Praise Me: President (Praise Me Daily)
Praise Me: President: Chapter 4

“What happened to Air Force One?” Eloise shouts nervously over the noise of the whizzing chopper blades. We’re being handed headphones on our way to the waiting helicopter and in the space of five seconds, Eloise has gone from being a blank slate to looking absolutely terrified. “Is it in the shop?”

Mother of God, she’s fucking adorable.

I beat back the impulse to scoop her up in my arms and carry her across the tarmac. That would be one way to reassure her, except I’ve redrawn the boundaries between us and now I must stick to them. Sure, it has only been fifteen minutes since I explained to her why we can’t have a romantic relationship and I’m already sexually frustrated.

But I’m a man of my word.

Watching her move in that tight dress and heels while the wind from the chopper blades blows her hair around, I wish I wasn’t quite so honorable. I’d have rolled up the privacy screen in the SUV and slipped my fingers into her panties, kissed her pretty mouth while I stimulated then appeased her clit with my thumb.

She’d be a lot more relaxed right now.

“I’ve never been in a helicopter, sir.”

“It’s safe, Ms. Rogers. I wouldn’t bring you anywhere that wasn’t.”

“I know. I’m just…” It has come time for her to climb the steps and she’s digging in her heels, pale as a ghost. “Thank you for inviting me on this trip, but I’m suddenly remembering a very important meeting I—”

“There’s no meeting, Ms. Rogers,” I say, turning her back around by the shoulders. “The pilot of Marine One served two decades in the Air Force. I promise you we’ll make it to West Virginia.”

“Oh great, now you’ve jinxed us,” she whimpers, relenting and allowing me to guide her up the steps into the helicopter. We duck inside and take two of the four seats, my Secret Service agents filling the others in front of us. “Is it too late to call my mom and tell her I love her?” she says, her words filling my ears through the headset.

“You can call her when we land.”

“Stop jinxing us!”

My lips twitch. “Sorry.”

Less than a minute later, the door of the chopper closes, and the revolutions of the blades increase in pace, the helicopter beginning to move. Forward and up. She’s gripping the armrests so tightly with her white-knuckled hands, her wide eyes on the horizon, she’s totally forgotten to fasten her seatbelt. I have no choice but to do it for her, right? I would ensure the safety of any employee. Right?

Perhaps I wouldn’t feel a fraction as passionate about anyone else’s safety, but that’s for me to know and nobody else to find out. Although I could try and be a little less obvious about my protective urges when it comes to Ms. Eloise Rogers. Such as refraining from orders to have the Secret Service secure her apartment.

Inwardly admonishing myself, I reach over and slide my hand down between her far hip and the armrest, trying not to groan over the smooth curve of her hip and waist. Or the fact that the hem of her skirt has ridden up, revealing the lacy, black edges of her stockings. Fuck. As I engage her buckle, I can’t help but devour the sliver of thigh showing itself off above the tops of those stockings—and I know she wore them for me. She wore them hoping I was going to spread her thighs at some point on this trip.

My cock knows it, too. Remembers every word of her little invitation yesterday.

You’ve been working so hard. Taking care of everyone and everything.

Someone has to take care of you.

This certainly marks the first time I’ve had a hard dick on a helicopter.

“Oh boy,” she breathes, looking out the window briefly, before squeezing her eyes shut, her tits rising and falling with shallow breaths. “We’re really high now. Are you sure we’re going to make it to West Virginia?”

“Yes. I am.” Despite my even tone, she’s still holding on for dear life and against every shred of self-preservation in my body, I reach over and offer her my hand. She doesn’t just take it, she grabs for it like I’m the only thing keeping her from falling off a cliff, pulling until my entire forearm is wedged between her breasts and I can feel her heart racing out of control. “Easy, angel,” I say, looking her in the eye. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I wouldn’t take you anywhere that wasn’t safe.”

She inhales through her nose and out through her mouth, restlessly crossing her gorgeous thighs, showing off even more skin above the lacy tops of those stockings. My dick pounds at the sight, that forbidden flesh so close to her panties. Her cunt.

“You probably feel right at home up here, don’t you?” she whispers.

I nod over the accuracy. “More than I do behind a desk, that’s for sure.” I absorb the vibration of the engine with a sigh, the hum beneath my feet. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be comfortable putting on a suit every day.”

She processes that. “It’s where you can make the most difference.”

“Easier said than done. One week into this job and I can see why nothing ever gets accomplished. Everyone has an agenda and if you’re not scratching their back, they’ll stab you in yours. Entire bills get stonewalled over an insignificant detail…”

“If you weren’t qualified to cut through the red tape, I wouldn’t be here right now, prepared to die on a helicopter.” We share a quiet laugh. “If the game is fixed, Mr. President, you’ll simply have to change it.”

“Got any tips for doing that?” I ask, wanting her opinion, yes, but also keeping her talking, because it’s distracting her from being nervous.

“Break their backs, instead of scratching them,” she deadpans.

A laugh cracks out of me. “I’ll make a note.” I’m not sure if Eloise realizes she’s still holding onto my arm, the appendage clutched across her chest like a second seatbelt, but every time we hit a little patch of rough air, her tits jiggle and sway, and Lord, filth does its best to take over my brain. I think of her straddling my lap naked, so I can watch her tits bounce with the turbulence, that clipboard from yesterday in her hands as she makes notes, talking me through the day’s agenda while she rides my dick.

Breathe.

I can get through this trip without fucking my youth council secretary.

I can.

But even though I’m well aware I need to keep our relationship above board, I can’t help wanting to know more about Eloise. Personally. In fact, I want to know everything, right down to her preferred brand of fucking toothpaste. Which is a capital P Problem. “What would you be doing right now if you weren’t in politics, Ms. Rogers?”

She wets her lips and the tip of my cock dampens itself, too, because Jesus, I can see the tiniest hint of the crotch of her panties now. Lily white cotton lace. Son of a bitch.

“Before I started working in politics—and while I was attending Villanova—I worked at my dad’s shop. In Philly. He owns a crêperie.” She smiles fondly over the mention of her father. “Crepes are his one true love. My mom is the other woman in his life. Do you like crepes?”

“I’m afraid to tell you this, Ms. Rogers.” I tuck my tongue into my cheek. “I’ve never even had a crepe.”

She gasps, turning in her seat, giving me an even better glimpse of heaven, lithe thighs leading to her hot little pussy. She’s afraid of dying from a helicopter crash, but I’m more worried about my cock being strangled to death by my zipper.

“Can we land this bird in Philly real quick? My father will make you the best—”

We hit a bump—a big one. The helicopter drops several yards, before bouncing over a few more patches of rough air. And with Eloise suddenly the color of a ghost, I don’t even hesitate. As soon as the turbulence passes, I unbuckle her belt and drag her sideways into my lap, cuddling her as closely as possible to try and quell her shaking. “Nothing to be scared of, angel. I’ve got you.”

“I didn’t like that.”

“I know,” I croon, stroking her hair away from her face. “Do you believe me when I tell you it’s normal?”

“I’d believe anything you say,” she breathes, without a hint of sarcasm.

She truly means it, with her whole heart.

Eloise already told me yesterday that I inspired her to get into politics, but the more I get to know her, the more I feel a responsibility to live up to her expectations. If I’m the good man she believes me to be, I would put this young woman back in her seat, instead of rubbing my knuckles gently along her jawline. There’s another bump, however, and she whimpers, burrowing her face into my neck and there’s no letting go. Hell no.

I notice her high heels have fallen off and her feet are dangling down by my shin, her toenails painted bright pink. Why does that raise a lump in my throat? “Tell me more about the crepes, angel,” I rasp against her ear, breathing in the vanilla and flowers scent of her hair.

“Um.” She snuggles closer, the position of her ass very affective, rubbing my stiff cock up against my stomach, making me throb like a son of a bitch. “Well, I’m trying to think of which one you should sample first. Are you a savory or sweet person?”

“I used to say savory,” I say, cupping her knee, letting my thumb brush side to side against the inside. “But I’m leaning toward sweet these days.”

She hums, way too innocent to catch my meaning, thank God. “Then I think you’ll have to start with his cult classic—peaches and cream.”

“Yeah, I could go for some of that right now,” I say under my breath, barely holding on to my control. Distract yourself from how perfectly she fits in your arms. If one of the agents turned around right now, I’m sure there wouldn’t be any leaks to the press about President McAlister cuddling his youth council secretary—they’re way too discreet for that—but I’d probably lose some of their respect. Honor and respect are everything where I come from. Where I’ve been throughout my life. Still, I can’t seem to let her go. “What’s your favorite crepe on the menu?”

“I like the tropical flavors,” she says, lifting her head, and fuck, I’m so ruined with those big blue eyes trained on me, my heart booming and sawing in my ribcage. “Like banana and mango.” Her gaze travels down to my mouth. “Although the mango can get so sticky, you know?”

“Sticky,” I echo, mentally already buried inside of her up to my balls. “Sounds like you’re a messy girl, Eloise.”

“Am I?” We gravitate closer until I can feel her sweet breath on my mouth, our foreheads a hint away from touching, her incredible ass pushing down on my cock, bouncing up and down every so often, due to the turbulence. Then, “I haven’t had the chance to find out if I’m a messy girl or not, sir,” she says. “I’ve been waiting.”

If I’m not mistaken, the living, breathing temptation on my lap just informed me she’s a virgin and she’s been waiting for me to do something about it. And quote me on this, there isn’t a red-blooded man alive who could keep himself from kissing a woman when she says something that sexually charged to your face, especially when she’s wearing thigh-high stockings and a short skirt.

“Fuck it,” I pant, cradling the petal-soft side of her face and going in for the kill—and within a split second, her mouth ends up killing me instead. I’m a victim and a conqueror all at once. She’s so goddamn succulent, all I can think is peaches and her unfucked pussy dripping all over my chin as I lick hungrily into her mouth to massage her tongue, raking my mouth up, down, pulling away a centimeter to tease her, growling with satisfaction when she follows and drags my face back down, opening her mouth eagerly, her ass restless on my cock, circling and rubbing, driving me to the fucking brink. “Keep your hips still, angel, or I’ll need to change my pants,” I growl against her ear.

She stares back at me, delirious, eyes glazed. “Tell me how to serve you, sir.”

This is a dream. This has to be a dream. “Let’s get one thing straight, Eloise. If we slept together, you’d be the first to get served.” I run my thumb across her cheekbone, humbled when she leans into my touch, so trusting. “I’m just a man. Not some god to be served. A real man is man enough to serve his woman. Don’t ever forget that.”

Eloise looks deep in thought for a moment, then nods, our mouths sliding back together, opening to let our tongues meet and indulge. Swear to Christ, there is nothing hotter on this earth than this girl and her sense of wonder, her open enjoyment of every stroke, every nuzzle of our noses and lips—and fuck, it’s not long until she’s turned on like a V8 engine, growing more confident by the second, her palms riding up and down my pecs, fingers tugging on my hair, her body twisting as if she’d straddle me with the slightest encouragement. Hell, even I am beginning to forget we’re in the company of the Secret Service, that flesh between her thighs calling my fucking name.

“Tell me it’s wet,” I demand, slanting my mouth over hers. “Tell me it’s so fucking wet and you’re thinking about me pushing your legs open and licking it.”

Bedroom eyes blink slowly at me, the tip of her tongue tracing the swell of my bottom lip. “Just thinking about you makes me wet, s-so you imagine what it’s like right now.” I’m pretty sure my brain is already leaking out of my ears, but then she adds, “Don’t worry. I brought five changes of panties, Mr. President.” She bites her lip, having the nerve to blush like a schoolgirl. “I know what being around you does to me.”

Horny doesn’t begin to describe me right now.

This is scorched earth. My cock is curved and throbbing. I’m sweating under my clothes. Despite the fact that I would use my mouth on Eloise before I even considered taking my dick out, I can’t help but imagine railing her with a vengeance up against a goddamn wall, her pink toenails digging into my ass while she calls me Mr. President. I could take her into the bathroom right now and—

There’s a loud cough in front of me. “Five minutes to touchdown, sir.”

Reality intrudes like a record scratching, both of us breaking the kiss to suck down air. Eloise blinks at me, blushing and bewildered. Her fingertips slowly rise to her lips, touching them, her eyes scanning her surroundings with dawning horror, as if only realizing she’d been in my lap for the last fifteen minutes.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she breathes, scrambling off me as soon as the helicopter lands, her face growing deeper and deeper with color. “It won’t happen again.”

Confused, I shake my head. “Eloise…Ms. Rogers, I mean. We both—”

I never find out what my brain plans on putting out of my mouth because a phone is suddenly in my face. “Sir, there’s an urgent call from the Secretary of State.”

I curse internally, no choice but to take the call.

And the one after that. And the one after that.

All while Eloise tries to melt into the seat beside me, all the way to the capital where the senator and his staff are waiting outside for us.

Later. I’ll handle this…and my rapidly growing feelings for Eloise later.