Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
I nod over the accuracy. “More than I do behind a desk, that’s for sure.” I absorb the vibration of the engine with a sigh, the hum beneath my feet. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be comfortable putting on a suit every day.”
She processes that. “It’s where you can make the most difference.”
“Easier said than done. One week into this job and I can see why nothing ever gets accomplished. Everyone has an agenda and if you’re not scratching their back, they’ll stab you in yours. Entire bills get stonewalled over an insignificant detail…”
“If you weren’t qualified to cut through the red tape, I wouldn’t be here right now, prepared to die on a helicopter.” We share a quiet laugh. “If the game is fixed, Mr. President, you’ll simply have to change it.”
“Got any tips for doing that?” I ask, wanting her opinion, yes, but also keeping her talking, because it’s distracting her from being nervous.
“Break their backs, instead of scratching them,” she deadpans.
A laugh cracks out of me. “I’ll make a note.” I’m not sure if Eloise realizes she’s still holding onto my arm, the appendage clutched across her chest like a second seatbelt, but every time we hit a little patch of rough air, her tits jiggle and sway, and Lord, filth does its best to take over my brain. I think of her straddling my lap naked, so I can watch her tits bounce with the turbulence, that clipboard from yesterday in her hands as she makes notes, talking me through the day’s agenda while she rides my dick.
Breathe.
I can get through this trip without fucking my youth council secretary.
I can.
But even though I’m well aware I need to keep our relationship above board, I can’t help wanting to know more about Eloise. Personally. In fact, I want to know everything, right down to her preferred brand of fucking toothpaste. Which is a capital P Problem. “What would you be doing right now if you weren’t in politics, Ms. Rogers?”
She wets her lips and the tip of my cock dampens itself, too, because Jesus, I can see the tiniest hint of the crotch of her panties now. Lily white cotton lace. Son of a bitch.
“Before I started working in politics—and while I was attending Villanova—I worked at my dad’s shop. In Philly. He owns a crêperie.” She smiles fondly over the mention of her father. “Crepes are his one true love. My mom is the other woman in his life. Do you like crepes?”
“I’m afraid to tell you this, Ms. Rogers.” I tuck my tongue into my cheek. “I’ve never even had a crepe.”
She gasps, turning in her seat, giving me an even better glimpse of heaven, lithe thighs leading to her hot little pussy. She’s afraid of dying from a helicopter crash, but I’m more worried about my cock being strangled to death by my zipper.
“Can we land this bird in Philly real quick? My father will make you the best—”
We hit a bump—a big one. The helicopter drops several yards, before bouncing over a few more patches of rough air. And with Eloise suddenly the color of a ghost, I don’t even hesitate. As soon as the turbulence passes, I unbuckle her belt and drag her sideways into my lap, cuddling her as closely as possible to try and quell her shaking. “Nothing to be scared of, angel. I’ve got you.”
“I didn’t like that.”
“I know,” I croon, stroking her hair away from her face. “Do you believe me when I tell you it’s normal?”
“I’d believe anything you say,” she breathes, without a hint of sarcasm.
She truly means it, with her whole heart.
Eloise already told me yesterday that I inspired her to get into politics, but the more I get to know her, the more I feel a responsibility to live up to her expectations. If I’m the good man she believes me to be, I would put this young woman back in her seat, instead of rubbing my knuckles gently along her jawline. There’s another bump, however, and she whimpers, burrowing her face into my neck and there’s no letting go. Hell no.
I notice her high heels have fallen off and her feet are dangling down by my shin, her toenails painted bright pink. Why does that raise a lump in my throat? “Tell me more about the crepes, angel,” I rasp against her ear, breathing in the vanilla and flowers scent of her hair.
“Um.” She snuggles closer, the position of her ass very affective, rubbing my stiff cock up against my stomach, making me throb like a son of a bitch. “Well, I’m trying to think of which one you should sample first. Are you a savory or sweet person?”
“I used to say savory,” I say, cupping her knee, letting my thumb brush side to side against the inside. “But I’m leaning toward sweet these days.”