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English
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Published:
2024-09-11
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1,449
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1/1
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Behind Closed Doors

Summary:

Your first week as Kamala Harris' personal assistant takes an unexpected turn as professional boundaries blur, and an undeniable tension between you both leads to a passionate and forbidden encounter.

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"You dirty girl…" she purrs, wiping her juices from your lower lip with a satisfied grin.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Your black heels click against the marble floor of the White House hallway. It’s only been a week since you started as Kamala Harris' personal assistant, and already you feel the pressure.

You carefully walk, trying not to drop the heavy stack of documents in your arms. The weight seems to grow as you hurry towards the grand door marked "The Vice President."

She smiles warmly as you almost stumble into her office, barely managing to place the documents on her desk.

"Here," you say, catching your breath.

"You could have brought them one by one," she laughs, standing up to help you with the papers. Her laughter is light and charming, and you’re instantly captivated.

You blush from embarrassment and admiration. The way she moves with such grace and poise is simply enchanting.

You watch her as she reviews the papers in her elegant black blazer and the white silk blouse that fits her perfectly. There’s a beauty in the way her outfit highlights her every move. You find yourself admiring her more and more with each passing moment.

"You could actually help me go through these," she says, her voice gentle and inviting, pulling you from your daydream.

The room falls into a quiet rhythm as you both work on the endless lists. You keep glancing up, mesmerized by the way she handles a pencil with her slender fingers. The soft movement of her nails against the wood is almost hypnotic.

There’s something magnetic about her. The way she takes charge, the intensity in her eyes—it’s all so captivating.

She suddenly looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a playful sparkle. "A bit distracted, darling?" she purrs softly.

You quickly refocus. "Um, sorry, Ms. Harris."

"Come here and check this out," she says with a warm smile.

As you move closer, you feel the air between you become charged. You try to concentrate on the task, but your thoughts keep drifting to her graceful movements and the warmth she brings.

"See, you're already better at this than I am," she says with a teasing smile. "You might just replace me one day."

"I'm really grateful to have you here with me," she says, her voice full of appreciation, keeping the compliments coming.

You can’t ignore how she looks at you. The office seems to fade away, becoming just a backdrop to the connection between you. It feels like the boundaries between you are blurring, and you both sense it.

The tension in the room is almost palpable. Every glance and touch feels filled with unspoken desire. You try to stay focused, but you keep thinking about the way she looks at you, the heat in her gaze.

She reaches across the desk, her hand brushing yours. The touch lingers, sending a thrill through you. When you look up, her eyes are locked on yours, full of a longing you can’t ignore.

You can’t stop yourself anymore. The pull you feel toward her is overwhelming. Every stolen glance, every time your fingers brush—it’s all been leading to this moment. Your heart races as you lean in, unsure if this is what she wants too, but you have to know.

Without thinking, you lean in slightly, testing the waters. She doesn’t pull back. Instead, she meets you halfway, her lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. The kiss is soft at first, as if both of you are gauging each other's reactions. When you realize there’s no resistance, it deepens.

Her lips are soft, but there’s a hunger behind them. You can feel her breath quicken, her body inching closer. She’s giving in just like you are. All those moments you wondered if she felt this too, it’s all clear now. She’s wanted this—wanted you—just as badly. Your hands on her hips, pulling her closer, it’s like you can’t get enough of her.

A muffled groan escapes her as you draw her tongue into your mouth, encouraging her to take control.

She presses your body against the wooden desk, her hands sliding down your sides as you continue kissing. Her movements become more urgent, almost aggressive, as she explores your curves.

Your hands find her hips, gently squeezing them as she leans into you. "I've wanted you ever since I first saw you," she whispers, pressing a kiss against the crook of your neck.

You find yourself momentarily breathless.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door interrupts the moment. Kamala quickly adjusts her blazer and returns to her desk. Her eyes flick to yours, and in that moment, you both silently acknowledge the shift. The passion fades behind her professional mask, and you know it’s time to pull back into reality.

In a moment of frustration and urgency, you decide to hide under her desk instead of leaving. Just as Kamala is about to protest, the National Security Advisor enters, and her expression turns neutral.

"Ms. Vice President, we have an issue," he begins.

You sit beneath her desk, taking in the sight of her elegant legs and soft feet in some sleek black heels. She rests her legs to the side, maintaining her professional demeanor even in this tense situation.

An idea crosses your mind.

You scoot closer, your breath warming her legs. Kamala shifts in her seat, unaware of what’s about to happen.

You gently push her legs apart, rolling her skirt up her legs to reveal her black panties. You run a finger along the curve of her thigh, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric.

"Uh, yes, of course. I’ll make that call tomorrow," Kamala responds to the advisor.

You rub her through her panties before slowly pulling them down her legs. She adjusts in her chair, appearing both anxious and eager to assist.

The view is striking, her mature form glistening before you. You run a finger through her folds, making her slick and ready.

When you push her legs further apart and lean in, the intoxicating scent of her fills your senses. You can hear her struggle to keep her voice steady as the advisor speaks. You revel in the fact that you’re the one breaking her composure.

As your mouth connects with her center, her thighs twitch and threaten to close around your head. She sighs, trying to maintain her composure as she asks, "Was there anything else?"

The warmth of her thighs against your cheeks and the feel of her wetness on your chin is intense.

"I… ah… I actually asked the secretary about that, and he said… uh…" she struggles to finish.

You continue to stimulate her clit with your lips, and she squirms, her thighs trembling. The skin around you is warm and soft, almost soothing enough to coax you to sleep.

She can’t reach climax due to the pressure... or so you think.

Her constant shifting indicates she’s nearing the edge. You quicken your pace, suckling and licking even more intensely.

"God… damn… it," Kamala whispers, confusing the advisor with her subdued response.

Every shift of her body tells you she’s right there, on the edge. You can feel her tightening around your tongue, her thighs twitching uncontrollably. She’s about to lose it, and the thought that you’re the one doing this to her, that you’re the one making her fall apart—it’s almost too much. You want to see her come completely undone for you, to hear her lose that control she holds so tightly.

You listen to the wet squelching of your bodies and the adorable efforts of her trying to write above you even during this intense moment. Kamala is known for her determination, after all.

Kamala goes still, her body shuddering with each pulse as her release floods over you. Time seems to hang in the air, her breath shaky, your heart racing in sync. Even with her orgasm spent, the heat between you lingers.

When the advisor finally leaves, Kamala rolls her chair back and looks at you with an unreadable expression. Anxiety washes over you as she hurries to pull her panties back on, pushing her heels through the openings.

"You dirty girl…" she purrs, wiping her juices from your lower lip with a satisfied grin. "You’d better leave now… before this becomes a national issue.."

As you hurry out of her office, your mind can't help but fill with questions. Tomorrow, you’ll have to walk into her office again, but now everything is different. Will she pretend nothing happened? Or will her eyes give away the secret you now share? You wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at her the same way without feeling that pull, that desire to be close to her again.

Notes:

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