up again, Roger glares at me, even Iris seems impressed.

  “So, is it true?” she asks me, crouching down next to my desk.

  “No,” I hiss, though I hate myself for lying.

  “Oh, come on. It looks pretty bad. I mean, that first time, yeah, it was work. But you’re still going in there?”

  “It’s for work,” I say, sighing. “Seriously, Iris. I’ve been working on the healthcare stuff with him. You know that.”

  “I know. But still. He’s…”

  I wave my hand at her. “He’s hot. I get it.”

  She grins. “So nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fine, be that way. Don’t tell me.” She shrugs and walks off.

  I sit at my desk and I try to do my work. I try, and I fail, but at least I try.

  Everyone leaves for the day. I stay seated, not moving. Eventually, Roger stops by.

  “You should go home,” he says pointedly.

  “I have more work to do.” I meet his gaze coolly.

  He frowns and sighs. “Listen, Maggie. I don’t know what you’re caught up in, but if there’s something, uh, bad going on, and you need help…” He trails off awkwardly.

  It takes me a second to realize that he’s offering to help me if the President is taking advantage of me.

  I soften toward him instantly. That’s no small accusation, and no small offer.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Honestly. It’s okay.”

  He shrugs. “Sure, sure. Well, good night.”

  He walks off. I sit there, staring after him, and shake my head.

  What a crazy freaking day.

  But of course, it’s not over. I stay at my desk, distracting myself with a book. I’m not going to get any work done now, and I’m not going to pretend.

  My phone rings right around nine. This time, it’s not his secretary.

  It’s just him, plain old him.

  “Come see me,” he whispers.

  “Where?”

  “Residence. Do you remember how you got in last time?”

  “I do,” I say.

  “Ramirez will meet you. Don’t talk to the other agents.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “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 an
y 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.