Praise Me: President (Praise Me Daily)
Praise Me: President: Chapter 10

I’m straddling the president in the back of his motorcade SUV, delivering his pleasure for all I’m worth, my green plaid skirt rucked up around my hips, my panties torn at the crotch, my dress shirt unbuttoned halfway to my navel—and the feverish hunger with which Pierce watches my breasts jiggle makes me glad I forwent a bra this morning as we rushed to shower, dress and pack back at the hotel.

We’ve barely slept all night. We couldn’t stop touching long enough, Pierce loving me against the steamy tile wall of the shower, on the floor with my bottom in the air and him moaning behind me. Then this morning in bed when we were just getting started again, the president chanting my name while I took him deep, deep inside my mouth, the Secret Service started pounding on the door to let the president know he was required back in Washington immediately,

The short helicopter flight home was torture. Not because I was scared this time, but because the president needed to use the flight to be brought up to speed on an emergency developing in Eastern Europe. Even so, while he spoke on the phone and reviewed information on his laptop, he held my hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across my knuckles, his fingertips eventually dropping lower to play with the hem of my skirt. The lazy tops of my stockings. My wet panties.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the leader of the free world stroking me through my underwear while discussing potential UN sanctions, but I’m willing to try.

I’m willing to do anything for him.

By the time the fight landed in Washington and we were escorted to the SUV, I was ready to sell my soul to get his zipper down. Him inside of me. That’s where he belongs.

“We’re almost to the White House, angel,” the president pants in my ear, his hands tight on my bare bottom, drawing me rhythmically toward his lap, his thick shaft parting the damp flesh of my sex and stretching me, my thighs and butt flexing once I’ve completely swallowed him inside my entrance, holding the top of the leather seat on which he sits so I can grind like a good girl for my Daddy, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head. “Fuck, that’s so good. Right to the motherfucking balls. I can’t figure out how you get all of me in that tight little thing and I don’t care. Just keep doing it. Goddamn.” His head drops back on a full-body groan that I feel all the way in the tips of my ears. “I’m right on the edge and…Jesus, they’re going to open these doors in a minute, little girl. Are you close?”

“I’m always close with you,” I whisper, lapping at the side of his face, his ear, employing the tricks I learned since last night and cinching up my pussy muscles and riding in quicker bucks, gasping against his mouth while I rub my clit on his slippery length, the tension in his frame building as he gets closer and closer to release, a telltale sign I’ve memorized since last night, along with him starting to choke on his breath, his erection growing impossibly huge inside of me, so huge I can barely take it at the end and he seems to love when I complain about that. “It’s so big,” I whimper. “I think it’s going to bust soon.”

“You’re giving me no choice,” he says through his teeth.

“It’s getting so hard to squeeze it in, sir, but I won’t stop.” I contract my inner walls and bounce a few times, my butt smacking off his thighs, and his hips lift off the seat, his face contorting with pleasure/pain.

“Oh God. Oh my God, it hurts to be this hard,” he grits out. “Make it stop.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” I purr, rubbing our lips together, teasing him with light kisses while my lower body rolls furiously. “I serve you so you can serve the country, don’t I?”

He shudders, his head falling back, urging me to hump faster and I do so, to please my president and myself in the process, the White House outside looming in the window, growing larger, my knees sliding open farther on the seat so he can come as deeply as he deserves and I can bury my face in his neck and give my clit the pressure it needs to unleash the unmitigated bliss in my system. The kind only Pierce can give me.

My inner thighs begin a prolonged spasm, breathless titillation radiating from that button of flesh that he serves so mightily, so perfectly, and my hands lift automatically to my breasts, cupping and fondling them in the open neckline of my shirt, pinching and plucking at my nipples to speed up the climax hovering around the edges of my reality—and it comes blowing in on all sides, turning me mindless in the president’s lap, working my hips in a shameless rut, my orgasm blooming when he looks at me with pure worship, and jerks, his jaw dropping as his warmth spreads inside of me, our fluids joining, pooling, collecting while we both jolt and shake, gasping against one another’s mouths.

The SUV rolls to a stop, and though I’m drowsy from our intense lovemaking, I climb off the president’s lap and fix my clothing as quickly as possible, straightening his tie while he zips himself back into his pants, using his pocket square to mop to sweat from his face and back of his neck.

“My God, Eloise,” he says in a gravelly voice, his hand curving around the back of my neck to draw me close, searching my eyes with our foreheads pressed together. “How am I supposed to cope with my fucking obsession with you and run a country at the same time?”

“I’m supposed to be making it easier to focus on running the country,” I point out, worry creeping into my breast and lodging there. “Not harder.”

He huffs a laugh, strokes a hand down the back of my hair. “There’s a crisis taking place overseas and all I can think about is whether or not they’ve moved your things into my rooms yet.” He kisses me hard, a touch of madness lighting his eyes. “I need you safe and protected in the White House, Eloise. Maybe I’m being too possessive—”

“You’re allowed,” I whisper, my chest fluttering happily. “And…I like it.”

Studying me, he nods, that light of madness glowing brighter. Brighter. “I want to know your movements. I want an army of agents keeping every other man at a distance, so I can think straight. I want it understood that you sleep in my fucking bed and that I could require you in the Oval Office at a moment’s notice with your panties off. I want to run this country with you side by side, doing good. Both of us making a difference, like we’ve always dreamed about. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Forever?

Is he referencing…marriage?

Surely not.

Even as elation makes it hard to breathe, I refuse to get my hopes up. Besides…I’m beginning to worry that I’ve positioned myself to be a distraction to the president, instead of an asset. What if I’m causing harm, not good?

“Pierce—”

The SUV doors open and two of the president’s advisors stare back at us, all but shouting into their phones, while gesturing for the president to follow them into the White House. “Mr. President, the situation has grown more untenable,” one of them says. “You’re needed in London immediately to discuss a threat to global safety. Several world leaders are attending the same summit to consider sanctions, as we spoke about earlier.” The advisor looks between me and the president, finally seeming to notice how close we’re sitting. “Uh. Sir, we need to look proactive on this. There’s a chance we might need you in Eastern Europe once the summit concludes.”

Fear begins to tighten my gut, but I banish the feeling.

Fear is no match for my faith in Pierce McAlister.

“Give me a moment,” Pierce says, turning to me once the advisor closes the door of the SUV once again, cupping my face. “I want to bring you with me, but I refuse to have you anywhere near danger. I want you here where it’s safe.”

The imminence of his departure makes me shaky, but I lift my chin, not wanting to bog him down with guilt or worry when he has a disaster to avert. “I understand, sir.”

His lips twitch, his eyes raking over my face with open adoration. “While I’m gone, can you practice calling me Pierce?”

I let out a watery laugh. “I will. I promise.”

He slants his mouth over mine, kissing me passionately. “You sleep in my bed while I’m gone. In my clothes, too, angel. You wrap yourself in me until I get back.”

“That sounds like heaven,” I whisper, overcome by the potency of him. “And the next best thing to having you here.”

“When I get back, we’re going to sit down and talk about us.” He rubs his thumb in the hollow of my throat. “We’re going to do so many things when I get back, little girl.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I breathe, his spend still seeping out of me.

I lock my thighs together to keep it inside.

He bares his teeth against my lips. “Be good while I’m gone.”

“I will,” I promise fervently.

Then off he goes in a flurry of activity. Vanished into another waiting SUV, burning rubber toward Air Force One. While I walk into a White House that has changed its attitude toward me since I left. And not for the better.

I enter my office feeling strange, like I’m waking up from a trance.

Or more likely, I’ve been ensconced in a dream with Pierce for the last two days and now I’m being forced to perform normal, everyday tasks when I feel anything but normal. Despite the doubt I’m beginning to feel regarding my effectiveness at the president’s side, my heart is soaring somewhere in the clouds.

I’m in love.

I’m deeply, violently in love.

My body is bereft without him touching it. I’m aching over the knowledge that he’s moving farther away from me with every passing second. My secretary calls a greeting to me, and it takes me a full two seconds to comprehend her words, because I’m surrounded by a thick filter of joy. Joy that bursts like a bubble when the Secretary of Education enters my office behind me, closing the door and leaning back against it.

“Well.” Her smile is pinched. “How was the honeymoon?”

My chest lurches. “I’m sorry?”

Her laughter holds not a trace of humor. “Did you think you were just going to seduce President McAlister and no one would notice?”

“Seduce?” A queasy sensation swims in my stomach, because there is a chance that seducing the president is exactly what I’ve done. He told me we couldn’t have a non-professional relationship, and I continued to offer myself to him at every opportunity. Couldn’t help it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I manage weakly.

“Yes, you do, Ms. Rogers. Slinking off with McAlister before he’s had a chance to redecorate the White House. Did you think no one would notice you were throwing yourself at him?”

My temples are pounding. “I…you’re mistaken.”

“Am I?” She pushes off the door, stalking forward. “We believe in this man. He’s decent and hard working. A hero who gives a damn about the American people. And you’re going to ruin his reputation during his first month in office. How do you think it’s going to look to the public when it’s revealed that he’s sleeping with the youngest member of his cabinet? Not to mention taking her on state-funded trips. Is it true your things have been transferred to his bedroom?” She snorts. “I’m sure that was your idea.”

Some of what she’s saying is true, some of it not.

But the points she’s making are only validating my concerns. That I’m bad for Pierce. The exact opposite of what he needs. And what I hoped to be.

“Everyone in the White House is talking about this. It’s only a matter of time before it leaks to the press.” She stalks back to the door and yanks it open, sneering back at me over her shoulder. “You’re the last thing he needs. If you care about him at all, you’ll resign.”

I sit in stillness long after she’s gone, my heart beating triple time in my chest.

I want so badly to believe she’s wrong, but deep down…

I know she’s right.

I’m a distraction and a liability to someone who can do a lot of good if he focuses—and that’s going to be harder to do as long as I’m around.

With tears in my eyes, I open my laptop and start working on my resignation letter.