Page 25 of Mister President

It wasn’t just because she cheated, though that was a big part of it. As good as I was to her, she didn’t appreciate it, and I couldn’t offer myself to her like that again. The biggest thingwas I didn’t feel safe with Amanda romantically. Sexually, yeah. Platonically, yeah. But my heart? I felt like I’d be a damn fool if I gave it to her again. Plus, we didn’t want to live the same kind of lifestyle. I wanted a woman who wanted to live a more intentional and structured life, and that simply wasn’t her.

How she was wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t for me, and I never wanted to change her.

When she told me she loved me, after all these fucking years, that shit confused me.

It unlocked something inside of me that tightened the hold she had around me even more.

I guessed that was how I ended up at her apartment instead of home. Instead of going up, I called her.

“Hey,” she answered, lowering the music in her background.

“What you doing?”

“Getting ready to go out with my girls.”

“Cancel that. I wanna take you to see something. Dress casually.”

“Um, okay. I was literally about to slip on some clothes, so give me like ten minutes, and I’ll be down.”

“Aight, cool.”

I cut my music up and checked a few emails while I waited. Sure enough, she made her way down in about ten minutes. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. Everything about this woman, even her flaws, was good. She’d done as I asked and dressed casually in a white tee, light washed skinny leg jeans, and Isabel Marant sneakers.

Two ankle bracelets were on her ankles, and she knew that shit was my weakness. The Rolex I’d gotten her earlier in our relationship was on her wrist, and she’d triple layered some chains around her neck. The long hair I loved pulling on while hitting it from the back was pulled up into a bun, and dark aviator shades covered her eyes.

For a while after we ended things the last time, I tried to convince myself my attraction and lust for Amanda was what made it hard for me to let her go, but that wasn’t the truth. Outside of my love for her and desire to give her all that she deserved, she was a challenge to me. Amanda was the first woman that wasn’t impressed by who I was and what I had to offer. She didn’t care if she had my love and loyalty. She didn’t want a ring and my last name. All she wanted was my dick and a good time.

I wanted to tame her. I wanted to make her love me. All these years later, I felt like I failed, but my son came from the process, and with him…I’d won.

I got out so I could open her door, and she smiled. “Look at you tryna match my fly.”

Absently, I looked down and chuckled. I had on a white tee and light wash jeans too, which was crazy.

“Now folks gon’ be thinking I’m tryna match your ass on some couple shit,” I teased, giving her a hug.

“So? You could do a hell of a lot worse than me.”

“There’s no one better,” I admitted as she got in the car, causing her to pause and look up at me with a smile before getting fully inside.

After making sure she was good, I went back to my side, and we were on our way. I ignored her questions about where we were going as I headed to her favorite bookstore—Booked and Brewed. There, I got her the hardcover set of the Disney villain series she’d mentioned wanting, then took her to the botanic garden.

When she realized what this season’s theme was, a sad expression covered her face before she cried. It caught me so off guard it took a while for me to console her.

“Mandy,” I called softly with a chuckle as I held her close.

“I love this. It’s so beautiful. It’s my favorite. And you thought of me?”

“Ialwaysthink of you,” I confessed, wiping her tears.

Her chin trembled and lip poked out as she pouted. After kissing my hand, she tugged me toward the first display. “Come on, bookie. We have to take lots of pics.”

A Few Hours Later

I was mesmerizedby the sight of my dick sliding in and out of Amanda’s tight, wet, warm pussy. She was cumming and gushing all over my shit. Her ass clapped and smacked against me, creating a rhythmic melody that flowed beautifully with the sound of our moans and curses. I took the tie that held her hair up and tossed it somewhere behind me, then fisted her hair.

My strokes hardened as I gripped each cheek. Each whimper she released as she gripped the sheets and fucked me back only fueled me to keep going. I wanted to please her—needed to please her. Needed to make her feel a way no other man could.

“Please,” she whispered, looking back at me.

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