Page 16 of Praise Me: President
“Of course I do, sir,” I breathe.
His exhale is little rocky. As if he didn’t think it was a sure thing? “So that’s a yes?”
“It’s a hell yes, sir.”
He cracks a laugh, candlelight flickering in the depth of his amber eyes. “You’re making me a very happy man, Eloise. But you’re going to start calling me by my first name if it kills me.” Smile dipping and vanishing completely, Pierce settles his hands on my knees and, looking me in the eye, he draws them open. Open. Open all the way and exposing my white –lace-covered sex, my heart thundering into a sprint when he ducks his head for a look and he sucks in a sharp breath, his lids dropping to half-mast. “Never seen anything prettier in my fucking life.” He leans down and kisses the insides of my thighs, one at a time. “You keep the boys away from it until I could find you, angel?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, starting to tremble.
“Good girl.” He crooks an arm around my hips, sliding me to the edge of the table. “I’m going to make you so glad you did.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pierce, angel. And Daddy once my tongue is in it.”
“Ohh oh okay okay,” I whimper, because oh my goodness, he’s rubbing the split of my flesh with his thumb and I’ll say whatever he wants to hear because he’s…he’s so big compared to me and I feel so dainty perched on the table while he tickles me with his thumb, rubbing and rubbing and parting my delicate flesh through the lace, wetting me, soaking me while I struggle not to moan. “You touch it b-better than me.”
“I’m only learning you. Just wait.”
“I don’t want to wait. I can’t.”
“Lay back and open your thighs,” he growls, bringing his thumb to his mouth to suck the essence of me off, his subsequent groan projected at the ceiling. “Going to lick the fuck out of this little vanilla cunt, Eloise.” He grips my dress where it dips between my breasts and wrestles it down to my waist, my breasts bouncing out in order to be devoured by dark eyes. “My God. Juicy everywhere, aren’t you?” His palms travel up by ribcage and cover my breasts, squeezing and batting at them. Slap. Slap. “These are not the tits of a typical first lady, Eloise. Tits like these get the president into trouble.” He bends down and sucks my nipples, right, then left, leaving them erect and shiny. “The country will just have to deal with the fact that I’ve got a good girl with a homewrecker body, won’t they? Because I’m locking you down tight, Eloise Rogers.” Pierce’s upper lip is beginning to sweat when he pulls down my panties, drops them and falls to his knees, rubbing his open mouth over my clit. “Yeah, fuck, that’s like silk.”
I forget what planet I’m on after that.
I’ve never done this before, but I’m positive after three seconds that the president is as good at giving pleasure with his mouth as he is at implementing policy. He uses the edge of his tongue to reach every part of me, parts I didn’t even realize would enjoy being licked so dearly. And I want to focus on his hands because they never stop caressing my outer thighs, my knees, my ankles, my breasts. He touches me everywhere nonstop while his tongue bathes my clit, his groans vibrating in my tummy. And all of this is before he starts teasing my entrance with the pad of his middle finger, slip sliding in the wetness, and finally, oh my word, finally screwing into place where no one has ever been before, his knuckle twisting when it meets resistance and going deeper, deeper, though it seems to require an effort.
“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.