Three months later

“Welcome home, Madam President—Mr. Masri.”

“Thank you, Vanessa. It’s good to be home,” Jessica answered as Kamal helped her out of her jacket.

“Sir,” Vanessa said, turning to Kamal. “While you were gone, we came up with an extensive list of your new responsibilities as well as some suggestions for who you might want to appoint to your staff besides Shamira.”

“Vanessa,” Jessica chided. “The First Gentleman just got off Air Force One. Maybe we could let him have until tomorrow before we start with the staff appointments.”

“No, no,” Kamal interjected. “This is fine, I’ve been making some notes as well, and I’d actually like to have meetings with the household staff beginning tomorrow so that they can tell me their various duties and plans.”

Vanessa looked relieved, and Jessica couldn’t help but smile. She’d had no idea just how much stress the White House staff had been under the last three years without a First Spouse to handle the household. She’d always trusted them to make the decisions, but apparently they really wanted someone in the First Family to do that for them, and they’d been ecstatic when Kamal had asked her to marry him after he was released from the hospital.

They walked through the house toward the West Wing. “Ma’am, I know it’s late in the day, but I’m hoping I can get you to make a few quick decisions before you go to the residence for the night.”

“Of course. I realize a weeklong honeymoon comes with a price.” She turned to Kamal. “I’ll just spend a couple of hours, if that’s okay.”

“Mr. Masri might want to stop by the First Gentleman’s offices. We took the liberty of rearranging some furniture so that the offices are a bit more masculine. And Shamira came by to advise us. She chose which pieces could stay and which needed to go. She seemed to feel that you strongly dislike anything gold, so that’s been removed entirely.”

Kamal grinned, and Jessica rolled her eyes.

“She’s correct. Thank you, Vanessa,” he said with a little bow. “I believe I’ll go take a look and start reviewing your suggestions for my staff.”

“I’ll send some tea up to you, sir.”

As Vanessa walked with Jessica down the hall, she kept up a rapid-fire list of items requiring Jessica’s attention. It had been a whirlwind wedding on the White House grounds, and a weeklong honeymoon spent visiting various dignitaries throughout Europe, but she was home, and duty called. Jessica sighed, then remembered that when she went upstairs for the night, the sexiest man she knew would be there as well, ready to take charge and give her exactly what she needed.

* * *

Kamal walked into the residence and pulled off his tie, draping it on a coatrack inside the front door.

“Sir, I’ve set out dinner in the dining room, and the refrigerator is stocked so you can fix yourself whatever you’d like as well.”

“Thank you…Meghan, is it?”

“Yes, sir.” The woman smiled shyly.

“Are you off now?” he asked as she made her way to the door, pushing the rolling food cart from the kitchens downstairs.

“Yes, sir. My shift ends at eight.”

“Have a good night, then.”

“Thank you.”

After she left, Kamal walked through the empty living quarters, noticing bits and pieces of his belongings placed amongst the things Jessica had brought, as well as the things that belonged with the house. He made his way to the dining room and surveyed the covered platters that contained dinner. He was starving and wondered if he’d have to go collect his wife from her office when he heard the front door open and shut.

“Is that you, love?” he yelled.

“Yes! Coming!”

In a moment, Jessica walked into the room, and just as it did every time he saw her, Kamal’s heart took an extra beat. She smiled at him, her hair slightly disheveled from traveling, and her feet bare. She had a bad habit of removing her heels in the Oval Office and leaving them under her desk. Kamal had already trained the staff to look under the desk each night and leave the president’s shoes outside the door to the residence so that Jessica could find them in the morning.

He gathered her into his arms, planting openmouthed kisses along her neck and jaw. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“It was only two hours.” She shivered as he caught her earlobe between his teeth.

“That’s two hours too long, Mrs. Masri,” he rumbled, his hand inching its way up her leg and underneath her skirt.

“What are you going to do when we both have to go back to work tomorrow?”

“Lunch sex,” he growled as he lifted her and set her on the edge of the dining room table.

She shrieked and laughed while he shoved her skirt up to her waist and tore her blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

“Oh dear God, the staff will wonder why all those buttons are on the floor.”

“I don’t care,” he said as he slipped her breast out of the cup of her bra and leaned down to suck one pert nipple into his mouth.

“Mmm. Oh. Yessss,” Jessica muttered as his tongue circled her areola, and then he sucked harder.

He slid his hand inside her thin silk panties, and his thumb found her clit in moments, pressing the tiny bud as she moaned. Using two fingers, he checked her core and found her hot, wet, and waiting for him.

“Thank God, you’re ready. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Yes, please.”

He unbuckled and unzipped, and his cock sprang free, hard as a two-by-four and throbbing with need for the sexiest woman in the free world.

“Heels on the table,” he commanded, smiling as she complied. He would never tire of the rush of telling the world’s most powerful person what to do.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, kissing her ravenously as he found her entrance and slid inside.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “I’ll never tire of this, never.”

She wiggled against him as much as she could in her compacted position, knees alongside his forearms, heels on the edge of the dining table.

He leaned her back slightly, one of his arms still clamped firmly around her waist, while the other hand supported them against the table. He pumped in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, his breath catching each time she squeezed his cock or rocked against him.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Jessica Hampton Masri,” he whispered in her ear.

She threw her head back, her long neck stretching out before him. He licked all the way up until he reached her mouth, where he crushed his lips to hers and mimicked the motion of his cock with the motion of his tongue.

“God, need to…” she gasped.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded, his voice harsh with need.

She slipped one hand between them and pressed on her clit, coming apart almost immediately, groaning his name into the empty room as he pumped harder and faster until he stilled, every muscle tensed, breath held, heart suspended between beats. And then he came, hard and long, roaring his love for this woman as if his very life depended on it.

When the aftershocks had faded, they both collapsed onto the table, his body bowed over hers, both breathing hard.

“I think my hair is in the butter dish,” Jessica gasped, laughing.

“I think you broke me,” Kamal replied.

She laughed again, and he slipped out of her, missing his favorite place in the world almost immediately.

“I have faith in your recovery powers,” she said, shoving at him to get up so she could slide off the table.

He watched her shimmy her skirt back down with a glimmer in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. But I need to eat first, or I’ll never last for another round.”

“The table isn’t too hygienic at the moment.”

“That’s why there are trays and a bed.”

Ten minutes later, Kamal had dinner on two trays, and both he and Jessica were in bed eating. He wore his boxers, and she had one of his dress shirts on with nothing underneath.

“This might be the best dinner I’ve eaten all week,” she said as she scooped a large forkful of rosemary mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“It’s the sex,” Kamal remarked.

Jessica laughed, and he thought that it was the most musical sound in the world. One he would adore hearing every day for the rest of his life.

“I love you, Madam President,” he said softly, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

“And I love you, Mr. Masri,” she answered.

* * *

Jessica was grateful, the party bigwigs waited until her honeymoon was over. However, though she wished she could credit them with being considerate, she knew it was really because they were waiting to see how she polled after marrying the former Egyptian ambassador, who, while not Muslim, was from a Middle Eastern country, brown skinned, and with the remains of a British accent. She knew the party had to be sure Kamal’s otherness wouldn’t be a detriment to their objectives.

When they did push their agenda, it was five days after she returned from her wedding trip, and they sent the one person she’d never been able to say no to—her father-in-law.

“Madam President,” John senior said as he entered the Oval Office and kissed her on each cheek.

“Senator. It’s so nice to see you again so soon after the wedding.”

“Well, Marjorie has decided that I’m healthy now and finds me annoying if I sit at home too much. I thought I’d stop into town and visit you as well as have lunch with the boys and girls from South Carolina. That asshole Deke Sheppard from our fourth district has taken a stance on this new carbon trading initiative that’s asinine, so they asked me to help lobby him a bit.”

“Well, I’m glad you could stay with us while you’re in town. Kamal had the staff make up the Lincoln Bedroom for you. I don’t think you’ve ever stayed there, and he thought you’d enjoy it.”

“And how is that new husband of yours?” John said, taking a seat and patting the sofa next to him for Jessica to join him.

She sat down, slipping off her shoes and tucking her legs up on the sofa too. He gave her a fatherly pat on the knee, smiling as she talked.

“He’s taken to the job of First Gentleman like a pro. He’s already chosen his cause—sensible gun reform—and has the staff working so efficiently that they’ve cut the time it takes to do maintenance on the property by ten percent in less than a month.”

“Well, running the White House must be very similar to running the embassy, so I’m sure he’s excellent at it. And as a victim of gun violence himself, he’ll have sway with those on the fence about reform.”

“Yes.” She looked at him with her eyes narrowed. “Now. Tell me why you’re really here, John. Because as much as I know you love us and DC, I don’t buy for a minute that you came all this way for lunch and a night in the Lincoln Bedroom.”

His smile faded, and his eyes grew serious. “You’re right, I’m not here simply for fun. The party sent me, Jess.”

“I’m shocked,” she deadpanned.

“You know there isn’t anyone who can replace you. We’re going into primary season, and while we have Kimpter and Hernandez running, neither one of them can beat the opposition. Neither one of them has what it takes to lead the country.”

She sighed.

“You do, though. You do, and now you even have a partner. Someone to help govern the country, to be your sounding board and support you. You have everything you need to be the president for another term, Jessica, including my last name.”

He looked at her with soft eyes then, the blue faded beneath his white eyebrows, the skin on his face powdery with age and lined with experience.

“I loved my son.” His voice cracked, but he soldiered on. “He was a fine man and would have been a great leader for this nation. But I believe you’ve been a better president than he would have.”

Jessica couldn’t help the small gasp that came from her lips.

“John had idealism and ambition and desire. But Jessica, you have heart and determination and empathy. I wouldn’t wish what you’ve suffered on anyone, but I think that it makes you a better president. I think that it gives you an understanding of what others are going through that a son of wealth like John might never have had.”

Jessica bit down on her lip, pausing for a moment to process his words.

“I never wanted the job, though,” she said.

“I know, but now that you’re here, and you’re excellent at it, and you have Kamal to stand by you, couldn’t you rethink the possibilities? Your country needs you.”

“I can’t give you an answer right now,” she said. “I need to think, and to talk to my husband about it.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“But I will give you one—a final one—before you go back home on Sunday.”

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “And Jess, no matter what you decide, Marjorie and I support you—both of you. We’re lucky to have you as our daughter. Nothing will ever change that.”

* * *

“And what do you think?” Kamal asked after Jessica explained her conversation with John senior.

“I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I think that maybe I should do it.”

Kamal hummed, stroking her hair where her head rested on his shoulder in bed.

“A lot of things have changed since I took office, not the least of which is that I married you. Having a partner in all this gives me a strength that I didn’t have before.”

“You always had it. It just wasn’t as fun,” he murmured. “It’s not strength you get from me, it’s regular sex—that makes any job easier.”

She smacked him lightly on the chest and giggled as he rolled her onto her back, gazing at her with devotion.

“But seriously, I feel very different than I did three years ago. I feel like I’ve earned this job, not just inherited it.”

“Because you have, love.” He kissed her on the nose. “You’ve proven time and time again that you are smart and competent and measured. You have weathered battles with Congress, assassination attempts, and public censure, and come out of it all stronger than you were before. Your approval ratings are at an all-time high, and the Millennial Accord is one of the most promising treaties in Middle Eastern history.”

Jessica sighed as Kamal kissed down her throat and reached her breast, planting tiny kisses all around her nipple before taking it into his mouth.

“And you?” she asked, her voice breathy with need. “How would you feel about four more years here?”

He released her with a small pop. “Darling, I’ve only just started in my new duties. Four more years would allow me to actually accomplish something. I have plans for a redesign of the grounds that would reduce water use and make the park much more comfortable than it is now, plus the production of more than half the food used in the White House from the grounds themselves.”

She wiggled, settling his hips between her open thighs just where she liked them. “There’s only one thing that makes me sad about the idea of staying,” she whispered in the dark.

He gazed down at her, wiping his thumb across her cheek, tenderness in his eyes.

“And what is that?”

“I had hoped that when we were done next year, we could talk about children.”

His smile was warm. “And why can’t we do that and serve another term in the White House?”

“How would I have time to raise a baby and be president?”

“The same way any working mother does, with very little sleep, a devoted husband, and hired help.”

“Do you really think?” Her heart raced with excitement at the thought.

“I think you can do anything, Madam President. Anything at all.”