Authors: Claire Adams
I allowed the silence to hang between us
for a moment before I said anything. “Yvonne is really excellent.”
“He’s wonderful. I enjoy all the people I
have on staff.” He sipped at his wine, gazing at me. There was such intimacy in
the air. “How was your weekend?” he finally asked.
I bit my lip for a moment, remembering all
the lost hours I’d spent daydreaming about him. “It was nice to get away from
work for a little while,” I whispered.
He nodded. “I hope the polls haven’t
dropped too much since you went away.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You know I’m
far too careful for that.” I raised my eyebrows, knowing that I was insinuating
something else—an affair that wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t go on.
The food swept in, then. The first course.
Then the second. The president and I busied ourselves with small talk—much of
which put me nearly to tears with its hilarity. I slurped the soup and nearly
squirted it out, yelling out: “Stop it, Xavier! You’re going to make me choke
to death!”
“I can’t help that I’m the funniest
president since Clinton,” he said simply, his eyes bright.
I bit my lip, feeling the soft candles as
they glittered their light across my eyes. I searched around me, noting that
the Secret Service was outside the door, twenty feel away. I leaned over the
table and whispered toward him. “This dinner is really perfect, you know that?”
Xavier shrugged his shoulders
nonchalantly. “I wanted things to be special for you. I don’t get out of my
apartment or the Oval Office often. And I have a feeling that you don’t get out
much, either.”
I shook my head, bowing it a bit. I didn’t
like that Xavier could see through me so well. It was like he knew my every
thought, my every need. I placed my spoon next to my bowl—the soup bowl I’d
scraped clean. “Should we do a bit of talking about work?”
Xavier gave me that crooked smile once
more—that dark, penetrating stare. “Why stop now?”
The main course and the dessert were, once
again, completely perfect. I felt that my soul was rejuvenated after such a
hefty few days of anxiety, of continuous daydreaming. I felt like Xavier was
welcoming me back into the world. And it was a beautiful, luxurious one at
that.
I tapped on my stomach and gazed around
the room after the meal, as Yvonne took our plates away.
“What are you thinking about?” Xavier
asked me, gazing at me through the candle light.
“That I’ve never had a more perfect day,”
I whispered, hoping no one in the world would ever hear those words. They were
private, for him and I. For no one else.
Chapter
11
Xavier pushed himself up from the table, a
bit uneasy on his feet. He smiled at me in that crooked way. I was falling in
love with him in each passing moment. But I didn’t want to admit it to myself.
“Did the wine go to your head?” I asked
him, teasing him. I felt a lightness about myself, as well.
He reached out his hand to me and I
accepted it. We stood there together, in the shell of the candlelight. I
couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes, feeling such a weight in me. Every time I
was with him, the world around us seemed to calm; I seemed to forget every
element of my responsibilities, of my dreams. I could just be. There was a
freedom in it.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked me then,
his words a bit sloppy.
My eyes coursed toward the doorway, where
I could see the Secret Service walking and talking, a bit anxious to go home.
I shook my head. “Too many witnesses,” I
said, my eyebrows going high on my forehead. I felt silly, for some reason—up
for anything.
Xavier nodded, stepping closer to me. I
half expected his mouth to come toward mine, to engage in that kiss once more.
Deep in my heart, in my stomach, I wanted it—I wanted so much more, as well.
But instead, he whispered in my ear. “Do
you want me to take you home?”
I reared back for a moment, shocked at his
words. He’d been such a president during much of dinner—with a loud voice, with
a dominant personality. But this softer side forced me to nod my head, to lower
my eyebrows, and to admit to myself that I very much wanted him to take me home.
“Please,” I said, biting my lip once more.
He allowed me to accept his arm, and we
walked out into the foyer, where we found the secret servicemen, including
Dimitri. Dimitri looked at me with a vague, confused expression. He didn’t say
anything, of course. Gosh, he’d been my friend for so many, many years. What
would he think of me, now?
“Gentlemen. I’m going to accompany Miss
Martin back to her home. Dimitri, if you could drive us. I believe you know the
way rather well,” Xavier announced, administering his president voice once
more. I sniffed, lowering my eyes. I tried to become invisible—not a proud,
dominant girl of the White House. Surely not her.
“Yes, sir,” Dimitri stated, his voice a
bit harsh. I looked down at the ground, not wanting to see his assuredly
shocked, angry expression. Sure, I’d known he liked me throughout all those years
of friendship. I didn’t mean for it to be this way—for this start of a torrid
affair hurt his feelings. It wasn’t meant to be like this.
Dimitri rushed to grab the car. Meanwhile, the other secret servicemen grabbed
a few others, meaning to follow us, I supposed. Xavier and I stood together, my
arm still through his. We casually sipped on wine and spoke of other things—not
of the things we might do, in the back of that black, secret car. I wanted to
smack myself, to allow myself to understand that this was all off-limits. I
couldn’t—I wouldn’t do this. I would dance with him, hold his hand. I’d talk to
him and play fantasies in my head. But no more.
Dimitri pulled up before the White House,
allowing us to enter the back seat of the black vehicle. Xavier swept in after
me, closing the door with an affirmative clunk. In the back, the intensity was
heightened incredibly. Xavier’s face was inches from my own, and our lips were
so close together, needing each other. I held my hand over his chest and I pressed
my fingertips into his muscles, wanting to rip his clothes from his skin. Stop,
I kept thinking. Stop wanting him.
Stop needing him.
Dimitri pulled up in front of the
apartment building without my realizing that time had passed. Xavier turned
toward me, his breath hot. “Do you want me to walk you up?” he whispered, his
mouth so straight, so serious across his face.
I paused for a moment, my mind rushing.
Perhaps this could be the only time? I nodded subtly, allowing it. I needed him
so deep in me. My pussy called out for him, needing him. I wanted him to rip my
clothes from me, to bang me into a wall. Anything, goddammit. Anything.
Xavier called up to Dimitri in the front
seat. “Dimitri. Drive around the block for about an hour or so. Okay? I’ll call
you when I need picked up.”
“Will do, sir. The others will come wait
outside the door.”
“The others?” I asked Xavier, then.
Xavier nodded. “I come with a slew of
Secret Service every time I leave the White House. You’ll get used to it.”
What did he mean I would get used to it? I
wasn’t sure I would. I panicked at the thought of even one person knowing about
this, let alone many. But I stepped out of the vehicle anyway and found myself
walking into my apartment building with the president’s arm around my lower
back. My need for him overtook anything else. I couldn’t think anymore.
I rustled the key from my pocket and
stuffed it into the doorknob, pushing it open. Xavier darted in after me,
closing it behind us. He gazed around my apartment, tapping his tongue against
the top of his mouth. “Not bad, Miss Martin. Not bad.”
I stood at the doorway, trying to right my
emotions and my inner self. I was in there somewhere. All my hopes and dreams
had to overtake my sexual drive! I knew that I was being unruly—that my
feelings for this man couldn’t come to fruition. Sure, he was the most
attractive man I’d ever seen. His power was outrageous, and the way he kissed
me made me swoon.
But I couldn’t allow it to continue. I
cleared my throat. “Do you want some wine?” I asked him. I would change the
conversation; perhaps I could ask him about his wife again.
He spun around and nodded. “I’d love
some.” Thankfully, he kept his distance, standing over by the bookcase. “You
have some great books in here.” He brought his hands into his pockets. I
imagined them all over my body, rubbing at me. Forcing me to come to orgasm.
I nodded, pouring the glasses. “If only I
had time to read them, you know.”
“Oh, I know. I’m saving all the reading
for after the presidency.”
I didn’t want to tell him that if we were
caught doing this—even just drinking in this apartment like friends—he wouldn’t
make the next election. He would be on his back, reading paperbacks until the
day he died. He would be known as another president who had a sordid affair
with a White House employee, thus ruining both his career and hers.
Mine.
“Me, too. After my presidency, of course,”
I said, clinking my glass with his. I winked at him. “Cheers.”
His eyes flitted over me, over my breasts,
over my waist. He shook his head, as if he couldn’t comprehend something.
“What is it?” I asked him, genuinely
curious. I felt like I was on display, suddenly.
“I just—I can’t believe you exist.”
I tapped the glass on the table before me,
and crossed my arms, my mind rushing. “We can’t, Xavier,” I whispered. “We
can’t.”
He tapped his glass next to mine and took
a step forward. With each step, I felt myself take another back. Back and back
and back, like my kitchen went on forever. “Please, Xavier,” I whispered. My
voice pleaded with him, but I knew my eyes gave me away. They wanted him. God,
I wanted him.
Finally, I was against the door. I could
feel my spine wheedle into the wood. His body was so hot against mine. He
whispered into my ear: “What is it we can’t do?” His voice rasped with such
sensuality.
And then I nearly fell into his arms. He
kissed me so passionately, rubbing his hands against my breasts, against my
thin waist. I kissed back with such earnestness, as well. I felt my knees give
out, and I sighed into him, feeling my hands begin to unbutton his shirt. I
ripped open the thing, allowing a few buttons to course wildly through the
kitchen.
His immaculate, muscled chest gleamed in
the light from my kitchen. He removed his shirt, allowing his upper arms to
pulse with each movement. He placed his hands on neck and began to unzip my
dress, as well, slipping it down around my ankles. He revealed me in just my
tights; just my bra.
“God. You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
And then, he was on me once more, bringing
his hands around my back and unhooking my bra, leaving me to gasp before him,
my breasts bouncing into his open hands. He brought his mouth around the
nipples, coursing the tongue up and down, over and over. I felt my pussy become
so wet in my tights.
He gripped my waist, then, and carried me
toward the couch. He sat down and swept me over him, allowing me to straddle
him. He grabbed my tights and ripped them all the way down the leg, leaving me
to gasp with delight. He separated the lips of my pussy and placed his hand on
my clit, making me call out with such pleasure. I closed my eyes, seeing stars.
I reached toward his waist and undid his
belt, stripping him naked on the couch along with me. I knelt down and placed
my mouth around his huge, pulsing dick and rolled my tongue around and around,
hearing his gasps and sighs as I did it. I couldn’t believe I could make the
president orgasm; I couldn’t’ believe I could make him feel this good.
But then, he pushed me down onto the
couch, making me giggle a bit, even as my breasts bounced on my chest. “What
are you doing,” I laughed at him, giving myself over once again to emotion.
“You look fucking great,” he said,
thrusting his dick into me and bringing my feet up around his stunning face. He
fucked me like that, with my legs vertically in the air and my head and back
arched. Each penetration made me roar for more. He reached down and clamped my
nipples with his strong fingers—the very ones he’d used to sign such important
documents, to declare his oath to the presidency. And now—and now—
Each thrust shuddered the couch into the
wall, making the entire apartment creak. The neighbors would hear, I knew; but
they wouldn’t know who was making the noise. They wouldn’t dare say a thing.
After he nearly crushed the couch into the
heaping brick wall, he wasn’t done. He removed his dick from me, then, leaving
me gasping. He brought me up onto the table, then. I stood on all fours,
allowing him to enter my pulsing, dripping pussy from behind. “Yeah, baby,” I
said. “Yeah.” I rubbed my clit from the front, feeling my orgasm revving in me,
pushing all doubts of my love for this man aside. “Don’t stop!” I cried to the
air around us. I felt like I was going to cry; I felt like this was the
culmination of all my lack of feeling over the years. I’d had nothing for too
long.