They know what they are to each other.
No one calls her his wife, although they both know her role in his life and hers in his. They don’t call her First Lady either. That position is to remain open in case a need arises. War and peace are settled by marriages and so he remains single officially, even if it’s little more than a technicality.
She stood in front of his desk, not quite at attention, her blue eyes defiant. She loved to defy him, it was their favorite game. “Is there anything new to report,” He asked, tumbler of whisky in hand.
“No. They are still in the wind. The rumors that they’ve left the country are all that we can find.” She narrowed her eyes and frowned before glancing away. “We’ll find them. Eventually. He’s good at hiding. You know that.”
“True.” He sipped his drink, rolling the taste in his mouth. “And how are you, Charlotte? It’s been a month. You were due back two weeks ago.”
“I had a lead-”
“You had orders.” He slowed his breathing and placed the now empty glass out of his way. “I don’t ask for much, do I? Am I that unreasonable in my requests?”
Charlie lowered her head and sighed. “No. But there was a possible sighting in California that I had to check out.” By the time she finished speaking she was watching him again, gauging his reaction with hooded eyes.
“No one wants Miles and Rachel found as much as I do.” He pushed back his chair and contemplated the truth of that statement. The only person that loved Miles as much as he did stood across from him, the space between them a gulf that he had to travel every time they were apart.
“I’m here now and likely not going anywhere for a while.” A slight smile tipped the corners of her mouth before disappearing.
He liked her smiles, all of them. Some nights when he couldn’t sleep he would catalogue them in his mind along with the smell of her hair (lavender) and the taste of her skin (a combination of salty-sweet). Bass craved her like sunshine on a cold winter’s day. And she left him wanting more. Always more. He was the most powerful man in the world and she was his most volatile weakness.
“Come here.” The whispered words work their magic and she moved forward, her booted footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that covered the floor.
“Aren’t you going to ask about him?” She stood closer to him now, head tilted to the side and watchful.
Bass sighed, sweeping his eyes hungrily along her form, noting the subtle changes with a swell of pride. “How is Connor?” The name is spoken with no small amount of bite, the sting of the past not far enough away for his liking.
Charlie pursed her lips and shook her head. “He’s doing well fighting the rebellion in the South.” She crossed her arms and smirked before continuing, “I don’t think a half-dozen men with shovels and rakes as a rebellion, but it’s his home turf so…” Her voice faded and she puffed out a breath.
“You’re still too far away.” He held out his hand, offering it to her, inviting her in and holding his breath.
The touch of her fingers on his palm was electric, the sensation curling his toes. He tugged her closer, guided her to sit on the desk so he was eye-level with the buttons of her shirt. It looked new, starched and perfect even in the drab olive color. He missed the royal blue uniforms from his past, imagined it would bring out the color of her eyes.
“Someone could walk in.” The protest was a weak one and he kissed the top of her hand before letting it go to concentrate on getting her out of her clothes. It’s quick work and she doesn’t help or hinder him in the process.
He explores her newly exposed skin with his eyes first, memorizing the newest changes while remembering everything else. The puckered scar on her wrist he touched first, tracing it with his fingers and then his tongue. “Let them walk in, you think I care?”
“You should. People will talk.” Her words were spoken between breathy pants and Bass draws back to admire the flushing of her skin.
“I’m the leader of the country. This is one of the perks.” He unbuttoned her pants and helped her lift her hips so he could pull them to her ankles. He left them dangling there, not bothering to unlace or remove her boots.
“I always knew you were an egomaniac.” There’s a teasing to her tone that is playful and unexpected. Of all the things she’s called him over the past year this is probably the sweetest.
He hummed and leaned forward, resting his cheek against her chest. Her breasts were bigger, rounder. And her nipples were a darker hue than when he had last seen them. “Are you cold?” He already knew the answer, having built up the fire before she arrived. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m fine.” She touched his cheek, drawing him up for a kiss that was desperate and needy.
He sucked on her lower lip, biting gently and continued down her neck. Gasps gave way to moans as he mouthed her breasts and circled her nipples with his tongue one after the other. When he reached her abdomen he paused, placing his hands across the widened expanse and marveling at what was growing within. This was his child, a baby he would see born and raised in a country he reunited with the help of its mother.
Charlie’s groan of frustration interrupted his reverie. She graced him with a pointed look that heated his blood. Her knees spread easily and when he hooked an arm under her leg she scooted willingly to the edge of the desk. Papers crumpled beneath her hips, some pages falling to the floor.
Even her taste was different now, and he marveled as he spread her open with his tongue and fingers. She threw her head back, rocking against his mouth as he lapped at her clit in a fast rhythm until her entire body shook with her release.
“That was fast.” He stood and unbuckled his pants, his cock so hard it ached.
Charlie laughed the sound delicate and musical. “I can’t help it, it’s like my body knows you knocked me up.”
“Don’t apologize.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her again.
He was the President of The United States and Leader of the Patriots. And she would give birth to his sons.
And one day they would be kings.