Myeagerpartner.
Hewantsto be mine as much as I need him to be.
Jordan gasps as I speed up my hand, finger-banging his ass. I press my lips against his ear. “Prove to me you want to be my slut, Mr. Walsh, and come for me like this.”
Seconds later he chokes back a guttural cry and his entire body shudders as he does exactly that for me.
ForMe.
I don’t stop until I’m certain he’s finished. “Don’t move.” I release him and step behind him. There’s a package of wipes in the top drawer of my desk. I grab one, clean my hand, and unfasten my belt and slacks so I can fish my cock out. I flip my tie up over my shoulder out of the way, roll on the condom, slick myself, and then bury my cock inside him with one hard thrust.
He can take it.
And he does, flexing against me, with me, knowing what I like.
“Thank me for letting you come, slut,” I grit out as I start to plow him hard. If I’m not careful I’m going to shoot my load immediately.
“Thank you for letting your slut come, Mister President.”
I dig my fingers into his slender hips. “What else are you thankful for?”
He’s doing his best to try to fuck in time with my thrusts. “Thank you for giving your slut the opportunity to service you, Mister President.”
Fuck, that’s hot. “Over the next couple of weeks youwillbe spending a lot of time on your knees or with your ass filled by my cock. All while you’re locked up tight.”
“Thank you, Mister President!”
I’m so damned close, and here I’d hoped to drag this out for at least a few minutes.
But he’s too fucking sexy and I love him too damned much to hold back. I pull his ass tight against me as I climax and fill the condom, resting my forehead against his back, between his shoulders for a moment as I catch my breath. I’m just about to say something when the phone on my desk rings, startling both of us.
Without missing a beat, Jordan’s hand snatches the receiver and he answers the phone sounding not like he’s standing there bent over my desk with my softening cock buried in his ass, but like the incredible professional he is.
“President Woodley’s office.”
I, however, am now chewing on his wadded up jacket, trying to stifle my laughter.
“Yes, Director Collins. Please hold.” He wedges the receiver between his ear and shoulder and reaches out, punching the hold button. Then he hands the receiver to me over his shoulder. “NSA Director Collins for you,sir.” He glances back. “And no, this call wasn’t on your log.”
I still have Jordan pinned against my desk. I take the receiver from him, clear my throat, and he waits to take the call off hold until I poke him in the side with my other hand. “Yes, Director Collins?”
* * *
Twenty minuteslater I’m off the call, we’ve cleaned up in my private bathroom, and Jordan and I are heading downstairs to the SitRoom with Casey-Marie. At this point it’s obviously no longer a secret to my national security team that they both know about the Russian.
Talk about a boner-killer, though. I thought Jordan and I would at least have a few minutes to enjoy a post-fuck cuddle.
I’ll have to owe him one later tonight.
Once the three of us are downstairs the lead agent wastes no time catching us up. “CIA operatives in Bogotá have potentially identified Belyaevskin at the compound of a drug trafficker who’s cooperated with us on occasion.”
The agent runs through the information. The man they think is Belyaevskin arrived there only a few hours ago. All indications are that he’s there to do business with the drug trafficker.
I’m equal parts relieved and irritated. “So thisisa drug deal, then?” Meaning it’s not so much a national security issue as it is a law enforcement issue. Yes, the two can be linked sometimes when it comes to financing terrorism, but I can’t justify focusing valuable covert NatSec resources on Belyaevskin when that is more properly the bailiwick of the DEA, FBI, Customs, and others. Not to mention the valuable mental resources I’ve devoted to worrying about him.
Not saying drug trafficking isn’t important, becauseduh, it is. But it’s not 9/11-important. And every minute and ounce of resources inappropriately devoted to chasing a drug trafficker when they could be working on preventing terrorism here or abroad means something might slip through the cracks.
“We aren’t positive yet, Mister President,” he says. “Although certainty is high that it’s Belyaevskin. One of our resources in the compound has obtained the subject’s fingerprints and is working on getting them to one of our agents so we can run a comparison.”
