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own to the hemline of my nightgown.
“What are you talking about?” I respond with a soft chuckle, and then bite down on my lower lip remembering that Natalie has just fallen asleep. We were together just a few hours ago, when Natalie took her afternoon nap, so it’s a bit precocious to say he misses my body.
“Well,you know me,” he grins, “I could spend the whole day kissing your naked body.” His fingers trail under my nightgown, brushing against my inner thigh, and I run my tongue between my lips, looking straight into his eyes.
“That’s why I chose you,” I tease him, placing two of my fingers under his chin and guiding his mouth toward mine. Our lips touch for just a second, and then he pulls back, tucking a stray lock of hair over my ear.
“You chose me? That’s really funny,” he chuckles. “It’s not how I remember it happening.”
“Oh, really? That’s normal. You’re getting old, so I guess your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be,” I tease him, hooking my fingers on his dress shirt and showing him and inviting smile.
“Really, really funny,” he whispers, flattening the palm of his hand between my thighs and forcing me to gasp in surprise. “Do I have to show you I’m not that old?”
“I think you do,” I reply, letting go of his shirt and allowing my fingers to trail down his chest. Opening my hand as wide as I can, I let it slide down to his crotch and then I give his cock one harsh squeeze as it hardens up against my fingers.
“Very well,” he replies and, moving lightning fast, bends over and picks me up from the floor. He walks down the hallway as silently as possible, and then pushes the door to our bedroom open with his outer thigh.
He walks up to bed and puts me down gently, climbing up on the mattress after me, his mouth looking for mine in the dark. We kiss then, our bodies locked in a tight embrace, and I close my eyes and surrender to the moment.
It’s been one year since I gave birth to Natalie, and it has been the most wonderful year of my life. Having a child really opens your eyes up to how vast the universe really is, to how mysterious its inner workings are. One moment I’m a pawn in a state-wide political scheme, the other I’m swept into the arms of the man I love, holding a child - my child - close to my chest. That’s how the universe works, I think: it doesn’t give you clear instructions, but it usually prods you in the right direction. All you have to do is pay attention.
“I love you,” I whisper in the darkness of the room, my hands roaming over his back and untucking his shirt. My legs are spread, lacing his waist and pulling him into me, his crotch pressed tight against my already wet thong.
“So do I, Amy,” he says, his hands on my shoulders. “So do I…” He pulls the straps of my gown down my arms, his lips laying gentle kisses on my shoulders, and then reaches for my breasts with one hand. I’m not wearing a bra, so he cups my right breast and squeezes it softly. Even though the room is swimming in the darkness of the night, I know our eyes are locked.
My nightgown comes off in a matters of seconds, and his shirt follows suit. With my back arched, I run my fingers over the contour of his muscled pectorals and abs, enjoying it in such a way that I can’t help but close my eyes and let out a chuckle fill the whole room.
“Hey, you’re going to wake her up,” I hear Parker’s voice say, and so I use the oldest trick in the book to silence myself. I crane my neck and crush my mouth against his, our lips dancing and wrestling as my hands go down to his pants and unbuckle his belt before moving onto the zipper and pushing it down.
It’s crazy to think about it, but it’s been like this everyday. Even though we’ve never been as busy (my business keeps on shattering profit records, Parker is always swamped in senatorial work and… well, raising a child is no easy task), we always manage to steal some time just for ourselves. The way I see it, a relationship is like a flower - and if you want it to keep on growing, it’s your responsibility to water it. Of course, it goes way beyond sex, but let’s not fool ourselves - sex is pretty important when a man and woman are concerned. Specially if you’re talking about Parker and I; I mean, sometimes I seriously think we might be addicts to each other’s bodies. It’s the good kind of addiction, though, right?
“That’s it, Mr. President…” I pant as I pull his pants down his legs, feeling the round curve of his ass cheeks. Remember when I used to call him daddy? Well, now I’ve taken to calling him President. I know he doesn’t really like it when I call him that, but it’s stronger than me - a lot of Senators are pressing him harder to run for the White House in the next elections, and the President, the one in office right now, even called Parker up for a private meeting.
I know he’s still trying to debate which path he’s going to take, though. On the one hand I know he sees the Presidency as the most powerful way to change the world for the best but, on the other, I know he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to see Natalie grow up.
Either way, whatever he chooses, I’ll stand by him.
“I told you I--”
“Yeah, yeah… No presidential nicknames… But I can assure you of one thing, you’d the most hung president ever,” I say with a smile, curling my fingers around his cock as it springs free from his boxers briefs.
“How can you possibly know that?” He asks, and the tone of his voice tells me there’s a wide smile on his face.
“Intuition,” I reply, moving my hand back and forth over the length of his cock. To be truth, it has nothing to do with intuition - I just don’t think anyone can compete with Parker’s twelve inches.
With one curious and eager hand, Parker pulls my thong down my legs; feeling the soft cotton sheets under my naked body, I let go of his cock and dig my fingers into Parker’s ass cheeks, forcing him to press his body on mine.
I gasp as I feel his cock parting my wet inner lips, and he’s all the way inside of me in a fraction of a second. I nibble at his earlobe as he starts to thrust, his rhythm a tender one, and it doesn’t take long for my body to start burning up from the inside out.
I twist my body under Parker’s as he thrusts, closing my eyes and allowing these past two years to flash behind my shut eyelids. I don’t think I know what I’ve done to deserve such happiness, but what matters is that I’m living the dream.
A beautiful daughter, a handsome husband. Everything I need.
Sure, we also have money in the bank, a new mansion in the Hamptons (the one where we are right now, just another one of our weekend escapades), and respect from the common American. But, really, while having all that is super nice, it doesn’t really matter in the great scheme of things - love trumps all, right? I know it might sound corny as hell, but now that I’m living these words, I just can’t help myself. I guess Parker, despite his bad boy persona and winner-takes-all attitude, has turned me into an helpless romantic.
He has changed too.
Well, not exactly changed - I think he just shed a few layers of the old Parker and assumed the kindness living underneath these layers. He has turned out to be the kindest father I’ve ever seen, and over-protective as well. Forget all about me being a mother hen; if there’s someone taking up that mantle, it’s Parker. And, hell, it suits him.
