Mr. President: A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiancé Romance Read online

  “Good. One less headache.” Raising the glass, I swirl the wine around and then take a sip, the strong flavor of oak and morning rain embracing my taste buds.

  “But … I gotta ask. Are you sure of this…? I mean, he’s the President. That kind of title comes with some baggage.”

  “I know, Kayla,” I sigh. “But this is too good of a chance to pass.” $50 million, a $20 million bonus, plus a diamond ring worth more than a few thousand? Yeah, that’s the definition of a chance too good to pass.

  “Got it, boss. Alright … there’s nothing left but to wish you good luck. I’ll do my best to keep things running smoothly while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks, Kayla. Best of luck to you too,” I finish, and then shut down my phone and lean back against the couch. I’ve finally tied up all loose ends with my operatives, and I’m ready to fully devote myself to this new mission. Which, truth be told, should be easier than anything else I’ve done; I mean, all I gotta do is pretend I’m head over heels with a guy. I don’t even have to bother with seducing him. It’s all for show.

  I rest my phone on top of the coffee table but, the moment I do it, it starts to buzz again. Laying my already empty glass of wine by its side, I pick it up and read Tracy’s name on the screen.

  “Hey,” I say, putting the phone against my ear.

  “Hi, Ashley. I’m calling you to let you know that the President is taking you to dinner tonight. It’s going to be your first public appearance as a couple, so make sure that you’re ready to dazzle the press.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m always ready to dazzle,” I tell her.

  “I sure hope so,” she chuckles. “We’re counting on you,” she finishes off and then ends the call.

  Stretching, I go up to my feet and yawn lazily. I was looking forward to a quiet evening, but what is a girl to do? I guess you don’t get to earn millions of dollars by sitting on your ass.

  I put the cork back on the bottle of Pinot Noir and then head toward my bedroom. My eyes fall over the engagement ring, sitting on the nightstand. God, that thing is ugly; it’s too large and too obvious. It just isn’t my style, not at all. But whatever, it’s not like I’ll have to wear that thing for too long.

  If I’m not mistaken, Austin isn’t going to last one single month. Even if he impressed me with his little speech this afternoon, I know that it’s all a facade. He’s no different from any other man in DC, and I’ll be surprised if he lasts more than a month without ‘cheating’ on me. Not that I care; it’ll just make it easier for me to earn my money.

  “Alright, let’s get ready,” I whisper to myself as I undress, throwing my dress and underwear on top of the bed. I step inside the bathroom and turn the water on; I test it with the back of my hand and, once it’s warm enough, I step inside the shower stall and throw my head back. I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair as the warm water caresses my naked body, my muscles relaxing from the day’s stress.

  I sure would prefer to have a date with my bottle of Pinot Noir this evening, but I guess I’ve got to try and be optimistic about the whole thing: as much of an asshole as Austin might be, at least he’s good looking. Some of my previous marks were men that I’d classify as an eyesore, so I’ll take Austin as an improvement.

  Okay, sure, to say he’s an improvement is putting it lightly. Austin is probably the most handsome man I’ve ever met. To think that he holds the most powerful office in this country (and on this planet) is almost unbelievable; I mean, he’d look good playing the President on some Hollywood movie, but c’mon! How does a man like him end up leading this country?

  I can’t say I’m surprised he has such a reputation. Powerful and handsome, he must turn all women’s panties into a wet mess whenever he enters a room. I know it because it happened to me. What? Don’t act all judgmental on me. Just because I don’t appreciate politicians, that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate their bodies. And Austin has exactly the kind of body I like to appreciate…

  God, just thinking of it is enough to make me feel all tingly. Chomping on my lower lip, I place my hands over my breasts and give them a squeeze, feeling my nipples harden against the palm of my hands. I let one hand slide down and over my stomach, and then I hold my breath as I reach for my clit with two fingers. I press down on it, and electricity shoots up my spine as I do it.

  I wonder how Austin looks under those tailored suits of his … I can already imagine cords of muscles moving under his arms and shoulders, his strong chest topping a wall of abs as hard as stone … I bet he has the kind of abs that women just can’t resist licking. And more than that, I bet he’s also hiding something pretty impressive between his legs. How do I know? Well, it’s just a woman’s guess.

  I start rubbing my clit harder now, images of Austin’s naked body dancing behind my shut eyelids. Hmm, if he were here with me right now … I wouldn’t mind that, not at all. I can almost feel his hands running down my back as he soaps up my body, his cock growing harder as he presses his body against mine.

  “Mm…” I moan softly, moving my two fingers fast and allowing pleasure to invade my bloodstream. Taking my other hand down to my pussy, I spread my inner folds wide and then slide my index finger inside my wetness. I let out another moan, and I feel my eyes rolling in their orbits as ecstasy builds up inside my body, ready to blow up anytime now.

  Still with my eyes closed, I imagine that the warm water falling over my naked body is Austin’s embrace, and it’s like I can almost feel his hard cock pressed between my ass cheeks, desire making it pulse and throb almost too viciously.

  Thinking of his cock does it for me.

  I grit my teeth and hiss through them as an orgasm explodes inside me, unleashing a column of fire up my spine. I keep frozen in place as pleasure makes my muscles twitch and, only when pleasure has washed over me, do I finally take my hands out of my pussy.

  “God,” I exhale, finally opening up my eyes and taking a deep breath. I can’t believe I just masturbated while thinking of Austin. I must be going crazy.

  I finish washing up in a hurry and then step out of the shower wrapped in a large cotton towel. Tiptoeing into my closet, I look at all the dresses hanging from the rack and pick one that I think will fit the moment perfectly: it’s a sophisticated and yet sexy cocktail dress, more than enough to dazzle all the photo-hungry journalists. That will make them pay attention to me while, at the same time, I won’t be ruffling any feathers; it’s my job, after all, to take the heat off Austin.

  Half an hour later and I’m ready to go. I take a spin in front of my full-body mirror, smiling as I see how perfectly the dress hugs the curves of my body. Satisfied, I start walking out of the room and, just by chance, I see the diamond ring shining in my nightstand.

  God, I almost forgot to put the damn thing on.

  Coming back to it, I pick it up from nightstand and slide it on my finger. Alright, I think to myself as I look at the tacky diamond on my finger, it’s show time.

  10

  Austin

  This is crazy.

  It's not what I fucking do.

  I don't put my entire life—every waking minute—into one woman. And yet here I am, sitting in the backseat of a presidential limo, on my way to pick Ashley up, and I haven't stopped thinking about her from the moment I met her.

  We’re going to go to dinner in Georgetown but all I want to do is fuck.

  Don’t roll your eyes at me. You saw that body of hers.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I want to squeeze those ass cheeks. The only way I want to stop is to run my cock between them. Those tits.

  Don’t forget those fucking gorgeous fucking tits. Squeeze them together and run my cock through them.

  Yes, yes, I know. I have a desire to rub my cock on everything that looks attractive. Don’t worry, I like steak, I won’t be rubbing my cock on it too. You probably wish though, don’t you? Okay, maybe not the steak, but you wish I’d rub my cock on your face, huh?

  Don’
t lie.

  Fuck, listen to me. I need to keep a cool head.

  I need to focus. This is an opportunity for me to learn more about her. Sure, I'd like to fuck her—that's no secret—but I'm still weary of her. I know what she does for a living—she's crushed some of the most powerful men, and I don't want to be yet another victim.

  But, I trust Tracy.

  And Tracy says that Ashley is the perfect woman for the job. To say that I'm conflicted is an understatement. I just hope Tracy's right.

  The limo pulls up to her apartment.

  She's outside, waiting. Punctual. Don’t you think so?

  I see her through the window and taker her in with my eyes. She's wearing a short, tight, black cocktail dress that hugs her every fucking curve. It's not too short; it's classy. Her breasts sit at the top of her dress like two perfect scoops of vanilla ice cream, and I think to myself that they look good enough to eat. Like I said, she's a true professional. She looks fucking stunning.

  The driver opens the door and ushers her in, and immediately, I'm assaulted by her smell. It's floral, and brings a burst of seductive femininity into the car. If it's possible to be drunk off someone's smell, then this is it.

  "It's good to see you," I smile, taking her hand and giving it a quick kiss. Whether I trust Ashley or not, there is no way that I'm not going to bang her.

  She retracts her hand. "You can save the charm for some other woman," she says, snapping her seatbelt into place. "I'm not some naïve intern, you know."

  "I never thought you were," I smile. "You're a whole lot more than that."

  She rolls her eyes, but I see the hint of a smile forming on her lips. "You don't know anything about me, except that I have these exceptional tits, and a tight dress."

  "That's not true," I say.

  She laughs. "Of course it is. Men are so predictable. They pretend to be different, but really, they're all the same."

  She talks tough, but I can see that I'm having an affect on her, no matter what she says. Still, her walls are clearly up, but I know that I can get around them.

  "How far are we from the restaurant?" she asks.

  "We've only been on this ride for a few minutes; are you that desperate to get off?" I say with a wink.

  "Very funny," she says, trying to act annoyed with the double entendre, but I can tell she found it amusing.

  "We should be there soon," I smile. "I hope you're hungry."

  "Downright ravenous," she grins.

  "What's your favorite food?" I ask. "While we're here, I might as well find out as much about you as I can. You're my fiancée, after all."

  "Fake fiancée,” she corrects me, and I realize now that's the second time I've been corrected for saying that.

  She continues, "But if you must know … I'm a big fan of sausage."

  "Is that so?" I say, smiling. "What kind?"

  Then she lowers her voice into a purr and bats her eyes. "The longer the better."

  "How long?" I ask, leaning in closer to her.

  "Preferably anything 12-inches … or more," she replies with a devilish grin. "I can eat quite a bit … when I'm hungry."

  As she says this my fucking cock starts twitching in my pants. It literally has a pulse of its own now.

  I reach over and finger the delicate gold necklace draped around her neck. "This is beautiful," I say. "But it could be better, you know."

  "How so?" she asks, grinning and enjoying this game.

  "I think you'd look much better in a pearl necklace … if I'm being honest."

  "And I think you'd look better if we loosened your tie … just a bit," she grins, sliding her small, manicured hand up my chest and resting it on the silk knot of my tie. She gives the knot a gentle tug, ever so slightly, and I can't help but feel my pulse quicken under her touch.

  Just as the limo pulls up to Marcel's, I turn to Ashley and ask, "Why are you so cynical?"

  But just then, the door opens and we are ushered out of the car, greeted by a mob of photographers. Flashbulbs are going off in every direction, and it's disorienting.

  Realizing that we are now under extreme scrutiny, I turn to Ashley and give her a kiss.

  She kisses me back, and then whispers in my ear, "This is why I'm so cynical."

  Instead of responding, I smile because no matter what, I intend to make her a believer. One way or another.

  Over dinner, we discuss everything, from the state of the country, to my campaign, and even why I want to be president. We leave no stone unturned. And despite myself, I find that I'm opening up to Ashley, just a little bit.

  I wouldn't say that I trust her completely—but it's apparent that we see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.

  "And what about your business?" I ask.

  At first she seems uncomfortable that the conversation has shifted to her. Then she says, "I'm only exposing people for who they really are. You can think of it as my much smaller way of 'clearing the cave.'"

  I smile at the reference, and I feel my respect for Ashley grow. She seems to be opening up a little more as well.

  And while I'm getting to know Ashley Draper, I can't help but notice how stunning she looks. Her gold, diamond earrings keep catching the light of the restaurant, and glittering like stars, just out of reach.

  I can't take my eyes off of that dark, cavernous trail of her cleavage, or the curves of her ass peaking out from under her dress.

  It's also clear that my cock wants her just as badly as I do.

  Looking at Ashley in that gorgeous and tight dress is making my cock stick out like a 12-inch lead pipe. People are gonna notice this Presidential boner.

  I need to not be in the public eye. That means less talking to you.

  Time to change the point of view.

  11

  Ashley

  So, I’m actually having a good time.

  Despite what I initially thought of Austin, he isn’t half as bad as I thought he’d be. He’s fun, charming, and engaging … and surprisingly, he also seems sincere. He really does seem to want the best for the country.

  Also, him trying to hide his erection was the cutest thing.

  Yes, I saw it. Sort of flattered too.

  Wouldn’t you be if some guy got hard for you and you still had all your clothes on?

  I know what you’re thinking—I’m being fooled by a master manipulator. That’s a fair point, actually. I know how to spot these types from far away, but I just don’t see it in Austin … and that’s what’s really dangerous. I mean, he’s the President of the United States, and you don’t get to be the Commander in Chief without being a ruthless political operator. I have to be extra careful around Austin, there’s no doubt about it; I don’t want to fall for a person who doesn’t really exist.

  Right now he’s driving me home, which means we’re riding around DC in the Presidential Car. Aptly nicknamed The Beast, the car is more of a tank than a limo. In front of us (as well as behind) follow a few dozen SUVs, part of the presidential motorcade. I shudder to think how much money the taxpayers are paying just because Austin and I decided to have dinner.

  Of course, I should also mention that my apartment building now has a permanent security staff, headed by the Secret Service itself. Although I’m not the First Lady, the White House decided to place me under strict security measures, which really, I don’t mind, although it’s a bit annoying, it beats being beheaded by some jihadist asshole.

  “Why don’t you spend the night at the White House?” Austin says, turning to the side so that he’s looking straight into my eyes. There’s a playful grin on his face, and I know that he’s toying with me. The press would have a field day if, just one day after revealing his fiancée to the public, Austin took her to the White House.

  “Are you that desperate, Austin?” I tease him, offering him a grin of my own. “I am just your fake fiancée … you better not forget about the fake part.”

  “I’m not forgetting anything,” he replies without giving it a second thou
ght. “I just don’t see what that has to do with anything. Fun is fun.”

  “Fun is fun… Is that what you were thinking at the Sofitel Hotel? I bet the South Korean ambassador loved that line.”

  “As a matter of fact, she did,” he continues, turning around on his seat, a fire growing behind his eyes.

  “Good thing I’m not an ambassador then,” I chuckle, looking out the window and avoiding his gaze. God, if I keep looking into his eyes, I truly don’t know what I might be capable of. I told you before, I might not trust him to be completely genuine, but his cut body and handsome smile… Now that’s something I know is pretty genuine … and dangerous too.

  More than that, Austin knows how to use that tongue of his. He’s charming and seductive, and he knows exactly what to say and what to do in order to drive a woman completely insane… I wonder just exactly what other things he can do with his tongue.

  I try to distract myself, watching the wide DC avenues roll by us, but it’s almost impossible. My heart is drumming loudly against my chest, and there’s a whirlwind of wicked thoughts dancing inside my head. And, to top all that, my pussy is as wet as it has ever been. I can already feel my drenched thong sticking to my skin; it’s so uncomfortable that I wouldn’t mind just taking it off…

  What did Austin say? Fun is fun, right? Well, let’s have some fun then. I don’t want to be the only one going home horny and frustrated. Let him taste his own poison.

  “Tell me, Austin,” I start, turning around to meet his gaze once more, “I’m curious. How are you going to survive one year without women…? Without sex?”

  “Maybe I don’t have to go one year without sex. You only said I couldn’t be with other women, after all…” he replies, his eyes roaming up and down my body, and I can tell that he has already started to undress me mentally.

  “I did. I guess you found that loophole quickly enough,” I chuckle, placing my hand on his knee as I do it. I take it off as quickly as I’ve touched him, but it’s enough to make a hard shape start to grow between his legs. Shamelessly, I let my eyes fall down to the bulging shape already tenting his pants.