She watched him from the corner of her eye, noting the way his hands moved as he attempted to illustrate some elaborate point that he was making. Occasionally, she saw his hand ball into a fist and pound firmly against the podium that he was perched in front of.  Seeing him like this used to make her insides tremble, watching the power and the masculinity just drip from his every pore.  Lately, however, it just made her sick to her stomach.

With a heavy sigh, she gazed slowly down at her perfectly manicured fingernails.  The White House publicity team had advised her to always make sure she was presentable, particularly with manicures and pedicures. It was best to not leave any detail unturned when it came to her physical appearance, since it was detrimental to avoiding any controversy or tabloid fodder.  Any normal woman would be pleased to have a reason to get dolled up all the time, but the more she did it, the more she felt like her body was her own personal prison.

Her gaze shifted as she heard the roar of the crowd and the camera shutters, realizing that her husband was finished with his State of the Union Address and that she hadn’t listened to a word of it. Her conclusion was confirmed when she felt the hand of Michael Lopez, her personal Secret Service Agent, gently touch her arm to inform her that they needed to leave. Thank God.

She was so tired of these stupid speeches and press junkets and interviews--the questions, the heated debates, the cameras, the flashes--they never seemed to cease since he had been elected to the Oval Office. Every time the shutter of an iris snapped with the heat of a light bulb, her heart constricted a little, burying her heart further into her chest.

She slowly stood with Mike’s help, gripping her purse as she plastered on her fake smile, meeting her husband with fake enthusiasm as she gently gripped his arm. Her breath caught in her throat with each light bulb flash.  

She didn’t sign up for this.

She felt his hand move to slip inside of hers, his smile plastered on his face for everyone to see.  His hair was perfectly trimmed and gelled, his teeth glistening in the brightest shade of white, and he waved one final goodbye before turning his deep blues to hers.  She smiled weakly before they were ushered to the darkened SUV.

“Great job, honey...” she mentioned out of habit once they were within the safe confines of the car.  “That was a great speech.”  

She turned just in time to see his gaze fixate on hers, and it instantly reminded her of their days in college, when he spoke animatedly of his plans to be the town’s Mayor while they studied for their Political Science test.  She fell for his charm that day, and never looked back.  Except for days like today.

“Thank you, precious...” he affectionally spoke, airing her nickname quiet enough for her ears only.  His hand gently slipped to her knee, affectionately grazing his fingers back and forth to reinforce his gratitude before he was deeply entrenched in a heavy conversation with his Chief of Staff.

She sighed, the smile that adorned her face when he called her precious faded when his attention was diverted to some global disaster or catastrophe. Or maybe it was the results of the Raiders’ game, or the approval ratings that were coming in.  She didn’t care enough to keep up.

She married Justin Timberlake before even he realized his aspirations to become the Commander in Chief of the most powerful nation in the world.  When she fell in love with him, he was just a simple boy from the small, southern state of Tennessee.  And back then, he had no greater hope in the world than to be the Mayor of the city so that he could protect the local farmers and businesses.

Taking a trip down memory lane, she remembered when he used to take her out to the secret drive along the Mississippi river, just beyond the Pyramid, where they would sit in the bed of his truck late at night, staring up at the stars and talking about life, about all of the things that he wanted to change.  It was in that same truck that they shared their first kiss, made love under the moonlight, where he proposed to her, and where they conceived their first child.

But somewhere along the line, things changed.  Shortly after they got married, he became the Mayor of Memphis, and people absolutely adored him.  Someone finally convinced him to run for Governor, and even though he didn’t think he had a shot in hell, he won the election.  From there, it spiraled into a hilt of successes, eventually landing his most recent role as a State Senator.  And now...well, now he’s the most powerful man in the world.

She never knew this was what it was going to be like.  She had and would always love and support him, but it was days like this that she missed her husband.  It was okay when he was a Mayor, even a Governor--but things became radically different in their personal lives the moment he became a Senator.  Now that he was the President, she may as well forget having a personal life, especially with him.  Rarely did she even get to hold a real conversation with him for longer than five minutes, and his touch...God, when was the last time he touched her?  Sure, she got the occasional affectionate glance or a stroke on the arm or leg, but it had been months since they even slept an entire night in their presidential bedroom without an interruption.

Not tonight.  Tonight, she was going to change it.  She had to.  The ache between her legs was too strong, its desire strengthening with his increased absence.  She may be the First Lady, and he may be the President of the United States, but tonight, he was going to be her husband.  Her Justin. Not the world’s.  Just for one moment.

She smirked to herself and looked up at him, gently tugging on the sleeve of his Armani jacket to pry his attention from the conversation he was having with his Chief of Staff.  She saw the way his eyebrows crinkled when he turned his head towards her, her eyes catching in his gaze.  His brows furrowed in worry, silently asking her what was wrong.

She slowly leaned up, pressing her nose to his temple as she whispered in his ear, “I need you.”

She felt his body go rigid against her, but his face didn’t move.  He was trained to show no emotion, to always react easily and effortlessly with the utmost of important decisions.  She watched the pensiveness in his eyes, something only she could recognize, as he interpreted what she was saying to him.  She saw his eyes connect with hers again and a small smile came to his lips, followed quickly by a frown.

“I can’t, beautiful.” His voice was soft, and he was always so endearing. Sometimes it just made her downright sick to her stomach, especially in moments like these.

“This isn’t an option,” she replied quietly, her eyes shifting up to his as her face became a little cold.  He always did this.

“I have a meeting with the British Prime Minister,” he gave her a tired glance.  She knew that she frustrated the hell out of him, but she didn’t ask for much.  Just some attention every now and again.

“Then I have a meeting with our divorce attorney,” she whispered harshly in his ear.  She felt him go rigid again against her, feeling his eyes search her soul to see if she was being serious.  

“You wouldn’t,” he countered quietly, calling her bluff.  Okay, she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t let him win, not if she was going to get what she needed.

“I would, and I will,” she breathed quietly against his neck, nibbling lightly at his ear, making sure no one could see her.  She felt his grip tighten on her knee. 

"I do not negotiate with terrorists," he sighed automatically, turning away from her as if their previous conversation never happened.  He easily resumed his conversation with the Chief of Staff as they rounded the corner to the White House.  Once they arrived, they both got out of the car, smiling animatedly for the reporters and photographers before walking inside, where he was immediately whisked away to some meeting. She sighed, again.  Being the First Lady sucks.

She was making her way up to their bedroom, removing her jewelry and handing pieces to her aids as she finally made it to their personal hallway. She gave a dismissing wave to Nancy, one of her personal assistants to inform her she was through with her services, before she disappeared behind the door of their gorgeous bedroom. 

As soon as she clicked the door behind her, she felt a pair of strong, masculine hands slide slowly across her hips, gently up her side until they landed at her breasts, cupping them in his large palms.  She felt her breath hitch as she swiftly turned around, a smile adorning her face when she saw her husband standing before her.

He had removed his suit jacket and loosened his small black tie.  He had just enough time to roll up his shirt sleeves before she had walked into the room.  He just stared at her with that crooked grin of his, allowing his eyes to lower to admire the full length of her gorgeous body.

She bit her bottom lip when he closed the gap between them, gently pushing her against the door and locking it in a swiftly combined motion. She could feel his hardness through the fabric between them, and all she could do was let out a moan, his motions rendering her voiceless.

“What’s the matter, babygirl?  Cat got your tongue?” His breath was hot on her ear, allowing his tongue to reach out and tease the sensitive parts of her lobe ever so slightly.

She struggled to find her voice. “I...I thought you...had...the...the Prime...” she yelped when he pulled her skirt completely up her thighs, as if she were some young twenty year old Intern.  God, the things he could do to her.  She could feel the flood gates starting to open between her thighs.

“Oh, I do.  He’s waiting for me right now.  But....unfortunately, I had an emergency I needed to take care of...” he trailed off, taking the bottom of her right earlobe into his mouth effortlessly, lightly nipping at it with his pearly whites as his hands moved to her breasts, kneading the flesh ever so slightly with his nimble fingers.

She started to writhe, her legs feeling naked and bare from the absence of her skirt and the cool air that was surrounding them, yet she was completely turned on at the same time.  “Oh, really?” she asked, curiously.  “And what emergency is that?” she whispered, her voice deeper than usual, indicating her desire for him.  Her green eyes peered up at him, her right eyebrow raising with curiosity.

He responded by pulling back slightly, just staring at her.  She watched him take in her features, pausing at her nose briefly before trailing his gaze down to her full, plump lips, still covered in bright red lipstick from the outing they just came from.  He smirked at her again, indicating his admiration was fully complete.  She opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t get the opportunity before he began his assault on her clothes.

In one foul swoop, he pushed his right hand upward to her collarbone, pausing a moment to caress the soft nook of her neck, catching her eyes before he tugged his hand downward, sliding swiftly between the buttoned portions of fabric that were holding the front of her shirt together, buttons popping everywhere in the process.  

Her breath caught in her throat.  That was a $1,500 top.  How dare he?  Her chest was heaving from the adrenaline, the slight tops of her soft breasts peaking out of her manilla colored bra, aching to be released and devoured by his soft, supple lips.

She closed her eyes, unable to deal with the feelings pulsing through her body until she heard the familiar clinking of his belt buckle.  She managed to part her eyelids enough to watch him push his pants and his boxers to the floor with one simple motion. She took in the sight of what she affectionately called his “chicken legs” because they were always so pale looking.  She giggled a little at his black dress socks that were now visible just above where his clothes had pooled around his ankles.  When he stepped out of the small pool beneath his feet, she could feel her wetness soaking her panties, a moan sounding in response as her gaze lifted, finding his fully erect penis.

Oh, God yes.

She loved his penis.  He may be an old man now, but damn did he know how to work those hips.  She could feel her pussy starting to throb with desire.  It had been far too long since she had felt his slickness slide between her folds.  Caught up with her thoughts, it was only a matter of seconds until she felt his hands brushing her hips again, this time tugging on the waistband of her panties.  She opened her mouth to protest him ripping them too, but it was too late.  His hands had already pulled tight in a stark, swift movement, watching him toss the torn material over his shoulder.  He obviously was not going to take no for an answer.

She loved it when he got like this.  There’s nothing like a man giving a woman exactly what she wants.

“Is this what you wanted, precious?” his voice was low in her ear as he moved to push her ripped shirt and jacket swiftly off of her shoulders, tossing them carelessly aside once he succeeded.  He took a precious moment to run his fingers along her neckline and to her collarbone, trailing his digit easily over the soft expanse of her shoulder, waiting until she whimpered.

“C’mon, baby.  You’ve gotta tell Daddy what you want...” he trailed off, snaking his arm around her waist and dipping his fingers down the expanse of her newly exposed ass.  He knew she pretended to hate it when he did this, and he was going to do whatever he could to get her begging.  She watched him bend his head down to stare at her breasts, his fingers teasing her ass playfully.  He was always an ass man, but ever since she had been pregnant with their son, he had become obsessed with them.

He finally pulled his hands away from her ass just enough to bring his hand down firmly against her cheeks, feeling her mouth fall open in the process. She watched his deep cerulean eyes cloud with lust and passion as he stared down at her.  “Tell me what you want...” he urged, huskily pressing his erection firmly against her abdomen, pinning her tighter against the door.

She didn’t respond, even though her body was begging her to.  She could feel her wetness starting to drip down her thigh.  But no...if this is how he wanted to play, then two would be playing this game.  

“Ahhh...I see how it is...” he smirked.  “Playing hard to get, huh?”  His hand snaked down between the valley of her breasts again until he got to her pussy, gently nudging her legs apart with his knee.  “You weren’t playing hard to get in the car....” he continued, smacking her ass again.  She didn’t respond.

She bit her bottom lip when his head bowed down, roughly pulling her bra up as he playfully bit down on her nipple.  At the same time, he plunged three fingers into her, not even testing her to see if she was ready for him yet.  He was trying to get a rise out of her, and she knew it.  She felt him slide his tongue past the beautiful expanse of his lips,  allowing it to brush the hardening surface of her nipple before he bit down again.  She always liked it rough, and she hated it.

“Oh God,” she finally whimpered, unable to hold it in anymore.  His lips moved to her other breast, assaulting the flesh in the same manor he had with the previous twin.

“Come on baby, tell me what you want.  That’s all you’ve got to do, and I’ll give it to you,” he mused, moving his lips to hers, closing the distance, but not allowing them to touch.  He pulled his fingers out gently, and she said nothing, even though her lower half was throbbing from the absence.

She silently smirked to herself as she saw the look of anger fall across his features, watching him pull away huskily and back-step a few feet from her. His arms crossed over his chest in a huff, his erection at full attention.  She could see the head was turning purple, already leaking pre-cum, and his rigid features told her that he was not happy that she wasn't succumbing to his advances. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Sometimes, he still acted like a little boy.

“You mean to tell me, that you sat there, in that car...whimpering to me in that sex voice of yours that you needed me.  And here I am, standing at full attention in front of you while the British Prime Minister waits for me in the other room, and you’re gonna act like this?”

She stayed quiet, slowly pulling herself from the door.  She wanted him to work for this, and she wasn’t going to stop until she got the chance to turn the tables.  She stood up straight, a strong demeanor overtaking her features as she made the motion to walk, his eyes never leaving hers for a second.  But the moment she put her foot down for the first step, her knees wobbled a little, giving away her resolve.  She saw the smirk play out on his face, and she silently cursed her body for needing him so badly.   She moved to take another step, but he closed the distance again in a matter of seconds, grabbing her hip roughly and turning her around, pinning her breasts and her upper body roughly against the door.  She felt the slight pang in her breasts from where he had nibbled early.  She wanted to slap him, but the pleasure was too much.

Just as quickly as he had pinned her to the door, his hands were on her hips, lifting her enough to give him access while his knees worked to spread her legs.  He didn’t wait a second, and with a rough flick of his wrists, he slid her roughly down onto his hard, throbbing cock.  He grunted in her ear, his nose burying in her hair.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” he asked roughly, one hand moving to brace himself against the wall.  The other hand grabbed her hip, pulling it back slightly to give him better access to what he knew she needed.  Still, she was quiet, not answering.

He growled in response as his hips started a painfully slow pace, barely pushing into her just to piss her off.  She was the one that started this game, and he was the one that was going to finish it.  He could hear her soft whimpers, slowly encouraging him to move his hips faster, but he denied her the pleasure as long as possible.  Her walls clamped down on him in retribution, hoping it would force him into moving faster.

Soon, his grip was sliding, feeling her starting to slide down his body further than he intended.  He took the moment to push his length deep into her, grinding her into the wall hard.  The hand that was on her hip moved to the other side of her head to brace the wall, letting gravity take over and pull her deeper onto his cock.  

“Holy shit,” he uttered.

He finally couldn’t keep up with the torture he had planned on inflicting, and instead, he got lost in the pleasure.  His hips started working faster, pounding into her at a frantic pace as he moved his lips to her shoulder. He placed gentle kisses there before he bit down lightly, feeling her clench around him again. 

“Jesus, Justin.  Just fuck me,” she finally whimpered, the pleasure shooting through her.  But it wasn’t enough.  She needed him to hit that spot, the spot that only he could hit.  She needed it badly.

And that was all it took.  In a split second, his arm was wrapped around her quivering stomach, and he removed their sweaty entwined bodies from the wall long enough to throw her lightly onto the bed, watching her flounder on her stomach. He approached the bed, like a hunter would approach his prey.  His cock was aching from the absence of her tight wetness, and as soon as he was close enough, he reached for her thighs, pulling her back to him to guide his cock easily into her entrance. He hissed when he slid back inside of her, the warmth sending a jolt throughout his body.

She moaned.  God, she loved it when he hit her from behind.  There was something about the curvature of his cock and the way he used his strong arms as leverage.  He could pound into her just right, stretching her walls in a way that drove her fucking crazy.

“Faster,” she whimpered.  “God, please.  Just...fuck me.”

He didn’t waste any time.  His hips were plunging deeply into hers, the sound of their skin slapping together resounding against the walls of their presidential bedroom.  She whimpered as she felt his balls pound against her clit roughly, sending slow shocks of pleasure through her body.  

She whimpered when he roughly pulled her arms out from under her, gently pressing her head into the mattress with one hand, while the other pushed her lower back down, forcing her to arch that gorgeous ass of hers up towards him further.  It wasn’t long before he was pounding that spot inside of her, his speed as fast as lightning.  She buried her face in the covers to keep from screaming out his name.

Soon, she felt the tingle starting at the base of her toes, slowly working its way up her calves and starting to send pulses to her core, making her walls slowly start to twitch around him.  She grumbled inaudibly, wishing she could just reach that peak that she had been long overdue for.

“Yes,” she hissed.  “Faster.  Faster.  Pleeeeeeeeeeaaase.”  She turned her head, lightly catching his index finger into her mouth from where he was holding her head down.  She gently started sucking on it in hopes of getting him to just pound her a little deeper.  And then she felt it.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, her back arched violently, and her hips moved to pull him as deeply inside of her as she could.  She blacked out as her body started convulsing, her nails digging into the sheets and his arms, and anything she could get her hands on. Her breath was labored, just barely getting out slightly high pitched whimpers as she came violently.  

When her high finally came down, she could still feel him twitching inside of her from his own orgasm.  She let go of a whimper and the breath she was holding.  She smiles tiredly when she felt him release his death grip on her and slowly slide his body over hers for a sweet kiss.  She twisted slightly so she was resting on her back, her hand moving to gently caress his face.

She loved that he got sweet and sentimental after sex, especially after this kind of sex.  He wasn’t usually this rough, opting usually for the romantic version of making love.  But occasionally, she had to push his buttons to get what she really needed.  And when she did, she knew he felt like he needed to be even more sentimental, just to make up for the actions he had just committed, even though they both knew they were mutually enjoyed.

She heard him groan as he placed butterfly kisses all over her collarbone and the crook of her neck.  “I have to go meet the Prime Minister,” he whispered softly.  “I’m sorry, my love.”

“It’s okay.  Thank you.  I needed that,” she smiled, her eyes catching his in that lovely post-sex afterglow.  “I love you, Justin.”

“I love you, too baby.  I’ll be back shortly,” he smiled, getting up, smacking her ass playfully before he started to get dressed.  “Don’t get into any trouble without me,” he winked.  She smiled at him and nodded.  He always said that.

And how could she?  He was the most Commander in Chief, after all...and that’s what she learned to love about him.