Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (105 page)

I
followed him down the hall, our hands nearly touching. The White House hallways
were completely empty, giving me an eerie feeling in my gut. But soon, we had
arrived at the White House movie theater. He led me to the front row, setting
me up comfortably in a long, leaning chair. He held a finger up to his lips,
alerting me that he’d be gone for just a moment. He appeared back with a large
bowl of popcorn, with two glasses of wine. I held my hand open and accepted the
wine. We clinked the glasses together. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment
completely.

“What
is it?” he asked me.

I
blinked my eyes open in a moment, my eyelids so lazy. “Baby. I’m just so
happy,” I murmured.

I
laughed and brought his arm around me, cuddling me in the great White House
theater chairs. Before us, the cinematic magic began.
Key Largo
, one of the old classics. Humphrey Bogart spoke gruffly
on scene, his eyes dark and calculating. I brought my body closer and closer
toward Xavier, feeling like we were one, there in that theater—that anything
that ever came up against us would ultimately falter. We were far too strong,
and we’d been through too much already.

In the
middle of the movie, it cut to intermission. The lights were brought up a bit,
bringing us up from our comfortable positions in our chairs.

I
swallowed, tapping my empty glass of wine on the table before us. “What do you
think so far?” I murmured, my eyes heavy. My body had begun to think only of
Xavier beside me. I wanted him; I wanted to feel his arms around me.

Xavier
looked at me, his eyes brimming with sensuality. “To be honest. I can’t think
about the movie. I can’t think about anything but you.” His breath came
hesitantly. And suddenly, he placed his hand around my head, bringing his lips
toward mine. I felt so safe in this moment, held so tightly by the President. I
allowed his lips to meet mine. In a spark of electricity, of zeal, we began to
kiss passionately. I pushed my body toward his, bringing my breasts hard into
his chest. He caught his other hand around my body, brimming around my ass. My
pussy began to pulse, wanting his cock deep inside me.

Xavier
broke away from the kiss for a moment, blinking around him. “Let’s go
upstairs,” he whispered.

I
nodded, smiling a bit. “Where do you want to go?”

“The
White House has many spectacular rooms,” Xavier murmured, kissing my cheek, my
nose. “I have one all set up for us. You’ve heard of the Lincoln bedroom?”

My
breath caught in my throat. Of course I’d heard of the Lincoln bedroom. It was
the bedroom in which important people stayed when they visited the White
House—the bedroom kept supreme, beautiful for fine guests. I swallowed, unsure
of what to say.

“Come
on,” Xavier whispered, sensing my joy. He brought my hand into his, and he led
me down the hall. We swept down the curling staircases, laughing together and
feeling this uproarious sense of happiness, of zeal.

He
opened the Lincoln bedroom, then, and revealed the marvelous, gold-laid and
beautifully decorated room. I brought my hands to my mouth, staring at this
portion of history—this stunning room that seemed to tell a story about the
many hundreds of years of history—history that I knew Xavier and I would be a
part of, someday. I lurched around to find Xavier closing the door, pushing at
a small cart. In the cart was a chilling bottle of champagne and two champagne
glasses.

“Shall
we have a toast?” he asked me. He brought the champagne into the air, eyeing
the label. “It’s a 1980 bottle. Amazing what they keep around here,” he said,
winking at me. He removed the fine wrapping from the top and allowed the cork
to pop—high—into the air in the Lincoln bedroom. The noise emanated throughout
the room. I clapped my hands, laughing, allowing my teeth to cut out from my
mouth.

He
poured the champagne, and we clinked glasses, our eyes linked. In that moment,
I felt that we were officially one. The bubbles coursed down my throat, to my
stomach. I closed my eyes. In that moment, I felt Xavier’s mouth over mine once
more. The surprise made my heart race. I set the champagne on the bedside
table, and I allowed him to lay me down on the bed, kissing over me, rolling
his tongue over mine. I sighed deeply.

He
began to unbutton my shirt, then. My bra gleamed beneath, and he ran his
fingers through the top, making my nipples pop from beneath. They were so
brown, so secret beneath the white.

He
pulled my skirt from my body, followed by my tights. I lay, splayed out, naked
and thin on the sheets. My brunette hair curled around my shoulders. He stood
before me, looking down at my body. He reached for his champagne glass and
sipped at it, studying me. “You should show me,” he whispered then.

“Show
you what?” I asked.

“How
you pleasure yourself.”

My
eyes grew bright. I brought my hands toward my hot, dripping pussy. I felt
myself, how ready I was for him. God, I wanted him. As soon as I touched my
clit, my brain began to open, to make me feel like an animal—an animal with
needs, with desires. I sighed as I began to rub at myself, closing my eyes.

“Yeah,
baby. I like watching you touch yourself,” Xavier murmured. He set his
champagne glass back down, and he laid beside me, bringing his tongue around
and around my nipple as I continued to touch myself. He removed his pulsing
cock from his pants, then. He remained in his presidential suit and tie, but
his huge, brimming cock was out, ready to take me.

I
sighed as I continued to rub myself, feeling myself. And he rolled me over,
bringing his dick into my hot pussy from behind. I called out, loudly, as he
entered me. I reached up and grabbed my tits, feeling the passion of the moment
course through me. I felt like I was on display, being the only naked one in
the room—like it was all about me, about my body, about my pussy, about my
great breasts. “Yeah, baby,” I murmured. “Harder. Yeah.”

“You
like that? You like when I fuck you like this?” Xavier murmured in my ear from
behind.

I
brought myself up on my four limbs, allowing him to mount me, doggy style. All
the while, I felt like I was going crazy as his dick dipped further and further
into me, forcing my eyes closed. “Yes.” I felt an initial orgasm shudder
through me. I fell onto the bed, blasting at my breasts and feeling as my pussy
pulsed around his dick, feeling like the orgasm was going to be the end of my
life, the end of everything. And that was okay.

After
a few moments, I opened my eyes. I spun around, groggy eyed, still feeling the
pleasure course through me. I brought my fingers up, toward his buttons, and
began to forcefully remove his taut, muscled body from his presidential gear.
“Get naked for me, Mr. President,” I whispered in his ear. I placed my hand on
his cock, stroking it, making it hard once more. “Come on, Mr. President.”

He
helped me remove his clothes hurriedly, dropping his pants to the ground. I was
beneath him, then. I placed my hands over his taut chest, feeling his heart
beating so fast. I shook my head, allowing my eyes to falter as he thrust his
dick back into me once more. “God. You feel so good,” I murmured.

He
brought his mouth around my nipples, thrusting, holding my body close to his.
It felt like, there on the Lincoln bed, we were one person, one organism. We
were united. His eyes dipped into mine; the eye contact was almost too much for
me to bear. I felt like I could see into his soul.

Suddenly,
he ripped me from the bed, holding me tightly against him so that our bodies
didn’t come apart. He pushed me against the wall and began thrusting himself
into me, so powerfully, so strongly, that we couldn’t separate. Not even for a
moment. I allowed my nail to dip into his back; I allowed my voice to call out
over the room. “Yeah. Fuck me harder,” I called to him. “Harder!”

His
eyes peered up at me, so lost and yet so sure. “Baby. I’m ready to cum. I’m
going to cum.”

I
placed my hands on either side of his face, feeling the dark, clustered hair on
his cheeks. “Cum for me, baby. It’s just us, now. It’s just us.”

He
closed his eyes, then, as he held me poised, up against the wall. I felt as his
dick pulsed into me; I felt as the pulsing penetration of his cock pushed my
body into another orgasm. I closed my eyes, feeling my brain grow crazy as I
rode the amazing waves rollicking in my stomach, through my eyes. I gasped,
clutching his neck so tightly. After many lost, rolling moments, we were finished,
together.

Xavier
brought me back to the bed. He tucked me into the covers. I watched his careful
movements through my half-open, fatigued eyes. He tucked his body in beside
mine, and he brought his arm around my neck, allowing me to come closer to his
naked, steaming body. Our legs were entwined.

“That
was beautiful,” I whispered, my eyes gleaming up toward him.

Xavier
nodded, kissing my forehead. I could tell he was about to fall asleep, that I
was losing him. I had to act fast. I had to tell him my last piece, rather than
allowing it to die at our feet, never to be spoken of (and resulting in
problems down the line.)

“Baby,”
I began. He turned toward me, his face open to whatever I had to say. “I just
wanted to tell you that I love you. I want this relationship to bloom, to
grow.”

Xavier
nodded, kissing my cheek. “Me, too.”

My
mind tried to calculate what I should say next. I cleared my throat. “If this
is going to grow appropriately, then we need to work out a schedule. We need to
care for this relationship, like people care for animals, for plants, for jobs.
We need to treat this relationship appropriately. Otherwise, it could falter.”

Xavier
frowned. He leaned up on his elbow, gazing toward me. “You don’t actually think
it will falter, do you?” He breathed.

“I
don’t even want to give it a chance,” I answered, considering his question. “I
want it to be beautiful, to last a long time. And I don’t think that means we
can continue to sneak in and out of White House passageways. I don’t think we
can continue having meetings that involve—both sexual elements of our
relationship as well as what some campaign donator is doing in California.” I
sighed, trying to rally my thoughts. “I just think we need better
communication, better organization. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.”

Xavier
nodded, considering my words. “I understand. And I agree. I think we need to
give this time to sort itself out, time to develop a plan organically. But we
can agree to no more relationship things during work hours?”

I
nodded, my eyes brimming. “That’s a start,” I whispered. I smiled at him.

“Although,
you can’t blame me if I occasionally set a wayward meeting, just so I can talk
to you. Just so I can be next to you. Days are long, Amanda,” Xavier said,
laughing.

“I
know. I know,” I murmured. I kissed him once more. “But that goes the other
way, as well. No work talk during relationship time.” My eyes were large,
serious.

Xavier
held his hands up to me, nodding supremely. “Of course. Of course.”

We
took a moment to laugh with each other. What a silly thing we had to do—plan
our relationship around our all-too-serious running of the greater American
people. But it was what we had to do in order to survive, to live with greater
sanity. I brought my hand up toward Xavier’s ear and played with it lightly,
feeling its delicate hairs.

Xavier’s
eyes had grown serious, as well. “Baby, listen to me.”

“Hmm?”

“I
want to tell you how happy I am. I can’t remember a time in which I felt
happier. I have you in my life, and I am incredibly grateful for that. I wish—I
wish I could help you understand. You’ve changed my life for the better in
nearly every single way.”

My
heart leaped as he said the words. In many ways, I felt the same. Suddenly, he
wrapped his naked arms around me, bringing my body close to his. We kissed with
such passion, such drive. I felt my body prepare for him once more. We
descended into a night filled with lovemaking, with champagne, with good
conversation.

In
many ways, this was the first night on the road to the rest of our lives.

EPILOGUE: 5 YEARS LATER

I sat
in the back of the taxi as it coursed across town, my suitcases filled beside
me. I cleared my throat, directing the taxi driver, who had made a wrong turn a
few roads back.

“I am
so sorry, Miss,” he declared, gesturing with his hands.

But I
laughed evenly. “It’s okay. I usually get lost on my way out here. Don’t worry
about it for a moment.”

He
pulled up outside of the grand house. Brick, old, with this sort of
other-century charm. I smiled at it, bringing my fingers to the glass. Home.

The
taxi driver stood outside, helping me gather my suitcases, my boxes.

“You
don’t have much stuff,” he said, shrugging. “You are moving here?”

I
nodded, bringing my hair around my ear. “This is when I can start accumulating
stuff, I suppose,” I said, laughing.

“All
right, Congresswoman,” the taxi driver said. “I suppose you know best, no?”