Read Online THE PRESIDENT 2 by Mallory Monroe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mallory Monroe
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manhood. “I’m glad you couldn’t,” she said, kissing him back, thrilled to be in his arms.
They continued kissing for a good long time, but more in a series of pecks rather than one long, fluid passionate kiss. The elephant in the room was Jennifer Caswell and her threat to “ruin” him, as if there was more that she had in her bag of tricks than she was letting on, but neither broached the subject. They just kissed.
When Gina took Dutch’s silky black hair that had fallen over his forehead and smoothed every strand out of his gorgeous face, she saw an understated but burning need deep within his big, green eyes that made her know instinctively what would cure that need. She turned her curvaceous body opposite his, her butt now pressed against his stomach. And he reacted immediately, sliding first his fingers into her folds, lubricating her, and then sliding his rod into her with a sureness that made her sigh in a loving relief, as she felt the touch of his head penetrate her folds.
He pushed into her with slow, prodding motions, his penis not in its usual instantaneous readiness, but requiring a longer, focused nurturing. But they both knew that his erection wasn’t the issue this time. Their love was. The fact that they often felt as if it was the two of them against the world was what was driving their passion this time. And that was why they kept it slow, as Gina continued to lubricate them both. For the longest time they just lay there, as his penis slid gently into her wetness and then slid back toward her entrance tip, over and over again; as the lustful sound of their mating echoed with sloshing sensuality throughout the massive bedroom.
Gina closed her eyes as he made love to her. And Dutch closed his eyes too, that feeling of safety, of being with who he was supposed to be with, of knowing that the entire world may consider him and his administration a failure, but Gina would have his back. And just the thought of her, of her love and his love for her, lulled him into a peaceful, restful, unbelievably lustful fuck. They rarely did it this way, but it was needful tonight.
And even when they both eventually came to orgasm, it wasn’t their usual mountain summit moment, but was more of a quiet, wonderful quaintness; the kind of release that spilled out in a drip rather than a splash, her folds tightening around his penis as he engorged, and she filled up, and both stretched out in a wonderful sweetness. A sweetness that bespoke of togetherness, of an unshakeable union, of a kind of quiet knowing that, despite the odds, they were both in this for the long haul.
Within minutes after their climax, they were both fast asleep.
But their peaceful sleep was barely an hour old when the president’s secure telephone began to ring. Although it used to be known as the Washington-Moscow red phone during the dark days of the cold war, it was now known in the Harber Administration as the Hotline. And whenever it rang it was certain to be a call serious enough that the national security team deemed it worth waking the president over, even as late as three a.m.
Dutch, upon awakening, answered the call.
Gina woke up too, surprised to find that she was lying on top of Dutch. Sometime after she had fallen asleep, Dutch had apparently pulled her on top of him and rested her head against his bare chest. She looked up from that chest as he answered the call.
“This is the president,” he said into the phone.
“It’s Ed Drake, Mr. President.”
Ed, the president’s national security advisor, sounded almost solemn. “What is it, Ed?” Dutch asked him.
“The captors, sir, whom we are now certain is an Al-Qaeda affiliate, has killed a hostage.”
The anguish swept through Dutch like a raging sea. He removed the phone from his ear, to steady himself, and then replaced it. “Who did
They continued kissing for a good long time, but more in a series of pecks rather than one long, fluid passionate kiss. The elephant in the room was Jennifer Caswell and her threat to “ruin” him, as if there was more that she had in her bag of tricks than she was letting on, but neither broached the subject. They just kissed.
When Gina took Dutch’s silky black hair that had fallen over his forehead and smoothed every strand out of his gorgeous face, she saw an understated but burning need deep within his big, green eyes that made her know instinctively what would cure that need. She turned her curvaceous body opposite his, her butt now pressed against his stomach. And he reacted immediately, sliding first his fingers into her folds, lubricating her, and then sliding his rod into her with a sureness that made her sigh in a loving relief, as she felt the touch of his head penetrate her folds.
He pushed into her with slow, prodding motions, his penis not in its usual instantaneous readiness, but requiring a longer, focused nurturing. But they both knew that his erection wasn’t the issue this time. Their love was. The fact that they often felt as if it was the two of them against the world was what was driving their passion this time. And that was why they kept it slow, as Gina continued to lubricate them both. For the longest time they just lay there, as his penis slid gently into her wetness and then slid back toward her entrance tip, over and over again; as the lustful sound of their mating echoed with sloshing sensuality throughout the massive bedroom.
Gina closed her eyes as he made love to her. And Dutch closed his eyes too, that feeling of safety, of being with who he was supposed to be with, of knowing that the entire world may consider him and his administration a failure, but Gina would have his back. And just the thought of her, of her love and his love for her, lulled him into a peaceful, restful, unbelievably lustful fuck. They rarely did it this way, but it was needful tonight.
And even when they both eventually came to orgasm, it wasn’t their usual mountain summit moment, but was more of a quiet, wonderful quaintness; the kind of release that spilled out in a drip rather than a splash, her folds tightening around his penis as he engorged, and she filled up, and both stretched out in a wonderful sweetness. A sweetness that bespoke of togetherness, of an unshakeable union, of a kind of quiet knowing that, despite the odds, they were both in this for the long haul.
Within minutes after their climax, they were both fast asleep.
But their peaceful sleep was barely an hour old when the president’s secure telephone began to ring. Although it used to be known as the Washington-Moscow red phone during the dark days of the cold war, it was now known in the Harber Administration as the Hotline. And whenever it rang it was certain to be a call serious enough that the national security team deemed it worth waking the president over, even as late as three a.m.
Dutch, upon awakening, answered the call.
Gina woke up too, surprised to find that she was lying on top of Dutch. Sometime after she had fallen asleep, Dutch had apparently pulled her on top of him and rested her head against his bare chest. She looked up from that chest as he answered the call.
“This is the president,” he said into the phone.
“It’s Ed Drake, Mr. President.”
Ed, the president’s national security advisor, sounded almost solemn. “What is it, Ed?” Dutch asked him.
“The captors, sir, whom we are now certain is an Al-Qaeda affiliate, has killed a hostage.”
The anguish swept through Dutch like a raging sea. He removed the phone from his ear, to steady himself, and then replaced it. “Who did
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