The President’s Daisy – Flowers of the Month Read Online M.K. Moore

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 8
Estimated words: 7026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 35(@200wpm)___ 28(@250wpm)___ 23(@300wpm)
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“But… it’s so soon. What will people think?”

“Who cares what people think? Besides, I’m the President of the United States of America, and everyone loves a good political wedding.”

“Oh my God, you’re crazy.”

“That’s not a no,” he says.

“That’s not a yes, either,” I reply, giggling.

Of course, it’s not a no. I’d never say to him.

three months later

I can’t believe there is such a thing as a presidential party planner. Jessica’s only job is to plan and put on any party or state affair the president wants. She makes more than my parents do combined for this service. She’s good, though. Very good. In just three months, she threw together a whole presidential wedding, coordinating with the Secret Service. The ceremony took place a few hours ago, and the reception is going strong.

I’m watching Taylor schmooze the prime minister of Canada and the president of Mexico. They are all drinking different beers, and I think it’s funny. I don’t know many people here, just my parents really, but none of that matters. I don’t need anyone but my husband. Taylor makes everything better.

I didn’t move into the White House until earlier today for propriety's sake. At least officially. There hasn’t been a night that we’ve been apart since we met. Even last night. Neither of us could bear it. The King and Queen of England gifted us the use of their lodgings in Botswana, and I am so freaking excited. I’ve never been anywhere but Maine and DC and a few random gas stations on my trip down. Things have been a whirlwind, and I could not be more excited to start my life with this man.

I wait for him in the Oval, where he was told he had an important message. The message was from me. I’m on my hands and knees under his desk when he comes over and sits down.

“What are you doing down there,” he asks, laughter in his voice. He knows.

“Whatever I want,” I reply as I reach for his zipper. I pull out his long, thick cock and stroke it before sucking it into my mouth. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to do this. There was a movie about former presidents who got up to all kinds of mischief in this office. One story stuck out. I suck his cock while rubbing my pussy until we both come together.

Life is great, and I couldn’t want for a single thing. He helps me to my feet and rights his pants while I fix my dress. We walk hand in hand back to the reception like I didn’t just have his dick in my throat. Secrets are fun, aren’t they?

Later that night, upstairs in the residence, I am struggling with my dress when he comes up behind me.

“Leave it on, wife. I want to fuck you in it.”

“Okay,” I say, turning to face him. Our lips meet, and everything else fades away for me.

He bends me over the back of the couch and slams into me. Everything is chaotic, and it always feels like we have a lot of time to make up for, and I love it. I promise, we do it bed too, but there is just something about not being able to wait for a second longer that makes everything better.

Everything is better because I found him. I feel whole, and that’s the best feeling ever.

epilogue

Taylor

three years later

I can’t believe that she’s pregnant, again. The campaign trail has been hard, but we’ve always made time for one another. I have been campaigning and running the country, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that this is where I was supposed to be and that this is what I was meant to do. We still have no idea what caused all those fires, but many choose to believe that it was a small cleansing by God and who am I to judge that?

“You ready?” I ask as Daisy comes out of the bathroom. Her dark blue dress is a little too tight on her, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now. We are in New Hampshire, awaiting the results from the polls here. There is a town that votes at midnight. They only have seventy to seventy-five registered voters, and collectively they usually vote for the person that wins the whole damn thing.

“Yep. I had to wash my hair again. This pregnancy is a lot different than the other two. Maybe it’s a girl this time,” she muses. Our two boys are with her parents in Maine. I know she only wants the baby to be happy and healthy, but I’ll admit she’s been sicker this pregnancy than she has been with the other two.

Hand in hand, we walk out of the hotel room, though the hotel is a stretch. It’s a quaint little bed and breakfast that we decided to use for Election Night. The living room has the perfect aesthetic for the day.


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