Page 2 of The President's Passion

Fuck, is she on a roll! Mischievous little motormouth...Annoyance flares in me, the agents blocking my view as they fuss over the black smoke but it turns out to be powder you can buy in a craft store and I throw them off, searching for the girl.

What I see, drives me to the brink of insanity. She’s on the floor on her stomach, an agent holding her hands in place and he’s got his knee on her lower back. The weight has to be too much for her and I yank him off of her, throwing an aggressive punch in his face and the girl takes the opportunity to try to escape. She lifts her far-reaching gown, squealing like a little pet before running and she’s surprisingly fast and springy, almost like a gymnast. My mind immediately goes to in what other ways she could be flexible....

Fuck, focus and take your mind out of the gutter, Went.

I catch up with her. We wrestle down on the floor, with me on top of her and I yank her wrists above her head and hold her in place. “Calm down,” I growl, “before I take drastic actions.”

“Really?Nowyou want to take drastic actions!” she cries, puckering her mouth and spits me right in the face. “Your priorities are off as usual, monster! You don’t deserve to be our president...!”

Blinking patiently, I firmly hold her wrists in my one hand, while using the other to grab a napkin and wipe off the saliva. “Do not spit on me again...,” I warn but defiance flares in her eyes and she does just that. This time my patience begins to drain but I wipe it off once more. An agent holds out his hand to take the napkin but I throw him a violent glare and shove it into my pocket.

That fabric’s got the girl’s DNA on it and I don’t want another man to have something of hers.

She struggles underneath me, causing adrenaline to flare in me at the feel of her writhing body. I’ve never felt this alive before and I don’t care that we’re in a hall surrounded by agents. My lids flutter and I want to bellow, pound my chest from the euphoria that no drug can deliver and it makes my mind foggy.

Is there even a country I’m supposed to rule over? I can’t remember anymore. It feels as if I from now on live in this girl’s land, forced to obey her rules, her laws. Inwardly I groan because the last thing she seems to want is let me cross her border, and help myself to her femininity.

“You hate me don’t you?” I ask and she grimaces.

“Obvi!” she cries. “What tipped you off? The gun to your head? Now get off me, you tyrant!”

Lowering my face, I whisper in her ear, “You’re a lousy shot despite all that hate pent up in your feisty, little body. Next time, how about you actually hit your target? Unless of course, you missed on purpose...?”

Her eyes flare, tears glittering and she shakes her head. “Did n...not. I wanted you dead!”

“You better stop talking like that or I’ll have your young ass arrested.”

“Do it! I don’t care what you do to me. Have my head, take me to your dungeon, you troll...!”

Troll? Inwardly I chuckle but don’t make my amusement obvious. “That eager to be my prisoner?” A smile flashes my face. “And I don’t want that sweet head of yours, I’d have you givingmehead, chained in my dungeon and powerless to do anything but lavish me with attention...”

She gasps, her jaw slacking and our eyes meet. What the fuck did I just say to her? This isn’t how I’m supposed to act but there’s something about the little rebel that’s ripped out my ordered world from the roots. She doesn’t seem that impressed with the part I play anyway and I want her to be impressed. I want her to look up at me with admiration and adoration.

How the fuck do I get her to do that? Maybe getting off of her would be a good start.

“Yeah, I agree,” she snaps with flashing eyes, “so why don’t you?”

I realize I just said it out loud and yet I can’t part from her body. Her heart beating against mine is the only calmative I’ll ever need. My job is stressful but having her near takes my mind off all my troubles.

With her underneath me it feels as if there’s nothing I can’t do. I’ll rule over this country for decades, nobody ever pushing me off throne because I feel strong with her by my side. I feel superhuman on top of my passionate girl. She has provoked something inside of me and I feel right down invincible at the taste of her unrestrained nature and despite the sass there’s something deeply welcoming about her body. Her mind might not be there just yet but it will be.

If not, I’ll raise the dead body of the other man she chooses as a flag on top of the White House. That should send the message across nicely.

“What’s your name?” I ask again.

“Ninja Turtle,” she spits and I give her a light shake.

“Name!”

“Your worst nightmare.”

“Give it to me!”

“The President Slayer!” she cries with furious eyes but the fury evaporates the moment, I press my whole body against hers and she feels it in all its strength and power. “Um....what are you doing?” she asks, her head bobbing and her lashes flutter. “P...please...”

Ah, I got her to beg.

I smirk and when she notices the smirk, she gasps, her face turning a zealous red. Then I do have an effect on her after all...”You’re coming with me,” I say, pulling her up to her feet.

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