and he’s moving his hips, rubbing his hard cock, which is encased in his sweatpants, against my clit, which is trapped beneath panties and leggings. But even through all this material, it feels good as hell.
“I need you inside me.” My chest is dancing up and down with excitement.
“I know I said inspirational fuck but quickie now. Long, inspirational fuck later.”
When West says quickie, he means no foreplay. Not that this will be quick. The man doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
Not that I’m complaining, of course.
He sits up, divesting himself of his clothes, while I quickly pull off my leggings, panties, T-shirt, and bra.
Then, we’re both naked, and he’s back on me. Skin to skin. And nothing has felt better in my life than being naked with this man.
He kisses my mouth while he slides inside me.
When he’s to the hilt, he pauses. Stops kissing me. Just stares into my eyes.
My heart starts to thrum in my chest.
I feel like something changes in this moment. I don’t know exactly what. But something.
He starts to move, slowly fucking me, but doesn’t take his eyes from mine.
“I like you,” he says in a rough, quiet voice.
My mouth dries. I lick my lips. “I like you too.”
Our eyes stay locked on each other’s, and with his slow thrusts and words ringing in my ears and the intensity of the moment, I start to feel a pressure on my chest.
Like the feelings that I have for him—the ones I’ve been hiding, locking away—are breaking down the door and forcing their way out.
It’s too much. I’m feeling too much for him. And if I keep looking into his eyes, he’s going to see exactly how I feel.
He’s going to know that I’m falling for him.
Fuck.
I’m falling for him.
twenty-eight
West
“West, I’m so happy you’re here. It’s been too long since we last saw you.” Catherine kisses me on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, Catherine.”
We’re at the White House for my stepmom’s birthday. She’s having a gathering of family and close friends to celebrate.
“Thank you.” Her eyes immediately go to Dillon, who’s standing at my side.
“Catherine, this is Dillon.”
“Hi, ma’am. Mrs. First Lady,” Dillon stumbles. “God, sorry. I’m so nervous. Happy birthday.”
She puts out her hand to shake, but Catherine leans in and hugs her and kisses her cheek.
My stepmom is a wonderful woman. Too good for my dad. Just like my mom was.
“It’s so lovely to meet you, Dillon. You’re from England. Whereabouts?”
“East Yorkshire.”
“I’ve been to England but only London. I’ve heard that Yorkshire is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” Dillon sounds so formal that it makes me want to laugh.
My father strides over, deciding to honor us with his presence. “Weston.” He sticks his hand out for me to shake.
No hugs from the old man. I can’t remember a time when he ever hugged me.
I take him in. It’s been a while since I last saw him in the flesh. He has more gray in his hair than he did before. I hate to admit it, but I do look like him. Staring at him is like looking at myself in the future. Except I can’t even imagine having his clean-cut hair and wearing a suit every day. The one I have on tonight feels like it’s choking me. Although I did like the way Dillon reacted when she saw me wearing it, and her eyes said that she had definite plans on removing it from me tonight.
“Dad.” I release his hand and watch as his eyes slide to Dillon. “This is my friend Dillon,” I tell him. I don’t know why I felt the need to call her my friend to him. Even after all these years, I’m still subconsciously choosing my words with him so as not to get the third degree over my life choices and how they’ll affect him. “Dillon, this is my father, President Mitch Oakley.”
“Hi, Mr. President. Gosh, it’s so wonderful to meet you.”
My father says nothing, his eyes doing that probing thing he does when he sees a potential threat. Dillon is a beautiful woman. That fact does not escape him. But even he will overlook beauty if it’s a perceived threat to his political ratings.
Maybe bringing Dillon with me tonight was a mistake.
With a few simple words, my father has the ability to make people feel like a bug he’s about to squish under his Ferragamos. Probably part of what makes him a great president.
I don’t want him to make Dillon feel shitty. I have to take his crap. She