"You backed me into a corner here. And look, I get it—once upon a time, you got into politics to actually make a difference. You even did some good. But then you made the rookie mistake of sticking around. Now you're the President, and all you do is play fetch for the highest bidder or the scariest guy in the room."
Tony leaned in, his gaze sharp. "Crazy idea, I know, but maybe—just once—you try serving the people who actually put you there. Make their lives easier. Healthier. Better. Wild concept, right?"
The man gulped, staring at the digital dirt on the table. He wasn't shocked that the US possessed it. He was shocked by how radical Tony was. Perhaps he was the only man who could afford to be like that.
"I-It's easier to speak than to do, President Stark. I am but a figure of 'ead—ze real decisions, zey are made by—"
"Excuses!" Tony scoffed, folding his arms. "I did it, so you can too. If it's the lobbyists and interest groups giving you nightmares, consider me your very generous, very charming sponsor. Not just you—your whole government. Heck, let's throw in your neighbors for good measure. In return, I want you leading the charge against those corrupt, backroom-deal-making, influence-hoarding criminals. And about that mineral wealth? By this time next year, Earth will have enough to last centuries. We're talking 'pave-the-planet-in-steel' levels of surplus. So, what's it gonna be?"
The Frenchman was taken aback by Tony's declaration. By now, it was a geopolitical fact that whatever President Stark promises, he delivers.
Personally, he still had another term to contest in France. With Tony's help, there was a high chance that he'd win. But following Tony would also mean giving up some of his autonomy. Not that he had much right now.
"Eh… I need some time to zink about it, Président Stark."
"Sure." Tony tiredly loosened his tie and discarded his suit jacket. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
The French President stood up and extended his hand.
Tony didn't stand up and stretched his arm from his seat.
"B-By ze way…" The French President hesitantly spoke. "W-Where will zese minerals you speak of… come from?"
With the free hand, Tony pointed towards the ceiling and said nothing.
Inhaling a deep breath, the Frenchman nodded and silently left the Oval Office.
At last, Tony grabbed a cookie from the coffee table and relaxed on the sofa. He knew he was being a little dirty by almost blackmailing the world leaders. But having restricted himself to one term, he felt the need to rush. Even if it meant forcing his hand at times. Though he offered terms that would only benefit the other parties. Sadly, not all were bright enough to realise it quickly.
"Sir…"
Tony looked up to the side of the coffee table. Daisy stood there alone, her tablet pressed against her small chest. She'd apparently discarded her suit jacket too and now stood in just a white tucked-in shirt and office pants.
"What's next on the schedule?" Tony asked.
"That's it for today, Sir. It's almost time for dinner." Daisy answered and pressed her lips together, constantly staring at Tony's face intently.
He sensed it and awkwardly scratched his beard. "Something's on my face?"
The auburn-haired girl shook her head cutely. "I… I was just… Remember what you said that time on the flight?"
Tony tried to remember intently. "About…"
"That… That you'd let me…" Daisy looked down, her face a flushed mess. "That you'd let me experience it in the White House?"
"Oh… that." Tony just remembered it. He'd only been intimate with Daisy once on Air Force One. She'd helped him greatly with her sweet, tight mouth. "I remember it now. So…"
Just as Daisy looked at him, Tony grabbed her wrist and pulled her in with a sharp tug. She gasped, losing balance, but her instincts saved her.
Her legs spread just in time, straddling his lap as she landed atop him on the plush leather sofa. Her knees sank into the cushions on either side of his hips, thighs snug around him.
In an instant, his hands were on her. Hot, rough palms gripping her tight ass through the thin fabric of her pants. His eager fingers pressed into the soft, curving flesh as he dragged her closer up his thighs, flush against the rigid length straining against his pants.
She felt it. Thick, hard, hot even through the layers of fabric.
Tony leaned back, smirking as he looked up at her, taking in the sight of her flushed face, the way she braced herself with both hands against the sofa's backrest. Strands of auburn hair framed her wide, nervous eyes, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling in shallow, heated breaths.
"How does the Oval Office sound?"
Daisy's fingers curled against the cushion. Her breath left her in a sharp exhale, her pupils blown wide at the sheer implication of the suggestion. Her mind ran a mile a minute. Disbelief, joy, hesitation, wanting to, but here, of all places. So scandalous.
She barely managed a nod, her body already responding before her mind could catch up.
"What are you waiting for then?"
Realizing he was waiting for her to make a move, heat coiled in her gut, her nerves buzzing as her head dipped down, her lips barely brushing his in a tentative kiss.
But Tony didn't hesitate. His hands slid under the back of her shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of her waist as he yanked her pants lower, just enough to expose the curve of her ass. The sudden exposure made her shiver, but the heat of his hands, the way his thumbs teased the crease where soft flesh met her thigh, made her pulse race.
Daisy's hesitation evaporated, and her hips moved on their own, grinding lightly against the aching hardness under her. She pressed harder, rolling her hips against him. The friction sent a delicious jolt through her core, and a quiet, needy whimper escaped her lips. Heat pooled between her legs, her kiss deepened, lips parting as her tongue flicked against his, testing, teasing, before slipping inside to tangle with his own.
Fuck. This is really happening.
The realization struck like a lightning bolt to her core. She was making out with the President of the United States. Not just any president. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, Iron Man. And here she was, grinding on his lap like some desperate little thing, about to let him fuck her senseless in the Oval Office.
Her kisses turned feverish, greedy. Trailing along his lips, his jaw, his neck, as she rocked against him, chasing that friction, that heat.
Tony hummed in approval. His fingers traced up her spine, finding the clasp of her bra and flicking it open in one smooth motion. The loosened cups sagged beneath her blouse, the straps slipping down her shoulders, but he didn't rush to remove it. Instead, his other hand reached up, popping open a few buttons of her shirt, just enough to expose the tempting valley between her perky swells.
Daisy sat back slightly, chest rising and falling, her hands already working on his shirt in return. Her small fingers fumbled with the buttons, her breath shaky, her head spinning with a mix of lust and adrenaline. The cool air licked her exposed skin, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps trailing down her arms.
Tony, however, took his time. He pushed her blouse open wider, finally tugging her bra down with it, exposing her breasts completely. Small, perky nipples already stiffened into needy peaks.
"Looks like you've been eager for a while," he muttered, his hands claiming them immediately. He kneaded and squeezed, thumbs circling her sensitive buds before giving them a teasing pinch.
Daisy whimpered, hips twitching against him as pleasure spiked through her nerves. She was short compared to him. Slender, almost like a fresh, naive virgin, her frame delicate in contrast to his broad, toned superhero build. In his hands, she felt weightless, delicate, completely his to play with.
Tony leaned in, lips suckling onto one stiff peak, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. And as his hands moved lower, slipping past the waistband of her pants, unbuttoning them with ease.
One second, Daisy was grinding against his lap, panting, her lips clinging to his in frantic, open-mouthed kisses, her hips moving in tight, desperate little circles. The next, she was weightless; flipped, tossed, and sprawled across the sofa with a startled gasp, her body bouncing slightly against the plush cushions.
She barely had time to catch her breath before he was towering over her while she lay on her back on the sofa, stripping down like he had no patience for anything between them.
His shirt? Ripped open, buttons flying, exposing the lean, sculpted lines of his chest. His belt? Unbuckled in one sharp tug. Then his pants; off, gone, hitting the floor alongside everything else until he stood over her, naked. The thick weight of his cock already hung heavy between his thighs, twitching with every deep, pulsing throb.
Before she could speak, his hands were on her again; firm, greedy.
With no hesitation, he grabbed the waistband of her pants and panties at once, yanking them down her slender legs in one swift motion, leaving her completely exposed beneath him. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold.
Tony exhaled hard, his gaze devouring her.
"Why waste time?" His voice was thick with unfiltered lust. His hands seized her ankles, lifting them effortlessly. Her legs folded up, her ass lifted, and her shoulders sank deeper into the seat cushions.
Daisy's knees pressed toward her chest, her back flattening against the sofa cushions, her ass lifted slightly, hovering over the edge of the seat. A small pillow cradled her head as her shoulders sank into the soft fabric, her body perfectly positioned under him.
Her entire world tilted.
Her thighs trembled, her petite body fitting perfectly into the sofa's limited space, legs spread wide, slick folds open and aching. She could see the hunger darkening Tony's sharp eyes as he stood between her parted thighs, pressing closer, his cock brushing against her inner thigh.
Her hands clutched the cushions, her toes curling at the edge of the sofa. Her entire body was trembling with eager heat. Her skin hot, her core dripping, and every nerve-ending was crackling with wild, reckless excitement. She wasn't just about to get fucked. She had a first-class seat to watch him slide in that girthy shaft.
She was about to get fucked by him—The Tony Stark, in the Oval Office, something she thought was a delirious dream before. The idea alone made her clench.
Her voice barely worked. "Tony—"
"Say it," he rasped, low and commanding, his fingers gliding up the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, agonizing.
Daisy let out a soft, needy whimper, shifting her hips, trying to get more. "Please—"
"Please what?"
She licked her lips, her throat dry, her voice coming out in a broken whisper. "Tony, please, fuck me."
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