The President's Daughter

I was cursed in the way that everyone wanted to be cursed. Looking at the largest headline in the newspaper, I want to give the daily newspaper a clap for doing their job, ruining my morning with their daily stash of my wild expenditure in life. Didn’t the scandal of me kissing a man at one of the government parties just died a week ago? Then, here I am again, with my face plastered in every sheet of daily newspaper of the country doing my deeds of being the most rebel daughter of the President. “ Didn’t I tell you that you will stop going to those clubs?” Father, the country's current President, shouted as soon as I step my foot in our dining area. He didn’t take his gaze off the newspaper while sipping his favorite tea. The gray strands of his hair are beyond visible and even though his amber wrinkled eyes are hiding beneath those black-rimmed eyeglasses, I cannot deny the fact that my father is a very serious one. He’s strict and formal but more importantl

When did I find older men attractive? The eyes that are cruel and the muscular arms that can pin me on the wall and can totally wreck my body. Inks wasn't my type but the sleeve tattoo in his left arm makes my mouth dry. “Where are you going, madam?”Even when he looks serious there is always a hint of naughtiness in the way that I am hearing his voice in my mind. It’s like a curse to look at him and have these lewd thoughts.Damn it, Amara! Did I lose my mind because I have been home for almost a week already? I imprisoned myself in my room in the hope to rebel against my father. The thought of having a personal bodyguard that will always be at my side is a childish thing for me.He looks at my outfit. “The president wants to meet you,” he said. His sharps eyes and chiseled jaw told me that he wasn’t happy with what I am wearing.“ I have a photoshoot. You can’t imprison me in this house foreve

   Walking like a zombie, the images of yesterday night’s event didn’t make me sleep even a single hour. It’s all coming back into my mind when I tried to close my eyes. The sweats and groans of my bodyguard while he's relieving himself in the dark. “ You just woke up?” I blush at his voice and turned around to clear my thoughts away. Nodding over my shoulder, I decided to get myself cold water. He seems normal. Does that mean that he wants to pretend that I didn’t catch him last night? He follows me to the kitchen and the sound of kitchenware is all I can hear. Then, after making myself calm, I’ve decided to look at what he’s been doing. The pink apron didn’t compliment his tan skin. It’s too small compared to his muscular body and the way how he holds the knife didn’t give justice to the thought of him holding it against my throat. “What are you doing?” shocked, I asked. Normally, we have our chef take care of our food. And

Being the President’s daughter is a mess but what happened last night is the real definition of a mess. After Major. Sullivan leaves me at the backseat, he droves his car back to the presidential home and he didn’t talk to me again. It’s like I am invisible to him. His restraints but whatever we have but who cares at all? I want him. I want my own bodyguard and he clearly told me that he wants me too. “ Where is Major. Sullivan?” my brows creased because another bodyguard opens the door for me. I have a schedule for a photoshoot today. He points his finger to the driver seat, and there I saw him, gripping the steering wheel while his eyes are looking up front. It’s a first time that he will be the driver. Was he regretting what happened that he’s avoiding me right now? I’ve knocked on his window and he lazily opened it. “ Why are you the one driving?” the bitter drips of my own words didn’t escape my voice. It’s a translation for, why isn’t he sitting

 Lust consumed me. Anger fills my heart and the determination to beg in disagree with Major. Sullivan’s remarks fuel my mind to prove him wrong. I wasn’t young for him. I wasn’t young for all of the sexual tensions that we are feeling.Fuck! I am too sexually frustrated.Rummaging through my fathers’ study room, I’ve stopped in front of his table to make a proposition. Like an elegant and mature daughter of the president, I’ve assumed the seat and cross my legs before straightening my back and fixing my hair. Major. Sullivan’s eyes observe me but I didn’t care about his presence.I needed to prove a point. The president observes me before he leans on his chair and started to listen.“Invite some of your prospects in your political marriage agenda.”His mouth opens because of the words that came out of my mouth. A cough makes both of us to look at the bodyguard’s side. Ma