Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he growls against my flesh. “You’re…you’re asking for…”
“For what?” I pant.
“You’re asking to be tied down and bred, little girl. What the fuck am I going to do with pussy this good walking around the White House?” I have no warning before he’s adding a second finger, making my hips squirm, making me cry out with the pressure, a little uncomfortable, a little delicious. All of it wanted. Needed. “I’m doubling the size of your security team. I might make looking at you an act of treason.” He jiggles his fingers inside of me and the pressure mounts, making me sob, my thighs beginning to feel that telltale quiver. “This is mine, Eloise. Presidential property. Is that fucking clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I cry out.
With a growl of victory, he’s back to licking me relentlessly, pumping his fingers in and out of me slowly while rubbing my clit with his tongue, faster, faster, my body overheating in time with the tempo, my fingers curling in the white tablecloth.
“Oh God, oh God.”
He finds a hidden land inside of me and tickles it and I feel like I’m going to pee, so I clamp down with my muscles, but he only pleasures me with more single-minded determination, and in the end, it’s his possessive amber eyes looking up the length of my body that triggers my orgasm, shards of light ripping holes in the fabric of my reality, my hips straining off the table while moisture sluices down the cheeks of my bottom, the president licking it up with animal noises, the table rattling when he surges closer, wanting more, wanting to be closer.
Blackness swoops in and swallows me whole, and the last thing I remember is Pierce fixing my dress and gently arranging my limp body in his arms, carrying me toward the service elevator.
“Call Washington,” I hear him say. “I want her moved into the White House before we land tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” The slide of metal doors. “Will you carry her to her room, sir?”
“No,” Pierce says firmly, leaving no room for discussion. “She sleeps with the president from now on.”
nine
. . .
Pierce
I’m a patient man. Usually.
Eloise Rogers has turned me into a slavering beast.
I want her legs spread for my cock and I want it now.
But she’s drowsy and sated when I carry her into the presidential suite, a penthouse on the top floor of the hotel. A week ago, I would have been very concerned by how this must look to my team—the president carrying a slightly wine-tipsy twenty-something into his hotel room with the obvious intention of taking her to bed. And not to sleep.
I’m too fuck-starved to care anymore.
I’m too in love with this creature to water down my possessiveness. My need to be with her, touch her, care for her. She’s mine and everyone better be aware of that.
At the entrance to the room, I kick off my dress shoes and continue across the living room to the separate bedroom, carrying her inside and gently laying her down on the bed, quelling the urge to hike up her skirt and take an inhale of her pussy. In my thirty-seven years on this earth, I’ve never tasted anything so sweet or felt anything so fucking tight, and I never will again. She’s the only women I’ll ever touch for the rest of my life.
My pounding heart confirms it.
I look down and realize I’m touching myself with long grinds of my palm against the bulge in my pants. She’s flat on her back, her dark hair spread out around her, those sexy tits barely contained within her dress. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—and I’m so hard from giving her head, I’m in physical pain. I could climb on top of her now and kiss her awake, tell her I’m hurting, and she’d give herself to me without hesitation.
I know she would.
She’s sleeping, asshole. Where is your honor?
Swiping the fine sheen of sweat off my lip, I stride back into the living room and approach the wet bar, pouring myself two fingers of bourbon, draining half of it in one sip. There is work I could do right now, not to mention there are ruffled feathers that need smoothing since I missed the senator’s gala. But I can’t concentrate.
I can’t think of anything but getting Eloise pregnant.
It’s almost like this obsession was implanted inside of me tonight, already teeming with intensity, and it started as soon as I saw her pussy up close. Smelled her. Fingered her. I’m almost sick with the need to seat myself as deeply as I can go…and leave behind everything inside of me. I want to stamp my fucking name on that thing. I want it known she’s my woman and no one else can have her.
“Mr. President?” Eloise murmurs behind me, the innocent note in her voice making my eyes slide closed. And when she comes up behind me and slips her hands up the front of my shirt, unbuttoning the garment slowly, popping the buttons one by one, I almost groan out loud with relief. Instead, I use the time to get myself under control, as much as possible. I can’t simply impregnate her. Not yet. I’m losing my head. “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she continues in her husky bedroom voice. “I don’t think I realized how locked up my body was, until it wasn’t anymore.”