A Night With Mr President Novels & Stories

"Don't worry, I'll be with you throughout the night, Damian said and pulled Maya into the crowd. There was low background music which blended perfectly into the atmosphere. A few people nodded at Damian as they walked passed them and Damian nodded back. They stopped in front of a man and a woman who looked like his wife or so. "Mr. Rodriguez, you made it," Damian said with a slight smile. "You know I would never miss your parties....or gathering," The man Damian addressed as Mr. Rodriguez smiled. "Yeah....this is my wife Maya..." Damian said and the man's eyes darted towards Maya. Something bout the way he looked at Maya made her feel uneasy. "Nice to meet you Mrs. Makari," He said taking Ma

One night's mistake, a momentary event that caused a massive change in his life. It was late afternoon when Amy got home to the house her parents bequeathed to her. "Manang, I'm home," he said softly to the old man who was with them in their private mansion. The tiredness was evident on his face, as if he was burdened with heavy worries. She held her stomach and carefully spoke to the baby in her womb.

So, even though I was hungry, I waited for him. I leaned back, closed my eyes while sitting on the reception chair. "Ma'am," A slight shake made my eyes open. "It seems Mr. President won't be back until around seven." I adjusted my sitting position upon hearing that from the janitor. "What?" I quickly stood up and checked the watch on my wrist. "Yes, ma'am, in fact, he came back this afternoon before leaving again. He was holding a mop and walked away to continue cleaning." I felt like exploding at this moment. It was my fault for falling asleep. But wasn't it right for him to let me wait like this?

That incident was already enough to send chills down their spines. The Presidential Palace. The lights stayed on all night. An elderly man with graying hair sat on the lower end of the room, watching the President work. “Sir, was the conversation with Mr. Elsher unpleasant?” “Pleasant?” The President dropped the documents and rubbed his forehead. “You think it’s possible to be pleasant with him?” Then, his eyes narrowed. “I think I saw a girl in the crowd today… her profile looked just like her. But when I looked again, she was gone. Maybe I’m just getting old.”

I asked, controlled and irritated. “I want a night with you. I want you to fuck me, Mr. President. Raw, without condom. Hard and rough. I want you to dominate me in the bed you used to fucking Mr. Morgan. I want to experience how good you are in bed, Mr. President. I want all each and every part of you. I want all of these, Mr. President."

"Not at all. I have selected some designs and I want you to look at them. It's…" "No, Miss. You don't show your designs to me. It's President Night who is to decide, Miss Muxin. I will let him know you are ready." "Alright." From the transparent glass doors, Emily could see President Night seated in the outer part of his office. He was sipping wine and tapping his fancy pen on the table. Emily couldn't say if he was offended or not. He had an inscrutable expression on his face. He turned towards the door when his secretary entered. Emily couldn't hear their conversation but she quickly averted her gaze when he looked in her direction. She didn't know what he said but she saw his secretary sh

“I’d like to make a reservation. For tonight. 7pm.” The young guy sitting there didn’t even look up from the computer screen. He was typing, leisurely, not in any kind of rush. “Yeah… that’s not gonna happen,” he said flatly. I blinked. "What?" He kept typing. “All our tables are booked. Every one of them,” he added, still not sparing me a glance. “You can come back tomorrow, really early. Or, you know, hang around for a while. Sometimes these billionaires get bored, cancel last minute, head off to a hotel with their mistress or whatever. Typical stuff. You might get lucky.”

At the front desk, the receptionist glanced at her with mild suspicion, taking in her damp, disheveled appearance. “May I help you, miss?” “I need a room.” Sabrina pulled out her money and set it on the counter. “How much will this get me?” The receptionist’s wary gaze softened. The poor woman looked more frightened than anything—probably running from something or someone. “This will get you our simplest room for three nights. You’ll also have access to the buffet and bar.” Sabrina nodded. “Thank you.” After handling the check-in, she dragged her suitcase to the elevator and up to her room—208.

Never. The ride back in his G-Wagon is quiet in the way that only happens when two people already know exactly how the night could end but are pretending to be shy about it. Jordan sits beside me, his rabbit mask still on, one hand resting on his thigh. I watch the streetlights slide across the windows in long, pale stripes. "You still have time to back out, Mr. President." I turn slowly to face him. "If anything, I'm a man of my word," he replies, his voice deep and husky.

Then it was gone. “Mr. Humphrey," he says evenly. “Welcome.” Mr. Humphrey Like he didn’t know how I sound when I say sir or daddy. Clara gestured toward me. “This is Jake. He’ll be starting today.” Nathan stepped around his desk calmly “We value punctuality here,” he says. “You’re early. That’s good.” His voice carried no trace of the man from two nights ago. “Yes, sir,” I replied automatically. His eyes sharpened slightly at that.